Clueless

Past Wounds

Spencer looked up: where Rowan's window should have been was smoldered brick. The explosion had busted out the windows.
"Sir, you can't-" an officer tried to stop Spencer. Spencer fumbled in the pockets of his pants until he found what he was looking for: his FBI badge. The officer let him by without another word.
He approached the ambulance, looking in the back of the truck.
Rowan was being attended by a paramedic, wincing as he bandaged her head.
"You're okay." Spencer sighed: worry loosening the noose it had made.
"Of course. I'm always okay. Ow." Rowan hissed slightly.
"Do they have a suspect?" Spencer asked.
"Officially? No. But we know who it is. It's time to tell the team. Call Hotch. Emergency meeting." Rowan waved the paramedic off.
The paramedic immediately objected. "You can't-"
"I'm a federal agent and I have someone trying to kill me. I'm a doctor. I'll be with a doctor. " Rowan ignored his further outbursts.
Reid pulled out his phone and dialed Hotch.
"Reid?" Spencer could hear the sleep still in the Supervisory Agent's voice.
"There's been an explosion. Someone tried to kill Rowan." Spencer explained hurriedly.
"He agreed to meet us at work. Is she okay to leave?" Reid asked the paramedic.
The paramedic just gave an uneasy nod and Spencer helped Rowan stand.
The world span dizzyingly.
She leaned on Spencer, his arm wrapped around her waist supportively.
Once to work, Rowan sat down at her desk and began typing quickly: almost two hundred words per minute. Reid read over her shoulder.
"You're trying to hack something?" Reid guessed.
"Not trying. I've successfully hacked into the hunter's log from where I came from. My dad's friend will be on here somewhere." She started scrolling.
"Here." She clicked on his name and brought up a picture.
"This is him. He and my dad were hunting buddies. Sometimes, if my dad was drunk after a hunt, he would let him come into my bedroom and-"
"Are you okay?" Penelope cut the sentence off as she dropped her bags and hugged Rowan tightly.
"I'm fine. I'm just pissed." Rowan relented, pulling away from the blond.
"You were just blown up. You are not fine. Is that blood?" Penelope's hand gingerly touched the bandage on Rowan's head.
"Yeah. I have a concussion." Rowan waved away her concern. "I'm fine, Pen. I'm going to the bathroom." She said to the both of them, sidestepping Penelope and locking herself in the tiles room.
Rowan felt like she was going to throw up. She gripped the edges of the sink, leaned over. Her stomach was churning.
What this man had done to her and now he was back. Rowan was going to put a bullet through his skull.

She reached in her pocket and found the bottle of pain killers. She downed two of them, then looked at the bottle again. She shook out two more and downed those as well.
By the time she left the bathroom, the entire team was sleepily assembled.
"I'm sorry to have pulled you all out of your nights." She apologized, standing in front of them. "But there's something I haven't told you."
"Are those burns, Rowan?" Emily demanded. Rowan looked down at her shirt and gave a soft sound: she hadn't realized the explosion had burned her. Her arm was scarring over and her shirt was smoldered.
"Someone's trying to kill me. I need your help."
•
"Everything is going to be fine." Reid repeated to Rowan, who shook her head slightly.
He stood, gently squeezing her shoulder, and followed Hotch into a different room.
"Get her out of the office. We're looking into it now. Distract her." Hotch instructed.
"What am I supposed to do?" Spencer asked.
"Take her to dinner. All of her belongings were just destroyed: look into real estates or go shopping." He advised.
Spencer nodded and walked out of the room.
"Rowan?" He found her in the briefing room, her hands shaking. She was typing on one of the laptops she borrowed from Penelope.
When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. "Yeah?"
"Come on. How about that second date?"