Investigations. Sharing them. Leaves a bad taste in a lot of mouths. Even when you're an old friend.

It hadn't been hard convincing nypds MRC to take him back. He'd done good work setting an MRC branch up in Richmond, Virginia. And, he'd run point on a successful raid of a child smuggling ring in Richmond. The hardest thing had been getting back in contact with Archer.

Archer and him had run into each other in Virginia, and he'd gotten the impression she was pissed at him for something. It was just a hunch. The meeting with her today... really wasn't one he'd called ahead about. When he'd gotten back in town, he'd tried to speak with her on the phone. It wasn't like he was some sort of coward. The first time he'd called, he'd been polite and tactful... and she'd tactfully hung up on his ass. She hadn't bothered answering the second time, or the third. He'd left a message, but he'd gotten the message. It was the sort of thing that ignited every synapse in his mind and set him to wanting to sort through the problem, but he'd gotten the message. Currently, it seemed that Archer didn't much want to talk to him. Which made the current situation fairly awkward.

"So..." Ashton trailed innocuously. "How's things?"

They were sitting outside an office, in uncomfortable orange-padded metal chairs. Waiting for their higher ups to show up so they could enter and talk about the investigation. And neither of them had said anything in, oh-- he glanced at an analog wall clock-- say, five minutes? A man notices these things and takes note. It's not the sort of situation one wishes to learn to be comfortable in. Too much practice involved. Much better to learn to overcome uncomfortable silences. To take note of what's causing them, and then to take every conceivable effort to prevent that from ever happening again. Difficult to do, when the party initiating the silence won't return your calls.

Hell. This was probably what hell felt like.

Quin crossed her right leg over her left as she sat in the chair outside the Captain’s office and bounced her foot impatiently. She’d been told she needed to be here, so she’d shown up. Nobody had said that she needed to be amiable, chatty, or even polite. That was a good thing.

The first call she’d gotten from the...person...sitting in the chair two down from her had been unexpected and she’d answered after seeing a number that wasn’t already in her contacts. It hadn’t taken long for Quin to figure out who was on the other end of the line and as soon as it was clear she’d hung up and saved the number to her contacts (under a word that wasn’t particularly appropriate)...she’d then ignored the next two calls and deleted the voicemails without listening to them. It was impossible to think that he had anything to say that she wanted to hear.
She’d been right.

Apparently he was back, and for some stupid reason they were both being called into the Captain’s office to talk about something. Fine. Quin would show up and play nice insomuch as she would tolerate the meeting. If she was honest with herself, the redhead had to admit that if she’d answered one of the phone calls, she probably wouldn’t have been surprised, and that just maybe an attempt had been made to issue a warning.

Quin didn’t feel like being honest with herself.

He spoke. Quin pretended like he didn’t exist. They really didn’t need to talk.

An edge of anger bit into him like a knife to the throat, and his fingers tightened their grip on his knees. The cold shoulder. She was giving him the cold shoulder. Had been giving him the cold shoulder. Not just since he'd come to town, either. She hadn't fielded his call about the investigation prior to the raid in Richmond, either, and. it had. Driven. Him. Mad. The whole point of his call had been to help her. For the good of the investigation, for the children. But she haven't even given him ten seconds to explain himself, and he'd wound up having to share the information with Acha through other means. And had made sure they avoided sharing his name he entire time. He felt like it was childish and petty... and eventually, he'd share those thoughts. Now wasn't the time.

He inhaled a breath through his nose. Ashton wanted to sort things out, but now wasn't the time. His professional respect for her was waning due to her responses which negatively impacted the investigation, but now wasn't the time.

Now. Wasn't. The time. He wasn't going to pick a fight in her work place over her behavior or their past issues, which still stood sturdy in the foreground of her mind. He wasn't going to make her look bad, or put her on the defensive. This was her job, her investigation, and if she wanted him out of it, he'd share what he knew then recommend someone else from his Richmond MRC team who he had confidence in... and who she'd probably send away, as well.

Now wasn't. The goddamn time.

It's amazing how zero words can cause as much anger and difficulty as one hundred words.

