Rowena steps off the plane with her game face on. She made a promise to a victim and she has to keep it, no matter how many horrible memories it may unleash. Waiting on the other end of security is a tall, tan man with a broad, strong face and build, easily identifiable as some sort of Hispanic if not specifically Puerto Rican.
"Cal!" She beams and speeds up to a trot to embrace her former partner, and he welcomes her with open arms.
"Damn, girl, you just keep looking better and better. Is Quantico really that good for you?" Cal nearly crushes her with his embrace and Rowena can feel the outline of his gun press into her hip.
"Looks like. You must be spooked, Cal, carrying into an airport." He sobers at the mention of business and reaches for her bag, but she glares and he backs off. Some things never change.
"You know this guy's hooked up with the cartels. Drugs muled up here straight from Mexico to him, rumors are he still manages it all from his cell. They're hot to get him back on the street." Nothing changes, it seems and Rowena feels herself falling back into the role of Vice detective a little too easily.
"Sounds about right. I guess they're not too happy to have me back here."
"Yeah, well, not many Vice cops are stupid enough to go after the biggest coke distributer in Detroit." She glares and Cal grins, knocking her on the shoulder playfully.
"I prefer crazy. What the hell else could I do, they forced gang initiation on her just because her brother's hooked up." The same fiery commitment that made Rowena good at her job makes her blood boil as she thinks about the case again, and Cal now rubs her shoulder for comfort. The bond between partners can never quite be broken and has been renewed already. They know each other's cues and can play off of each other as brilliantly as any pro tennis pair.
"Hearing is in three days. Figured I'd let you take a peek at the files again to reacquaint yourself. Look, Roe, I'm sorry to bring you back to all this, I know what it did to you last time." The last part is whispered and Rowena involuntarily shudders, not wanting to recall what drove her from the city in the first place. "Hey, don't be ashamed. We all burn out eventually. Why the hell do you think I transferred to Narcotics?"
"It's fine, Cal. I made a promise; you shouldn't have had to make me keep it in the first place." Silence falls, the kind that he knows is best to let her have, and the car ride is the same. The car pulls up outside of the diner Rowena and Cal ended their shifts at when they were on the job.
"Victim's Services got you set up with a motel. It ain't great, but it ain't bad."
"Okay, sounds good. Why are we here, exactly?" She's amused that the diner hasn't changed a bit. Still looks crappy, but hopefully the food is still as good as it always was.
"Thought you'd want a cup of coffee or a nightcap. At least that's the way it used to be."
"I stopped drinking, Cal." Rowena snaps, but immediately regrets it. He shoots her a long sideways glance, gauging what's changed in his former best friend.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply you were an alcoholic, you never let it affect your work and we both know that." They slide into booths, neither touching the menus because it would be pointless to do so when they have them memorized.
"I know. I still used it to numb the pain every night though. Now the job doesn't make me want to use it for that, happily. I drink maybe twice a week, with friends." It's not quite the truth but he doesn't trust himself enough to still know Rowena as well as he did once upon a time, and keeps his silence. Her phone starts going off in her pocket and she pulls it out, sending a text response to Spencer's ignored call. She's not aware, but she's beaming at the little reflective screen and Cal can't help but smile too.
"So who's the man in your life?" A blush lights up her cheeks before she knows what's happening and Cal grins. "I know that look, Roe, and you ain't had it in awhile. What's up, who is he?"
"You'll laugh."
"Probably will. Doesn't matter though, tell me anyway." They pause to place their order with a waitress Rowena doesn't recognize, making her inwardly sigh at the things that have started changing. She flips through camera images from a long, geeky night of Doctor Who and finds one of Spencer in her glasses with a goofy smile, and decides it portrays him just as well as any. Cal takes one look and starts laughing hysterically, making her blush darken.
"Spencer's a profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He's brilliant, awkward, and hilarious. Stop laughing at me!" Rowena's nearly burgundy now and Cal's laughter finally dies out.
"Oh, Roe, I'm so happy for you. I always knew you'd find a man smart enough for you someday. How long has it been?"
"Two months only, don't start jumping to conclusions just yet." She tucks the phone away and tries to push back the melancholy that wants to overwhelm her.
"You seem happy. I trust that." Spencer's text message back, an elaborate series of circumstances under which he demands to be contacted immediately (with a cute caveat of if she's alright with it), makes her giggle and Cal notes it. The move to Quantico was wise for her.
