Sorry about the lateness. Been pulling split doubles at work on my days off and my brain has been pretty foggy - to say the least, and I've had the darndest time trying to get inside Diane's head. I know she wants to help out Dave, but does she have an ulterior motive? All I know is that Emily has every right to be cautious around the other woman. After all, if you go by what Dave said to Hotch in "Omnivore", the only people he ever made happy were divorce lawyers. I guess we'll see...

That said, I hope you don't mind this long chapter to make up for lost time. I will try to get better, I promise.

The Last Unbroken Heart

"I know that you must have a million questions for me," Diane said as she knowingly made her way around the spacious kitchen. Opening the cabinet doors, she took down two glasses and filled them with ice cubes. "Orange juice?" she asked, looking over her shoulder to the woman sitting at the island.

"Sure," Emily replied automatically, but her stomach churned at the thought. Taking the glass Diane offered, she sipped carefully lest she might add to an already upset stomach.

Diane sat down opposite Emily. "I hope you don't mind that I let Mudgie outside. I guess with it being Freya's day off, I didn't know when you would be getting back, so…"

"It's alright." Slipping her shoe off, Emily ran her foot against the fur of the black Lab. Painful silence filled the room as both women sized each other up. It was on the tip of their tongue to ask the other the one burning question, but neither dared to speak first.

Eyes downcast, Diane turned the glass around in her hands. "I guess Dave forgot to tell you that I was coming by."

"He forgot that part as he was running out of the office," Emily mumbled under her breath before taking another sip of the cold juice.

Smiling softly, Diane tilted her head in thought. "Let me guess, there was a serial killer on the loose somewhere on the west coast?"

"Child abduction," Emily supplied automatically. "You were pretty close."

"I figured it was one or the other. When it comes to children, Dave can get into a zone where nothing but finding where they are and returning them is all he'll focus on," her sigh was tinged with just a touch of melancholy.

Emily recalled the one child abduction the team had been involved in. It had been a close one, but they had saved the family. She would never forget the sight of the little boy dressed in nothing but his briefs toddling toward her nor the way he clung to her when she picked him up. For the first time in a long time her mothering instincts kicked in. And foolishly, she had allowed herself to dream…

"Emily?"

Emily shook her head to clear it. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I was thinking about something."

Diane's eyes were soft with compassion. "Comes with the territory, eh?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Being an FBI agent, you're probably always thinking about cases – new and old."

"Sometimes," Emily admitted with reluctance. "Sometimes there is no escaping the way they creep into your head," Or the way they woke her up in the dead of night in a cold sweat, gripping its hand at her throat, struggling to remember that it was just a nightmare. But she could never tell anyone that – especially not about the one that still haunted her.

Diane didn't miss the look of pain that crossed Emily's face, or the way her lips thinned. "I can't say that I know how you feel, but after being married to Dave for five years, I can tell you that I've learned to read the signs. Heh, too bad I learned to read them after we were divorced."

An uncomfortable silence weighed between the women.

Diane looked at Emily's glass. "Refill?" she offered and stood up.

Emily shook her head. "No, thanks. I'm fine." Her stomach was finally settling down, and she didn't want to push it. Besides, there had to be some reason Rossi had invited his ex to design the nursery. Now it was her mission to find out what it was.

"It's nice to know that Dave didn't change much around after I left," Diane remarked with a small laugh as she closed the refrigerator and looked around the spacious kitchen. "But, he's always been a creature of habit – in his own way."

Emily brought the glass to her lips. "I've called him an anal-retentive neat freak, on more than one occasion," she said over the rim.

Diane laughed out loud. "That's one way of describing him. I knew I liked you the moment I saw you." She sat down. "Unfortunately, I've called him much worse than that."

Emily's smile was wry. "As of twenty minutes ago, it's probably the nicest thing I've called him." The last rays of sun caught the diamond ring as she set her glass down.

"May I?" Diane nodded toward Emily's left hand. Taking Emily's slim hand in hers, she examined the solitaire setting. "It's beautiful. Dave and I had simple gold bands," she reminisced, but a bit of melancholy tinged her words.

Emily pulled back her hand. Mouth suddenly dry, she tried to find the right words and not sound rude. "Diane…" she began.

"You're wondering why I'm here in Dave's kitchen?" Diane finished.

Emily nodded. "For lack of a better word? Yes."

"And you're also wondering why the hell you're sitting across from me and what my motives could be?"

