Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds and intend no copyright infringement.
Erin had decided to call it a day before the temptation to stop at some liquor store and throw months of hard work to the wind grew too strong to resist.
Good decision. She made it home. Barely. But home she was. Curled up in a blanket on her sofa, Vivaldi blaring from the hidden speakers in the living-room's corners, a half-empty box of chocolate on the coffee table right next to her.
Yeah, she was wallowing in her misery.
Well, truth to be told, what had she expected? Rossi was and would always be Rossi, a man with a taste for the finer aspects of life - good food, expensive clothes, pretty women.
Pretty women significantly younger than himself.
It had only been a question of time, both in the literal and the figurative sense. She really should have known better.
Groaning Erin rolled off the sofa to get a new tissue box. At least the next bottle of liquor was reasonably far enough away from her not to present a direct threat.
Oh, whom was she kidding? All she needed to do was walk over to her phone and call one of those home delivery services. She could get her hands on really good stuff within fifteen minutes.
Erin hesitated. It would be so easy to numb her pain...
She made one step towards the phone, then another. Picked it up. Her fingers hovered over the keypad. For the home delivery service she'd have to call directory enquiries. Derek Morgan's number was on speed dial.
But she couldn't call him. No way. He'd do something stupid, like challenging Dave to a fist fight or some other idiotic male thing that would only get him into trouble. The rest of the team would put two and two together. Aaron Hotchner was everything but tolerant when it came to emotions running wild. He had a point: Internal conflict could destroy the entire structure of the team.
Undecidedly, Erin weighed the phone in her hand. It seemed to grow heavier by the second. Her fingers started trembling. She kept telling her arm to straighten and put the damn thing back onto its base station. But instead her index finger jerked and pushed the first digit.
No, no, no, she...
The doorbell rang.
Oh, thank God, the doorbell rang!
Erin stumbled towards it like a person dying of thirst would towards an oasis. Whoever this was, he or she was a godsend.
Unless it was a salesman for fine wine, that is.
It was Derek Morgan.
"I'm so sorry", he said and embraced her.
How the hell did he find out? It didn't matter. She had needed this. Boy had she needed this.
"Garcia always says there's no problem ice-cream can't cure", he mumbled into her hair after a while, slowly let go of her and produced a whole bucket of vanilla-strawberry flavored stuff, complete with crunchy cookie pieces, from the backseat of his car.
"My daughter says the same", Erin laughed despite her tears.
They ate the ice-cream in the living-room, despite the expensive carpet and the even more expensive sofa.
"Maybe we should get back at him… I could tell every girl he has a date with that he has an STD or something…", Derek suggested after a while.
Erin couldn't help but giggle at the suggestion.
Encouraged, Derek continued: "Or maybe put roofies in his drink, drag him off to a tattooist and have a tramp stamp put on his lower back."
Now she was outright laughing. "Or what about a piercing? Isn't there one called Prince Alfred or something…?"
Morgan cringed and Erin rolled on her back, thoroughly enjoying herself. Forgotten were the tears, the pain, the temptation, at least for the moment.
And wasn't the moment all that counted? Because no one could tell what would happen tomorrow?
Outside an expensive car slowly passed Erin Strauss' house. A huge bouquet of flowers was placed on the passenger's seat and a very ashamed David Rossi was clutching the steering wheel.
He had made a mistake. In a moment of temptation he had failed and made a giant mistake. Boy was he sorry. What if she…? He knew how unstable she still was. What the hell had he been thinking?
He needed to apologize. ASAP.
But when he got to Strauss' home he saw Derek Morgan's car parked right in front of it.
An ice-cold shudder ran down his spine that had nothing to do with his car's air conditioning.
He should have been relieved. If Derek was with her, she wasn't drinking.
But he wasn't…
Derek was with her…
Only now it truly dawned on him how great the proportions of his mistake were.