"Children are being hurt, Archer." He found himself saying through bitterly clenched teeth. It wasn't the time. He didn't want it to be the time. He furiously backpedaled away from that territory. There, lay dragons. "I hope my information will be of some use to your investigation." He finished, calmer. Lamely, he thought. An attempt at creating common ground, too little. Probably too late.

Oh. So now he was mad.

Quin turned her head slowly and looked at Detective Drake. Really looked at him. Hopefully he understood from the intensity of her gaze that she wasn’t playing games and that her lack of communication via phone had nothing to do with the case.
It was 2017 for the love of God....just because he insisted on being a luddite didn’t mean that everyone else had to be. People communicated via email these days. It was more reliable, created a paper trail, and allowed someone to file away the information into neat little electronic folders that could be accessed anywhere in the world.

Quin didn’t say any of that though. She didn’t need to. None of it mattered anyway. What mattered was the fact that he dared to suggest that she was petty enough to let any kind of personal issues get in the way of an ongoing investigation.
’That’s the only reason I’m here.” she said, each word enunciated clearly enough that there could be no mistaking her meaning.

”My investigation will benefit from any information from any source that proves reliable and trustworthy.” Had there been slight emphasis on that last word? Was Detective Archer perhaps suggesting that someone involved in the case could possible lack one or both of those characteristics?

Who knew. Then again, verbal cues were far easier to read than something typed out as text...so Detective Drake shouldn’t have had any trouble figuring things out.

”I assume you’ve got my email, so I’m not entirely sure why this meeting is at all necessary.”

That look she gave him was intense, almost frightening in its severity, and her reply was clipped and tight. His mouth was a thin line, as he said nothing and let her get her venom out.

He wasn't an idiot. They'd parted ways in a negative way, and he knew it. One would think, though, that somehow they could set things right. It was his fault, after all. He was the one who needed to take the first step. And the second. And the third. It was just, they hadn't gone down that path yet, with apologies. Because. Well. Because it had been a long while ago, and he didn't really have a good reason other than the excuse that they ought to keep things professional.

She didn't think he was trustworthy? That was ridiculous. He'd done everything he could TO be trustworthy. At least, to the people of MRC. A thought nagged at him that maybe that wasn't the same thing, but he drummed it down as he drummed his fingers on a knee.

"The last time I tried to email." He said. "I barely got two sentences in reply. All I got from it was that you'd received my email. You didn't say much else."

What, was she going to tell him she'd said all she needed to say? Trying to mail her anything further seemed a waste of time, if she just ignored it, or fired back 'k.'

Footsteps from the end of the hallway caught his attention, and Ashton raised his head to see two men approaching. Bossmen. MRC management. The people they'd been waiting on for the meeting. He stuck a pin in the conversation for later, and rose to greet them. Then, they all piled into the room.

"Detectives Archer and Drake. Please, have a seat." The tallest of two two gestured to the chairs on the other side of the table.

The other man sat across from them. He ran a hand through thinning hair, and addressed them both. "First off, we'd like to applaud your work on this case. We've made a lot of progress. And we're happy you could come back from MRC, Richmond, Drake."

Ashton nodded uncertainly. He wanted to know where this was headed.

"And secondly?" Ashton asked.

The seated man continued, delicately. "We'd like to talk more about pooling our information, and about leadership."

Ashton started at him. "Huh?"

What Drake said was true. The last time he had emailed her information about the case, she’d sent back about two sentences. One to tell him that she’d gotten the email, and one more to say thanks.

What else did he want? Quin looked at him a bit incredulously, wondering if she was missing something in the grand scheme of things. Was she supposed to write him a novel, praising him for doing his damn job and cooperating on a case?

Quin opened her mouth to ask exactly what the hell he’d expected her to say in response to the information when footsteps approached. Boss people. The redhead closed her mouth the same way she’d opened it and frowned slightly as they approached. There was a lot of brass here. It made misgivings and discomfort worm its way down her back. Why did they need so many supervisors to simply talk about a case?

Into the room they went, and gathered around the table like they were going to have a nice talk. The more this progressed, the more Quin’s belly filled with cold dread.

They spoke, and it was as though bureaucracy was a long lost spring fountaining from the mouths of her superior officers. Drake had done excellent work in Richmond, working with their budding MRC. They wanted to chat about pooling more information...that and leadership.

