anjoufic | Life Fic: Seven Veils: Six

Title: Seven Veils

Author:

comice aka Anjou (Anjou@rocketmail.com)

Posting Date: May 2009

Rating: R for language and sexuality; M for Mature readers

Classification: Crews/Reese

Spoilers: post-S2 finale, One

Disclaimer: Not mine, but they are fun to play with. All respect to Rand Ravich, Far Shariat and especially to Damian Lewis, Sarah Shahi and the rest of the exceptional cast. They created something I will always treasure.

Author's Note: The series finale (:: sighs ::) of Life opened up so many interesting possibilities. Here's the direction my brain took, mostly because I can't believe that I'll never see Charlie and Dani again, so … I'm telling myself a story. Seven different perspectives, in seven parts, beginning immediately after the end of One (which I'm assuming was supposed to have taken place in April 2009) and continuing into the future over the course of the next year or so. This is a WIP, but the whole story is plotted, if not completed.

Thanks to

suzanne_laura and

opus163 for the beta, and the support.

Also, NBC? You totally suck.

~*~

When that song said that it never rained in Southern California, it neglected to mention that it never got cold. Sixty degree weather didn't count, no matter how many boots and puffy jackets the pretty girls in LA wore. And there was nothing about eighty degrees that screamed ‘Thanksgiving’s coming!’ to him, no matter how much the newscasters harped on how 'unseasonal' it was. Unseasonal. As if they had any idea what a season was in the first place. This whole town was just … he ran a hand through his shaggy hair, and continued staring out at the dirty skyline, glittering in the constant sunlight.

He'd thought that moving to LA would be a good change, a necessary shock to his system that would get him moving again after his last divorce. He'd been depressed, he could admit that. He'd been depressed, and sick of the dark, and the cold, and the noise, but now … Kevin Tidwell stared out the window at the skyline that had never quite become familiar, not even after a year, and felt homesick for the blue of the fall sky in New York City, the way the air sharpened as it edged toward winter. Hell, he even missed the plastic shopping bags swirling up from the street behind the taxis and getting caught in the trees. He'd moved out here to escape – he was running out of boroughs to live in that weren't somehow connected with a woman he'd loved and lost. So, he'd opted for the geographical cure, and well … look how that'd worked out, huh?

Tidwell spun his chair around so that he was facing the bullpen. He could see her, head bent over some papers. It was much easier to see her when Crews wasn't there, blocking his view. He could see the irony in that, now. Mostly.

He'd told Crews to go get her, but he hadn't said anything about keeping her. That had not been his intention at all, but well, the road to hell … Oh, who was he kidding? She'd actually begun leaving long before that, probably that time that she drank after he pushed too far, yet again. And where had she gone? Straight to Crews. And that, right there, that was the moment he began to lose her.

He saw that now, but he'd always known it, really. He even said it to her in the beginning, about how they were with each other, how he wanted that with someone. He meant her, of course. He wanted it with her. But, he'd never really had it, had he? She'd told him that she'd never had a relationship, never had sex, when she was sober. He should have stopped it then, should have been smart enough to recognize that he'd be the practice relationship, the one she’d learn from and leave.

He should have seen it, but he wanted her too much.

The thing was, it wasn't like she'd actually left him for Crews, because he didn't think that they were together, like that they went home together after work, or ate dinner together, or did any of the normal things that a couple would do, like go to the movies. He certainly didn't think they were sleeping together, at least not yet. Sometimes, he wondered if Crews really had gone gay in stir or something, because how could he look at Dani Reese day in, day out across the desk they shared and not want her?

He just didn't get it.

Tidwell stared at Dani Reese’s beautiful face across the room. Crews had booked off the day, which was why he could see her without obstruction as she sat at their double desk. Even though she was working away, head down, without so much as glancing at Crews' empty chair, she was somehow still referring to him by not looking in his direction. In fact, it was almost pointed, the way she was not looking where Crews usually was, now that he noticed it. He wondered if they were fighting, or if Crews was off doing something he shouldn't be. Dani seemed unusually tense, as if she was forcing herself to focus on the files in front of her. Something was going on.

