The Last Unbroken Heart

Dave pulled the stray pieces of paper toward him and put them in a bundle. Tapping the bottom edge on the desk, he managed to straighten out the stack out before shoving it into the accordion file. He repeated the process a couple of more times.

Despite having a great class of students, Dave was relieved that tomorrow was Friday and he could finally get away—okay, so his four day weekend was going to include a book signing in Seattle, he was still overjoyed that he was leaving the Hoover building and everything associated with it, behind. But his heart sank at the thought of being so far away from Emily.

A knock on the door made him turn around.

"Richard," Dave acknowledged the FBI director.

"Dave. How are you?" Richard asked politely as he sauntered into the spacious classroom. "Sorry to hear about your divorce."

Sure, you are, Dave thought to himself. "I'm well, but I'm going to guess that this isn't a courtesy call to measure my well-being," Dave replied dryly.

Richard grinned broadly. "Always the profiler, Rossi. And yes, you are correct."

"What do I owe this...whatever you want to call it?" Dave hedged carefully. He had no doubt that something was up the director's sleeve, and he would bet his entire bank account that the 'something' had his name written all over it.

"I heard that you are going out to Seattle for a book signing."

Bingo!

"Yes," Dave replied but didn't elaborate. He continued cleaning up his desk. The sooner he could get out of the building, the sooner he could go home and pack.

"Remember Gary Austin Rogers?"

"The child pornographer/pedophile who was convicted of sexually assaulting a dozen girls under the age of eight—after posting his vile deeds on the internet," Dave recalled the case as he came to attention.

"You caught him, if I recall correctly."

"Yeah. And he was supposed to do sixty years to life before he escaped during a transfer to FCI Loretto. He tried to cross a river during a nor'easter and was presumed dead." Dave was still trying to forgive himself for not being able to read the signs earlier that Rogers was trying to make his escape.

"Well, he isn't. Turns out that he changed his name and moved to just outside of Seattle," Richard revealed the information.

"How did it go down?" Dave inquired, surprised by the news.

"Local LEOs got wind of an underground child sex-traffiking ring in Tacoma and got the Feds involved. Took down thirty people including two local businessmen and a Sunday school pastor. Come to find out one of the guys involved was a CI known to authorities. This was his third strike."

"Let me guess: he cut a deal?"

"Don't they all? Seems he knew about a huge gun-running and opiate operation business just outside of Seattle. Rumour had it that some children were involved," Richard explained.

"Son of a bitch..." Dave muttered under his breath.

"DEA and ATF went in got a huge payday: two thousand kilos of synthetic opiates, bath salts and meth, and nearly that much in cocaine. Add in five hundred million in cold hard cash... Well, this is the biggest pay off we've had in a long time."

"So, how does Rogers fit in?"

"He was the ring-leader."

"Talk about changing your spots into stripes," Dave mused without any humour. "He's caught and taken into custody, so where do I fit in?"

"I need you to bring him back."

Dave blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Since you were the reason Gary Rogers was initially brought into custody, I thought I'd give you the honour of transporting his sorry ass back here before we transfer him to Big Sandy," Richard replied.

"You want me to take custody of a pedophile and bring him back here?" Dave echoed.

"Yes."

"How?"

"On the BAU jet."

"No."

"You don't have a choice, Agent Rossi."

"You're telling me that I am going to take the BAU jet out for personal reasons to pick up a felon. No."

"It isn't personal business; you are scheduled to go out there. We are killing two birds with one stone."

"What if the media gets wind of this?" Dave asked.

"BAU jet can be parked on a military base and FAA regs state that newscasts can't access the tarmac, so you'll be provided some security."

"Comforting. What if the BAU needs the jet?"

"I checked into it already. Team Alpha is on two week stand-down, and Team Bravo is settling up the domestic terrorist case in Baltimore. Besides, you'll only be gone for two days," Richard reasoned.

"And you ran this by the BAU chief?" Dave asked.

