A Shade of Grey (S4E21)

Secrets have a way of making themselves felt, even before you know there's a secret - Jean Ferris

Computers were not his forte; Rossi would be the first to admit that. And yet, despite his technological ineptitude, he had managed to find out who Damon was. Completely behind Pip's back, and with no outside help. It had taken him a while, and far more time and effort than it would have taken Garcia; but doing it his way meant there was no danger of his name crossing Garcia's lips in anything other than a professional capacity to her friend. Worth every quietly hissed curse thrown at his computer over the weeks it had taken him.

Finding the creep's identity didn't give him any satisfaction, however.

"Damon" was ex-con Damon Alexander McGill, originally from Baltimore. A bit younger than Pip at thirty-five, with a long rap sheet of Drunk & Disorderly and Assault charges, mixed in with a smattering of petty thefts as a teenager. Currently of no fixed abode, with no job or other obvious means of support. Fired from his last employment as a car mechanic in Woodbridge for drinking on the job, around the same time he'd last turned up at Pip's front door. He was a violent drunkard on his second strike who should have landed himself in far bigger trouble already. Any other useful details currently eluded Rossi's mediocre digital skills. Bar one.

He was out on bail.

It had taken him a moment to fully comprehend that. Rossi remembered Pip telling him that Damon had swung at a cop and was facing charges for assaulting the officer. She was convinced at the time that Damon wouldn't make bail. She'd certainly never mentioned that he had, and she would have known that Damon was free, and potentially able to come after her again.

She'd kept it from him, and that made Rossi furious.

He stormed through the bullpen, scattering people from his path. Even Hotch had taken one look at his murderous expression and retreated back into his office.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Rossi snapped angrily, brandishing McGill's charge sheet in Pip's face.

Pip looked up at him, then at Philips, who was watching the two of them with great interest.

"Something I can help you with, Agent Rossi?" she asked in a steely voice that dripped with contempt.

Some small morsel of sanity and logical thought returned, and Rossi realised that accosting her in front of her subordinate in the middle of the bullpen probably wasn't the best way to have this discussion.

"My office, Harker. Now!" he barked.

The glare she gave him matched his own, but Pip followed him back to his office without further comment.

"Just where do you get off, talking to me like that in front of Phillips?" she asked angrily, once she'd slammed his office door shut behind them. "I rely on his respect, and what you just did…"

"Damon McGill," interrupted Rossi. That shut her up instantly, Pip's mouth closing with a snap. It would have been satisfying if that hadn't just confirmed she'd kept it from him deliberately. "Why didn't you tell me he got out on bail?" he hissed.

"You went digging, didn't you?" Pip asked through clenched teeth. "Behind my back, after I explicitly told you not to."

"Yes. I did," he admitted evenly. He wasn't sorry. Damon was dangerous, Damon was a threat to her safety and Damon was free.

"What for?" she cried. "I told you I'd handle him; I don't need your help!"

"I disagree," replied Rossi. "I think…"

"I don't give a flying fuck what you think!" roared Pip. "It's none of your business! I don't want you involved, I tell you I don't want you involved and then you go and stick your nose in anyway! Does what I want mean nothing to you?" She threw her hands up in the air. "Urgh, what is it with you? Your ego's the size of fucking Alaska! I called you a hero once, once, for dealing with a spider, for fuck's sake, and now you want to rescue me from something I've already dealt with!"

"Pip, I'm your friend…" he started.

"Well then act like it," she retorted coldly, somehow sounding even more threatening than when she'd been shouting. "I told you to leave it alone." The glare she levelled at him was like a thermic lance. "Try acting a bit more professionally while we're at work too." Pip shook her head. "D'you know what? I can't talk to you right now. I don't even want to see your face."

She turned for the door and Rossi made one last attempt to talk to her.

"Pip…"

Pip spun back to fix him again with that glare, but she'd upped the ferocity behind it. If looks could kill, he'd have been laminated across the wall, reduced to a stain for Janitorial to wipe up. He'd never seen her this angry. Rossi was distantly aware that he didn't want his last thought to be fuck me, she's scary, and took an unconscious backwards step, as if that would save him.

"Fuck you, Rossi! Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!" she spat venomously. "Now listen carefully," she said, in a low, dangerous growl, "because apparently, you struggled with this first time around. I said, I don't want to speak to you."

She slammed the door hard as she left, leaving it shuddering in its frame. Rossi threw himself into his chair and stared disconsolately at his desk.

