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AvalonReeseFanFics

A/N: Happy 5th Day of the 12 days of Christmas Marathon. Do you guys know what you're getting for a surprise yet? Yeah, I have an extra surprise coming at the end of the marathon for you. So you're getting more than a Marathon for Christmas this year! We do have a few Rowan chapters going on but Steve and his friends will be back soon. We get to see how Rowan's doing on the Orient express. Just so you know, everything is accurate except for the gift Wo Fat gives her. I unno if it's possible to do, but it would be WONDERFUL if it was. Don't forget to leave a review, and I'll see you guys tomorrow.

Chapter 224

Rowan's desire to take their next leg of the trip via the Orient Express was how they ended up doubling back to Paris. The plan was to get onto the Orient Express there for the Paris to Berlin Route, as apparently the Orient Express didn't have a route that went from Venice to Berlin in any capacity. But it was Wo Fat's notoriety that kept them holed up in a safe house in Paris, instead of heading to Berlin like expected because he wanted Rowan to be able to experience the Orient Express to it's fullest degree without them having to hide and avoid Interpol which was still searching for him.

And it had to be the Orient Express. Nothing else would do. Not a plane, not a regular train. No, it had to be the Orient Express. Apparently, Rowan's favourite book was Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express and she wanted to live the book, or at least experience it in some small way. And Wo Fat never said no to Rowan even when he really should.

They were there for only a week before the tears started. Something had happened. Neither of them knew what it was, but it had to be bad because she suddenly just wouldn't stop crying. And with the crying came the locking herself in her room, and the refusing to eat or leave her bed.

Wo Fat was distraught. He didn't know what was wrong with her, or what could have set her off, but it was clear he was desperate to make it stop. Apparently, he couldn't handle her tears. So he decided to book the travel ahead of time, despite there being heat on him still and no real way for him to go on the move.

At first Conejo was livid. He was putting Rowan in danger with these sentimental decisions. But Wo Fat surprised him. The trip was booked, fully and completely, and everything was set for them. But Wo Fat wasn't coming. Wo Fat, would be finding his own way there, under the radar, and meeting them in Berlin. Conejo and Rowan would be going on their own.

It was only a 2-day trip, so there would be only one night in a cabin aboard the train. And he had put Conejo in a solo suit on his own, but Rowan, Rowan was in a grand suite. Something Conejo had been livid about because it meant he was in a different train compartment from her. Wo Fat hadn't seemed to care, but Conejo didn't like it. Too many variables. Which meant that he'd be in her room whether she or her brother liked it or not. What was Wo Fat going to do? He wasn't ever going to find out.

But as soon as the trip was announced, as soon as she was told that she'd be going on the Orient Express in the morning the tears had stopped and the small smiles had returned. Conejo had a plan he was content with, so despite being annoyed with Wo Fat, he stayed quiet, and let Wo Fat hug her good-bye. The two bid each other a farewell like they weren't going to see each other for years but and not the few days it was really going to be. With the good-byes done and Wo Fat left behind Con was left with getting Rowan and her fucking suitcases to the train and by the time it came boarding that stupid train Conejo was terribly annoyed.

But Rowan was all smiles and there was really nothing Conejo could really do except retire to the single bunk he was in and then cross compartments to Rowan's where she was unpacking and getting dressed. Apparently, you had to be fancy on this stupid train which meant he had to go back to his own compartment and change into the monkey suit that Wo Fat had made him purchase for her Venetian Aria.

When she was finally ready to go, they went to the dining car for lunch. Rowan had chosen to wear this navy blue and white polka-dotted dress. She looked like a vintage 50's house wife. The wide low-cut v-neck was a white trim, there were four small buttons on the bust. The matching white lace trimmed belt was cinched at the empire waist and the skirt landed just below her knees. Her hair was even in up in one of those curly Hollywood pin up dos, where her hair was all to one side. Not for the first time, Conejo found himself wondering how McGarrett had ever let that girl go.

The train was already in motion which meant they were officially on their way to Berlin, and she was uneven on her white high heeled shoes. That meant she had to cling to Conejo the whole walk. Which was something that he shouldn't have been excited for but totally was.

He ushered her into the dining compartment Rowan chose, some on-train restaurant called Côte d'Azur, being sure to watch the faces of everyone near-by to gauge their reactions and then put her into a booth closest to an exit door in case he had to run. A waiter was by them immediately with a menu and a long list of specials. Rowan got herself a rye and ginger, her signature drink and Conejo got his, which was a tequila and tonic, more tequila than tonic.

