Most of the time, Spencer is able to keep his time with Rowena separate from the muck of his job. There are nights when he's quieter than usual, or begs off of their standing nightly arrangements of work and talk, but those are more unusual than not. His absences hurt as well, but Rowena is well used to them even if they aren't her favorite. Time goes by, slowly, and it's shockingly close to a year before they realize. Spencer manages to keep the secret of his mother from Rowena but only because she is also closed lipped about her parents.

Now, his cases are usually under a week, but a particularly gruesome killer in the heartland of Missouri keeps the nation riveted, Spencer for going on two weeks, and Rowena sick to her stomach for him. The bits and pieces of grisly details that make the news turn even the former Detroit detective's stomach, and she can only imagine her sensitive boyfriend around that muck.

When her phone rings, Rowena lunges for it and tries to keep her heart from dropping when she sees her former partner's face laughing on the screen instead of the stolen photo of Spencer sleeping.

"Hey, Cal." A deep chuckle rings through the phone.

"How are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm alright." They both know she's lying.

"I've been watching the news. Your boy wonder in that mess in Missouri?" She sighs and looks down, though Cal isn't actually here giving her that infernal knowing look.

"Yeah, and he's not answering his phone."

"I'm sure he can handle it if he's been doing it so long. Probably just distracted." Cal, at his desk in DPD, shakes his head as he says it. It was a lesson she never quite understood as his partner even; men don't want admit that they're hurting or scared, not to the women who care so much about them.

"Spencer is so sensitive and sweet. I- I can't imagine him investigating this. Seeing what he has to be seeing. I wish he'd answer his phone." Cal sighs across the line.

"Be strong, Roe."

When Spencer's phone rings and the number shows as Roe's former partner, cold nausea grips his stomach, for reasons other than the butchered women in color photos across his temporary desk.

"Detective Harris, is she okay?" His voice shakes and the nearby Rossi looks at him with obvious concern.

"It's Cal, kid. Look, I got no business messing with your relationship, but I have to say this. Are you listening?" Spencer imagines that commanding tone terrifies criminals. As it is, he finds himself standing up a bit straighter.

"Yes."

"She loves you. I don't really care if she hasn't said anything yet, I can just tell. I know we're men and men don't want their women to see them in pain, but Roe can tell anyway. You want to keep her safe from what you see, I understand that. But she knows and if you don't show it, or you don't talk to her, she has to imagine how its ripping you up inside."

"I don't mean to hurt her…"

"I know you don't, kid. But you are anyway. You can't talk to her right now, fine. But you better when you get back to D.C. Now catch that murdering son of a bitch and get back to Rowena in one piece." The phone clicks and Spencer feels oddly relieved.

"Spencer?" It's Rossi, sitting on the arm of his chair and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Everything alright at home?" Spencer looks up at him, pale as he realizes something.

"She loves me." Rossi smiles.

"Rowena tell you that?"

"No, her partner. Former partner. He said he can tell." Spencer flexes his hands, realizing they've gone numb.

"Focus on the case, Spencer. Then go hear it for yourself." Rossi departs and Spencer watches him go, courage welling up in him again. How could he forget what he has to return to?

"You're kidding me." It has to be at least 3 A.M. when the frantic pounding begins at Rowena's door. Bleary and confused, she rolls out of bed and pulls on her slippers, clicking the light on and glaring at even its soft yellow illumination. "Damn it, I'm coming!" The bun she went to sleep in has loosened and sent tendrils about her face, and her skin feels a touch too oily to be comfortable, but the knocks at her door are growing in recurrence and volume. Briefly Rowena considers changing from her pink and white striped pajamas, then decides to hell with it. "I'm here, what's the big deal?" Her voice dies off at the sight that greets her.

"Rowena." Spencer whispers weakly. To her dismay, she realizes he's shaking as he stands before her, clearly in clothes he's been wearing for at least one night's sleep. Dark circles absorb light below his tired eyes and his mouth is clenched tightly, fists shaking at his side.

"Oh, baby…" The inane nickname escapes her but only because he looks so young and in need of comforting, and her arms wrap him up tight. Spencer nearly collapses at the warmth of her embrace, clutching her to him as if afraid she'll disappear.

"I should've answered the phone, I'm-" His voice breaks and Rowena gently strokes the back of his head.

"Don't apologize, Spen. Come in." She leads him in like a child and Spencer takes the spot motioned to on her couch, curling his knees into his chest and taking ragged breaths to control the sobs he wants to let free.

"Rowena…" He tries to speak again and fails, but Rowena smiles with nearly tangible tenderness.

"Shh. You don't have to say anything if you aren't ready." Her lips warmly touch his forehead briefly. "I'm going to make tea, I'll be right back." Spencer knows his eyes must widen with horror at the thought of her leaving him even for a moment and she recognizes it. "I'll be right back, I swear." The next kiss to his forehead is longer and warmer, and her hand brushes his cheek. Spencer stays frozen in place as tea is made and two hot cups placed on the table.

Rowena sits across from him and watches him with soft, deep eyes that he can practically feel the affection radiating from. Knowing she wants him to do only what he needs, Spencer edges closer and pulls the overstretched elastic from her hair, sending the thick tangled waves pouring to her shoulders. With a hollow sob as the tears start to finally escape, he buries his face in the mess of her hair that smells of fruit and comfort as he draws as close as he possibly can to her body. "Rowena!" He cries out, unable to say anything else, and her arms instantly encircle him again.

"It'll be okay, Spencer. It'll be okay." She rocks him back and forth as the boy genius weeps with abandon, tears strangling her own voice at his obvious torment and her own powerlessness to help. "I'm sorry I can't do anything."

"No." His long fingers clutch at her back through the thin pajamas. "This is enough." He says so softly she nearly doesn't hear.

"Alright." It's long hours before Spencer is calm enough to sleep and sleep he does, still wrapped inside her arms in pink striped pajamas, their soft snores blending together.