What the hell was he doing, he wondered again as he drove towards her place. Their break-up over six months ago had been epic in proportions, the fireworks so loud and bright that after two weeks Hotch had strolled into his office, settled into the chair across from his desk, and asked him if he'd lost his mind. And then he warned that one of them would have to go if they couldn't work together. It wasn't as if he hadn't known that already, but the stern warning and intense look of contempt from his former protégé had rattled him. After a week's vacation, largely spent consulting the bottom of a bottle, he'd returned with a new attitude. In effect, he became the office hermit, emerging only when his presence was requested.
He'd seen the reactions of the others, the wary glances, the looks of pity and occasional anger. But he didn't care. They could think whatever they wanted; he wasn't going to cost her the hard earned position on the team; even if she had cost him his soul. He loved her too much to take that away from her.
Inwardly he steeled himself as he walked up the front walk. This was something he'd tried to beg off on, offering lame excuses to no avail. And the clincher had been two nights ago when she'd slipped into his office. "Please Dave, I really want you to come to my birthday party," she said. He'd looked up to tell her no but as he looked into those mesmerizing dark eyes of hers and saw her sincerity, his resolve melted. How could he say no when she looked at him like that? How had he ever been able to say no to her at all? He knew it, she knew it; he was putty in her hands.
And then, as she walked out that night, she'd delivered the punch line with such a force he couldn't breathe. "And feel free to bring a date," she tossed at him as she'd sauntered out.
God, what was he doing here, he wondered as he stood at her door, waiting for her to answer. Feeling the brush of a hand on his arm, he turned to his date and tried to smile. But it is difficult to smile when your heart is breaking…again. As they heard activity at the door handle, she leaned into him and nuzzled at his neck, playing her part. The expression in her eyes as she caught the action through the now open door held no satisfaction for him. In fact, it hurt. And for the hundredth time in the last hour, he wondered if the hurting would ever stop.
His date was attentive but he couldn't return the attention. Instead, he watched her as she moved around the room, laughing and talking, sipping from her wine glass, and smiling. How could she smile like that? Didn't she know that he was broken? Maybe she did and she just didn't care. Had he hurt her so deeply that she'd changed that much? The woman that he'd fallen in love with would have cared; would have gone out of her way to keep him from feeling the way he felt tonight.
His observation of Emily was so focused that he missed the spark of recognition from the twerp standing in the corner. The whisper in the ears of one of his buddies from white collar crimes went unnoticed as well…as the sharing with Lynch, who of course shared with Garcia. The whispers only registered on his radar when Garcia crossed the room and whispered to her. The look of disgust that flooded her normally gorgeous features was unmistakable, as was the anger that flushed through her as she crossed the room to him.
Her eyes were wide and angry. He recognized the expression and the hurt that hovered behind the anger. He'd seen it before, the night she told him to get the hell out.
"You bastard! You brought a call girl to my party?" she exclaimed, her anger outweighing her normal refined demeanor.
As he looked at her, surveyed the hurt and disgust, and felt her ire, he knew how wrong his little maneuver had been. But when she'd so carelessly tossed out the invitation to bring a date, he'd been crushed. A date? He hadn't been able to look at another woman since the night she'd invited him home; the night she'd bewitched him and made him hers forever.
A call to the escort service seemed like a reasonable solution, he'd thought. No one's feelings would get hurt. He'd take her to the party as his date, drive her back to her car after, and pay her handsomely for getting him through the night. She'd be happy and he'd… well, he wouldn't look quite so pitiful. And Emily would never know, or so he thought.
As he stood, speechless, staring into those eyes of hers, the ones full of pain and indignation, he once again wondered if the hurting would ever stop. "Em, I…" he started. But a hard hand on his arm and a grumble from Aaron distracted him. And before he could think, Aaron and Morgan were pushing him towards the door, his date following behind. And as he struggled for one last glimpse of her over his shoulder, he saw Emily crumble. And his heart shattered again.
