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Reese here. Keep it under a minute, or I'm hanging up.

((Leave any and all RP/fanfic related messages here!))
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In the trunk of her car, Dani Reese carried the following: a spare tire with axel and crank, blankets, two flashlights, a highway safety kit, rope, a gym bag, holy water, an axe, and a shotgun with requisite rock-salt rounds.

She did not want to pin down an exact date for when those last three became common place in her life. Luckily, she was currently dodging green blasts of something, courtesy of a creature that was either a demon or an extra from a very messed up version of Sesame Street. So, no real time for thinking. Just shooting.

It’s not that she actively sought out cases featuring demons. That would have been ridiculous. It’s just that she was now, by default, the most knowledgeable person in the department about them. She knew when a case or a call for assistance sounded off. And she didn’t have a partner to weigh her down, so going to check things out didn’t mean she was risking anything.

Dodging another blast and flying away from a falling shelf, Dani grunted. This was going to take awhile, and she’d been hoping to get a jog in before it got too late. Annoying.
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((OOC: Takes place after this thread!

It always struck Dani as fucked up that out to the two of them, Charlie was the one who’d been to prison, when she was the partner who had committed actual felonies. But she’d had Karen on her side, she’d had her father’s reputation on her side, and those things were enough to keep her name out of papers and off the case reports.

Charlie hadn’t had anyone protecting him. Not anyone. But he did now. He had Dani, Ted, Stark, Tidwell. Even Karen had shown up for Charlie’s bail hearing, along with some of the other people in the office whose names Dani sometimes pretended to forget. He had a lot of people on his side.

But when visiting hours were over, he’d still been in that cell, alone. Dani didn’t know what that meant, or what that was going to mean.

He got bail. He got bail, and that was the important thing. And when the thing was called and people went off to the bar to celebrate, for some reason it was just Charlie and Dani left in the courtroom. She walked up to him with her arms crossed, not sure what to say.

“Crews?”

Muwhaha...

Feb. 14th, 2010 02:09 pm
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"I've Been Hit By One Of Cupid's Arrows!" ♥ A Love Meme" :: ♥ My Thread ♥
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"OMG I LOVE YOUR _____": A RP Meme D'Amour : My Thread
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If you had me alone, locked up in your house for twenty-four hours and I had to do whatever you wanted me to, what would you have me do?

Meme Time!

Nov. 17th, 2009 01:34 pm
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Song Meme:
1. Put your mp3 player on shuffle and take the first 25 songs it gives you.
2. Link to the lyrics.
3. Let your friends assign you a song and character(s) to write a drabble to.


My list of songs and characters are over here!
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Sing me a song and I'll tell you a story
MY THREAD HERE
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Someday, in a place that's sunnier and more tangible than here, there might be an equation in place for when you plus another equals one. This isn't that place. She's too far away to equal half a person, and he's too present.

Dani's drowning )
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Sex me up! // my thread


I haven't written for Dani in ages, but I got a great fic out of this! If you respond, chances are you'll get more of a prompty response than a thread.
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RP LOVE MEME

I can't even begin to tell you how much Dani objects to the pink in this journal post.
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Roman said that downtime was the hardest, and he wasn’t wrong. But this isn’t much better, Dani thinks, sitting in a broken plastic chair in the back of a church basement.

She’s not like these people. That’s what she tells herself before, during, and after meetings. It’s not a form of denial—it’s a fact. She doesn’t need to drink to get through the day. That statement alone assumes that she can get through the day, which is a pretty lofty assumption.

She doesn’t drink because her husband’s (doesn’t have one of those, doesn’t want one of those) forgotten an anniversary (same). She doesn’t drink because the babysitter’s called out sick.

A doctor at the clinic once told Dani the odds of carrying a kid to term, after all of the shit she’d done to her body. They weren’t good. Dani’d faked a few tears for the doctor’s benefit. Or hers. She’s never been sure.

She doesn’t drink because of her job, like the woman with the gold earrings standing up at the podium (alter, why not, they’re in a church) now. Work’s what got her clean (clean’s a funny term to use for an addict. When you say it, it’s supposed to mean the stuff is out of your system and always will be, which is inherently a lie.

It’s a word that only addicts use. Part of the vernacular. Saying you’re clean implies that you’ve previously been dirty, and that’s all that people see. The implication).


Even this meeting is required by her employer.

