Seven Veils: Three
Jun. 11th, 2009 08:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anjouficTitle: Seven Veils
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
comice aka Anjou (Anjou@rocketmail.com)
Posting Date: June 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.
My apologies for being so tardy with this particular piece of the story. Life (heh!) has been very busy of late.
~
Charlie Crews didn’t blush anymore. That was one for his list, and one that he was surprised to admit that he hadn’t noted already. It wasn’t like he’d actually written the list down anywhere, but he couldn’t help but note the differences. He might not ever make detective, but Bobby Stark did pay attention.
Of course, blushing wouldn’t have been one of the first things that he noted about the ways that Charlie had changed. The first thing was how that rookie that had depended upon Bobby showing him the ropes had come out of prison harder and smarter, and most surprisingly, the teacher, and not just because he was now a detective. Charlie had always been a natural leader, even when he was green. In fact, having Charlie ride with him had been a bit of a feather in Bobby’s cap, a sign that he was being trusted to do something important, because it had been clear that everyone expected Charlie Crews to do great things, and not because he was second-generation. He wasn’t a legacy, gliding in to his position on his daddy’s reputation. Crews was supposed to be the real deal: college-educated, fit, observant and respectful.
What they never mentioned, and probably never knew, was how much fun he was. How much fun it was to ride with him, and talk to him, and especially, to make him blush. Redheads, man. They turned the absolute best colors, and back in the day, when you really got Charlie going, he would blush all the way down his neck. One time, with some tranny pros, Bobby could swear that even Charlie’s arms were red below the short sleeves of his uniform.
Of course, Charlie had always had a way with the ladies, and the not-quite ladies, although he hadn’t been interested back then, and he certainly wasn’t interested now. Bobby looked around the surprisingly full patio at Charlie’s poolside to see who else had noticed that some of his sister's badge bunny friends had crashed Charlie’s 4th of July party. At least, he was pretty sure they’d crashed. Reese had raised an eyebrow at them and continued on into the house with a empty platter – Bobby could see that she was irritated, but not enough to make any sort of a ruckus. She knew that Charlie wasn’t the cheating kind, and Bobby was glad to see that.
He was even more thrilled to see that Kathy had had enough sense to stay the hell away, and not only because it would spare him some embarrassment. The truth was, he hadn’t exactly told Leslie that he was coming over here today. The whole family had been invited, but she’d declined, for herself and the kids. Charlie’d been out for almost four years, but that didn’t mean she had to let go of her anger. It was Charlie’s fault, according to Leslie, that Bobby’s career hadn’t advanced as far as it should. Then, of course, when Charlie’d picked him to ride with him last year, and he’d gotten poisoned by that hitwoman, well, that was Charlie’s fault, too. Even though he was the one who’d gone in without backup.
Leslie’s other argument was that she was continuing to cut Charlie on Jennifer’s behalf, which made less than zero sense -- not that he'd ever point that out to her. Because if she were really snubbing Charlie for that reason, you'd expect that she’d be best friends with Jen. Not like what it was, which was that Jennifer had pretty much been cut off by everyone, including Leslie, when Charlie was arrested. Oh, people felt bad for her, sure, when they weren’t gossiping about things that they’d heard Charlie might have done. The supposed affair with Paulette Seybolt for one thing, or the whispers about Charlie’s brutality during a collar or two, for another. He’d never believed the Paulette story, not in a million years, and he’d been at the arrests that were supposed to have gone bad. He should have known then that the rest of it was all bullshit, but after eighteen hours of questions, Bobby had questioned his own name.
He could only imagine what they had done to Jen. So, Bobby couldn't blame her for not wanting to come around and deal with all the bullshit, what with the headlines and the breathless TV coverage of the LAPD’s latest scandal. In fact, he had to give her credit for not fleeing LA outright, moving somewhere else and changing her name to start over. She’d stuck it out, and made a new life for herself. And surprisingly enough, she and Charlie seemed to have been able to move past the rubble of their previous relationship into something that resembled friendship, or at least cordiality. She’d come to the party today, with her children and her husband. It had been awkward, no question. Awkward enough that Bobby had felt himself flushing a little bit and he was only watching, wasn’t close enough to hear what was going on when a smiling Rachel Seybolt had brought them outside onto the patio. Jen had definitely been a little pink, and her husband was rednecked and visibly unhappy, but polite. But, Charlie? He was neither. He'd just stood up from the table as gracefully as possible, maneuvering the brace that he was still wearing on his right leg out from under the table, and smiled. He shook the kids’ hands first and then Jennifer’s husband, before he introduced them to his partner.
Reese hadn’t been particularly smiley and she didn’t stand up from her seat at the table next to Charlie, Bobby had noticed. Then again, he knew for a fact that Reese was a far less forgiving person than Charlie. She’d certainly made him jump through enough hoops before she treated him with anything other than thinly veiled contempt, and that had been back when she barely liked Charlie. However, he did enjoy the fact that she’d fiddled with the sling on her left arm to avoid shaking hands with Jennifer when she and her family left after staying a polite half hour at most. She was a tough girl, that Dani Reese.
