Author's Note: Due to copyright laws and the rules of the FanFiction site, I can't post the whole song in this piece. So, when you get to the dance part of this chapter, look up "Cry to Me" by Solomon Burke on YouTube. 😉

Chapter 3: In Too Deep (2.05) 10/22/92

Rita was drunk.

Chris' eyes were alight with laughter, awe, and a slight bit of concern- he had never seen her like this before. He'd seen her hungover so he knew it was possible, but Rita never got drunk in his presence. Even in the safety of one of their places, she wouldn't get to the point of oblivion. Chris figured that the memories of her father were never far from her mind, and she would stop herself from getting to a point where she lost control.

However, tonight she was out of character, and Chris couldn't tell if this was a good or bad thing. She seemed happy, and he was delighted to see that she was relaxing after a horrible week. But, he couldn't help but worry; she wasn't losing control necessarily, but she was definitely inching in that direction. As a precaution, he had been sipping the same beer for the last two hours and knew he would take her home. They'd pick up her Jeep tomorrow.

Society was packed - everyone always gathered in times of celebration or loss, and this was a combination of both. Earlier in the week, Lem McCain was killed by Johnny Ryder, and Jackie Ruiz was now in jail for her part in the crime. This was a wake of sorts, as officers came together to celebrate Lem's life while also mourning his death and Jackie's fall from grace. As most of these nights went, there was a mix of tears and laughter, and the booze flowed heavily. Cops drowned their sorrows as a way to shield themselves from the trauma of the job; the death of one of their own elevated this need.

Chris didn't feel like drinking much tonight. He couldn't pinpoint his exact feelings about Lem; he didn't feel exceptionally celebratory about the good times, but he wasn't inconsolably sad about this week's events either. Rita made him see some things about Lem and their past partnership that he hid behind before. Lem was supposed to be the older, wiser one, and instead almost let Chris take the ultimate fall in order to save a bust. Chris wasn't numb, but definitely felt conflicted. Deep down, Lem's death didn't come as much of a surprise to him, which made him feel guilty and ashamed. He sat at a far table for most of the night, taking in his surroundings and simply internalizing the comfort of being with his work family. Occasionally, a pal would come over and they would share a story or catch up on life, but Chris didn't outwardly seek out conversation. He preferred to be a loner tonight.

Rita was a good distraction. He watched her mingle with their friends and colleagues, her laughter carrying through the bar as she joined in various conversations. If anyone could make Chris smile through the pain, it was her. Even in her overly extroverted state, she frequently made eye contact with him and nodded, their silent way of checking in with each other. At the beginning of the night she insisted on sitting with him and not leaving his side, but he kindly pushed her away and told her to go have fun. She refused, until Tina Maxwell stopped by their table and dragged her over to the bar. Chris rarely took his eyes off of Rita all evening; just because they were in a cop bar didn't mean there weren't creeps lurking underneath those badges, waiting to take advantage of her inebriation. He was elated to see her so bubbly after the week they had, but he also worried about the undercurrent to this euphoric state. Rita took Lem's death hard, and Jackie's arrest even harder. He could tell she was drinking to avoid some difficult emotions. He knew her too well.

After Eddie announced last call, the bar seemed to clear out pretty fast. Chris had no desire to leave yet- going home to an empty apartment felt lonelier than ever tonight. His relationship with Rikki splintered after the incident with Charlie. Once again, his job got in the way of a good thing. Rikki was still pretty shaken up, and just as he suspected would happen, she couldn't understand why Charlie went after Rita. If he were honest with himself, he couldn't blame the job for the breakup- it was simmering for awhile. As much as he tried to pretend he was okay with Rikki stripping for strange men, he wasn't. Que sera, sera.

He watched Rita say goodbye to a few female cops from Vice, who waved at Chris as they walked out. It was just the two of them left. Rita was still sitting at the bar, and twirled her barstool so she was facing Chris. They locked eyes, and from a distance their silence spoke volumes- he swore she could see into the depths of his soul. He felt exposed all of a sudden, and started peeling the label off of his beer bottle. There was a smoky haze in the air, and everything felt emotionally charged. It was easy to blend into the background tonight, but now he couldn't hide from his vulnerability. Neither could Rita.

Eddie, oblivious to their silent word play, grinned at the two of them as he walked over to the door to lock up and flip off the main lights. It wasn't the first time that Chris and Rita lingered after hours. "You guys can stay as long as you want. I'm just going to lock up and head in the basement to do inventory. Just give me a shout when you are leaving."

Rita was the first to speak. "Thanks, Eddie. We appreciate it. We won't stay too much longer."

"I'm probably going to be here for at least another hour anyway. Take all the time you need. You know the code to the jukebox to play some freebies." Eddie gave Rita a wink before heading downstairs.

Chris looked at Rita and grinned, shaking his head. Of course Eddie gave Rita the code; she always seemed to have that way with the opposite sex to get what she wanted. Tonight he was grateful for her persuasive ways; a little more time with Rita was exactly what he needed. He barely connected with his best friend all night.

