AN: Booya, two oneshots, my 16th birthday and packing for both scoutcamp and boardingshcool IN ONE WEEK, I feel like wonderwoman right about now;)

"Good afternoon, my name is Jordan Todd; I'll be your server this afternoon. Can I start you both off with a drink? Perhaps a bottle of white? Or red? Or perhaps a bottle of rosé instead?"

David Rossi looked at his companion. "It all depends upon your appetite."

Emily smiled pleased and said to Jordan, "A good bottle of white please." Jordan noted it and disappeared. Alone together, she looked directly at Dave. It was the first time in more than 10 year they were face-to-face. There was almost complete silence at the table since they had already exchanged the meaningless pleasantries of: 'how are you doing', 'good to see you', 'you look good; have you lost weight?' Stop joking! How's the family? Good thank you?'

"So…" Emily said.

"So?" He answered.

Suddenly Em cracked a gigantic mega-watt smile. "I must admit, Dave, when I called you I wasn't even sure you'd show up"

Dave snorted and replied, "Ah come on Em; I'll meet you anytime you want at our Italian restaurant."

"Our?" She countered with a raised eyebrow. But he was right, she thought, it really was their Italian restaurant. No one else's. They had discovered it together one night while they had been walking aimlessly around. No destination, just in love and happy.

She glanced at the interior; everything still looked exactly the same as it had ten years ago, although the wait staff seemed younger. Her eyes fell on a slightly younger African-American man sitting at a table nearby, for some reason he reminded her of Dave. Of course appearance wise and physically they were nothing alike, but they had the same charming self-assured attitude. However, the henna dyed woman sitting opposite of younger-Dave was nothing like Emily had been then.

The food arrived and their conversation rekindled. "And how are things with you these days, Dave?"

"Quite fine thanks. I got a good job. Got a good office." He squirmed in his chair. "I… oh… I got remarried last August." Emily looked up surprised, and perhaps a little angry. He reached out to touch her hand. "I can't help it Em; I'm not good at loneliness. And keep in mind who left who."

Emily didn't answer immediately but when she did there was ice in her tone. "How does your new wife, your third wife, feel about you going to dinner with your ex-wife?"

Dave snorted. "To be frank, I don't really care. We're going down fast and furious as it is now." And he said it with so much hurt and sadness in his voice that Emily immediately softened her attitude. Dave continued, "And you know Emily, if you'd just say the words I'll be at your side like a bad out of hell."

Emily did not know that; she'd always thought she had hurt him too badly to warrant a second chance. "And leave the wife?" she asked nervously, too afraid of the answer.

"And leave the wife; I'm pretty sure she's cheating anyway." Not able to respond, they both began eating in silence. Occasionally one would look at the other as though they wanted to say something but didn't know where to start.

Their silence was interrupted when a small brown something came flying through the air and landed by Dave's foot. He bent down and picked it up. It turned out to be a small wooden box with the letters D.R. painted on top in faint gold ink. They looked at it curiously when a tall, gangly man with a shaggy hair-do appeared beside their table.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he exclaimed.

Dave held the small box out. "Is this yours?" The stranger nodded and Dave gave it to him.

The man smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry. Leave it to me to throw the ring around when I'm proposing."

The older pair smiled at the man's warranted nervousness, and watched in silence as he made his way back to a table were a beautiful blonde was sitting and waiting for him. When they saw her extending her hand, and him gently placing the ring on her finger, Emily couldn't help but exclaim: "God, Dave that was us 25 years ago"

Dave nodded and filled her glass again. Together they listened to the celebratory cheers two tables over. "So what's happening with the wonderful Emily Prentiss?"

She shook her head. "Not much I guess. I changed firms and moved back to Long Island."

"Really?" Dave sipped his wine. "Hey Em, do you remember the Village Green? The cold beer, hot lights...the sweet romantic teenage nights?"

Emily looked at him over the rim of her glass. "Yes, you'd drop a dime in a box and play that song 'About New Orleans'." They both turned silent overwhelmed with emotion.

Emily tried to collect herself, took a bite of her food and asked, desperately trying to change subject. "So how are your friends, the Hotchner's?"

Dave swallowed a lump and said, "It's actually just Hotchner now." He paused. "They got divorced."

Emily laughed and asked: "Ever begin to wonder if you're contagious Dave?"

"Nah, they were heading there from the start."

"Oh?"

"Aaron and Hailey were college sweethearts, most popular pair on campus, king and queen of the prom, you know the type. I became friends with Aaron even though he was just a freshman. They stayed together after they graduated, and decided to get married. Can't say that Aaron got down on one knee and proposed, though because he didn't need to. Everyone said they were crazy, me included. Haley was an Uptown girl: spoiled, rich parents, the whole deal.

"At the beginning she stood by Aaron's dream of wanting to be a lawyer and the law school, internships, various low-paid jobs. It would take a long time before she became the district attorney wife she badly wanted to be. Not long after they started to fight, severely. They counted on a lot of things, they just didn't count on the tears. They kept floating for a while, in a pretty nice style, actually. But as a matter of course, they separated, and parted the closest friends. They couldn't go back, the best they could do was pick up their pieces."

Dave took a sip of his wine. Emily looked at him "And?"

"And that's all I'll know about Aaron and Hailey. I haven't talked to them since the divorce was finalized."

Emily pointed at the young engaged couple sitting at the other end of the room. "Kinda makes you wonder where they're going. And when they get there, if they will be happy ever after."

Dave took her hand. "I guess, but Emmy, I do believe in happy endings."

"You don't seem particularly happy, Dave," she observed, her tone held light teasing but also a surprising seriousness.

"Not at the moment," he replied.

After a moment Emily stood up and took her purse. "Well, it was nice having dinner with you David Rossi."

He looked searching up at her. "You too, Emily Prentiss." She turned around to leave when she heard Dave's voice behind. "Em?"

"Yeas?" she answered, not turning around.

"I mean it Emmy; I'll meet you anytime you want at our Italian restaurant."

Now she turned around. "And leave the wife?" There was no teasing in her tone, no laughter, just plain vulnerability.

"And leave the wife," he reassured.

The love of his life smiled and left their Italian restaurant.

Dave looked around, the engaged couple had disappeared and at the table next to them an African-American man asked for the bill, apparently the redhead who could be his wife, was worried for their children.

David Rossi smiled for no good reason and ordered a bottle of red.