Actually, he was afraid that he might have to revisit the notion that Charlie was a more forgiving person than Reese one of these days, but he had to admit that he’d have a hard time adding the notion that Charlie actually was a killer to the list. It’s not that he thought that Charlie was a Boy Scout, not by any stretch of the imagination. Bobby knew that Charlie had killed, and more than once, but that had been on the job. And he wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Charlie’s on-the-side investigations were over, nor would he ever blame Charlie for wanting to know who had put him in prison for twelve years. Hell, he’d broken about 100 different regulations getting Charlie that rifle when Reese had been kidnapped more than a year ago, although the brass had never been able to pin it on him. He was loyal, but not stupid.
Still, he had to admit that the recent discovery of Roman Nevikov’s skeletal remains in a burnt out Cadillac Escalade had unsettled him. It wasn’t like he was going to shed any tears for Nevikov – he’d been an animal, a stone cold killer who’d gamed the system ruthlessly, exploiting every advantage and loophole he could conjure up or blackmail his way into – he’d literally gotten away with murder, and it pissed Bobby off to know that the feds had helped him do it. Still. If Nevikov had been killed by a gun, Bobby would have been comfortable assigning blame to someone in his own organization. After all, Charlie had brought a chunk of change from Rayborn to free Reese hadn’t he? The rumors had the ransom up as high as $25 million in untraceable currency or bonds, an absolute temptation for any of Nevikov’s soldiers, all of whom must have been chafed by the choke collars that Roman kept on them.
But Roman hadn’t died in a hail of bullets, or even from the classic two in the hat. No -- the ME’s report said that Roman had died of ‘a single, cataclysmic blow’ to the throat. A single blow of such intensity and power that it had broken his windpipe above the Adam’s Apple. Roman Nevikov had asphyxiated while he was fully conscious, gasping and straining for the air that no longer had a way to reach his lungs.
Ever since Bobby’d heard that, he’d been unable to shake the idea of it, that single cataclysmic blow. He’d seen how cowed Roman’s men, not to mention the women, were by him. He wondered which one of them could have mustered up the necessary force, not to mention the balls, to administer a killing blow from just an arm’s length away. He couldn’t picture any of the men he’d seen at Roman’s club doing it, especially when there were so many guns always around Roman. Guns and a dead Roman? Absolutely a family matter. But this …
And, of course, the rumors about Charlie paying off Reese’s ransom had said that he was required to go without any weapons. No weapon but himself. Because they’d made Charlie Crews a weapon, hadn’t they?
And there was something terrible about Charlie now, something hard and fearsome that Bobby didn’t like to think about too much, but he saw it sometimes, in the stillness of Charlie’s face, the way in which he was capable of being inscrutable. And that part of Charlie, the part that hadn’t been there when Charlie Crews blushed while he bantered with the trannies and kindly rebuffed the advances of the women at the bar that he’d owned with Tom Seybolt, that part was the real reason that Charlie was the teacher now, the superior officer. And he didn’t need the title or the stripes or any of the things that came with it, and everybody knew it. He just was, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. Bobby’d seen the way that some of the brass looked at Charlie, and what he saw was fear. Because Charlie Crews had been determined to find out who’d really killed the Seybolts and why, and no threats, not even of being put back in a cage, had stopped him. And that fact made them all, including him, afraid of Charlie.
Of course, the brass masked their fear with contempt, tried to play it off like they suspected that despite all evidence to the contrary that Charlie must be guilty of something, if only of bearing the taint of prison. Because what Charlie was really guilty of was survival. Bobby knew, every cop knew, what it would mean to be stripped of weapons and authority behind those prison walls, to be locked inside, inside that place with those animals. They all knew what must have happened to Charlie, knew about the broken bones and the stitches and everything else that was hinted at and hidden between the lines of the medical reports. But Charlie Crews was still standing. He had walked out of Pelican Bay upright, alive.
But he didn't blush anymore, and when Charlie Crews looked at the brass in that assessing way that he had, they could see that he was going to figure out every secret that they had thought to hide in the deepest part of their hearts. And they knew he was going to drag every last one of them out into the light and stake them to ground, force them to be acknowledged.
That Charlie, the one who had dug a grave-sized hole in front of Kyle Hollis, the one who had caused a few brass to put in for retirement, the one who knew that he’d lied about the Bank of LA? That Charlie Crews could have crushed Roman Nevikov’s windpipe with one swift, incisive killing blow and watched him die without blinking.
That Charlie Crews scared the crap out of Bobby Stark. That Charlie Crews had spent the better part of last month in the hospital, recovering from a bullet wound and a deep cut from that evil-looking knife he carried that had almost severed his femoral artery. And whatever that Charlie Crews had been working on was so bad that not only had a few more brass suddenly taken retirement, but one had put his gun in his mouth the night before his last day at work. It was purely coincidental, Bobby Stark was sure, that every member of the SWAT team that had been there the day of the Bank of LA robbery was either dead, retired or had disappeared. Purely coincidental.
He’d brought Charlie the paper the day that Dodson had killed himself, and there was an expression of grim satisfaction on Charlie’s face that had literally given him a chill, especially when that Charlie Crews had looked up at him, and for a moment, his pale blue eyes were flat and hard and utterly unforgiving.