“It wasn’t drinking,” she’d pointed out, while Karen printed out directions to the church.

Karen didn’t look up. Just kept her eyes on the computer screen. “It was a lot of things, Dani.”

It was a lot of things, which makes Dani think she’s not like these people. They seem pathetic to her, in a way that makes her equally pathetic for imagining some kind of junkie hierarchy. Okay, you drink too much. What about coke? What about heroine? What about you don’t know what the hell it is, but he says to trust him, so you do?

So Dani comes to the meetings, hoping no one notices her. Slips out after twenty minutes. And for the first few weeks, it’s worked pretty good. But this week, Dani fucks up. Times things wrong. Gold Earrings has taken her seat, and everyone’s clapping, so Dani stands up to go.

“Dani,” her employer-solicited sponsor says, standing at the snack table. “Good to see you volunteering.”

Shit. Dani looks at the guy, and he already gets that she didn’t want to speak up. She can feel the eyes on the room. Face red, the guy starts to stammer out an apology, draw the attention away from her.

Dani presses the call button on her cell phone, doing the job for him. The phone lights up, and Dani barely glances at it before she’s out the door, mumbling an explanation slash apology. “Work,” she says, walking just a little too quickly out of the basement.

As she leaves the church, she sees her reflection in the building’s simple glass door. It’s walking towards her. The faster Dani moves, the closer it comes.

She puts on her sunglasses. She looks down as she exits the building.
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1) The fruit.

Dani, for reasons unlike Charlie's -- or, if she stops to think about the statistics, for reasons entirely too similar to Charlie's -- eats better than most. Fruit and vegetables, to get her vitamins. Dairy. A bit too much dairy, because she was lactose intolerant until her early teens, and still sometimes forgets that she'll be allowed to have milk next week, too. No meat, because the smell of it frying brings her back to Sunday afternoon barbeques at her Father's house. Steaks on the grill, along with corn on the cob and spare ribs, while Dani's mother sat in the kitchen, eating a light salad.

So Dani gets liking fruit. She does. What she does not get is why Crews so often tries to eat it in her car. It's gotten to the point where she has to have it cleaned at least once a week. Once, he brought in a personal watermelon (apparently, they don't just come in pineapples), and Dani made him walk along Sunset until he finished it.

This keeps up, and she's going to start billing him for the carpet cleaning.

2) The Zen

He says he needs something to center himself. Dani admits to not getting that. What she does not admit aloud is the reason why.

Dani doesn’t have enough inside of her to know that need. It’s all been used up.

He says he needs something to center himself, which is fine. But there are days, bad days, when his proverbs fall on tired ears. When he says them in such a way that both partners know it's bullshit.

When he doesn't sound Zen, it's an indicator that the day is really as unsalvageable as Dani thinks. She'd rather not have that indicator. Selfishly, she thinks she might rather have him sound tired all the time. That way she could go back to not knowing the difference between a bad day, and a day she will dream about. The nightmares come easier when the distinctions are made clear.

3) The fact that he finds her attractive.

Dani isn't blind, and neither are the idiots she so often comes across that don't understand what a badge means. The idiots who think they're saying something she's never heard before. Who think they're the first to look past the clothes. Underneath the clothes, in a way that makes her skin crawl. Makes her want to lash out and scratch their skin raw so that they know what it feels like. Whenever those idiots, between meeting her and being arrested, comment on Dani's looks, she sees Crews tilting his head to the side, the way he does on a particularly tough case. That head tilt means he's trying to look at things objectively. Trying to see the minute detail, and the bigger picture.

That head tilt means a great many things. But never does it mean he disagrees.

4) The fact that at some point, they will sleep together.

Still not blind.

Not blind to the fact that there are days, days when he has spoken very little, that she can see herself being attracted to Charlie Crews.

Not blind to the fact that she does see him as a partner, and trusts him implicitly.

Not blind to the fact that many partners have made this mistake before, and will again.

Not blind to the fact that it will be a mistake. It won't destroy them, and it won't end the partnership, but it will be a mistake. One of those things that happen sometimes, likely on a night when Charlie's sounded tired all day. They won't be able to talk about it for years, and even then, it will be in the context of ungenuine laughter, when they're trying to make it sound less serious than it will actually be.

5) His taste in music.

It's twelve years out of date. And while he pretty much has the best excuse on the planet as to why, there's only so many times Hootie and the Blowfish can be reasoned away by prison.