Out on the walk, Morgan hustled the girl away while Aaron glared at him. "What the hell were you thinking?" he finally bellowed. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered how unexpected that was from his friend. David Rossi couldn't remember Aaron ever yelling so forcefully. Not in al the years he'd known the younger man. And as he looked into his angry protégé's face to try to explain, he broke. "It hurts so much," he gasped. "I want the hurting to stop…when will it stop, Aaron?" He felt the anger go out of his friend. And then watched as Aaron mumbled something to Morgan, who walked away; the girl in hand. "Let me take you home," Aaron said softly.
Aaron followed him through the door and he heard the groan as the reality of the last few months became apparent. David Rossi was normally a very meticulous man, everything in order, including his house. But despite his housekeeper's best efforts, the place was a disaster... at least for Rossi's world.
Dave made his way to the mini bar and poured a Scotch for himself, uncharacteristically ignoring Aaron's presence in the room. Quietly moving to his side, the younger man sighed. "Dave, you've got to …"
"To what?" Dave roared. "Pull myself together? Put the pieces back together? Put my heart back in my chest? I've tried…it isn't working." And then as all the life seemed to drain from him, he sank into a nearby chair. He took a deep breath and then glared up at Hotch. "I've tried," he whimpered.
Aaron could see the moisture gathering in the other man's eyes; something he'd never seen anything even close to before. "What did you do, Dave? Why did she break it off?"
He sat quietly, his mind reliving the last few minutes of their relationship as he'd done countless times before. "I honestly don't know… everything seemed fine. And then suddenly it wasn't… and next thing I knew, she was kicking me out." Bewilderment slowly changed back to anger as Dave sat, contemplating that last night. "She wouldn't talk to me…" Reaching over, he sat his drink down on a nearby table. "I love her so much Aaron… All the women I've dated, all three marriages… the breakups didn't hurt like this …"
"Have you told her that?"
After a frustrated sigh, he answered. "She won't talk to me…if it isn't about work, she won't stay in the same room with me."
"So this wasn't you trying…"
"… to end it? No. I love her Aaron….like I've never loved anyone."
"So if I get her in a room…to talk…"
Dave perked up immediately, his face showing an eagerness Aaron hadn't seen in months. "You'll do that? You'll get her to talk to me?"
"I'll try. But Dave, you're only going to get one shot. And after, if she doesn't come around….you'll move on."
Dave studied his face intently. "Move on? I can't do that, Aaron. How does one move on after the world crumbles?" Then with bent shoulders and a broken voice, he added, "But I'll retire again…let her have her space."
Aaron Hotchner didn't like the sound of that, not at all.
Jennifer Jareau had been the first to reach Emily after Hotch and Morgan pulled Dave Rossi from the room. It was into Jennifer's arms that Emily collapsed. Instantly Spencer Reid was there too, confused and uncertain but determined to help his friend. Together they walked Emily upstairs to her bedroom while Garcia thanked the guests for coming and then hustled them out the door. In just a few short minutes, it was just the four of them in Emily Prentiss' apartment.
Reid fidgeted as he watched Emily sitting on her bed, crying. Glancing at Penelope Garcia, he knew that she was just as unsettled as he but she was devising a plan of action. JJ sat next to Emily on the bed, her arm around the brunette's shoulder in silent consolation.
Finally, a very angry Prentiss looked up at the other two. "Why the hell did he do that?" she growled.
Spencer was at a loss and had been about the whole Emily-Rossi break up to begin with. He wasn't smart about these things but he'd seen Dave Rossi around enough women to know that Emily had captured his heart. He'd given the brunette agent more time and attention than Reid suspected he'd ever given anyone in his life. And the way he would look at her whenever they were in the room together…
Even since the break-up, Reid had caught glimpses of that same expression from Rossi. He loved her, there was no doubt in Spencer Reid's mind about that. And there were times when he caught Emily looking at the senior profiler the same way, even since the fireworks six months ago. So why weren't the two together? Spencer couldn't wrap his mind around it. And neither had said anything to give the team any clues.