But that Charlie Crews had saved the life of his Charlie Crews, made it possible for Bobby to ride in the car with Charlie, and to work cases with him. That Charlie Crews had let Bobby Stark get far enough back into his life, that he could be here sitting on Charlie’s patio next to his pool on Independence Day, watching Charlie politely rebuff the advances of a blonde badge bunny who did not seem interested in taking no for an answer. Reese had come out of the house with a new platter of food balanced carefully in her one good hand and shot Charlie a look that clearly said that he was on his own as she continued right on by him. She passed the table where they’d been sitting and sat down next to an attractive African American woman that he thought was Bodner’s wife. Reese looked over her shoulder and leaned close to the woman, saying something that caused her to laugh uproariously and clap her hands. Her mirth was not shared by Rachel Seybolt, who was talking to Earley’s girlfriend and a woman he was pretty sure was Earley’s daughter at the poolside. Her expression was thunderous.
He turned his head when he heard the scrape of a chair being pulled out next to him, and tilted his bottle toward Paul Bodner as he settled into the chair.
“My money’s on Rachel,” Bodner said in a matter of fact tone.
“Hell, yeah, ” Bobby said. “Only a fool would bet against her. And Happy 4th. Were you at the hospital when Charlie and Reese were both in there after that case went bad last month?” He knew that Bodner knew that he was being euphemistic. Whatever Charlie had really been working on had nothing to do with the robbery/homicide investigation that had supposedly gone wrong.
“No,” Bodner said, “I was a little busy myself that night.”
Stark looked at him, searching for clues, but Bodner’s face was totally impassive. “She showed up at the hospital when Charlie was still in surgery, and Reese was just out, and made it clear that the only people who had access to their rooms were her. Period.”
Bodner smiled, and there was just a note of pride in it that made Bobby curious. “How’d she do that?”
Bobby was sure that he wasn’t telling Bodner anything new, but he continued the story. “She claimed that she had Charlie’s power-of-attorney, but also said that she had CNN on speed dial, and if they gave her any crap, that she’d starting naming the names of the cops who’d leaned on her to perjure herself when she was a child.”
“I hadn’t heard that part!”
Bobby turned to clink his beer bottle against Ted Earley’s as he pulled out the chair on his other side. “Happy 4th!” he said to him. Earley was a little goofy, but he was all right. He’d given Bobby some good investment advice that’d helped to dig him out of the hole that he was in after the stock market crash. “Too hot on the other side of the pool?”
Earley sighed, his eyes glued on the buxom form of his girlfriend, Rachel and his daughter. “Ann is getting ready to go help Rachel do ... something.” Earley sighed. "My daughter Ann," he clarified.
Stark raised an eyebrow as the younger woman took a toddler from Olivia and got up to go stand at Rachel’s side. “Uh oh,” he said.
“Her temper is almost as bad as Rachel’s,” Earley said mournfully.
“Redhead,” Stark said sagely.
“Yeah,” Ted said, “but mostly she really hates women who try to poach other women’s men.” Ted raised his bottle in Bodner’s direction before taking a swig. “Did you hear that Rachel included Constance in the ban, too?”
That Bobby hadn’t heard, but as he looked around the poolside, he noticed that Constance wasn’t there. “I thought that she and Charlie were friends?”
Ted shrugged. “Rachel was adamant. She had that union guy down there with her, and they had a list made up and everything. Plus, she had those guys from your company,” he said to Bodner, “standing guard.”
“Detective Crews pays for those services,” Bodner said drily.
“I pay the bills,” Ted said mildly, as they all three looked over to where Amanda Puryer, in a large brimmed black hat, was holding court at one of the tables. She was, of course, smoking. "Well. I write out the checks, anyway." He paused. “Who’s that guy at her table?”
“Some kind of rock star,” Bobby answered, when Bodner didn't answer immediately.
Bodner looked at him askance.
Bobby shrugged. “He’s in some band that my daughter likes.” They contemplated the table again in silence. “What do you think he is, 30?”
“Maybe,” Bodner said.
“Who’s the other guy?” Bobby asked, referring to the hulking dark blonde man that was pouring Ms. Puryer a glass of champagne while the rock star looked on.
“That’s Charlie’s gardener,” Ted said.
“His gardener?” Bobby choked around a mouthful of beer. “His gardener!?” The guy looked like he was a mob enforcer, not a tree hugger.
“He’s evidently very good at his job,” Bodner said quietly as they all watched the rock star getting more and more peevish as Ms. Puryer flirted with the clearly smitten Russian. “Plus, Ms. Puryer speaks Russian.”
“Of course she does,” Ted said, nearly immediately. “Of course. I hear that she was MI5.”
Stark looked at Bodner, but he shook his head. “It would not surprise me,” was all he said. Bodner was now watching the pool, where Jane Seever had organized the few kids in some sort of swimming relay.
“Is Detective Seever dating two different professional athletes?” Ted asked.
Stark observed the two men who stood in opposite corners of the pool. The basketball player was standing in the deep end of the pool, the six-foot depth no impediment, while the football player scowled at him from the shallow end.
“That’s her brother,” Bodner said, tilting his head in the direction of the football player.
“Seever’s brother is on the Jets,” Bobby said slowly, putting two and two together.
“One of them,” Bodner said. “One of them plays for the Yankees.”
Ted raised an eyebrow. “So, they’re all professional athletes.”
“Even the one who’s a doctor now,” Bodner said. “He used to play tennis. The other one plays soccer.”
Ted whistled and they all watched Seever’s brother glower as the ball got tossed back to her from the deep end. “I take it that her brother does not approve.”