Quin leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, posture similar to the one she’d assumed in the hallway. She should have known. It would have been hideously unprofessional to turn and glare at her ex-partner, but Quin wanted to so badly. As if he hadn’t known this was going to happen.

”What do you have in mind?” she asked levelly, but thinking that she already knew.

"Drake has had some success leading the MRC unit in Richmond. He's got leadership potential. Something we'd like to build on." The seated man said. As he spoke, Ashton's gut felt heavier and heavier. "We'd like to put him in charge of this case."

Well. That was not what he'd wanted, at all. At all.

"Furthermore," he continued. "We'd like to place Detective Archer in a different area of the investigation."

Ashton cut in before he could continue, and before Archer could voice her concerns. "May I ask why, sir?" They didn't like the interjection. The man standing to one side eyed Ashton, and frowned.

"You know why, Drake. You two have a history."

"Well gee, I didn't want to take over this investigation in the first place. I just wanted to pass on information, and get placed in a position where I could be useful to MRC. This is a bit much." Ashton said brusquely.

"Which is exactly the kind of mindset we like in charge of these investigations. Someone in it for the right reasons. Not trying to make their name."

Ashton grimaced. "Doesn't seem fair to Detective Archer, I think." Seemed like good ol' boys, trying to take a woman off a case because some man they liked returned. Put someone who has one little victory in an investigation in charge over the person who'd been running it for even longer? Insane.

In it for the right reasons.

Trying to make a name.

They had history.

Quin wanted to puke, and for a moment, she really thought that she might. All the work she'd done, going through her whole internship a second time, taking every crap assignment the upper brass wanted to hand out, playing as a yes-man for the past four years hadn't meant a damn thing.

It. Figured.

Quin simply had to shake her head, a bitter smile coloring her features. There wasn't a damn thing she could do about the situation. Drake had helped set up a whole MRC division at that precinct in Richmond, and he'd been working on this case at the same time. The supervisors could totally justify their decision, and when it came down to it there would always be a little cloud that followed her around the MRC. Quin was always going to be that girl. At least to these guys.

There were so many things to say running through Quin's head that she almost missed Drake's attempts to stand up for her.

It was literally the last thing on Earth she wanted him to do. She didn't need him to help her and she wanted his help even less.

"He doesn't need to speak for me." she said, voice clipped. "I'll turn over all of my information. We've been working with the same CI, so there shouldn't be any problems with that transition."

This pleased the men on the other side of the table. They'd obviously not expected any resistance whatsoever. Getting it from Drake had been an unpleasant surprise.

"Is there anything else?" she said, very nearly clenching her teeth after she finished speaking. If she didn't get out of the room soon, something terrible was going to happen. She needed to go somewhere to process this...somewhere that wasn't here.

The utter disgust he felt for the men talking was nearly overwhelming. He wanted to shout at them, wanted to throw things. This was his ex-partner they were doing this to. Despite any bad blood, despite any history, he respected her far more than these two. Because he respected her, Ashton kept his damned mouth shut.

It was an impossible situation. There was nothing he could realistically do that would be a good option. He couldn't shout at them and defend her. She'd never forgive him. The fact she'd already backed down and acquiesced to their unreasonable requests also left him without a leg to stand on. It was her case, her career that she had worked towards and earned herself, and he was not dumb enough to think that she would appreciate him trying to 'do her a favor and tell them she was a big girl', or some other thing that sounded similarly dumb. What could he say? He couldn't refuse to work on the case. Children were being hurt. Him refusing, and going back to Richmond would help no one. All in all, it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Archer asked if that was all, and the two men didn't have much more to add. Just like always, with upper middle management, Ashton considered bitterly. They wrapped things up and dismissed them. Ashton did not get in Archer's way. He did not try and stop her to talk. Ashton gave her space.

---

When Ashton got back to the MRC offices, he did not speak to anyone. Nor did he throw things around like a furious child. It wasn't that he didn't trust himself to handle the impotent rage. It was just that he knew there were better avenues to direct those emotions than biting some poor rookie MRC officer's head off like a mean bulldog.

He tore into casework. He made calls. Anything that could take his mind off his fury and also accomplish something, he did. A man on a mission, that was him.

He hated how things had gone down, but no amount of apologies was ever going to make it right. Ashton didn't even try.