Penelope starting rattling something about wiping all the man's accounts and making him so poor that a homeless woman wouldn't be interested. JJ just rolled her eyes but Emily lifted her head quickly. "No, you don't hurt him….you get me Garcia?"
Garcia frowned. "Yes, but I thought…I mean…"
Glancing between the two other women, JJ shrugged. "I thought you were mad at the guy. I mean, he was a real asshole…bringing a hooker to your party."
Tears began to roll down Emily's face again. "It was…but I told him to bring a date."
"Yeah, but a…whore," Garcia squeaked.
Spencer watched as a shiver ran through Emily. Swallowing back tears, she whimpered, "I didn't see that one coming…" After another attempt to control her tears, she added, "I didn't think, I mean, he's never…women haven't been a problem for him before. Why would he….why now?"
JJ patted Emily's shoulder and gathered her ire before speaking. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out."
Emily looked up, horrified. "No, JJ….don't. Leave it alone. I…I don't think I want to know…"
Looking aghast, JJ glared at her friend and accused, "you're in love with him…"
More sobs erupted from the dark eyed woman as she nodded affirmatively. "Yeah…"
Garcia swooped in like a crane. "So what did he do to screw things up? You guys seemed to be doing okay and then kaboom!"
"It…it wasn't…him," Emily admitted softly.
Somewhere between sounding like a foghorn and a squeal, Garcia exploded. "You sent the FBI's answer to Adonis packing? Oh my god…"
"Why?" Reid asked meekly.
Emily shook her head. "I'm not sure really… things were so perfect; he was so perfect… And it…it scared me."
"Honey, you have to talk to him," JJ prodded.
"But… he….I mean, that woman with him…."
And suddenly the pieces clicked in Emily Prentiss' mind. " That call girl means nothing…well, except that he's as stupid as every other male on this earth; no offence Spencer."
Reid shrugged; intrigued by the turns these events were taking.
"I don't get it," Penelope said.
"I told him to bring a date. I'll bet he hasn't even talked to another woman outside of work since we started dating … and he is David Rossi. This girl was high end, not your typical prostitute. There's probably been functions where he needed dates but didn't want all the fuss and bother of a real date; face it girls, he's probably used escort services before. Using this girl's services saved face; he could show up with a date and not look … awkward."
JJ took her hand and squeezed it. "What did he do? To cause the break-up?" She asked softly. But then after thinking a moment, she quickly backtracked. "But only if you want to tell us."
"He…he…it was too perfect. He…was too perfect. It was almost like he could read my mind, anticipating every need…every concern. And he took care of it. And then he…" she hesitated.
"What?" huffed Penelope.
Emily glanced at her and then looked down into her lap. Whispering so softly they had to strain to hear she admitted, "he asked me to…marry him."
"What?" Garcia squealed. "The Italian Stallion, the Luscious Lothario, Mr. Love 'em and Leave 'em…he asked you to marry him? You're the woman that bested the beast?"
JJ began to rub Emily's back as the beast mistress began to cry again. "It frightened me. He…well, as fantastic as he was…he doesn't have the best track record, you know? And I… was afraid of …what I was feeling, what he made me feel. I've never been that… involved with anyone before. But since he left…I….I…" her remaining words were drowned by more sobs.
Garcia opened her mouth to speak again but JJ waved her off. Then taking Emily's hand again, she advised, "You need to talk to him…the sooner the better."
Three phone conversations with Aaron Hotchner later, JJ had made the arrangements. Derek Morgan would drive Dave back to Emily's, where his car still sat at the curb. Garcia and Reid were leaving and JJ was not far behind.
Dave swore as Morgan drove to Emily's. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" he growled at the other man.
"What, man?" Morgan asked in frustration.