“Evidently, Mr. Harrington never finished college.”
“Man, they are strict!” Bobby said. “What’s he make – like $10 million a year? And that's not good enough?”
Across the pool, Olivia waved at Ted, and he excused himself. Somehow, while their heads had been turned, Charlie had left the table, leaving the badge bunny alone with a smiling Rachel and Ann.
“Oh, that does not look good,” Bobby observed. Then, Olivia walked over to Ted and momentarily blocked Bobby’s view of the action, but when he turned to Bodner to complain, he saw that the Agent was watching his youngest daughter following Seever around the pool like an awestruck duckling.
“You ready to pay for the private track coach?” he asked Bodner.
Bodner broke out into a wide smile, but whatever he was going to say was lost as the sound of women laughing raucously rippled across the pool. Bodner’s wife and Dani were talking very animatedly, and as Bobby watched, Dani made a circle of her thumb and forefinger then widened it, her hand rising and falling away from her lap. Lt. Davis, who had joined them, pointed at her and then made a gesture where she was holding her hands, palms flattened and facing each other, about six inches apart. Reese rolled her eyes and shook her head, before leaning over and moving Davis’ hands slightly farther apart with her one good hand. Then she repeated the gesture she’d been making with her hand. Bobby felt his eyebrows rising to where his hairline had used to be as Bodner’s wife mimicked and enlarged upon both their actions.
“Um …” he said, unsure of what to say, and feeling slightly inadequate at the moment.
Next to him, the chair was pulled out again, and Charlie heaved himself into it, plopping a toddler on the table. “Uncle Bobby thinks something dirty is going on, Teddy,” he informed the toddler, who was jingling a set of keys and looked entirely unimpressed. “But there isn’t.” He looked at Bobby, and then Bodner, with a slight smirk on his face.
“There isn’t?” Bobby asked incredulously, looking from Charlie to Bodner.
“Nope,” Bodner said. He still looked mighty smug, Bobby had to admit.
“Really,” Bobby said slowly.
“You didn’t tell him what Mrs. Ex-Special Agent Bodner does now, did you?” Charlie asked Bodner.
Bodner shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes were dancing. “It hasn’t come up,” he said.
Across the pool, the women all got up and went in to the house, still talking animatedly. Somehow, Seever had gotten into the conversation, and she looked as excited as the rest of them as she hastened to wrap a towel around her waist and join them. Even Olivia had left Ted to follow them into the house. At the adjacent table, the one where Charlie had originally been sitting, Rachel Seybolt and Ted’s daughter were laughing, leaning against each other. They waved gaily at the women going into the house, but shook their heads and remained seated. There were no badge bunnies in sight.
“I suppose Avon Lady is right out,” Bobby said to Charlie.
“Pretty much,” he answered. “Although you’re moving in the right direction.” Charlie paused, and then covering a protesting Teddy’s ears, whispered. “Her services are for women only.”
Well, now Bobby’s mind was full of all sorts of images that it shouldn’t be, even though he knew that they were jerking his chain.
Luckily, he was saved by Ted, who had returned just in time to rescue his keys from Teddy, who was clearly winding up to throw them into the pool. “I didn’t know your wife was a gunsmith, Paul,” Ted said to Bodner. “Everyone’s all excited about some new ergonomic grip she’s developed that fits a woman’s hand better.”
“Grips,” Bobby said.
“A woman who knows how to properly use a gun is a beautiful thing,” Bodner said.
Ted handed his whining grandson his sunglasses to play with. “Olivia has a concealed carry license,” he informed them, then added. "She's from Texas."
Charlie held his beer bottle aloft. “To the right to bear arms,” he said.
Bobby drank to that. He looked at Charlie. “Happy Independence Day, Charlie Crews,” he said.
“To freedom,” Charlie answered, raising his bottle in Bobby’s direction. This time, when he returned Bobby’s gaze, there was no shadow behind his eyes, and no ice in his stare. He was different, but he was still the Charlie Crews that Bobby had ridden with, all those years ago. Maybe he’d done what he needed to do. Maybe it was all over. Maybe Charlie Crews really was free now.
Bobby leaned over and clinked the neck of Charlie’s beer bottle. “Long may it reign,” he said, in all seriousness, holding the eye of his old friend, happy to be here with him, whatever the circumstance, whatever he’d done or might yet do. “Long may it reign.”
Charlie Crews looked back at him serenely, and smiled.
~
Seven Veils: Two
Author:
comice aka Anjou (Anjou@rocketmail.com)Posting Date: June 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.
My apologies for being so tardy with this particular piece of the story. Life (heh!) has been very busy of late.
~
Charlie Crews didn’t blush anymore. That was one for his list, and one that he was surprised to admit that he hadn’t noted already. It wasn’t like he’d actually written the list down anywhere, but he couldn’t help but note the differences. He might not ever make detective, but Bobby Stark did pay attention.
Of course, blushing wouldn’t have been one of the first things that he noted about the ways that Charlie had changed. The first thing was how that rookie that had depended upon Bobby showing him the ropes had come out of prison harder and smarter, and most surprisingly, the teacher, and not just because he was now a detective. Charlie had always been a natural leader, even when he was green. In fact, having Charlie ride with him had been a bit of a feather in Bobby’s cap, a sign that he was being trusted to do something important, because it had been clear that everyone expected Charlie Crews to do great things, and not because he was second-generation. He wasn’t a legacy, gliding in to his position on his daddy’s reputation. Crews was supposed to be the real deal: college-educated, fit, observant and respectful.