Dinner goes as it used to and Cal drives her to the motel, making sure she's comfortable and secure. It's just like old times, with him fussing over her a bit too much. It's understandable, Cal has three sisters and was raised by his mother and grandmother; he's always been protective of women, it's why he volunteered for Vice. That night, Spencer calls again but she doesn't want to talk, making the excuse she's tired. He's suspicious, but as he fingers his phone anxiously, staring up at the ceiling, he decides to let it go. He's terrified of a fight with the woman he may be falling in love with.
Rowena wanders out of the courtroom after her testimony, dazed and with a fierce migraine. She stumbles to a bench and falls into it, her hands shaking. Silently, Cal comes up and sits besides her, lending his shoulder and she leans against it.
"You did great."
"I looked weak." She mumbles, running a hand through her tangled hair.
"No. You looked like you felt Ann-Marie's pain and the panel could tell, I watched them. You did what you were supposed to. You gave her a voice when she had none." Her phone lights up and Cal sees the name flash across the screen before she makes it go dark. He hisses an old Spanish phrase his abuelita used when he would mouth off and grabs her phone from her limp hands. "Talk to him, Roe. I know you haven't been. He cares so damn much about you, I can hear it in his voice." He sounds tired, frustrated, but always loving.
"You talked to him?" Cal chuckles, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and he kisses her clammy forehead. He's seen her stare down gang members, put down many man who thought just because he beat his wife he could beat her too, and even worse. It's always emotions that muck her up though.
"You're like another sister to me. You think I wouldn't check up on a man trying to get your heart? I found his number easy enough and we had a chat. I don't think I scared him too much." She snorts. "Alright. We're going to get you some coffee, some coffee ice cream…" Cal can practically feel her ears perk up. "And I'm going to drive you to the airport so you can get back to that well meaning boyfriend of yours." Rowena looks up at Cal with a resigned smile, knowing he's right.
"Depends. You buyin'?"
"Fine, fine, only because you're an emotional wreck." He's off the bench and halfway down the stairs, but she chases after him nimbly in her heels.
"You cry at the end of The Proposal every time, you punk!"
"Sandra Bullock is a beautiful woman who deserves to be loved!"
Spencer is nearly out of his mind. Rowena is in an enormously stressful situation and is definitely avoiding his calls. If being a profiler weren't enough make him crazy in this situation, being her boyfriend and getting the call from Cal would've done it. She needs him, he knows it, but for some reason she keeps shutting him out. He stews quietly in Quantico; this is what she goes through when he's gone, but she endures so he has to. When she's on the way home, he finally snaps and Spencer has the bus take him to the airport after work instead of home to meet her plane. He fidgets at the gate, pleased at least that his FBI credentials could get him past security to see her, and rehearses the speech in his mind.
Rowena has to accept he's part of his life now and he cares for her, and that part of that is the need to know if she's alright. All of his irritation goes out the window when he sees her. She's in old college sweats, free of makeup and her hair fastened back tightly; all of her old scars are on display, figuratively and literally. Little marks from acne and anxiety scratches, dark circles beneath her eyes, naturally reddened cheeks, but mostly it's the blank expression that grabs his heart. Most women use makeup to refine their natural beauty and hide flaws, and Rowena's no different, but her total vulnerability right now is just as beautiful.
"Rowena!" He shouts but it's not needed; her tired eyes have already found him and a shy smile lights up her face. As she watches him fidget, smiling too, she realizes that it was a mistake to not call him back. She nearly tackles him with her embrace and Spencer lets out a breath he wasn't sure he was holding and Rowena squeezes him tight before looking him straight in the eyes.
"I'm sorry. I should've called you. Detroit brings back bad memories and emotions I can't deal with and Spencer…." She sighs and Spencer pushes her glasses back up for her, studying her curiously. "I don't do well with emotions, I just don't."
"So let me help you." He answers softly, and she sighs. Afraid of pushing her too far, he releases her to take her bag and Rowena smiles at it.
"I can carry my own bag." Spencer awkwardly slings it over his lean shoulders and adjusts it until he can walk with it at the same time and hold her hand, but Rowena doesn't budge when he starts to walk.
"Rowena?" She's giving him that appraising look he knows all too well, the one she wears when she's not quite sure how she should react to something, or how she wants him to react.
"I can carry my own bag." Rowena says quietly and Spencer wouldn't have to be a PhD to know she's not entirely talking about a duffel bag.
"I know you can take care of yourself. But please don't begrudge a knight the chance to take care of his lady." The look passes and Rowena takes two long steps to catch up to him, standing on her very tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and the man doesn't blush this time. Instead, Spencer bends his long neck to kiss her, the warmth of the act after the harsh past few days swamping her with relief.
"Dinner tonight?" Rowena smiles when she regains her breath.
"Minimum." Now he blushes.
A/N
For future reference, reviews would appear to make me update faster, no? Thanks for the love, and especially the input.