Rita stared at him again before sauntering over to the jukebox. "What'll it be, Sergeant Lorenzo? Any requests?"

"Surprise me, Sammy."

He carefully watched her as she perused the vast list of songs. He stood up for the first time in hours and stretched, and then walked over and leaned against the jukebox so he could see her face. The glow from the jukebox and several neon beer signs were the only lights on now, and Rita was illuminated in resplendent shadows. She was beautiful, that was always a given, but her drunken demeanor added an edge he'd never seen before. All night she had been giggly and animated around their friends, but now there was a fire in her eyes and she looked both disheveled and determined.

"You know, you were the talk of the night." Rita didn't take her eyes off of her task. "The women in Vice were begging me for your phone number."

He gave her a small smile, pretending to react in his typical way. "Really? Did you give it out?"

"I told them that they would have to ask you themselves. They were too chicken- you didn't look very approachable. You scared them all away, Sam." She had a sultry slur to her voice, but her sharp mind and wit were still intact beneath the surface.

"Eh, that's okay. As long as I didn't scare you away."

"I know your bark is worse than your bite." She smiled as she tapped in some numbers, and then took Chris by surprise when she grabbed his hand. "Dance with me."

It was a statement, not a question. Chris took a final gulp of warm beer from the bottle in his other hand and set the empty on a nearby table. While he felt somber and stoic tonight, he would never refuse a dance with his partner, especially when it was her idea. Usually he was the one that initiated dancing at random moments; the last time was at his apartment when he wanted details about her past relationship with DJ Martin. That was almost a year ago. He wasn't sure if this was a setup to get him to talk as he did with her, or if she simply wanted to dance. The liquor was most likely fueling her demands, but he didn't care- he'd do anything she asked.

The jukebox whined as the particular song Rita chose locked into place, and then the bar was filled with a soulful melody. Chris recognized it immediately thanks to a blockbuster movie released a few years earlier, and shot Rita a curious glance. This song was HOT; in the movie it was the song playing as the two main characters danced and then later made love for the first time. She gave him a shy smile in return, her eyes taking on a sensual gaze. He realized quickly that a drunk Rita was a flirtatious Rita, and he was going to have his hands full. And yet, he was intrigued. The detective in him wondered if this was why he never saw her like this before; even in times of relaxation, maybe she was worried to let her guard down around him.

There had to be a different reason for her song choice. He gave her a playful twirl before they melded into each other. While the song could have easily called for a faster dance tempo, they settled into a slow, mesmerizing sway. His lips curled as Rita placed her head on his shoulder and wrapped her other hand around his waist. Dangerous. She was a dangerous woman right now. He let out the softest of groans as the melody carried their movements. Solomon Burke's voice echoed throughout the bar as the refrain hit for the first time. 'Doncha' feel like crying? Doncha' feel like crying? Well, here I am, honey. C'mon, you cry to me.'

Chris gripped Rita tighter as the words settled over him. There's nothing like music to convey what's in a person's heart, and he read Rita's loud and clear. She was always there for him and always would be. He could 'cry to her' anytime. The definition of a best friend. He only hoped that she understood the depths of his feelings for her; how much he cared about her and loved her as a friend and partner.

As they continued, Chris carefully thought about the reason they were there tonight. Yes, there was the obvious: Lem was dead and Jackie was in jail. But it was so much more. It was about a demolished partnership. It was about one cop that got herself in too deep and couldn't find a way out of the dark side once she slept with the enemy. It was about another cop who was so caught up in the thrill of Vice that he was out of control. With their jobs there was always that "fine line" as Rita described; once you cross it, you're gone. This dance wasn't just a dance, it was Rita's reassurance to Chris that they weren't Lem and Jackie. That she would always have his back, both on and off the job. That their partnership was the most important thing in the world to her. That he was her best friend and he mattered.

Chris unclasped his hand from hers to envelop Rita in a hug, which was returned with earnest. He gently lifted her off the ground in a slow spin, and as he lowered her to the ground, he ran his fingers through her curls and pressed his forehead to hers. Sometimes, in moments like this, he wondered what the fuck they were doing as they tiptoed around the underlying attraction they had for one another. He loved her, that he knew. In the light of day, he usually compared it to a love he might have for a sister, since she was the only family he truly had in his life. But, on nights like this, when he felt this overwhelming bond to her, he wondered why it couldn't be more. It was just weeks ago that they faked lovemaking and shared an unexpected kiss while undercover at the Bingham mansion. While Rita dismissed it in her typical protective fashion, Chris was still blown away by the chemistry he knew was always there underneath the surface. He knew they'd be incredible together. What were they so afraid of? It was a rhetorical question; their track record in relationships answered it for them. There was no way in hell he would ruin this. Ever. Having a best friend was way more important than having a lover. Lovers came and went, this he knew all too well. Rita would be in his life forever.

