Karma sucks.

A Christmas Carol: Dave Rossi Style

Dave blinked as the room came into view. "Where are we?" he demanded.

"That would depend on how contrite you are for what you did to Emily and the team," Ray said.

"I did what I had to do to save them! I don't regret my decision," Dave returned hotly.

"Then we are in your version of hell."

"You never could bullshit me, Ray. Now answer my question."

Ray sighed. "Just be quiet and watch. Maybe you'll learn something. Maybe you'll learn to pull your head out of your ass," he muttered.

A door opened and Hotch walked into the room. In his arms he cradled Jack who was sobbing.

"We're home, Jacks. How about we unwrap a couple of gifts before you go to bed?" Hotch said gently.

"No!" Jack shook his head violently. "I don't want to open no gifts!"

Hotch set the boy down on the couch before turning toward the tree. Kneeling down, he pulled a box out. "Hey! Look, this has your name on it!" He thrust the box toward the teary eyed boy. "Open it."

Reluctantly, Jack took the box. Eyeing the tag, he suddenly threw the box across the apartment. Hotch jumped to his feet.

"Jackson! Why did you do that?" he demanded angrily.

"I don't want it!" Jack crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.

Hotch fought to control his temper. It had been a long day for everyone. And the party the FBI had thrown hadn't helped things. In fact, it only made things worse.

"May I ask why you don't want a gift you didn't open?"

"Because it said 'From: Santa'; there is no Santa!" Jack sobbed.

Hotch's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yes there is."

"No there isn't!" Jack contradicted. "If there was, he would have been at the party tonight. But he didn't show. That means he isn't real."

"He was busy with…" Hotch tried to think quickly, "other things. He has a lot of obligations and it's possible that….he forgot about the party." He knelt down in front of his son. Brushing the blonde hair back from Jack's warm forehead, he tried to soften the night's disappointment.

"But he went to other kids' parties."

"I don't know. He could have." Or he's busy getting drunk off his ass as he destroys his liquor cabinet, he thought silently to himself.

"I hate him!"

"Jack…" Hotch said gently. "Jack we don't hate anyone. And we don't hate Santa."

"Santa's not real!

"Where did you hear that?"

"They told us in school! He's a fig of my imagination."

"You mean a 'figment'," Hotch corrected. "Jacks, he's real. At least a lot of boys and girls believe he's real."

"I'm not little no more and I don't believe in Santa!" he shouted.

"Jack…"

"No! I hate Santa and I hate Christmas!" Jack ran from the room. In the distance a door slammed. Hotch sighed. He shook his head. A part of him wanted to follow his son, but he wasn't a seasoned profiler for nothing and right now trying to convince Jack differently after what had happened would only harden his heart.

Turning off the lights on the tree, he walked over to the tiny wet bar and poured a drink. "Damn you, Dave," he muttered before downing the shot. Slamming the glass down, he put the bottle in the cabinet. Then he turned out the lights and went to his bedroom.

"Satisfied?" Ray asked as he took in the scene.

"Should I be?"

Ray turned to his friend. "You did this."

"Are you kidding?"

"You didn't show up to the FBI party as Santa. They tried to improvise and placate the children, but that didn't go over real well….as you can see."

"But Jack is young and he'll get over it."

"Are you so sure?"

Dave's eyes widened. "Are you saying that Jack Hotchner grows up to be a serial killer because Santa didn't show up to a party?"

"Would you blame him?" Ray asked. "No," he amended quickly, "he doesn't grow up to be a serial killer, but that's for another ghost to work out for you. But it seems that Hotch hates you as much as Jack does," Ray observed.

"I was expecting that."

Ray snorted. "You really have turned into a son of a bitch. Come on."

"Now where are we going?"

"I could take you to every kid that was affected by you not showing up, but I only have so much time tonight, so I'm moving on to the next team member."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Oh joy," he replied sardonically.

"Roll your eyes again, and I'm going to forget that I want my wings."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I kicked your ass on more that one occasion," Ray stated.

"Not the first time we met."

"You got lucky."

"That wasn't luck!"