Even as the thought occurred to him, he saw Dani stiffen and straighten up. The murmur of the room behind her had stilled, and he could see why: Crews was walking toward her from the elevator bay, wearing street clothes and a grim expression. Dani took a deep breath in and stood up and when she turned around, even though Tidwell could no longer see her face, he knew it. And she knew it, too. Hell, everyone in the bullpen knew it, just from the look on Charlie Crews' face. That bastard hadn't just gone and got Dani back from the still missing Roman Nevikov -- he'd found Jack Reese, too.

Even just from seeing the set of her back, he could tell that Dani was looking at Crews hard. She shook her head once, almost like she was scolding him, or telling him he was wrong. Crews didn't say a word, but he didn't flinch, not even when she put her shoulder right into his gut and pushed past him, head down and a hand coming up toward her mouth. He just spun on his heel and followed her, and so did Tidwell. He was still the Captain; she was still a member of his squad.

Crews stood sentry across the hall from the women's room and waited. When Tidwell approached him, Crews just looked at him and nodded before he could ask the question.

"Shit," Tidwell said under his breath, and Crews nodded again. There wasn't much else to say and Dani was taking her time in the bathroom, so Tidwell went back and went through the motions of doing paperwork, keeping one eye on Crews' reflection in the glass. When it finally moved, so did he, just in time to see Reese coming out of the women's room.

Crews had pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against and Dani slowly walked toward him until she stood right in front of him. They never broke eye contact.

"Finally got me the present I always wanted, huh?" he heard her say to Crews in a shaky voice, most of her usual bravado absent.

Crews’ smile was motion only as he looked at her.

She took a step closer. "Early for the season, though," she whispered.

Tidwell stopped moving and just watched the two of them.

"I'm sorry," Crews said. Dani had stepped in so close now that Crews was towering over her, and he almost had to look straight down to see her face.

She had dropped her chin, and appeared to be staring at Crews' breastbone, but she nodded.

"Dani," Crews said quietly, and this time, when she looked up, Tidwell could see the tears pooling on her lower lid.

She nodded again at Crews, and one of them broke away and rolled down her cheek. She swiped at it impatiently, still looking at him. "I have to tell my mother," she finally said, and this time her voice came out a choked whisper.

Crews nodded. "I know," he said softly.

"I …" Reese made a motion like she had to go back into the bullpen, and Tidwell felt some relief. She was going to come and talk to him, after all.

Crews reached into his pants pocket and pulled out an unopened roll of mints and handed it to her.

Tidwell had no idea why the gesture would bring a faint smile to Dani's face, but it did. She accepted the mints from Crews and took one. When she went to hand them back to Crews, he put his hand over hers, stopping the gesture.

"Oh, you think that's a good idea?" Dani said sarcastically.

Crews smiled at her. "You're good," he said quietly, and Tidwell startled as he watched a faint blush spread over Dani's face. He didn't think that she was capable of blushing.

"Like you would know?" she said lightly, but her voice was asking a deeper question.

Crews' eyes narrowed as he smiled down at her, not in the least bit ruffled by her words. Dani stared up at him steadily. If Crews said anything else, Tidwell couldn't hear it, but he didn't think he had. For just an instant Tidwell thought that Dani was going to burst into tears, but her expression cleared and she nodded, and Crews let go of her hand.

"OK," she said. She put the mints in her pocket, turned around and headed to the elevator.

Two steps away from Crews, she looked over her shoulder to make sure that he was coming with her, which he was, of course. He was right behind her, and thirty seconds later they disappeared into the elevator and Tidwell was left staring at his own reflection on the glass.

~

The next time he saw her was at the wake.