6) His suits.

She can tell he gets them specially made, and so can the rest of the force. It's a sign of his money; it's a sign that he's an outsider. Dani's an outsider too, but at least she doesn't dress the part.

7) That one wrong word, one bad situation, sends him right back into con mentality. He knows she notices. She notices-

8) The way his shoulders hunch up, like he's waiting to attack.

9) The way he looks paranoid, the way she used to look paranoid. He's always so damn ready to go back to prison.

And Dani hates that he has to think like that. She hates that he will never be able to see a world outside the definitions of a barbed wire gate. She hates that he thinks, and will always think, that he is living on borrow time.

But most of all, Dani hates that:

10) He might be right.

Because she knows how it works. If her father is after you...then he doesn't stop. Ever. And it's all she can do to pretend like Charlie pretends. They pretend that things will always be like this. That he will always annoy her, that she will always ask him to be silent, and that somewhere in the bickering they will manage to get their work done.

Things will change. He will become important to her. The day may come when all she wants to do is hear him talk (though even now, this sounds very unlikely). And they may not always work well together. Few people do.

Things change. Things always change. And if pressed to admit it, Dani hates that, too.
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The first picture Dani ever sees of Charlie Crews is in black and white. Newsprint, resting on the coffee table. And if she thinks hard enough, didn’t that paper stay on the table a little longer than most? Didn’t her father look it over a few more times than was necessary, before throwing it away?

At the time, Dani doesn’t think much of it. She still tries not to think much of it.

---

The second picture Dani ever sees of Charlie Crews is an image file sent in an email. The subject line is blank, and the message simply reads:

Dani-

Charlie Crews. Your new partner.


It isn’t signed, because she and Karen are still in that strange place where neither of them are sure how to sign their correspondences to each other.

The e-mail might not say much, but the picture more than makes up for it. It’s Crews’ most recent face shot from prison, in full color. There must be hundreds of pictures taken of Crews since his release from prison. Pictures where he’s used that settlement money to get a haircut and a nice suit. Pictures where sunglasses hide a look in his eyes that’s never going to go away.

But this is a mug shot. It’s a picture of a prisoner, with sunken eyes and a state-provided jumpsuit.

Karen sent Dani this picture specifically. Karen wants Dani to remember where Crews has been for the past twelve years. Karen wants Dani to remember what’s in his mind and in his blood. Karen wants Dani to know that no suit, no matter how nice, can take away what’s in someone’s blood.

---

Dani’s own blood is something that has never made the phrase “black and white” logical, in any of its interpretations. There are shades in between, so many shades that people forget. If she were one thing—one color, one culture, one identity—it would all be so much easier. She’d have one thing to hate, one thing to blame.

But that’s not how it works for her. She lives in a spectrum forgotten, grouped in with her father, trying to ignore the sharp ache in her chest when she does nothing to correct the assumption. She can’t correct the assumption. People see things how they want to see things, and Dani would rather be viewed as half of herself than as nothing at all.

---

Ironically, it is because of who her father is that Dani is overlooked when she ought to be stared at. Her face is never on the cover of a newspaper, and Karen has pulled a lot of strings to insure as much.

Though Dani is the partner who’s committed a crime, she remains unpunished. Unseen, the way her mother had to be, the way her father strove to keep his foreign wife and mixed child.

Crews’ face is over examined. Looked at over and over, angle to angle, so that it is no longer a face but a collection of features set to sound reels. Crews isn’t a person anymore, but a story.

He is overexposed, and she under. He’s been beaten into shades of purple and green, while Dani’s skin is untouched, defined only by silence and the sharp prick of needles.

They are, neither of them, comfortable in any sort of spectrum with only two ends.

Charlie professes a Zen outlook. The oneness of all things, the colors of the universe. But in spite of all of those speeches, rants, and tapes, Dani suspects something about Charlie Crews.

Dani suspects that he can no longer see color. That twelve years in the dark have robbed him of that precious, precious sight. As he drives along sunset, peering out from sunglasses that Dani thinks are prescription, he is searching for a focus that he will not ultimately find.

This is why Dani suspects she and Charlie work well as partners, on the days she is willing to admit that they work as partners. Circumstances have conspired so that neither partner can trust the world to exist in anything outside of dull, muted shades of gray.
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