Dave has taken Em back to her place. I know that readers may not like it, but no matter how I tried to write it, the characters demanded that I take this direction. Grief is a crazy thing and no one here is taking advantage of anyone.

Who Loves You?

Emily fumbled trying to put the key in the lock of her brownstone. Stepping forward, Dave took the key from her.

"Let me." Unlocking the door, he turned the handle and stepped inside the dark room. Taking a moment to look around, he motioned for her to come inside. Quietly, he closed the door and locked it.

"Thanks." She hung her coat up on the hook near the door, but she didn't bother to turn on any lights. Her head hurt and her eyes burned from tears shed…and ones yet to be shed. Light would only make things worse.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked, concern was in his voice. She had been thru a helluva trauma and if he had reason to believe that she was less than alright, he couldn't leave her.

Em shrugged nonchalantly. "Will I ever be 'alright' again? Will anything?"

"Emily…" Dave searched for the right words to say. The waters were tricky and he had to maneuver carefully. He would hate to have to call Hotch after all that had transpired. "You've just gone thru hell. Once things settle down, and you can look at it with normal eyes, it will all begin to make sense."

She shook her head. "How do you know? Have you ever had a case like this?"

"No," he replied honestly as his brain sorted thru the hundreds of cases that had come across the FBI/BSU desks during his years as an agent and as a field agent. "We had one or two that had some aspects, but this one was unique."

"What do you think is going to happen to him?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "That is out of our hands."

"He could get away with murder."

"He could."

Em bit her lip. Her heart hurt so much. All the old emotions she had tried to bury so deep were starting to come back to the surface…and with it all the pain of past mistakes. "It isn't fair."

"No it isn't. But we did our job to make sure he won't do this to anyone else. We have to trust that the people in charge to make the right choice."

"What if they don't?"

Dave put a hand on her shoulder. "You have to have to have faith." His words hung in the air for a long moment while the darkness of the room cloaked them. Finally, unable to take another second, Dave shifted his weight. "I think I'd better go. I will find out from Garcia when the funeral is and call you later."

Em blinked quickly and tried to hold back a sob. "Okay. Thanks."

"Emily, you don't have to keep being strong. You can let it go."

"I know. But I'm afraid that if I do then it makes what happened real."

Dave cupped her cheek. "Sweetheart, it did happen. Ignoring it isn't going to make it change for the better."

"But it keeps Matthew alive just a little bit longer."

"He's gone," reminded her gently.

She felt the tears slide hot and fast down her cheeks. She wanted so badly to remain strong, but the longer she tried to hold it in, the harder it was to maintain that wall. One sob broke, followed by another. Overwhelmed by grief, Em pressed a hand to her face as her composure broke. Dave gathered her in his arms.

Everything was finally catching up: Matthew's murder, his parents' hatred for her, their cover-up, being suspended, being rejected by her co-worker, then accepted by the last one she expected, her guilt…and finally her abortion. Her secret. No man was an island, and Emily Prentiss was no exception.

Feeling Dave's arms go around her was the straw that broke the camel's back. Giving into her emotions, she clung to him as she finally let go of two decades of pain, anguish, and sorrow. As the dam burst, she let herself go…for once.

Stroking her back and hair, Dave murmured soothing words of comfort. He didn't rush her. He just let her do what she needed to get back to some semblance of sanity. He didn't talk. He didn't press her.

Holding her tight, he did what no one else had ever done for her: be there.

Slowly her sobs turned into hiccups and then sniffles. Pulling back, she tried not to think about the feel of his arms around her, holding her tight, the scent of his cologne weaving around, enveloping her. Shakily she swiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"Sounds like that was a long time coming," he observed lightly.

Em forced a small smile. "Twenty years."

"I think you set a record."

Without thinking of the consequences, she pressed her lips to his and tried to remember to breathe. When she had done it earlier, she chalked it up to planet crossing or the emotion of the case, but as she did it again, there was no argument - there had been electricity between them.

Moaning low in her throat, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. So hot. So delicious. He tasted of strawberry and something else she couldn't put her finger on. Breathing in thru her nose, she sighed. There was that cologne again. It was drawing her in and telling her that it was alright. And even if it wasn't, she couldn't stop even if she wanted to.

Dave swallowed hard and tried to push down the weird sensation coursing thru his body. There were so many directions the next few second could go…and none of them ending pleasantly. Taking a deep breath, he prayed for strength. Of all the times he wished he had gone the route of the priesthood…

Involuntarily his body stirred to life. For the first time in years, he was with a woman…a beautiful, sexy woman who fit so well against him, almost as though she had been made for him. Her perfume was so incredibly erotic that he wondered if he was strong enough to hold back. But as her tongue mated with his, he felt his restraint go out the window. But he had to stop. He owed it to her and Hotch to end before it went too far.

Pulling away, he stared into her eyes as he tried to catch his breath. He had to go. He had to get out of there before he did something they would both regret. A promise was one thing, but this was too much. Leaning his forehead against hers, he tried to gather the strength to leave.

"I have to go," he breathed.

"Please don't." Her hands slid under her shirt and lifted it over her head. Letting it fall to the floor, she took his face in her hands. Covering his mouth with hers, she pressed herself against him.

He had to leave. To do the right thing…for once. All he would have to do is pull back and walk away. She wasn't thinking clearly. Neither was he. It was wrong on so many levels…but she wanted him. And he wanted her.

"You'll hate me in the morning," he spoke against her lips.

"The morning will take care of itself. I need you tonight. Please."

Growling low in his throat, he picked her up in his arms and carried her toward the stairs.