The severity of the black blouse she had on under the black pants suit only served to make her look more drawn and tired as she stood next to her mother, supporting her. It had clearly been a long few days. He offered his condolences to both her and her mother, struggling to make himself heard over the din of conversation. Between the suits and the uniforms, and the size of Dani's family, the rooms for the wake were incredibly crowded. Out of the corner of his eye, as he moved down the long line offering condolences to Dani's aunts, uncles and cousins, he could see the flash of bright hair that could only be Charlie Crews. Crews stood at the archway between the room where Jack Reese's body lay in its closed casket, and the second flower-filled and picture-strewn room that seemed to have been taken over by the officers of Jack's generation. Crews was standing erect in his black suit and tie, his snow white shirt crisp and unwrinkled, watching Dani. Nearby, Tidwell could see Crews' roommate, talking earnestly to a redhead who looked like she could be Crews' sister, while Stark and Seever were close at hand, although not standing with Crews at the moment.

"How is she doing?"

Crews opaque eyes moved from observing Dani to looking at Tidwell, taking him in from head-to-toe in an instant. "She's holding up," Crews said quietly.

"You did a good thing," Tidwell said, keeping the begrudging note out of his voice, because it was true. While Jack Reese remained missing, his family was left in limbo, wondering the worst. Knowing brought its own struggles, but they were different. "Now they know."

"Now they know," Crews said, his eyes sweeping down the line and back to Dani, before he turned his head to look in the room of older officers, his eyes stopping on one or two.

Tidwell looked at the group with a bit more interest, wondering exactly who Crews was after now. He spotted the senior Crews at the back of the room, talking to some of the guys he must have ridden with, back in the day. "No Rayborn?" he asked.

"Not yet," Crews answered.

"Surprising," Tidwell said, "him being such a good friend of the family and all."

Crews' smile was brief, but he said nothing.

"It was also kind of surprising how he suddenly decided to give so much of his money away."

Crews shrugged. "He's dying. Dying men do strange things."

"Do they?" Tidwell asked. He wished to God that he knew what the hell was going on, almost as much as he was sure that he wouldn't like the answers. He remembered New York’s Knapp Commission back when he was a teenager, and the Rampart scandal notwithstanding, he'd always scornfully thought that the LAPD was too laid back to have any real corruption. But if even half of the rumors about what had sent Charlie Crews to prison were true, there was a streak of ruthlessness out here to rival the darkest corner of the Bronx. "I heard that he didn't really have cancer."

Crews looked at him, brows raised. "Oh?"

"I heard that he wasn't really dying at all."

Crews smiled with one side of his mouth. "We're all dying, Captain," he said, then added. "Besides, it's none of my business."

"It isn't?" Tidwell challenged.

Crews looked at him curiously. "Why would it be?"

Tidwell watched him closely, but Crews gave him nothing, as per usual. "How exactly did you find Jack Reese?"

"I told you," Crews said. "I got a tip."

"From one of Nevikov's men?"

"I assume," Crews said. "He had an accent."

"Why call you?" Tidwell said.

"As I said," Crews said steadily, "I'd put it out there that I was looking for Jack Reese."

"On the grapevine," Tidwell said, then clarified. "The prison grapevine."

Crews shrugged. "I wouldn't define it quite so narrowly, but yes."

"And they still talk to you?" Tidwell challenged. "The cons? Like you're still one of them?"

Crews stared at him for a beat, until he answered. "I'm everything I ever was, and will be, right here in this moment. Aren’t you?"

Tidwell stared at him, frustrated by his non-answer, even if it was the true one. Charlie Crews was the cop, and the con, and probably the best detective he'd ever worked with. He was also an incredibly galling son of a bitch, and someday soon, Tidwell knew that he'd be more than just Dani Reese's partner. He wasn't really sure which of those things pissed him off more, so he turned around and walked away to greet some of the brass instead.

For the rest of the long night, even after the group had moved to Dani's childhood home, Crews stayed away from Dani, but always stood where she could see him, letting her know without saying it that he was there if she needed him. And right there, that was a huge difference between them. Tidwell had never had that kind of patience. In fact, he had no patience for that kind of patience, at all.

So, he went home and slept restlessly, his dreams full of images of Crews and Reese. Not of them in the sack, or making out in the patrol car or anything, but weird things. The one that stuck with him was of Crews cutting fruit with that knife that he carried like he was still a fucking skell, offering her the slices on the blade. In the dream, Tidwell was trying to talk to Dani, but she was paying him no attention, instead smiling down at Crews from her perch on their desk where she sat, swinging her bare feet. She didn't even like fruit, yet she was accepting whatever Crews offered her from the endless basket he had next to him.

