A/N: This one's for Sam.
David Rossi POV
I'm no stranger to love.
Or loss, for that matter.
But the extreme and utter feeling of emptiness that envelopes me is unexpected and nearly overwhelming.
Essentially suffocating.
And I think maybe it's because I have too many regrets associated with Erin.
I never really got to know her kids.
I never told the team – my family - about our relationship.
And I never told her how I truly feel.
That I'm in love with her.
Although I guess that first thing isn't entirely true. I've spent some time with her children. But it was always under false pretenses because I didn't want to be under the microscope that would inevitably come from being the boyfriend of their mother.
And I suppose the second thing is partly inaccurate, too.
I never told the team, but they know. There were hints - from Aaron and JJ, at least - and I never denied it, so in a roundabout way, that's kind of the same thing as telling them.
But that third thing.
I avoided it like the plague.
"Should we talk about this?" she asked me one night, her soft voice in contrast to her usual commanding presence.
That's something I learned about her fairly quickly.
The hard-ass Section Chief persona is just that. On the inside, she's this vulnerable and warm and caring woman. A little insecure, even, which is probably why she let her work personality override everything else for a while. She used it like armor.
"Talk about what?" I'd responded obtusely.
As if I didn't know exactly what she meant, considering we were both naked in my bed.
It wasn't our first time together, but it was our first time in my home…in my bed. The handful of times before – six, to be exact – we were in hotel rooms.
But being in my personal space seemed to change the dynamic.
It made it more intimate.
More real.
More…well, just more.
"Maybe about the fact that I'm a Section Chief over top of the BAU and now I have carnal knowledge of one of the team members," she spouted in her no-nonsense way, as a smile played on her lips.
"Over top of the BAU?" I repeated teasingly as I rolled us over so that I was the one on top.
"In charge of the BAU," she corrected as her smile broadened.
"I can work with that, too," I replied as I fell over onto the bed next to her, stretching out as I locked my hands behind my head. "You're in charge. Do with me what you will."
And she did.
And while my eyes were rolling back in my head, I never considered how deftly I'd managed to avoid the discussion.
But I can't help but think about it now.
Because three nights ago, the Replicator went after her.
He made her drink, an especially cruel mental torture considering how hard she's worked for her one-year sobriety chip.
He drugged her, a dangerous and deadly cocktail of ecstasy and meth.
And he took her out on the street, leaving her disoriented and alone.
It breaks my heart just thinking how frightened she must have felt.
Aaron got to her first, and by the time I caught up to them…
The memory caused tears to burn my eyes, and I tightened my fist around the sobriety chip.
"You can drink," she told me one night at dinner.
We were in a small Italian restaurant just off Pennsylvania Avenue. It was our third date, and on our first two evenings out, I made a point of not ordering my usual drink of choice. She was too new in the program for me to feel comfortable drinking in front of her.
"I can," I agreed amiably. "But I won't."
"David, there's no reason for you to abstain. You're not the alcoholic. I am."
For such a proud woman, her admitting to the weakness must have been difficult, especially in front of an arrogant subordinate like me.
Although as our dynamic progressed from adversarial beginnings to friendship and then to something more, I like to think she didn't see me as arrogant anymore. Confident, maybe. Or self-assured. Because I certainly never considered myself to be better than her, even though I may have acted that way a time or two. I just never let her title sway me from saying what needed to be said.
"And I'm supporting you in your recovery," I explained as I reached out and touched her hand.
She looked down to where my hand covered hers and then she brought her eyes back to mine and they were filled with emotion, and I felt humbled and honored that she was letting down her walls in front of me.
"Okay," she agreed with a slow nod. "But just for now. When I get…better at this, then you go back to being you."
"I'm still me," I promised, and as I continued to hold her gaze, I leaned across the table and kissed her.
Briefly, but commandingly.
Our first kiss.
And then because I liked it, I did it again. Something with a little more promise, while still mindful of our public venue.
"Yes, you are," she replied, and I'm not sure but I think maybe she was referring to my overinflated reputation as a ladies' man, so I was happy to see a smile make its way across her face.
"But you're manipulating the subject," she continued. "You're trying to distract me with misdirection."
"No, I was trying to kiss you," I corrected. "Maybe I didn't do a good enough job."
"You did alright," she said with playful indifference as she picked up her menu.
"Alright?"
She glanced up at me and smiled fully as she said, "Well, I have to give you something to work towards, right?"
I grinned back at her and picked up my menu, and then I circled us back around to what was on her mind.
"When you get your one year chip, I'll have a drink with dinner."
She stared at me for a long minute as the smile disappeared and her expression turned to one of concern.
"But what if…what if I don't?"
It was uncharacteristic of her to be so uncertain, or at least I thought so at the time, and her willingness to share her insecurity tugged at my heart.
"You will," I said assuredly.
That night, I kissed her properly as we stood outside her front door.
"David, what are we doing?" she murmured as I shifted my lips' attention to the side of her neck.
"Exploring possibilities."
"I can't invite you inside. My kids are home."