"Didn't need to. My authority trumps hers in the matter. Once you're back, we'll take care of the other little details."

"I was hoping to take a few days to myself."

"Do this, and I'll give you the rest of the week off—go to your cabin in the woods or finish another book. The time will be yours."

Dave sighed. He was trapped, but he was going to make one last attempt to get out of Richard's grip.

"Say I agree. How is this supposed to go down?"

"You arrive in Seattle, do your signing on Saturday. Sunday morning at 8 a.m. you'll head to the corrections facility where they'll sign Gary Rogers over to your custody. You bring him back here, we take him in, and you have the rest of the week to yourself."

"Sounds too good to be true."

"It's just a few hours. And think of all the free publicity for your book," Richard pointed out.

Dave's eyes hardened. "If you think that I relish in collaring UNSUBs so I can promote my book, you don't understand who I am and what I do," he bit out, insulted that Dick Farnsworth would think so lowly of him.

Richard held up his hands in defense. "I'm not accusing you of doing that. But the press can only help. Right now, we need all the good press we can get."

Dave shook his head. "Richard..."

"You're not getting out of this, Dave. Everything is set up for the transfer on Sunday."

Dave quickly considered the legal ramifications of strangling his superior officer, then disregarded it altogether.

"Okay," he conceded reluctantly. "I'll do it."

"Great. I'll get the paperwork over to you for review before you leave tomorrow night," Richard said with more enthusiasm than what was required for the moment.

"I'll be expecting them," Dave called out as Richard hurried out of the room.

Not sure what prompted everything that had just transpired, Dave tried to put it out of his mind as he finished clearing up his desk. Shoving his laptop into his leather briefcase, he zipped the bag and pulled the strap over his shoulder.

Once last glance around the room for anything out of the ordinary, Dave turned out the lights.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he said to himself and closed the door quietly.
********

"Richard Farnsworth wants you to do what?!" Hotch asked in stunned surprise at the news.

"I am to be handed Gary Rogers and bring him back to Virginia," Dave recited his itinerary.

"Lucky you."

"I knew I should have waited another week before I went on my book signing tour," Dave groused, taking a sip of the aged scotch malt. In the near distance of the local pub, the sounds of the afternoon ballgame filtered thru the speakers.

"It's a feather in your cap, Dave. Now you can close this cold case out and move on."

"Move on. Pffft! I just want it to be over with." Tipping the glass back, Dave drained the contents and placed it on the bar counter.

"What did Emily say about you taking the BAU jet?" Hotch asked.

Dave reached into the bowl and grabbed a handful of peanuts. He carefully stacked them in pyramids, then watched them fall.

"Nothing. Richard bypassed her and used his authorization."

Hotch looked impressed. "She's going to be pissed."

"It is what it is," Dave replied. Another pyramid fell.

"Have you spoken to her?"

"Why should I?"

"She should know that you are heading out," Hotch said logically.

"'She's the BAU director; I'm an FBI instructor; our paths never have to cross'," Dave quoted Emily's parting words.

"Ouch!"

Dave swept the peanuts up and dumped them into the ash tray. He brushed the salt from his hands. "I think it's best if I go out to Washington and come back."

"She has the right to know about Richard's request," Hotch protested.

Dave shrugged indifferently. "Maybe."

"She's still your wife. You're both still married."

"For a couple of more weeks."

"Bury the hatchet, Dave. For the sake of your child."

"Preaching to me, Aaron?" Dave's tone held just a touch of wistfulness.

Hotch shook his head. "I learned the hard way that there should never be any hard feelings. Don't let the sun go down on your marriage while you still have a chance."

"Sometimes you have to pick and choose your battles. This isn't one I can win."

"Tomorrow isn't promised," Hotch warned his friend.

"It never is...especially to people like us."

"At least try to talk to her. Tell her how you feel."

Dave dropped his shoulders. "I'll talk to her before I leave tomorrow. I promise."