"As much as would like to show you otherwise, we have other things to do." He looked upward. "Okay, we're ready."

"What do you mean 'we'? Hey!"

Immediately the pair was shifted to another room.

"Where are…?" Dave asked.

"Shut up and listen! Maybe this time you'll learn something because obviously kids are not your weakness." Together they watched the couple in the tiny apartment.

"So, he just told you that he wasn't going to trade places with you?" Penelope Garcia asked from her small kitchenette. Walking into the room, she hit the switch with her elbow and cast the room into darkness save for the lights from the small tree on the corner table by the large window.

Derek took the mug from her hand. He wrapped his fingers around the ceramic and let the heat seep into his cold digits.

"What can I say? Dave Rossi is a cold hearted bastard." He sipped the spiked cocoa. "This is good Mama."

"Thank you. Did you go to Hotch?"

"I did but I didn't want him to make an exception just for me. And there was no one else on stand by."

"But it's your mother, Derek!"

"I talked to Desiree and she said that the doctors told her that it's just a routine operation."

"Derek! It's not routine! Every surgery is serious. And she needs you!"

"There were no flights out." Derek set his mug down on the coffee table. "If anything happens, Desiree will call me."

Pen drained her mug. "Had me my laptop," she demanded.

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to wipe out Agent Hard Ass's bank accounts. I've saved everything over the years just waiting for him to do something like this. Oh, won't it be a wonderful Christmas morning when all the ex Mrs. Rossi's get a million dollars apiece in their stocking?" Pen's eyes glittered with revenge.

"Mama, don't do something you're going to regret. He's not worth it." Derek's cell rang. Yanking it from the coffee table, he flipped it open. "Derek Morgan," he greeted. His face froze as he listened to the caller.

"Who is it?" Pen whispered loudly. Derek held up his finger to shush her.

"Desiree, calm down. What happened?" He listened to her reply. "What?"

"What is going on?" Dave asked suspiciously as he took in the scene. Ray kept silent as the scene unfolded before them.

"I don't understand you, Des. What do you mean 'she didn't make it'?" Derek shouted into the receiver. "I…" The line went silent for a long moment. Another voice came on. "Sarah? What happened? Talk to me…What? When? How? But…I…I have to call Hotch. I don't know….I'll call you later." The line went dead.

In an instant, Pen was beside her best friend. "Derek, what's wrong?"

"She's gone," he whispered hoarsely.

Pen swallowed hard. "Who's gone?" she asked stupidly.

"Momma. She…she died on the operating table."

"How? It was routine gall bladder surgery."

"Doctors said her heart gave out. I wasn't there for her." The tears raced down his cheeks. "I wasn't there," he repeated.

Pen drew him into her arms. "Oh Derek," she comforted. There was nothing she could say to make him feel better, so she just held him tight.

"I asked Rossi to take my place…I had a bad feeling. But he wouldn't trade. He accused me of wanting to go up to Chicago to see another woman," Derek wept. "Now Momma is gone and I never got to tell her that I love her."

"Derek…"

"I hate David Rossi. I hope he burns in hell," Derek raged before breaking down completely in Pen's arms.

Ray looked at the man by his side.

"You accused Derek of cheating on Penelope, so you denied him a chance to switch places."

"I'll admit that wasn't my shining moment."

"No shit, Sherlock! Where did you find the first clue?" Ray growled. "All he wanted to do was go to Chicago and be with his mother for the holidays, but you had to let your pride in the way of your common sense and decency!"

"I made a mistake."

"Bullshit! That man weeping in his best friend's arms is not a mistake! You had to get even with everyone because of your shortcomings. And look how it all turned out."

"I can make it right," Dave argued.

"How?" Ray sneered. "Do you have a magic wand that can restore Fran Morgan back to her children? Do you have some words of wisdom from your own experience that might help Derek cope with is loss?"

"I…" Dave struggled to find some response, but the words failed him.

"Are you that brilliant of a writer? Can you make things right?"

Dave looked down at the ground as the light in the background went black.

"Is it over?" he asked.

"No. This is just the tip of the iceberg," Ray said evenly.

"I was afraid you were going to say that."