"Erin," I said as I paused for a moment so that I could look at her, and again she seemed so unsure. "Is that what you think I expect?"
"I have no idea what you expect," she admitted. "I never thought…"
"You think too much," I replied gently. "Just relax, and we'll see where it takes us, okay?"
She nodded, and when I didn't lean in to kiss her again, she flashed me this little half smile and then she kissed me.
We let it go on for a little while longer, but not too long since, as she said, her kids were home, but before I left, I asked her out on another date.
It's funny because the very first time I took her out to dinner, I didn't really consider it a date. It was just two people having a meal together. But the more time I spend with her, the more I like her. The more I'm attracted to her.
Which is how after the fifth date, we ended up at a hotel.
And that's when I should've told her that I love her, I thought. Because I already did by that point. Or at least, I was heading in that direction.
But I kept my feelings to myself.
And now…now she'll never know.
And now my happy memories are checkered with new memories…excruciatingly painful memories.
Of seeing Erin lying on the table in the morgue.
Of hugging her children as they mourned their mother.
Of watching her coffin being lowered into the ground.
It took us three days to track down the Replicator.
To delve into the demented mind of a man scorned, a man who blamed all of his failings on Erin. A man who wouldn't stop until he got revenge.
It seems so surreal. Yesterday, I mean. The events leading up to the Replicator's demise seem disjointed and choppy, like moments in time were fast-forwarded so that I could get to the conquering end, only killing him wasn't vindicating at all because Erin's still dead.
Why wasn't I with her in the hotel room that night?
Her invitation was unequivocal.
"I'm going to head back to the hotel and take a bath," she stated, following up her remark with a purposeful heated stare.
Before I could offer to give her a ride, Blake spoke up, telling her she would take her, so if I'd said anything then, it would've been suspicious.
Like I said, I was trying not to expose our relationship to the team. Not because she cared, but because…why?
Because I was nervous about having such deep feelings for a woman again, after having gone so long on my own?
Or because I'm worried what the team might think of me dating our boss?
I don't know, but my lack of comment didn't fool anyone. Or at least, not JJ.
"Could you be any more obvious?" she teased once Blake and Erin were gone.
"I think I preferred you before you were a profiler," I joked, and it hit me then that no one cares if I'm dating our boss. They just want me happy.
And I am happy.
With Erin.
Or at least…I was.
I drew in a ragged breath, feeling like at any moment, the breakdown I've been anticipating for three days was going to hit me full force.
"Dave."
It's Aaron, probably coming to check on me.
"Dave," he said again, this time more forcefully, and I felt his hand on my shoulder.
I must have fallen asleep, I thought. Because as he said my name a third time, I opened my eyes.
And I found that I'm sitting in a hospital.
"Aaron?" I asked, feeling nauseated and bereft and confused. "What time is it?"
I asked the question, even though I felt like maybe I should ask what day it is, or what year, because I'd been so deeply entrenched in thought that it could be a decade down the road from my last waking memory.
"Five-thirty," he answered.
"In the morning?"
"Yes," he said with a rare smile. "And she's awake."
"She?"
He furrowed his brow as he looked at me a little more carefully, and then he asked, "Are you alright? Did you…touch something, or eat something, or…"
"No," I said as I forced myself to my feet, and then I looked past him into the open doorway across the hall, catching a glimpse of blonde hair against white linen, so I asked with guarded hope, "You said she…you mean Erin?"
"Dave, are you sure you feel alright?"
She's…she's…alive?
I took two steps towards her room and then I stopped and turned around to look back at Aaron, expecting to see a dragon or a serial killer or….or…something equally ridiculous and surreal because I can't help but think that this is the dream. That I'm in my bed at home, wanting so badly for her to be alive that my mind has created this fantastical scenario.
But it's still Aaron.
And he's still staring at me with his typical analytical gaze, and it finally starts to sink in that this isn't the dream.
That was the dream: that Erin didn't survive the Replicator's attack.
That I buried the woman I love.
That we tracked down her killer and after several near misses, I managed to blow the son of a bitch to pieces.
"The Replicator," I began.
"We'll get him," Aaron said with conviction. "The team's been working all night trying to find something to go on."
I nodded dazedly and he added, "I'm serious, Dave. We won't stop until we find him. And we'll have agents assigned to watch Erin around the clock until we do."
I started to point out that I'm the agent who'll be watching her around the clock, and not just until we catch him, but for the rest of our lives.
But I didn't say anything.
Because I don't want to waste another second before seeing her.
So, still feeling disoriented and bizarre, I turned around and went into her room.
"David," she said when she saw me, and her voice is hushed and it cracks on my name, and I can see the tears well in her eyes. "He made me drink. I didn't want to…"
I quickly moved to the side of the bed and took her hand in mine.
"It's okay, honey," I said soothingly. "That's not your fault."
"I don't think it matters. I have to start over."
"Then we'll start over. I'm just glad you're alright," I said as I brought her hand to my mouth, pressing my lips against her skin for a long minute.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
"Am I okay?" I repeated, closing my eyes in an effort to keep any moisture from escaping. "I'm just…so relieved that you're alright."