What they never mentioned, and probably never knew, was how much fun he was. How much fun it was to ride with him, and talk to him, and especially, to make him blush. Redheads, man. They turned the absolute best colors, and back in the day, when you really got Charlie going, he would blush all the way down his neck. One time, with some tranny pros, Bobby could swear that even Charlie’s arms were red below the short sleeves of his uniform.
Of course, Charlie had always had a way with the ladies, and the not-quite ladies, although he hadn’t been interested back then, and he certainly wasn’t interested now. Bobby looked around the surprisingly full patio at Charlie’s poolside to see who else had noticed that some of his sister's badge bunny friends had crashed Charlie’s 4th of July party. At least, he was pretty sure they’d crashed. Reese had raised an eyebrow at them and continued on into the house with a empty platter – Bobby could see that she was irritated, but not enough to make any sort of a ruckus. She knew that Charlie wasn’t the cheating kind, and Bobby was glad to see that.
He was even more thrilled to see that Kathy had had enough sense to stay the hell away, and not only because it would spare him some embarrassment. The truth was, he hadn’t exactly told Leslie that he was coming over here today. The whole family had been invited, but she’d declined, for herself and the kids. Charlie’d been out for almost four years, but that didn’t mean she had to let go of her anger. It was Charlie’s fault, according to Leslie, that Bobby’s career hadn’t advanced as far as it should. Then, of course, when Charlie’d picked him to ride with him last year, and he’d gotten poisoned by that hitwoman, well, that was Charlie’s fault, too. Even though he was the one who’d gone in without backup.
Leslie’s other argument was that she was continuing to cut Charlie on Jennifer’s behalf, which made less than zero sense -- not that he'd ever point that out to her. Because if she were really snubbing Charlie for that reason, you'd expect that she’d be best friends with Jen. Not like what it was, which was that Jennifer had pretty much been cut off by everyone, including Leslie, when Charlie was arrested. Oh, people felt bad for her, sure, when they weren’t gossiping about things that they’d heard Charlie might have done. The supposed affair with Paulette Seybolt for one thing, or the whispers about Charlie’s brutality during a collar or two, for another. He’d never believed the Paulette story, not in a million years, and he’d been at the arrests that were supposed to have gone bad. He should have known then that the rest of it was all bullshit, but after eighteen hours of questions, Bobby had questioned his own name.
He could only imagine what they had done to Jen. So, Bobby couldn't blame her for not wanting to come around and deal with all the bullshit, what with the headlines and the breathless TV coverage of the LAPD’s latest scandal. In fact, he had to give her credit for not fleeing LA outright, moving somewhere else and changing her name to start over. She’d stuck it out, and made a new life for herself. And surprisingly enough, she and Charlie seemed to have been able to move past the rubble of their previous relationship into something that resembled friendship, or at least cordiality. She’d come to the party today, with her children and her husband. It had been awkward, no question. Awkward enough that Bobby had felt himself flushing a little bit and he was only watching, wasn’t close enough to hear what was going on when a smiling Rachel Seybolt had brought them outside onto the patio. Jen had definitely been a little pink, and her husband was rednecked and visibly unhappy, but polite. But, Charlie? He was neither. He'd just stood up from the table as gracefully as possible, maneuvering the brace that he was still wearing on his right leg out from under the table, and smiled. He shook the kids’ hands first and then Jennifer’s husband, before he introduced them to his partner.
Reese hadn’t been particularly smiley and she didn’t stand up from her seat at the table next to Charlie, Bobby had noticed. Then again, he knew for a fact that Reese was a far less forgiving person than Charlie. She’d certainly made him jump through enough hoops before she treated him with anything other than thinly veiled contempt, and that had been back when she barely liked Charlie. However, he did enjoy the fact that she’d fiddled with the sling on her left arm to avoid shaking hands with Jennifer when she and her family left after staying a polite half hour at most. She was a tough girl, that Dani Reese.
Actually, he was afraid that he might have to revisit the notion that Charlie was a more forgiving person than Reese one of these days, but he had to admit that he’d have a hard time adding the notion that Charlie actually was a killer to the list. It’s not that he thought that Charlie was a Boy Scout, not by any stretch of the imagination. Bobby knew that Charlie had killed, and more than once, but that had been on the job. And he wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Charlie’s on-the-side investigations were over, nor would he ever blame Charlie for wanting to know who had put him in prison for twelve years. Hell, he’d broken about 100 different regulations getting Charlie that rifle when Reese had been kidnapped more than a year ago, although the brass had never been able to pin it on him. He was loyal, but not stupid.
Still, he had to admit that the recent discovery of Roman Nevikov’s skeletal remains in a burnt out Cadillac Escalade had unsettled him. It wasn’t like he was going to shed any tears for Nevikov – he’d been an animal, a stone cold killer who’d gamed the system ruthlessly, exploiting every advantage and loophole he could conjure up or blackmail his way into – he’d literally gotten away with murder, and it pissed Bobby off to know that the feds had helped him do it. Still. If Nevikov had been killed by a gun, Bobby would have been comfortable assigning blame to someone in his own organization. After all, Charlie had brought a chunk of change from Rayborn to free Reese hadn’t he? The rumors had the ransom up as high as $25 million in untraceable currency or bonds, an absolute temptation for any of Nevikov’s soldiers, all of whom must have been chafed by the choke collars that Roman kept on them.