While Rowan poured over the menu like she was making a major life decision, Conejo continued to stare at faces around them. Every now and then someone would turn their eyes towards Rowan. Each and every person in the cabin was doing so at different intervals and he didn't like it. Why, why were they all looking at her? What had he gotten himself into?

While they waited for their meal to come, Rowan was captivated by the scenery whizzing past her. Conejo was waiting for the other shoe to drop, with a hand on the gun he had secreted away in a holster under his arm.

Their meal, which was roasted crispy duck for Rowan and grilled lamb chops for him, was served with a glass of champagne. Rowan's glass being handed to him immediately as she had refused to drink champagne since Paris. Conejo didn't usually drink while working, but this time he did, it steeled his nervous nerves. He didn't want to go all out on a train of people with Rowan with him, but if he had to he was going to. Made him wish he hadn't left his mask back in his cabin.

Dessert was a giant profiterole, with real vanilla ice cream and gallons of chocolate covering it and an alcoholic tea concoction that was handed to Rowan, and a stiff cup of black coffee for him. And then the weirdness happened.

They had just finished, he was ready to get Rowan out of that compartment, when the man in the booth beside them suddenly started to choke. Both he and Rowan turned. Conejo was expecting a trick, but Rowan was already reaching over.

"Hey are you okay?"

God that girl cared too much about other people, when would she care about herself? Before Conejo could grab her outstretched arm, the man collapsed to the floor, twitching a bit before finally going limp. Kay, poison. Poison did stuff like that to a man. The man had just been poisoned. Did he get a meal that was supposed to be their's? Or was this something else?

Rowan sat there with her mouth open for all of two seconds before she scrambled out of her seat and then dropped to her knees beside the man and tried to shake him away. She felt for a pulse and then turned to the other faces around them. "He's still got a pulse, someone get help!"

But no one moved. Rowan looked around at everyone's faces not understanding why none of them were moving. But Conejo was already half up, his hand under his jacket ready to draw the gun he had concealed there, sensing a fight brewing. A door opened and closed and then the people moved allowing a short man with a strange moustache and a monocle to come through. Rowan must have recognized him because she suddenly gasped happily. A smile dawning on her face as if she hadn't just witnessed a murder.

"Hello! I am Hercule Poirot, and I am here to investigate zee murder. Will my wonderful assistant, the extraordinary detective, Rowan Pierce, please assist moi?"

What now? Who the hell was this guy with the faker than fake French accent who also knew Rowan's name? Why did he feel like he had missed something?

Rowan's mouth fell open and she jumped to her feet shouting: "Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh my god YES!"

Conejo stepped over the fake dead guy and glared at Rowan. "What is happening?" he snarled but Rowan was just all smiled.

She slapped his shoulder happily. "It's Murder Mystery Theater!" she nearly screeched and he sighed finally dropping the hold on his gun. Why the hell wasn't he told that this was going to happen?

He was going to kill Wo Fat.

H5O-H5O-H5O-H5O

As it turned out, everyone aboard the train with them was part of the show. Her brother, her wonderfully patient and kind brother, had booked out the entire Orient Express so she could participate in murder mystery theater. Just to cheer her up. She didn't deserve a brother as sweet as Wo Fat was proving to be.

Who could say that they got to solve a murder mystery on the Orient Express? Fake or not. Who could say that they got to ride the Orient Express alone? Not many. He was spoiling her, that man. Spoiling her like she deserved.

She solved the mystery within two hours, which the troupe said was a new record. Rowan couldn't help but be proud of herself, or think that Steve would have been proud too because she had learned everything from watching him and the Five-0 team solve crimes. But then that made her sad again because she couldn't call any of her friends or Steve to tell them about what she had done. When she retired to her room for the night, she planned to stay there and watch the night sky pass through her window and try her very hardest not to cry. She was on the Orient Express, damn it! She should have been happy.

Conejo showed up only a few hours later hungry, and wouldn't let her say no to joining him for dinner. Apparently, dinner was paid for already, and Rowan didn't want to waste any of Wo Fat's money so she got up, changed out of her dress and into a fancier one and let Conejo escort her to the fancy dining car, Etoile du Nord.