Tidwell woke the next morning with a raging headache. Forty minutes later, he was standing outside in the hot sun, lined up with all of the other cops outside the funeral home, a blue suit in a sea of uniforms. He really should have taken the time to get an LAPD dress uniform.

They'd all filed past the casket in the funeral home earlier, and he couldn't help but notice that Dani was wearing a dress. He'd seen her in one before, but not like this. Instead of the gauzy number she'd worn then, she was wearing a very fitted dress that fell just below her knee and had little bows at the top of the slits on either side. Bows. And there were some on the jacket that went over it, on the ends of the sleeves that came just below her elbows. Of all the things he'd expected her to wear to her father's funeral, a black suit dress with bows on it was the absolute last thing he'd have picked. Still, he guessed that her mother had wanted her to be the daughter and not the cop today, which explained why she wasn't in uniform. She'd pulled her hair up into a severe knot, however, one that only served to emphasize the scowl on her face when Tidwell smiled at her outfit. It was probably for the best that he only had a chance to say, 'sorry' before he moved on with the tide of officers streaming by them as they stood next to the coffin. From the look of barely concealed exhaustion on her face, he doubted that Dani had slept at all the night before. Maybe tonight, after everything was over, he could talk her into coming home with him.

The men and women snapped to attention around him as the pallbearers came out of the funeral home. Cops didn't put the coffin on the rolling bier that moved it more easily from place to place. There was nothing easy about death, or honor, so they did it the hard way, the right way. The six men carrying Jack Reese were probably the sons of some of his colleagues, plus one or two cops that Dani had chosen. And it was obvious who she had picked, because even under the regulation cap, the sun turned his hair to flame when the light touched it. But it wasn't until the men paused to lift the coffin to their shoulders for the walk to the hearse that Tidwell realized that Bobby Stark stood opposite Crews. If picking Crews strummed that old chord of rejection, picking Stark was the one that really made it sing. He'd always thought that Dani didn't like Stark at all, blamed him for not standing by his partner. Stung, he watched Dani move down the path behind the coffin with her hand under her mother's arm, holding her up. She was wearing very high heels, and her mother's heavily leaning on her wasn’t helping her keep her balance, but she soldiered on, stoically. Like always.

After the long service was over and Jack Reese was finally in the ground, the honor guard gave the flag to Dani's mother, who stared at it uncomprehendingly before she handed it to Dani, much to her obvious shock. Dani just sat there staring at the flag in her lap, holding her hands away from it like it was armed for detonation. Before Tidwell could even start to move through the crowd, Crews was already there, tucking the flag under his arm while he helped Dani's mother up from the chair. When Crews finally moved out of his way, he could see the look of gratitude that Dani still wore for the save from what could have been a very awkward moment.

At the post-funeral lunch, the crowd got good and lubricated -- that behavior, at least, didn't seem to vary from coast to coast. The drunker the crowd got, the louder the undercurrent of murmuring about Crews that had begun the night before became. It was mostly confined to the older guys in the room, but their muttering about the inappropriateness of Crews being a pallbearer, or of the animosity that defined Jack Reese's relationship with his daughter's partner had to have gotten loud enough for Crews to overhear. It was so obvious that a few of the younger officers from his own precinct who'd come to respect Crews began to twitch in their seats. Tidwell moved to a position from which he could take action if it became necessary, but only when he noticed that Dani was aware of what was going on.

Crews, seated at a table full of people half a room away from Dani, hadn't moved a muscle, but that girl who’d had been at his house when Crews had shot his own father looked like she wanted to say something. Crews laid his hand over hers and said something into her ear, and the girl put her head on his shoulder and cried a little, something that she'd been doing on and off throughout the day. Crews and a blonde woman on the other side of the girl shared a concerned look before Crews passed the girl a handkerchief. Tidwell must have missed the note in Crews’ jacket that said he had a kid, but maybe he hadn't known before he went to prison. He had to have been really young when he fathered her, like in high school.