"Well, that could have gone better," he muttered to himself. "Well done, Dave old boy. Fucked that right up, didn't you?"

He looked up warily as the door opened again, wondering for a moment if Pip had come back for a second round.

"Should I alert the morgue to receive a body?" asked Hotch. He looked concerned, despite the attempt at humour.

Rossi sighed. "I can't guarantee it, but I think I'm probably safe."

Hotch smiled briefly, closing the door behind him. "I'm not so sure about that, from what I know of her that isn't classified. Dave, you do know the wall we share isn't even remotely soundproof, don't you?"

Rossi's heart sank. Hotch had heard everything. He shook his head. "Actually, no, I didn't."

Hotch frowned. "You're being a little over protective, don't you think? She's right, it is under control, and the way you acted wasn't at all appropriate for the office. She has every right to file an Unprofessional Conduct complaint, should she wish to."

"You knew about McGill?" asked Rossi, completely stunned and more than a little annoyed. She'd told Hotch, but not him? Loyalty was one thing, but he knew more about her than Hotch, surely?

Hotch looked at him critically. "I'm her supervisor, Dave," he said slowly, as if it should be obvious. "I was informed by Alexandria PD there was an open case with links to one of my team, and they update me when appropriate. The rest is up to her to share." Hotch gave him a stern glance. "Or not."

It rankled, but in the face of Hotch's disapproval, Rossi just nodded his acceptance. "You don't think she was being unreasonable?" he asked tentatively.

"She has her reasons, but maybe a little," agreed Hotch. "However, I also think you earned it. You always knew you'd be playing with fire, and I would have thought it obvious that underhand tactics will never work with her."

Rossi frowned at Hotch's retreating back as he turned to leave, but didn't say anything. Hotch didn't know her like he did. He'd talk to Pip, explain his concerns. Just as soon as he worked out a way for that to happen that didn't involve her throwing things at him first.

"Oh, and Dave?" said Hotch, pausing with his hand on the door handle. "Act that way on Bureau time again, and I'll start the Unprofessional Conduct reprimand myself." He left Rossi in his office, thinking furiously.

Dealing with the fallout from his row with Pip had to wait; an Amber Alert in New Jersey meant a race to find a young boy, possibly the third in a series of child abduction and murders in the Cherry Hill area. Rossi tried to catch Pip's eye as the team filed out in the direction of the jet, but she caught the direction of his glance and deliberately turned her back to him.

That hurt more than anything she could have said.

The New Jersey case ran the gamut of tragedy. Three dead boys, two of them molested, and a budding child sociopath who'd killed his own brother. The child the grieving parents had tried to save was already beyond saving, and had been long before the team even left Quantico. The only silver lining of the whole trip had been catching the paedophile who'd killed the first two boys, but even that was small comfort.

For the first time in months, flying home brought Rossi no solace. He knew there would be no Italian meal that night, no spirited discussions over wine to ease his soul. She would have gone home at the first opportunity available in order to avoid him, had probably deferred the work she needed to do with Hotch until the morning. Feeling particularly bereft, Rossi used the flight time to think. Leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed and hands folded across his stomach in the pretence of sleep, he replayed the argument with Pip in his head.

She'd asked him not to get involved, and then he'd done so anyway. Rossi supposed he could see why she'd been angry with him. She was wilfully independent and made it clear she was dealing with "Damon the Dick", as he called him in the privacy of his own thoughts, thanks to Amber. He'd interfered with the best of intentions, only wishing to help, to be supportive of whatever she was going through; but had evidently gone about it the wrong way. Pip's temper was legendary and he'd put himself directly in the firing line.

On top of that, he'd brought it to work, shouted at her in his office. The lines between work and personal lives were there for a reason, and he'd crossed them. Again. Obviously, his old habits were harder to break than he thought.

And now she didn't want to speak to him, or even look at him, if her behaviour as they'd left a few days previously was any indication. He wondered how long it would take for Pip to forgive him, or even if she ever would. That thought was a troubling one, and one he kept returning to. Regardless of his other-than-honourable long-term intentions, namely making sure she spent every night in his bed for the rest of her life; she was his friend, and he really enjoyed spending time with her. Until, or indeed if she forgave him, he would have none of that. He really needed to apologise.