"Going slow… press the damned gas pedal…"
"Hey, we've got plenty of time. Can't get there early, you know. Gotta give her time…"
Clinching his jaw, Rossi understood what Morgan was saying. Timing was everything. Forcing himself to dial it down, he looked out the window and watched the scenery go by.
Morgan pulled to the curb and turned to Rossi. "I'm not sure what to say here… but good luck, I think," he told the older man.
Rossi nodded. "Thanks," he said quietly as he looked at the building that held his objective. Then exiting the car, he walked inside and was at her door quickly. Knocking softly at her door, he fought to gather his emotions. This was his one chance…his last chance at happiness. He had to get it right.
Slowly the door opened and he watched as her dark eyes peered around the door. Backing up, she opened the door wider to let him in. He followed her into the main room, the silence between them deafening. And then expectantly, she turned towards him.
For the first time in six months, she looked at him; really looked at him. The first thing she noticed was that his normally healthy skin tone had a gray tint to it. And the lines and crinkles in his face were deeper. There were signs that he wasn't sleeping well, especially around the eyes. And there was more grey at his temples. How could she have missed the changes? How could she not have seen what this was doing to him…what she had done to him?
He watched her keenly as she scrutinized him. Beyond being able to think, he simply drank in the sight of her; the long dark hair draped over her shoulders, her dark eyes that sparkled, her pulse that was throbbing on her long sleek neck… it all combined to overpower him. Unable to speak, he simply waited.
Finally she decided that she needed to say something, anything. "After I thought about it…I thought…maybe…"
Her soft voice turned his knees to liquid. And when she stopped, his chest tightened. Finding a voice, although a shaky one, he asked, "What did you think?"
Her eyes fluttered, glancing away and then coming back to him. "You brought…that… that woman was…"
His eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to understand. He thought he knew where it was going but there was no room for error, so he waited. When she didn't say anything else, he decided to try to help things along. "You said bring a date, Emily. But, I didn't want a date…"
"So, you…hired a…" Tears glistened in her eyes and his heart constricted. It was killing him.
"She was from an escort service; a reputable one. She wasn't…what you're thinking."
"So you didn't… you know…" She swallowed with difficulty; the thought of him with another woman strangling her.
If she'd punched him in the gut it couldn't have taken the wind out of him more effectively. The thought of touching another woman in that way sickened him. "Honey, there hasn't been anyone since you…paid or otherwise. I don't even look at other women; there's no point."
"But you … before… You had women…" She took a deep breath. "You could have anyone you wanted." She took a deep breath. "And you did…"
She was struggling and that pulled at him, made his chest tight, made breathing difficult again. "In the past a long time ago, before you… But now I want… only want you," he said firmly, "only you. Six months ago I asked you a question," he said leadingly. "I'm still waiting for an answer."
He watched as various emotions crossed her face. It didn't take his years as a profiler to recognize them. She was stunned and then she was confused, and then a little angry; next came disbelief. He fought the urge to take her in his arms, to hold her and comfort her. She needed to work this out for herself.
"You…you still want…" Her incredulity was palatable.
"Honey… I know I'm older, a lot older; but I am still breathing. What man with a heartbeat wouldn't want you?"
He watched as she withdrew into herself. "There've been a few." After a deep sigh, she continued. "And I've read about your marriages…your wives; they were… sophisticated … glamorous. I don't understand why you …what you see in me. I'm not the type of woman that gets your attention."
Incredulous, he took a step towards her and started to reach for her. But then he pulled his hand back. He couldn't rush things. "Emily, you're the kind of woman that gets every man's attention. You expect me to be any different? And as for my three wives…yeah, they were sophisticated, worldly; in some ways you are not so different. But you're genuine, a truly honest forthright soul, perhaps the most honest woman I've ever known. In that you are very different. My previous relationships, ones with lesser women didn't exactly work out for me did they? It was my fault as much as theirs; they were what I thought I wanted at the time, if I thought about it at all. But I've thought a lot about us and I know what I want. Question is; do you want it with me?"