"That's Rachel Seybolt," a voice at his elbow said. Tidwell turned to see Crews' father standing next to him, still fit and trim in his pressed dress uniform.

"Oh?" Tidwell said, and then the name registered. "Oh."

"She lives with Charles now," he said simply.

When it seemed that he was going to lapse into silence again, Tidwell asked the question he'd been dying to since he'd laid eyes on the woman. "Who's the blonde?"

The elder Crews looked at him sharply. "That's Jennifer," he said evenly. "Charles’ ex-wife."

"Oh …" Tidwell said, and this time, the utterance had a little extra something on it. Jennifer. Jennifer was a looker. True, she was no Dani Reese, but then few women were. Tidwell had been with a lot of women, but he'd always had a weakness for the brunettes. In his experience, they were more passionate, and had more hidden depths. Still, looking at Jennifer, Tidwell had to admit that her existence meant that young, poor Crews had been able to attract the likes of a Jennifer even before he had the money, even before he was The Charlie Crews. He looked back at Crews, and then at Jennifer with her cool blondeness, her tailored, expensive clothes, the tasteful, but sizable diamonds. She was the California version of the New York socialite, and he just didn't get it. A woman like Jennifer should have always been out of Crews' league. If she hadn't grown up with money, she'd learned to appreciate it very easily, and had clearly married up after Crews went to prison. He wondered if she regretted that decision now that Crews was so very rich, but cleared his throat and said politely, "I didn't realize that she and your son were still friendly."

"They're not, particularly," Crews' father said. "But they were both very close to the Seybolt children, and well …" he paused, "they're pretty much all she has left."

Tidwell nodded, watching the girl. "She seems upset about Jack Reese, though." Crews' father looked at him warily. "I mean, she was crying in the church."

"A lot of people here are upset about Jack Reese. He was murdered," Crews said, and Tidwell knew that he was referring to what Rachel Seybolt had witnessed when she was a child. He paused. "Of course, a lot of people seem determined to make Jack into something he wasn't."

The last sentence had some unmistakable bitterness. "A lot of people seem to want to forget that your son was the one that found him," Tidwell said. "That he did the right thing."

"Yes, he did," the senior Crews answered.

"The thing is, people like to forget what's inconvenient or unpleasant," Tidwell said. "I don't blame them, but it just doesn't work that way for me." No, he thought. Moving 3,000 miles away, practically on a whim, that’s the ticket.

Crews nodded. "I know," he said. "But that doesn't mean I want to listen to it."

"I can see that," Tidwell said. "I do."

He noticed that Crews seemed focused on the redhead that was sitting next to Ted Earley. While they'd been standing there talking, she'd glanced once or twice at Crews, but then looked away.

"It must be hard for you," Tidwell said, "to see that."

Crews looked at him sharply.

"I don't mean any disrespect," Tidwell hastened to assure him, "but I can't imagine that any father wants to see his daughter hooked up with an ex-con. I mean, it's not like he was innocent, like your son." For a minute, he thought that the senior Crews was going to punch him in the face, but he seemed to get ahold of himself before he spun and abruptly walked away, leaving Tidwell incredibly confused.

"Nice," a voice drawled out sarcastically. He looked over to see Bobby Stark standing within earshot.

"What'd I say?" Tidwell asked.

"The redhead?" Stark informed him, picking his teeth leisurely. "She was the old man's fiancée." He paused while Tidwell groaned. "Not his daughter. Fiancée. And a dead ringer for Charlie's late mother, I hear."

"Wonderful," Tidwell said. Across the table, he saw Charlie Crews watching him with Stark and realized that he was probably puzzling out what had just happened. He turned around and walked out to the patio, and spent a little time making the kind of politically necessary palaver with the right people that this job required.