But Roman hadn’t died in a hail of bullets, or even from the classic two in the hat. No -- the ME’s report said that Roman had died of ‘a single, cataclysmic blow’ to the throat. A single blow of such intensity and power that it had broken his windpipe above the Adam’s Apple. Roman Nevikov had asphyxiated while he was fully conscious, gasping and straining for the air that no longer had a way to reach his lungs.
Ever since Bobby’d heard that, he’d been unable to shake the idea of it, that single cataclysmic blow. He’d seen how cowed Roman’s men, not to mention the women, were by him. He wondered which one of them could have mustered up the necessary force, not to mention the balls, to administer a killing blow from just an arm’s length away. He couldn’t picture any of the men he’d seen at Roman’s club doing it, especially when there were so many guns always around Roman. Guns and a dead Roman? Absolutely a family matter. But this …
And, of course, the rumors about Charlie paying off Reese’s ransom had said that he was required to go without any weapons. No weapon but himself. Because they’d made Charlie Crews a weapon, hadn’t they?
And there was something terrible about Charlie now, something hard and fearsome that Bobby didn’t like to think about too much, but he saw it sometimes, in the stillness of Charlie’s face, the way in which he was capable of being inscrutable. And that part of Charlie, the part that hadn’t been there when Charlie Crews blushed while he bantered with the trannies and kindly rebuffed the advances of the women at the bar that he’d owned with Tom Seybolt, that part was the real reason that Charlie was the teacher now, the superior officer. And he didn’t need the title or the stripes or any of the things that came with it, and everybody knew it. He just was, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. Bobby’d seen the way that some of the brass looked at Charlie, and what he saw was fear. Because Charlie Crews had been determined to find out who’d really killed the Seybolts and why, and no threats, not even of being put back in a cage, had stopped him. And that fact made them all, including him, afraid of Charlie.
Of course, the brass masked their fear with contempt, tried to play it off like they suspected that despite all evidence to the contrary that Charlie must be guilty of something, if only of bearing the taint of prison. Because what Charlie was really guilty of was survival. Bobby knew, every cop knew, what it would mean to be stripped of weapons and authority behind those prison walls, to be locked inside, inside that place with those animals. They all knew what must have happened to Charlie, knew about the broken bones and the stitches and everything else that was hinted at and hidden between the lines of the medical reports. But Charlie Crews was still standing. He had walked out of Pelican Bay upright, alive.
But he didn't blush anymore, and when Charlie Crews looked at the brass in that assessing way that he had, they could see that he was going to figure out every secret that they had thought to hide in the deepest part of their hearts. And they knew he was going to drag every last one of them out into the light and stake them to ground, force them to be acknowledged.
That Charlie, the one who had dug a grave-sized hole in front of Kyle Hollis, the one who had caused a few brass to put in for retirement, the one who knew that he’d lied about the Bank of LA? That Charlie Crews could have crushed Roman Nevikov’s windpipe with one swift, incisive killing blow and watched him die without blinking.
That Charlie Crews scared the crap out of Bobby Stark. That Charlie Crews had spent the better part of last month in the hospital, recovering from a bullet wound and a deep cut from that evil-looking knife he carried that had almost severed his femoral artery. And whatever that Charlie Crews had been working on was so bad that not only had a few more brass suddenly taken retirement, but one had put his gun in his mouth the night before his last day at work. It was purely coincidental, Bobby Stark was sure, that every member of the SWAT team that had been there the day of the Bank of LA robbery was either dead, retired or had disappeared. Purely coincidental.
He’d brought Charlie the paper the day that Dodson had killed himself, and there was an expression of grim satisfaction on Charlie’s face that had literally given him a chill, especially when that Charlie Crews had looked up at him, and for a moment, his pale blue eyes were flat and hard and utterly unforgiving.
But that Charlie Crews had saved the life of his Charlie Crews, made it possible for Bobby to ride in the car with Charlie, and to work cases with him. That Charlie Crews had let Bobby Stark get far enough back into his life, that he could be here sitting on Charlie’s patio next to his pool on Independence Day, watching Charlie politely rebuff the advances of a blonde badge bunny who did not seem interested in taking no for an answer. Reese had come out of the house with a new platter of food balanced carefully in her one good hand and shot Charlie a look that clearly said that he was on his own as she continued right on by him. She passed the table where they’d been sitting and sat down next to an attractive African American woman that he thought was Bodner’s wife. Reese looked over her shoulder and leaned close to the woman, saying something that caused her to laugh uproariously and clap her hands. Her mirth was not shared by Rachel Seybolt, who was talking to Earley’s girlfriend and a woman he was pretty sure was Earley’s daughter at the poolside. Her expression was thunderous.
He turned his head when he heard the scrape of a chair being pulled out next to him, and tilted his bottle toward Paul Bodner as he settled into the chair.
“My money’s on Rachel,” Bodner said in a matter of fact tone.