She edged towards him infinitesimally. Then looking into his dark eyes, she sighed. "I… want to believe you, believe in …us."
Looking down at her, into the twin dark pools that threatened to drown him, he tried to think. But all he seemed to be able to comprehend was that he wanted her in his arms, to surround her and keep her safe and happy, and never let go. He took a deep breath to steady himself, because his head was swimming. "How can I make you believe?"
She looked away, avoiding him. "I don't know…"
He fought to push his raging emotions down. He didn't need the famous Rossi anger making an appearance or any of his other infamous passions. "You ever going to tell me why you gave me the boot that night?" His tone was soft, but emotion filled. "I mean, I could see where my question might have caused you to wonder if I'm not just a perverted old man who's looking for someone to take care of him in his decline. But your actions were a surprise."
She circled the open floor space and then sat on the sofa. She was obviously thinking. Finally, she spoke. "After your …behavior… that day, well… old would be the last thing I would think. Old men can't…at least I don't think they can do what you did to me that day." A flush of heat ran through her body as she remembered their activities that day, before he had asked the question.
He closed his eyes against the flood of memories from that day. It had been… amazing. And he certainly hadn't felt old. "So you're just wondering if I'm a pervert," he asked flippantly, trying to keep things light.
She snickered. And then she looked at him and read the expectancy in his expression.
He was waiting for her and it scared him, she realized. The idea of anything frightening David Rossi was new to her. The man was a picture of calm assurance in the face of just about anything, even to the point of being an arrogant jerk at times. And he'd always been so blasé about his failed marriages. But now, as she looked at him she realized this scared him; she scared him. She had the ability to hurt him in a way no one else ever had.
"Not a pervert, Dave," she answered him. "Your question was unexpected. I thought… everything was so perfect; we were so good together. And it shocked me when you suddenly wanted… and then I got scared…and when I get scared, I get angry."
He was watching her, waiting for his past to come up. It didn't help his ability to think to stand there, looking down at her on the sofa, her blouse slightly open, the deliciously long line of her neck in evidence. His fingers itched to pull the collar away and expose the porcelain skin beneath. And then it clicked in his mind; she wasn't talking about his failed marriages or his other escapades. She was talking about her own fear. Somehow he frightened her… but it wasn't his past. Relief wept through him with that realization. But now, he had to find out what worried her.
Tentatively, he settled on the sofa next to her, trying to rein in some of his more libidinous thoughts. After the drought of the last six months, simply being a lone with her tested his self-control. As he glanced at her again and caught a glimpse of her milky skin under her blouse, the tension within tightened. "Emily," he whispered desperately.
She turned and looked into his eyes, his look of despair forcing a gasp from her. "It's more than being about your libido, Rossi," she muttered.
"It is," he agreed. "It's true, Emily; I need you. When I close my eyes at night, it's you I see, you I need to touch, to feel, but… I need you in every way, all of you." His chocolate colored eyes were searching hers now, beseeching, pleading, hoping.
His look was so intense it rocked her, forcing a gasp from her. It was too much. He was too much. She started to turn away, to try to recoup, but as she did something in him snapped. And before either knew what was happening, he had her pinned against the sofa pillows, his lips seeking hers, his need overwhelming them both.
He knew it was bad move. But as surely as he understood that, he also understood that he was helpless to stop. Like a thirsty animal, he needed to drink and only she would satisfy.
His kiss was deep and dark, full of Rossi passion, and she knew she wanted it despite everything. She tried to fight it, fight him, but it was useless. She would surrender; it was only a matter of time. After a brief effort she suddenly was tired of fighting and she gave in. He felt it, her capitulation. And somehow it was what he needed to find his self-control again. Slowly, he pulled away.
Watching him draw back, Emily was stunned by it. How could he? And then anger set in. "You son of a bitch," she growled at him. "You happy now? You've proven your prowess again. The mighty David Rossi conquers all."