She's alive.
There just aren't any words to describe how that makes me feel, but it's the exact opposite of how I felt in that extraordinarily real dream. It makes me never want to sleep again, for fear of the possibility of revisiting that terrible place.
I opened my eyes again and found her watching me in that careful, apprising way of hers, and I almost said it.
I love you.
I should say it, because damn it, something good should come out of that dream, and knowing that I'll regret not telling her should make me jump at the chance.
But I don't.
"What aren't you telling me?" she asked. "Did something happen with the Replicator? He didn't hurt anyone else, did he?"
"No," I said quickly.
"Good," she sighed, and I could tell she was sleepy, so I said, "Close your eyes and get some rest."
The next morning, she was discharged from the hospital.
I never left her bedside until it was time to wheel her to the exit, but the team checked in with me regularly, and it seems they found a couple of leads. Something to do with Erin's craftiness in trying to smoke out an inside man.
She's smart, my Erin. And tough because that drug cocktail he slipped her, in combination with the liquor, could've just as easily done what happened to my dream-world Erin. It could've killed her.
We took a cab to the airfield where Aaron and the rest of the team were waiting so that we could all fly back to DC, and from there, I drove her home.
I mean, to my home.
"Are we going to talk about it?" she asked as we walked to the front door, with my arm securely around her.
And she's stronger today. She doesn't need my assistance. I'm the one who needs the proof that she's real.
"Talk about what?" I responded, and I flashed back to both my dream and the conversation that was highlighted in my dream.
Because that really did happen. Her asking if we should talk, and me deflecting.
She sighed heavily and tilted her head to look at me with an expression of long-tried patience.
"Sit," I encouraged, nudging her towards the swing on the front porch. I followed her to it and sat down next to her, and then I took a deep breath.
She's going to think I'm crazy, I considered.
But it doesn't matter because I suddenly want to share this with her. I want to share everything with her.
"While I was waiting for you to regain consciousness, I fell asleep. And I had a dream," I began. And then I told her all about it. Even in the retelling, it felt real, and I put my arm around her and hugged her close to me for reassurance.
"I watched the autopsy. I consoled your kids. We buried you," I stressed, feeling slightly ill just saying the words. "The team came out here, to the house. I toasted you."
"I like the sound of that," she said, and I was surprised by the playful quality of her voice.
"How can you joke? I thought you were dead. You could be dead."
"But I'm not."
"No," I whispered as I pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "Thank God for that."
"David Rossi – thanking God?"
"For keeping you with me? Absolutely."
I hesitated for a moment until she brought her eyes to mine, and then I said, "I love you, Erin. I should've told you before now, but…I really love you."
Saying the words wasn't as hard as I thought.
Planes didn't fall from the sky.
Seas didn't rise.
"You're shaken by my apparent death," she said as she smiled at me, chuckling a little as she offered, "You can take that back, if you want."
"It's not funny, Erin."
"David, I love that you're in touch with your emotions, and that you're brave enough to say them out loud, but let's be rational. Your sentiment is in response to the fear brought on by your exceedingly realistic dream."
Leave it to someone with her credentials to overanalyze my admission.
Although maybe she's just scared, too.
"No, the sentiment is brought on by you," I corrected. "And you don't have to say it back. You don't even have to like it. But it's the truth."
"I don't have to like it?" she asked as her smile grew wider. "Now that sounds like the David Rossi I know."
She leaned her head back, resting it in the crook of my arm, and I think she was going to say something more, but then my cell phone rang, and considering the creep we're currently after, I wasn't about to let it go to voice mail.
"Dave, I think we found him," Aaron said when I answered.
"The Replicator?"
"Yeah, it looks like maybe it's an agent who used to work under Erin, back when she and Blake worked together before. A man named John Curtis. Garcia's tracking his current whereabouts as we speak."
"I'll be right in," I answered, and then I hung up and looked at Erin apologetically. "I need to go. I'll drop you at the hotel where Aaron arranged for you to stay. The agents on duty should already…"
"I'm going with you," she interrupted.
"Erin…"
"I'm your superior, Agent Rossi," she said with calculated and purposeful haughtiness as she got to her feet. "You don't get to decide where I go."
"But…"
I started to argue, but then I trailed off because I decided that not only is she right, but also that if she's with me, then I know she's safe.
"Yes?" she asked leadingly with an amused and playful expression on her face.
"I was about to say, yes, ma'am, how about I drive us to the office?"
"Good choice," she replied with a smile, and then she headed for the steps, and I fell in behind her. "Oh, and David?"
She paused and turned around to look at me as I raised my eyebrow in question, fully expecting her to put me in my place about matters such as this.
But she didn't say anything like that.
Instead, she reached out her hand and gently set her palm against my chest, holding my gaze as she said, "I love you, too."
I broke into a grin and said, "No you don't. You're just overcome by sentiment of…"
"David," she interrupted.
"Hmm?"
She smiled and said, "Shut up."
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, and then I kissed her hard before taking her by the hand and saying, "Come on. Let's go catch this jag-off."
The End