“Hell, yeah, ” Bobby said. “Only a fool would bet against her. And Happy 4th. Were you at the hospital when Charlie and Reese were both in there after that case went bad last month?” He knew that Bodner knew that he was being euphemistic. Whatever Charlie had really been working on had nothing to do with the robbery/homicide investigation that had supposedly gone wrong.
“No,” Bodner said, “I was a little busy myself that night.”
Stark looked at him, searching for clues, but Bodner’s face was totally impassive. “She showed up at the hospital when Charlie was still in surgery, and Reese was just out, and made it clear that the only people who had access to their rooms were her. Period.”
Bodner smiled, and there was just a note of pride in it that made Bobby curious. “How’d she do that?”
Bobby was sure that he wasn’t telling Bodner anything new, but he continued the story. “She claimed that she had Charlie’s power-of-attorney, but also said that she had CNN on speed dial, and if they gave her any crap, that she’d starting naming the names of the cops who’d leaned on her to perjure herself when she was a child.”
“I hadn’t heard that part!”
Bobby turned to clink his beer bottle against Ted Earley’s as he pulled out the chair on his other side. “Happy 4th!” he said to him. Earley was a little goofy, but he was all right. He’d given Bobby some good investment advice that’d helped to dig him out of the hole that he was in after the stock market crash. “Too hot on the other side of the pool?”
Earley sighed, his eyes glued on the buxom form of his girlfriend, Rachel and his daughter. “Ann is getting ready to go help Rachel do ... something.” Earley sighed. "My daughter Ann," he clarified.
Stark raised an eyebrow as the younger woman took a toddler from Olivia and got up to go stand at Rachel’s side. “Uh oh,” he said.
“Her temper is almost as bad as Rachel’s,” Earley said mournfully.
“Redhead,” Stark said sagely.
“Yeah,” Ted said, “but mostly she really hates women who try to poach other women’s men.” Ted raised his bottle in Bodner’s direction before taking a swig. “Did you hear that Rachel included Constance in the ban, too?”
That Bobby hadn’t heard, but as he looked around the poolside, he noticed that Constance wasn’t there. “I thought that she and Charlie were friends?”
Ted shrugged. “Rachel was adamant. She had that union guy down there with her, and they had a list made up and everything. Plus, she had those guys from your company,” he said to Bodner, “standing guard.”
“Detective Crews pays for those services,” Bodner said drily.
“I pay the bills,” Ted said mildly, as they all three looked over to where Amanda Puryer, in a large brimmed black hat, was holding court at one of the tables. She was, of course, smoking. "Well. I write out the checks, anyway." He paused. “Who’s that guy at her table?”
“Some kind of rock star,” Bobby answered, when Bodner didn't answer immediately.
Bodner looked at him askance.
Bobby shrugged. “He’s in some band that my daughter likes.” They contemplated the table again in silence. “What do you think he is, 30?”
“Maybe,” Bodner said.
“Who’s the other guy?” Bobby asked, referring to the hulking dark blonde man that was pouring Ms. Puryer a glass of champagne while the rock star looked on.
“That’s Charlie’s gardener,” Ted said.
“His gardener?” Bobby choked around a mouthful of beer. “His gardener!?” The guy looked like he was a mob enforcer, not a tree hugger.
“He’s evidently very good at his job,” Bodner said quietly as they all watched the rock star getting more and more peevish as Ms. Puryer flirted with the clearly smitten Russian. “Plus, Ms. Puryer speaks Russian.”
“Of course she does,” Ted said, nearly immediately. “Of course. I hear that she was MI5.”
Stark looked at Bodner, but he shook his head. “It would not surprise me,” was all he said. Bodner was now watching the pool, where Jane Seever had organized the few kids in some sort of swimming relay.
“Is Detective Seever dating two different professional athletes?” Ted asked.
Stark observed the two men who stood in opposite corners of the pool. The basketball player was standing in the deep end of the pool, the six-foot depth no impediment, while the football player scowled at him from the shallow end.
“That’s her brother,” Bodner said, tilting his head in the direction of the football player.
“Seever’s brother is on the Jets,” Bobby said slowly, putting two and two together.
“One of them,” Bodner said. “One of them plays for the Yankees.”
Ted raised an eyebrow. “So, they’re all professional athletes.”
“Even the one who’s a doctor now,” Bodner said. “He used to play tennis. The other one plays soccer.”
Ted whistled and they all watched Seever’s brother glower as the ball got tossed back to her from the deep end. “I take it that her brother does not approve.”
“Evidently, Mr. Harrington never finished college.”
“Man, they are strict!” Bobby said. “What’s he make – like $10 million a year? And that's not good enough?”
Across the pool, Olivia waved at Ted, and he excused himself. Somehow, while their heads had been turned, Charlie had left the table, leaving the badge bunny alone with a smiling Rachel and Ann.
“Oh, that does not look good,” Bobby observed. Then, Olivia walked over to Ted and momentarily blocked Bobby’s view of the action, but when he turned to Bodner to complain, he saw that the Agent was watching his youngest daughter following Seever around the pool like an awestruck duckling.
“You ready to pay for the private track coach?” he asked Bodner.