His eyes widened, shocked. "Emily, I…"
"Don't you Emily me…. You sorry excuse for a man. That's all you know, isn't it?" Springing up from the sofa she began to unload her full fury on him. "Just had to prove to me that you could have me…." She huffed. "You're an ass, Rossi… a sorry low down ass!"
Still shaken from the onslaught of emotions of the last few minutes, Dave sat, gaping at her. There were things he needed to say, she needed to hear; but for the life of him he couldn't think of them. So he sat, watching her pace through her tirade.
"You come in here and think you can power your way back into my bed. Well, I've got news for you, you bastard… Not happening…so not happening…"
Finally, his mind engaged and he stood, his hands reaching out, pleading. "What do you want Emily. I'll do whatever you want…but please…."
"Leave," she bellowed as she stopped in front of him. "I want you to leave."
The room spun around him as his heart seemed to stop beating. Fighting for equilibrium, he stumbled, reaching for her. His chest felt like it would explode as he fought to breathe. And then slowly, he realized his heart was still beating. "Not that," he hissed. "I can't do that," he added. Then he fell back onto the sofa, his legs weak and unable to hold him up any longer.
Emily wasn't sure what had just happened. But as she looked at the great and powerful David Rossi, crumbled in a heap on her couch, she realized that she had hurt him, deeply. And he was suffering. She tried to tell herself that he deserved it with his arrogance and his offhand attitude towards relationships and women. But as she looked at him, she realized that the man before her wasn't that man. Falling to her knees in front of him, her resolve weakened. "What is it you want from me?" she cried.
The sadness and resignation in his dark eyes tore at her. Carefully, he put his hand behind her head and gazed down, seeking understanding. "Let me love you, Emily. All I want is to love you."
That did it. She felt the last of her defensive walls crumbling at the feet of this man. He wanted her, wanted to love her and she couldn't remember anyone ever making her feel the way he made her feel. And she knew without a doubt that it was what she wanted too. "Yes," she whispered softly through her tears.
As she watched joy rise in him, she felt powerful. The twinkle that used to reside in his dark eyes was returning and some of the lines on his face began to soften. And she felt the tension in her own body fade. "Let's go upstairs," she suggested as she took his hand in hers.
He nodded but then as he stood, he hesitated. "No," he said more firmly than he was feeling. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a small box and opened it. "Answer my question, Emily. Because, one thing I've learned is I can't do this halfway with you. It's all or nothing…and I want it all."
Smiling weakly, she nodded. "How many times a girl have to say yes for you to get it, Rossi?" His hands shook as he took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger. She almost giggled at his nervousness. "You have done this before, you know," she teased.
Looking into her tear stained face, his breath hitched. "No, I haven't. Not like this… you'll be my fourth wife, but you'll always be my one and only true love."
"God Rossi, you are a charmer, aren't you," she said with a laugh.
Gathering her into his arms, he held her close and nuzzled into her neck. "There's only one woman I want to charm… you've bewitched me. I am totally at your mercy."
"Oh, how the mighty has fallen," she chuckled. "Come on then, I'll give you the chance to show me how besotted you are." Then holding his hand, she turned to climb the stairs.
As he followed her up, his mind began to spin; he'd done it, gotten the answer to his question. She'd said yes. But now what? She was younger and he'd heard her express a desire for kids in the past; would she want kids? And she wasn't the kind of woman who would tolerate half of what his three previous wives had put up with from him; he was going to be walking the straight and narrow from now on. And of course, there was the little problem of their careers; one of them would have to leave the unit. Would he be retiring again?
She led him into her bedroom and turned, suddenly becoming aggressive. Her hands were all over him, it seemed, as she began to undress him. Then her mouth assaulted his as she pushed him towards her bed. Her clothes fell away as she nudged him down and he found himself looking up into the eyes of a tigress. And as he lay there bemused, letting her have her way with him, he wondered once again, what the hell was he doing.
Later, as he lay there with her curled against him, his arm draped over her waist, he knew exactly what he was doing. For once, he was getting it right.
So what do ya think?