By the time he got back into the hall, most of the crowd had dispersed, and he cursed himself for not paying more attention. He went to the side door where the parking lot was and looked around. Clusters of people lingered, but he saw neither Dani nor Crews. Jennifer, however, was just getting into a silver Mercedes; Rachel Seybolt had already closed the passenger door and dropped her head wearily against the headrest. Tidwell crossed the dining room to the front door to see Charlie Crews turning the corner from the side parking lot, strolling slowly up the driveway to where the limo was still parked. His hands were in the pockets of his perfectly tailored LAPD dress blues, and he had the flag tucked under one arm, and his hat under the other as he strolled with his face tipped up toward the sun, seeming to drink it in. If he was around, then Dani had to be inside somewhere. Tidwell walked back to where the offices and restrooms were, but didn't see her anywhere. Hearing noise from within, he lurked outside the bathroom for a couple of minutes, but the woman who came out told him she'd been the only one in there.

He cursed again and crossed the hall, just in time to see Dani walk wearily into the front vestibule as the limo drove away. It was too much to hope that Crews had left, but he continued moving toward her, driven almost as much by curiosity about what was going on between them as he was by the off chance that he could persuade her to come home with him for the first time in better than six months. When he got closer to the vestibule, he stopped at a sound he'd never heard before: Charlie Crews was laughing. Chuckling, actually. At something Dani was telling him, her hands waving around animatedly.

"… I mean, it has bows, Crews. How'm I supposed to walk into the station on Monday with my head held high? Bows!" She groaned dramatically.

Crews was sitting on the edge of the table in the vestibule, which made him eye level with Dani. "Can we talk about the shoes now?" he asked her cheerfully. "Maaman didn't buy those shoes."

Dani drew her chin down and her eyebrows up as she fixed Crews with a mocking, wide-eyed stare that Tidwell was very familiar with. "Maaman? Did she teach you that?"

"She did," Crews said, then smiled. "Mothers like me."

"Uh huh," she said.

Tidwell noticed that they had both deftly avoided the subject of fathers.

"Well, Detective Crews," Dani said, "have you ever looked at Maaman's shoes?"

Crews pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side, then raised his eyebrows at Dani.

"So much for your vaunted observation skills," she murmured. "And speaking of which," she leaned forward and put her hand on Crews' shoulder, dropping one shoe off her foot and then rubbing her sole along her calf. "My feet are killing me," she gritted out.

"Take them off," Crews said.

"I'll wreck my stockings," Dani said, stepping back into the shoe and wincing.

Crews shrugged. "I'll buy you some new ones."

Dani raised an eyebrow at him. "Is there something about you and women's lingerie that you need to discuss with me, Crews?" she asked.

Crews smirked at her, and leaned forward, grasping her by the elbow. "Gimme," he said.

Dani dropped her hand back on his shoulder and picked up a foot. Crews plucked off the proffered shoe and she promptly sank down several inches and groaned, rubbing her foot against the tile. She switched hands and kicked her other foot behind her as Crews moved a hand to her waist to steady her. She pulled off the remaining shoe, and handed it to Crews, who placed it next to its partner in his hat, soles facing up.

"I think those heels should actually be classified as a weapon," he quipped.

Tidwell noticed that although Dani was steady on the ground now, that she made no move to let go of Crews, or to move out of his grasp. Instead, she yawned hugely.

"C'mon," Crews said, "come home with me and you can sleep by the pool for the rest of the day."

Dani shook her head, and took her hand off Crews’ shoulder. Tidwell's heart soared. "I should go be with my mom."

Crews let go of her waist and shook his head right back at her. "She told me that she's going to spend some time with her sister."

Dani looked guilty at this pronouncement. "Because she can talk to my aunt freely," she sighed.

Crews shrugged. "Probably. But that doesn't have anything to do with you," he said firmly. "She needs to be with the people who knew her when she was young, and in love."

Dani nodded. "I know," she whispered. "And it's so hard for me to picture …" she drifted off.

"They were your parents," Crews said, and Tidwell shook his head. Even he knew that was a stupid answer.

"Yeah," Dani said. "Well, anyway. I can't go swimming in this, so …" Her fingers plucked at the bows on the skirt. "Bows!" she said with exasperated emphasis, as if she'd just become aware of them. She reached up and pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders as she rolled her neck.

"Fine," Crews said, standing up. He picked the flag up and put the cap atop it, balancing Dani's shoes carefully. She dropped her hairpins into his hat.