Snorting sarcastically, Emily nodded. "And I'm supposed to be the profiler. I think you nailed me."

"If I were in your shoes, I would feel the same." Diane leaned back and pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "Plus it doesn't hurt to have been married to one of the fathers of the BAU, either."

The clock on the wall seemed to echo as it ticked the seconds away. Diane drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out.

"Dave designed this kitchen for me as a wedding present," she began with a shaky laugh. "I thought he was crazy. I never was one for cooking – and God knows I hate cleaning! But he wanted to do something special for me." She took a sip, pausing before continuing, "I guess he really believed that the third time was the charm, and he was going to do everything to make sure it was true."

"What happened?"

Diane rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm sure that you've heard all the water cooler rumours about what caused our divorce…an affair being one of the reasons."

"Rossi mentioned that you two drifted apart," Emily hesitantly offered her version of what she concluded from her conversation with Rossi when they were stranded with a flat tire.

"Heh. You could say that. Another way to say it would be that we shouldn't have gotten married."

Emily could offer no opinion either way.

"Dave is a romantic at heart," Diane stated matter of factly. "I guess by looking at him, you would think that a man who writes such in depth crime books analyzing serial killers wouldn't want a 'happy ever after', but he does. And I was looking to be swept off my feet, too." Her finger traced the path of a droplet racing down the side of her glass.

"I knew that he was still carrying that torch for Emma and Caroline. I don't know. Maybe I thought I could fix him," she reflected on the memory. Her smile was wry. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I wasn't naïve – not by a long shot, but I was a fixer. It wasn't until a couple years in that I realized that I was just a step up from arm candy."

Diane picked up her glass and twirled the contents absent-mindedly. "I hated him. So I left him. While he was on one of his book tours, I packed up everything and moved." She chuckled at the memory. "To say the least, it wasn't my brightest moment. The day the divorce went thru, was the last time I spoke to him," she confessed.

"Oh."

Diane raised her head proudly. "But I got wise. I took the alimony payments and enrolled myself into junior college and got a degree in interior designing. A couple of years later I opened my first store, then I met my second husband. We've been married for six years."

"So, how did your paths cross?" Emily inquired. Mudgie whined and stood up. She scratched his head. He licked her hand in return.

"He came to me. I guess between Erin's death and Caroline's…" Diane tried to find the correct word and not come off as catty. "…death," she finished, "I guess he wanted to right things from his past. I was just as apprehensive toward him as you are toward me, but he made his case. I forgave him. And since then, he and Glenn – my husband – and I go out occasionally. It seems that we were the only family he had…until you."

Emily shook her head in denial. "I'm not…we're not…"

Diane nodded affirmatively. "Yes, you are. He told me what happened in Vegas and the circumstances that led you both to where you are now." She reached over and covered Emily's hand with hers and gave it a comforting squeeze. "I know what you had to give up to come back to the FBI. For what it's worth, he understands too."

Emily could feel the resentment begin to build, but at the same time she wanted to weep.

"Did he tell you that we're getting divorced as soon as the baby arrives, and that it probably doesn't make much sense to redecorate a room?" she argued passionately.

"He did," Diane confessed. "But he wants to do this – if not for you, for himself. He's happy, Emily. I think I know what you are feeling, and you have the right to be angry…but there is so much at stake. Give him a chance. I can tell that he loves you, and he loves the baby."

The Grandfather clock in the living room chimed the hour while Emily absorbed the last part of her rival's confession. "Are you hungry?" she asked out of the blue and stood up. "I haven't eaten since breakfast, and…well, it's the least I can do. And maybe we can go over some of the swatches," she offered the olive branch of friendship. Yes, Dave may have thrown them together with some twisted plot in mind, but she was going to rise above it. After all, she was the daughter of distinguished ambassadors.

"Wonderful! I have a great idea that I think you are going to love," Diane stated enthusiastically, "let me get my purse and briefcase." She hurried out of the kitchen.

Slipping her shoes back on, Emily carried the used glasses to the sink. Sensing his mistress's mood, Mudgie leaned up against her and whined pathetically.

"It's alright, Mudgie," Emily comforted with a pat on the dog's head. "She seems pretty nice, and you like her, so that's a good sign. Plus we do have Rossi in common." She sighed deeply. "I just wish I knew that when I promised 'for better or for worse', I could have been given a heads up. But two can play this game."

In response, Mudgie whined again and licked her hand.