Bodner broke out into a wide smile, but whatever he was going to say was lost as the sound of women laughing raucously rippled across the pool. Bodner’s wife and Dani were talking very animatedly, and as Bobby watched, Dani made a circle of her thumb and forefinger then widened it, her hand rising and falling away from her lap. Lt. Davis, who had joined them, pointed at her and then made a gesture where she was holding her hands, palms flattened and facing each other, about six inches apart. Reese rolled her eyes and shook her head, before leaning over and moving Davis’ hands slightly farther apart with her one good hand. Then she repeated the gesture she’d been making with her hand. Bobby felt his eyebrows rising to where his hairline had used to be as Bodner’s wife mimicked and enlarged upon both their actions.
“Um …” he said, unsure of what to say, and feeling slightly inadequate at the moment.
Next to him, the chair was pulled out again, and Charlie heaved himself into it, plopping a toddler on the table. “Uncle Bobby thinks something dirty is going on, Teddy,” he informed the toddler, who was jingling a set of keys and looked entirely unimpressed. “But there isn’t.” He looked at Bobby, and then Bodner, with a slight smirk on his face.
“There isn’t?” Bobby asked incredulously, looking from Charlie to Bodner.
“Nope,” Bodner said. He still looked mighty smug, Bobby had to admit.
“Really,” Bobby said slowly.
“You didn’t tell him what Mrs. Ex-Special Agent Bodner does now, did you?” Charlie asked Bodner.
Bodner shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes were dancing. “It hasn’t come up,” he said.
Across the pool, the women all got up and went in to the house, still talking animatedly. Somehow, Seever had gotten into the conversation, and she looked as excited as the rest of them as she hastened to wrap a towel around her waist and join them. Even Olivia had left Ted to follow them into the house. At the adjacent table, the one where Charlie had originally been sitting, Rachel Seybolt and Ted’s daughter were laughing, leaning against each other. They waved gaily at the women going into the house, but shook their heads and remained seated. There were no badge bunnies in sight.
“I suppose Avon Lady is right out,” Bobby said to Charlie.
“Pretty much,” he answered. “Although you’re moving in the right direction.” Charlie paused, and then covering a protesting Teddy’s ears, whispered. “Her services are for women only.”
Well, now Bobby’s mind was full of all sorts of images that it shouldn’t be, even though he knew that they were jerking his chain.
Luckily, he was saved by Ted, who had returned just in time to rescue his keys from Teddy, who was clearly winding up to throw them into the pool. “I didn’t know your wife was a gunsmith, Paul,” Ted said to Bodner. “Everyone’s all excited about some new ergonomic grip she’s developed that fits a woman’s hand better.”
“Grips,” Bobby said.
“A woman who knows how to properly use a gun is a beautiful thing,” Bodner said.
Ted handed his whining grandson his sunglasses to play with. “Olivia has a concealed carry license,” he informed them, then added. "She's from Texas."
Charlie held his beer bottle aloft. “To the right to bear arms,” he said.
Bobby drank to that. He looked at Charlie. “Happy Independence Day, Charlie Crews,” he said.
“To freedom,” Charlie answered, raising his bottle in Bobby’s direction. This time, when he returned Bobby’s gaze, there was no shadow behind his eyes, and no ice in his stare. He was different, but he was still the Charlie Crews that Bobby had ridden with, all those years ago. Maybe he’d done what he needed to do. Maybe it was all over. Maybe Charlie Crews really was free now.
Bobby leaned over and clinked the neck of Charlie’s beer bottle. “Long may it reign,” he said, in all seriousness, holding the eye of his old friend, happy to be here with him, whatever the circumstance, whatever he’d done or might yet do. “Long may it reign.”
Charlie Crews looked back at him serenely, and smiled.
~
Seven Veils: Two
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 02:21 am (UTC)"Maybe he'd done what he needed to do. Maybe it was all over. Maybe Charlie Crews really was free now" I hope so, for Charlie's sake.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 02:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 02:46 am (UTC)What a great present! I've been keeping an eye out for more of this story. I loved the first parts, especially Tidwell's POV, and I'm looking forward to more. Now I'm off to read this part before bed.
Jean
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Date: 2009-06-14 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 04:31 am (UTC)I'm honestly enjoying this very, very much. It's so neat to see this done from everyone else's point of view, if just because the main series was heavily in Dani and Charlie's POV. I love this and I love the prose. It's very spot-on and wonderful how you actually manage to nail the different voices with prose.
Thank you very, very much for writing this!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 02:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 02:50 am (UTC)Just. *sigh* Oh, show.
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Date: 2009-06-21 12:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 02:32 am (UTC):: sighs ::
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Date: 2009-06-12 06:18 am (UTC)Um... I really don't want this fic to end. Because I love it and this show so much it kind of hurts.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 02:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 06:18 am (UTC)Very happy to see this update!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 02:33 am (UTC)Amazing
Date: 2009-06-13 04:06 am (UTC)Great job, I cannot wait to read more!!
Re: Amazing
Date: 2009-06-14 02:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 07:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 02:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 11:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 02:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 06:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-21 12:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-16 07:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-21 12:53 pm (UTC)Thanks again.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-14 07:03 am (UTC)I love Bobby's insight on Charlie, the Charlie before and the Charlie now. I really do love we're seeing everyone happy. It doesn't feel like a copout, it feel earned after everything. There's a feeling through this of... I don't know how to express this... of sun soaked LA, just like in the moments when Charlie looks up at the sun that's what it feels like.
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Date: 2009-07-19 01:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-28 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-29 02:19 am (UTC)