He should've stayed in bed this morning. Whatever almighty being was above was certainly driving that point home with excessive force. He sighed and bashed his forehead against the steering wheel of his broken-down SUV. Of course, the hunk of metal had decided actually moving was beyond its designated tasks. On today, of all the three hundred sixty-five days of the calendar year. It had chosen this specific day to ruin his life. And on this, he wasn't being melodramatic in any sorts. His life would honestly be ruined, destroyed, annihilated. All over a damn vehicle.

With another angry groan, he exited the SUV and slammed his hand into the hood. He had no idea what the Hell could have gone wrong; cars had never been his forte. He glanced down at his cell phone; instead of the usual bars at the top, blaring in bold letters on the screen, was NO SIGNAL.

Shit.

Those two words were undoubtedly the final nail in his coffin. How in the Hell was he going to explain this? He swore to himself again and hoped against hope that someone would come rescue him. But, as he looked – no, glared – down the road in both directions, he knew that was highly unlikely for a long while.

\_/

Beepbeepbeep.

The powers that be had deigned it an appropriate time for signal to come to his cell phone! He wiped the sweat from his forehead and quickly pressed 3. Hopefully, his luck would hold out. Those two and a half miles had definitely taken a harsh toll on his aging body.

"Hotchner."

"Aaron, I need help."

"What now, Dave?"

"Look, my car broke down. Please come get me."

"Why don't you call a tow company?"

"Nobody will come out this far. Please?"

"Wait, let me get this straight," stated Hotch, his smile more than evident in his voice; he was obviously enjoying his friend's desperation, "you want me to come save you from one Hell to deliver you to your own demise?"

"Yea, something like that."

"I'm on my way. Stay there."

\_/

He double-checked his locks for the tenth time in less than an hour. Aaron had promised to be his saviour for the night – although it had come at a hefty price: Dave had no choice but to allow Aaron to watch the distribution of his punishment. At last, his friend tapped on his window with an enormous grin on his face. If the situation hadn't been so grim, Dave would have remarked on how long it had been since anyone had seen the Unit Chief smile so unabashedly.

"Not a word," he growled as he slid into the passenger seat.

The ride to Dave's house was silent; only an occasional chuckle from the man driving. Finally, Aaron pulled up in front of the mansion. The front porch light was on; the ball of dread in Dave's gut swiftly unravelled, stretching its tendrils into every muscle and nerve in his body. A heavy sigh forced itself from him, and he trudged up the walk and inside the entry hall.

"Hotch, go home."

"Aw, but – "

"Aaron, go. Home."

Though she hadn't raised her voice, the tone in which the words were spoken brooked no argument. Hotch slowly exited the house, and Dave felt as if his one lifeline, the only reason he might live past tonight, escape. Now, she had to worry about no witnesses: She could kill him in any method she pleased and then pass it off as an entirely different cause of death.

"Cara, I'm sorry. I –"

"Save it, David. You'll find your bed is already made up on the sofa. Goodnight."

The clock on the wall ticked away the night, but he couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the hurt in her eyes. Sure, some anger had been thrown into the mix in her clear blue irises, but there wasn't enough ire in them to even begin to put a damper on the pain reflected. The pain he caused. He groaned, stood up, and headed up the stairs. She was curled up on her side of the bed, facing the window; he stepped into the room and silently closed the door behind him.

"I know you're still awake, and I'm glad. We need to talk. I am so sorry. I should have called you."

"Yet you called Hotch. Hotch, Dave. Not me. I'm your wife. And on our third anniversary, you called Hotch to come get you. If you had called me, you wouldn't be in this mess. I had to take care of our son who, by the way, has been a living terror since you left for the damn book tour, while eight months pregnant with our baby who isn't even here yet, but has learned exactly where to put her feet in order to hurt Mommy the most. On top of that, I was worried about you, pissed…all these emotions, all at once. And you call our fucking boss."

"I know, Jen. I can't say how sorry I am. I wanted to surprise you. I wish I had called you instead of Hotch. Please, cara, forgive me."

"I'm still so incredibly angry with you, but I'm too damn tired to do much about it right now. Just come to bed. You'll get your dues in the morning. Trust me."

David couldn't help himself as he pressed a soft kiss to his wife's forehead; he threaded his fingers in hers and whispered, "Whatever you feel is right, I'll do, as long as it means you forgive and still love me. I never want to hear of you being anything but Jennifer Ann Rossi."

"Née Jareau," she retorted smartly, "and don't think you're out of the woods, or that I'll forget about what you did. Enjoy this peace while you an, mister. It's about to be long gone. Indefinitely."

This was written for ilovetvalot. I definitely went out of my comfort zone for this, so if anything is, y'know, too OOC, I apologise. Hope you enjoy!