There, the meal was set, no menu per say to pick from. She had a salad for an appetizer, Conejo had a soup. Her entrée was herb encrusted lamb shanks, while he settled for Lobster. She drank rye and ginger's until she felt less pain and more numb while passing off her bottomless champagne flutes to Conejo. Dessert she chose a four-flavour combination of gelato while Conejo had Crème Brule.

The nice thing about their meal was that he let her share. She got to pick off his plate and he picked off of hers. Steve had never liked that, granted he let her do it but he was grumpy about it, and he'd often steal more than his share in retribution for her sneaking a few fries off his plate.

With their meal done and Conejo being bored, she let him persuade her into joining him in the bar cart he had found. A little cart filled with blue chairs, name 3674. They drank and they drank and Rowan forgot all about why she was sad, forgot about the lingering pain in her arm and shoulder that she refused to tell Wo Fat about, and forgot all about the crippling heartache residing in her chest.

She took Conejo back to her own cabin for the night, though she had a feeling he was going to come whether he was invited or not. And for a long time they just worshipped each other, or at least, the spent the time worshipping the people they were pretending the other to be. She felt less and less bad for calling him Steven with each and every Mari that fell from his own lips.

Usually sex with Conejo was fast and easy, but that night was a bit different. She wasn't sure if she called him Steven as she didn't remember speaking. That night it wasn't just meaningless sex meant to make her feel wanted again or to pass the time, though that was what she had wanted originally. This was the quiet kind she thought belonged only to her and Steven. He moved slowly on top of her as if they had all the time in the world, his head bowed to hers, one arm pressed around her to keep her body close to his, while the other kept his weight off of her.

Rowan had held him, not tightly, but softly. One hand at the nape of the neck, the other pressed over his heart. Usually they barely kissed, at least, on the lips, their mouths usually went everywhere but. But not tonight. He kissed her for the first time with real emotion, like proper emotion. And now she was worried.

When he finished, having made sure to have her climax for him too, he dropped to the bed beside her and the silence descended upon what had just happened. She didn't want to talk to him about it now, obviously, but he would have to know that she just… she wouldn't be able to have emotions for him. It had nothing to do with him, it had everything to do with her and how broken she was. She wasn't sure her heart would ever get over Steven McGarrett, and she sure as hell didn't want to make Conejo second best to him.

Judging by the look on his face, he too was thinking of something, probably something similar, but they weren't going to talk about that tonight. Instead she rolled over onto her stomach and turned her face up to the window. Eventually Conejo did the same.

They spent the rest of the night watching the night sky pass by, until the sun rose and Rowan was too tired to stay awake. She fell asleep curled up into a warmth that almost felt familiar, with a pair of familiar muscular arms wrapped around her making her feel safe.

But as soon as her eyes closed, she dreamed of Hawaii. Of a golden sun shining down on her. Of twinkling laughter and BBQ smoke. Of night time s'mores and musical jams. But mostly of a sapphire blue surf, and the man who held her heart climbing out of it. And she knew, even in the arms of someone else, even across the world doing all these amazing things, that that was where she wanted to be, where she would always want to be.

H5O-H5O-H5O-H5O

Rowan woke him up at an indecent hour for something called a Celebration Breakfast. They had just been out half the night drinking and this bitch had him up at the crack of dawn for breakfast. Okay, maybe not the crack of dawn, it was only ten in the morning, but he knew she didn't settle down to sleep until the sun rose that morning. He had felt her curl into him, had held her cold body to his until she warmed up. She shouldn't have been awake but she was.

She dragged him back to the Côte d'Azur where he got to have a smoked salmon crepe for breakfast and she got scrambled eggs and Romeo and Juliette crepes, which were just crepes with melted butter and sugar. He had drunk enough coffee to keep an elephant awake, guzzling it down like the animal he was while she sipped on cups of fancy tea.

By noon they were in Berlin. He got her and her two massive suitcases off of the train and into a cab to get them to their next destination. Wo Fat should have given that information to him, but he had given all itinerary and confirmations to Rowan whose organizational skills were on an almost OCD level where it pertained to travel. He was still surprised when Rowan said: "To the Adlon Kempinski please."