First, he had to find her. Then the first thing that came out of his mouth had to be an apology, and a good one. Which could be awkward, because apologies weren't something he was well practiced at, usually preferring to bluster his way through. That wouldn't work with Pip. Not to mention that there could well be some ducking involved while he delivered said apology, depending on what missiles she had to hand.

Rossi followed the team into the bullpen, trailing along at the back of the crowd, pointedly fixing his gaze on the back of Morgan's head. He didn't want to look at Pip's empty desk. She'd be long gone.

Despite his intent, the urge to take just one little peek was too strong.

Rossi stopped, feet frozen to the floor. The sight of Pip leaning casually against her desk watching him brought forth a feeling so completely indescribable that tears formed in his eyes. She was there, waiting for him, despite their harsh words.

Dignity and discretion be damned. Rossi strode across the intervening distance and swallowed her in an embrace that he didn't care if anyone saw. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Pip's arms tightened around him. "I know," she replied softly. "Me too. Let's get out of here before we cause a scene." She tapped Phillips on the shoulder and made a twirling gesture with one hand. Phillips nodded. Rossi surmised that meant he was doing the paperwork with Hotch, so Pip could leave.

They'd been lucky – everyone else had yet to turn around, still talking amongst themselves. Rossi and Pip slipped out the door before anyone realised they'd gone.

For the first time, dinner was awkward. Every topic seemed to come back to the issue at hand, or have connotations that could be taken that way. Eating was about refuelling rather than enjoyment of the delicious food and to Rossi, leaving the restaurant felt like a relief.

Pip didn't bother with coffee, simply settling herself on the sofa with the whisky. She scooted closer to him when Rossi sat in what was now "his" spot. She'd put an ashtray on the side table on his side of the sofa for the occasional cigar he enjoyed, the familiar grey joggers now lived draped over the arm on his side, freshly laundered. Seeing how she'd adapted aspects of her life to suit him made him feel guilty all over again.

"Pip, I'm sorry," he said, repeating the apology he'd given her in the bullpen.

She nodded. "I don't doubt you, I just want to know why. I've had three days to calm down, but I can't work that bit out. Why would you do something like that when I asked you not to?"

Rossi let out a sigh and accepted the glass of whisky she handed him. "I was worried, that's all." And nosey, but that went without saying. "You kept everything to do with…with him, separate, away from me. Hidden. You kept saying it was under control, but it didn't feel like it to me. So I decided to find out who he was, to see how much of a threat he was, because you acted like you weren't concerned." Rossi held her gaze, trying to show her how anxious about her he'd been. "I just wanted to know."

"Dave, I know how much of a threat he is," said Pip seriously, pausing to take a sip from her tumbler. "I spent enough time watching him take his temper out on people. Believe me when I say I'm not underestimating him."

"But you didn't tell me." Rossi did his best not to sound like a petulant child, but obviously he was only partially successful if the faint smile hovering around her face was anything to go by. "He's out on bail, walking around a free man, and you didn't tell me."

"No, I didn't." Pip put her tumbler down and scrubbed her face with her hands. "And then there was a reason I shouldn't."

"Why? What's wrong? Did he threaten you again? If he…" Rossi's temper rose. If she was being told to keep quiet…

"No!" she cried. "Stop…stop leaping to conclusions, nothing like that. It's just…things got a bit complicated. I can't tell you. Not yet." Pip looked at him then, frustration clear on her face. "Dave, do you trust me?" she asked lowly.

Rossi's initial glib response died on his lips as he studied her. Hands twisting together in concern, earnest stare, bottom lip caught between her teeth. She genuinely wanted to know how far he trusted her. After what he'd done, he could understand the question, but there was more to it. Something else about Damon, something she wouldn't tell him. He could see his answer had the potential to change their relationship forever and that scared the shit out of him.

"With my life," he replied honestly. Her shoulders dropped in relief.

"Then I ask you, one last time. Leave it alone. You can't be involved. If you trust me, then trust me. Or we're done."

Rossi nodded his acceptance of her terms. He would get nothing from her; he'd known that before, it was why he'd gone behind her back. But for her to suggest that their friendship would be over if he tried to bulldoze his way into whatever was going on, was enough to convince him. He would trust her, wherever that may lead him.

It wasn't until later, as he drifted off to sleep in his own bed, that he remembered Hotch's throwaway comment about her past being classified, and made a mental note to see if he could check that.

Perhaps it was fortunate he'd forgotten about that by morning.

Perhaps not.