Tonight, it seemed like she needed the hugs and caresses just as much as he did. He had a feeling that even if she were sober, this wouldn't be any different. He worried that his actions were coming across as overly flirtatious, but she didn't pull away and only held on tighter. As the song came to an end, she gently brushed his cheek with her fingers before planting a light kiss in the same spot. "I'm sorry about Lem, Sam."

He looked into her glassy, tear-filled eyes and then placed a reciprocal kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry about Jackie, Rita."

She nodded and then buried her face in Chris' neck. "Ugh. I should have stopped drinking hours ago. What was I thinking?"

Chris laughed, relieved at the quick break from the smoldering look she had given him a moment before. "Yeah, you'll be hurting tomorrow. You were fine until you did those shots. Trying to keep up with the rookies, huh?"

"I haven't done a shot of anything in years. I already feel gross."

His smile waned as his concern for her took over. "Not that I'm complaining, but I've never seen you like this before. Downing shots isn't the Rita I know. You okay?"

Rita broke from his grasp to press another quick button on the jukebox- a simple repeat of the song they just danced to. She returned to his arms and steadied her head against his chest. Chris welcomed the contact and led her in an even slower rhythm, careful not to make her dizzy. He noticed that she still hadn't answered him and wondered if the dancing was a stall tactic, until she finally spoke.

"Lem and Jackie… it's just so sad. He trusted her and she burned him. Her actions caused his death. How do you do that to your partner?"

Chris traced circles on her back as he responded. "I know- I've been thinking about that all week."

"And I'm still so pissed about what happened to you when you and Lem were partners. You've been living with this guilt for years that Lem took a bullet for you and you somehow ruined the bust. Lem should have never put you in that position in the first place. Both wires failed? Bullshit."

He gently nuzzled her hair and placed another quick kiss on her head. He loved when she was fired up, but blushed at being the recipient of her concern. "You are amazing, you know that? You worry about me way too much."

Rita gave a small laugh. "It's my job, partner. And speaking of partners, do you know what I heard all night long?"

He stepped back to look her in the eyes, flashing another grin for her benefit. "What's that?"

Her eyes took on a dreamlike quality as she met his gaze. "How lucky I am to have you by my side."

Chris tenderly enveloped her into another hug. "I'm the lucky one, Sam."

As the song ended a second time, Chris pulled back again so he could look into her eyes. "You know, you can cry to me anytime."

She looked up at him and he noticed a waterfall threatening to erupt again. "I know."

"Lem and Jackie, they're not us."

"No. Never us."

Chris grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Come on Sammy, let's get you home."

"I know it's late- I'm sorry you have to drive me home. You are more than welcome to stay over if you want."

He looked at her sheepishly, eyes full of a blazing passion that he hoped she didn't recognize. "That might be dangerous tonight, unless we're racing to the nearest motel. And I really hope you don't remember me saying that tomorrow, I'll never live it down."

Rita looked at him with fire in her eyes before softening and dissolving into laughter. Chris was grateful for her reaction— if she would have called his bluff, it would have been incredibly difficult to say no. He would never take advantage of her or wreck their partnership— both were sacred territory. They shouted a goodbye to Eddie and exited into the moonlight.

He got her home safely and waited until as long as he possibly could before giving her a morning wake up call. They had Lem's funeral at ten, and both needed to be in their dress blues and there early, as Chris was a pallbearer.

Rita answered her phone with a groaned, "Lance".

"Rise and shine, Sam!"

"How are you so damn chipper?"

"I didn't do several shots of Fireball last night."

"Good point. And don't remind me."

Chris smiled at her grumpy voice. "So, what DO you remember about last night?"

"Oh God, was there karaoke?"

"Well, not formally. You and a few others sort of invented it on the spot."

"Jesus. Why didn't you stop me?"

"HA! You were beyond stoppable. I just sat back and enjoyed the show."

"Showing my face at work is going to be embarrassing."

"Nonsense. I'm pretty sure I was the only sober one there. Most took cabs home. I'm the only one who will remember. I'll save it for blackmail if I ever need it."

"Funny."

"Remember anything else?" Chris knew the night would be a blur for her, but he was hoping she at least remembered the end of the evening.

"Thanks for dancing with me, partner."

"Ah, you do remember. Anytime, Sammy."

"I wasn't that drunk. Besides, I'd never forget a dance with Chris Lorenzo."

"That was some song."

"I'm glad you understood the meaning."

"Well, I knew it wasn't because you wanted to reenact a scene from Dirty Dancing."

"Haha. I'd dance with you over Swayze anytime."

Chris grinned into the phone, glad their banter was back in true form. He was also grateful that she either didn't remember or wasn't bringing up his motel comment. "I should let you get ready. Drink tons of water and take some aspirin. I'll pick you up around nine, BABY." He knew she'd just love a final reference from the movie. Rita simply groaned in response. "What, you don't like that? I think it's a better nickname than Muff, don't you?"

"Goodbye, Christopher."

He hung up the phone and stared at his uniform hanging in the closet. It was going to be a tough day, but he knew he'd get through it with Rita by his side.