Conejo couldn't believe it. Wo Fat had put them up in the Hotel Adlon Kempinski, which he knew was the swankiest hotel in Berlin. They had a whole fucking floor. This giant suite might as well had been a penthouse with three bedrooms, it even had it's own jacuzzi on the balcony. Why the fuck was this man dropping so much money on this girl when she could have given a rat's ass about the price? He could have put them in a motel and she would have just have been excited to be in Berlin.

He let Rowan pick which room she wanted, he even let her pick which room Wo Fat would want and then he took his own room. He dropped the one bag he owned, on the bed and immediately went back out into the main living area to raid the mini bar and look at the room service menu. Of course everything was in double digits even the sides. What the hell were truffle fries and why where they 11 euros?

But once he had established what food he was going to get, which wasn't hard cause he wanted a burger, he was left with his thoughts. He could hear Rowan singing to herself in her room and a singular chord was struck through him again.

He was getting attached.

He had wanted to talk to her about it last night that he would have to put that space between them again. He was her bodyguard, and he could let emotion affect him the way it was going to if they continued down this path. The problem was he couldn't bring himself to do it. She was already so broken from losing McGarrett that he knew he couldn't deal her another blow like that. He figured she wouldn't take that request as plea to keep her safe but instead as another rejection. And he didn't want to do that to her.

When Rowan finally joined him on the couch to pick fries off of his plate, he had a different request to pose to her.

"So what exactly was it that got you all sad in Paris?" he asked. Rowan turned to him surprised but otherwise said nothing. As if neither he nor Wo Fat would have noticed that she suddenly locked herself in her room to cry and refused to come out or eat. "Well something happened. You went from perfectly fine to crying. So… what was it?"

Rowan settled herself deeper into the sofa, having chosen to change into comfier clothes for her. Which were grey terry cloth booty shorts and a big poufy sweater three times her size that must have been McGarrett's.

"Well… remember how we sent that friend of yours down to save Steve?"

"Chico, yeah? He reported that everything went the way you said it would… which I told you," he reminded her and she nodded.

"Well I called him… again…" she whispered and a streak of understand ran through him. He had been allowing her to do that. Call McGarrett. He figured it safe because the girl couldn't bring herself to talk to him, she was too afraid. So she'd hang up when he guessed it was her. They must have talked about something.

"Did you talk to him?"

"No… he… he talked to me…" she whispered and that theory solidified, he had a feeling he knew exactly what it was that McGarrett had said to her to upset her so. "He… he told me to stop. That… he was glad I helped him and all that but he wants me to let him go… so he can move on."

Her chin was wobbling and Conejo found himself sighing. He rolled his eyes heavenward as if mentally asking the god he didn't think existed why the hell this had happened. This was bullshit. Why couldn't the man have just said thank-you? Huh? Why?

"Okay… well… we already knew he's an idiot," Conejo growled, but a hiccup escaped Rowan that he knew would, sooner or later, turn into sobs. He put an arm around her and pulled her to his side. "Come on now, stop your crying, okay? Please? Everything's going to be okay, you know?" She turned her face up to him, it was clear she didn't believe him but hope was shining in her eyes. "Just… you know… we're taking care of your other friends, who seem much more appreciative… from now on… let's just… leave him to his own devices, okay? Just… just… fuck him. He wants to deal with everything on his own, let him."

Rowan slowly looked down. "Just because he wants to get over me, doesn't mean I want him to get hurt. He has Nahele to think of too, you know?"

God his girl, she was a bleeding heart his girl. "God, you're just… you're just so good, you know? Like, if someone did this shit to me, I'd probably just take him out, but you, naw, you just wanna help the world don't you?" he asked her and she shot him half a smile and a bit of a shrug. "Don't you ever lose your halo, kid."

He stared at her for a little while longer, until that discordant chord played a painful chorus upon his heart again. Clearing his throat, he turned away from her and reached out for a handful of fries. "So, here's what we do instead. You have yourself another one of those dreams about him and I'll send someone down, but no more Rowan-grams. We won't say they're from you anymore," he offered and she smiled, obviously liking that idea. "And if my guys rough him up a bit by accident… you know so be it."

Rowan squealed her dislike of that idea at him, and smacked his shoulder, which just led to them play-fighting and eventually rolling right off the couch as she tried to fend him off and he tried to tickle her. Whatever chord he was trying to ignore had a whole melody paired to her cries of excited laughter. This was worse than he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Wo Fat's warning kept echoing in his head.

Once she gets under your skin she doesn't come back out.