"Fine?"

Crews shrugged. "We'll pick your suit up when we go get your bag."

"When we go get my bag?" Dani repeated, in a surprised tone. "Since when are we going to get my bag?"

"You shouldn't be alone, Dani," Crews said quietly.

"I'm fine," she said evenly, but without the edge of hostility that usually accompanied such pronouncements.

Crews tilted his head at her, patiently waiting her out. Again.

She sighed, and Tidwell watched her whole body move up and down. "I'm just so tired," she said quietly.

"I know," he said. "We'll pack you a bag and then you can just … rest."

Dani was still shaking her head no, and Tidwell felt some hope that the situation might actually go his way. "Rachel …" she began, but this time Charlie shook his head.

"She's staying with Jen for the weekend," he said, and then paused. "Besides, she likes you," he placed an emphasis on the word 'likes' that Tidwell found odd.

Dani opened her mouth, and closed it, then finally said. "She just has a totally different idea of who he was, you know?"

"I know," Crews said, and Tidwell realized that Rachel Seybolt really had been crying for Jack Reese, and not because she was the sensitive girl that Crews' father had made her out to be.

Dani nodded, and stared up at Crews, then tipped forward until she was leaning against Crews' arm. "I'm so tired, Charlie," she said, and Tidwell heard the long echo of her words, and all the years behind them.

"I know," Crews said. He shifted the flag and his cap to one side and curled an arm around her as if he was unused to touching Dani like that, carefully resting his cheek against her hair.

Dani leaned back after less than a minute, and took her jacket off wearily, adding it to the pile in Crews' arms. She indicated the door behind her with a gesture and Crews motioned her ahead of him with his chin. As they passed through the door into the warm California sunlight, he heard Dani ask Crews if she could drive. Their voices faded away, arguing goodnaturedly while Kevin Tidwell stood there and watched them. When they passed the window at the front of the hall, Dani had stopped walking and was holding onto Crews' arm with one hand while she pushed her right stocking down with the other and Crews tried to look like he was not looking.

It was quite possible the man was made of stone, Tidwell decided.

By the time they passed into the frame of the second window, her legs were bare, and after she dropped her balled up stockings into Crews' hat, she wrapped her arm around his companionably. After a brief argument, which he couldn't hear, but involved Crews gesturing at Dani's bare feet and the pedals of the Maserati, Dani begrudgingly got in the passenger side of the car, and immediately began yawning again. By the time Crews backed out of the space and turned the car toward the exit, Dani's eyes were closed and she was already tilting in Crews’ direction. He watched as Charlie Crews looked over at her and smiled softly; then he put his sunglasses on and turned the wheel, and they were gone.

In his mind's eye, he could see Dani sliding down in the seat to rest her head against Crews’ arm as he steered the car through the LA streets that they both knew so well. There was nothing sexual about what he was imagining, or even realistic, because he was pretty sure there was a console between them that would make the scenario impossible. But it was torture enough that he could picture it so easily, because Dani was so very tired and because she trusted Crews. She trusted Crews, and that was how he'd won her, and not because he'd rescued her, or found her dead father.

Or it was because of that, but also because he'd been patient and he didn't push and push.

So. That was that.

Kevin Tidwell walked out the door of the hall, and took off the tie she'd bought him, and stuffed it in the breast pocket of the suit he’d worn because Dani Reese had picked it out. He didn't bother looking at his watch, because it would only tell him that here it was still too early. But he was going out and getting drunk, and why not? He'd given it up for her, but there was no point.

Besides, it was five o'clock in New York, and still, more than a year later, that was really the time zone he belonged in. It was a little bit more than six weeks until the New Year, and if he timed it right, maybe he could be back in the city in time to see the ball drop in Times Square. It would be a new decade, and maybe then he could really start over.

Maybe this time, he would get it right.

~*~

Five.

Current Mood: creative

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From:

steph0202.livejournal.com

Awesome new chapter, was really interesting to see Tidwells pov on the people around Charlie and Dani, love that he insulted Crews Sr with the daughter quip. Can't wait for more!

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Life Fic: Seven Veils: Six

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