"Rossi! Party of two!" a voice called out from the waiting area located near the front of the pub. Dave pushed himself back from the bar.

"Looks like our table is ready. This time, I'm buying," Hotch announced.

"Thanks Aaron. I owe you one."

"Kiss and make up with Emily."
****************

Emily stretched her arms over her head and yawned. It had been a long day at work with meetings and the beginnings of a heatwave, and she was exhausted beyond words. Okay, so maybe it didn't help that she was still finding it impossible to sleep alone in her bed, and every time she rolled over to find the warm body beside her, she found only a cold, empty spot.

Even the baby seemed to know that things had changed. The kicking that had once been sporadic, was now constant.

"How about some ice cream?" Emily asked her belly as she lovingly rubbed it. A mighty kick was the response. "Ooof! Maybe I should have told you it is fudge ripple."

Rubbing her belly, Emily waddled to the kitchen. Opening the freezer, she pulled out the container of ice cream and pried off the lid—which promptly fell on the ground.

"For crying out loud," she groaned at the thought of having to bend over and retrieve it. Bracing her hand on the counter, she began to lower herself when the doorbell rang. Groaning again, she pulled herself up.

"Coming!" she called out. The bell rang again. "Coming! Are you hard of—" Her question stopped in mid-sentence as she yanked the door open and saw Dave on the other side. "Dave."

"Hi Emily."

"What are you doing here?" Emily asked stupidly.

"May I come in?"

Emily stepped aside. "Sure." She closed the door behind Dave. "What are you doing here?" she repeated.

"I like your place," Dave remarked. His eyes scanned the tastefully furnished rooms. Not as nice as his home, but where Emily was concerned, it suited her.

"It's just a rental until I can close on the other house next month," Emily supplied.

"Just in time for the baby's arrival." Dave shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. "You look good, Em."

"You too, Rossi. I heard your classes are overbooked for the next two years."

"Only because they aren't offering basket weaving as an alternative," Dave sloughed off the praise.

Emily rolled her eyes. "You never could fake modesty."

"Heh."

"I spoke to Walter. By next week, you'll be a bachelor again."

A brief flash of sadness crossed Dave's face. "I don't think I'll be kicking up my heels."

"You never know, though, the next Mrs. Rossi might be out there waiting for you," Emily joked. But a sharp jolt of jealousy pierced her heart at the thought of Dave being with another woman. Snap out of it, Emily!

"I see you're still wearing my ring," Dave observed.

"My fingers are too swollen to take it off. I could get it cut off, but I don't want to risk it. Besides, I was thinking about saving it for the baby," Emily reasoned somewhat logically.

"At least you didn't throw it away. I wanted to stop by before I headed out to my book signing tomorrow and give you this." Dave reached into his sports coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to Emily.

Emily looked at the cream coloured envelope. "What is this?"

"Junior's inheritance," Dave said with a chuckle.

A sudden, sick feeling invaded her stomach at the remark. "That's not funny, Rossi," Emily reprimanded.

"It wasn't meant to be. I have never felt the need to get my personal affairs in order—after all, who would I have left everything to? My ex-wives?" he asked rhetorically.

"But..."

"But I have a reason to write my will and settle my estate." Dave laid his hand on Emily's abdomen. "It's right here."

Inexplicable tears filled Emily's eyes. "Don't say that!" she rebuked his statement, but she didn't move his hand.

"I know nothing is going to happen, but I have to make sure that you and the baby are being provided for should anything happen."

"I think you're being ridiculous," Emily stated hoarsely. Those stupid tears were clogging her throat, making it impossible to sound calm.

Dave shrugged. "Maybe. It's better to be safe than sorry."

Emily handed back the envelope. "Take it back."

"I can't."

"I don't want it," she stated hotly.

"It's not yours; it's the baby's. You're just the guardian. Keep it for Junior."

"Dave..."

"Em, I don't want to fight, okay?" Dave said wearily.

"Then why are you doing this?" Emily asked.

"Because I'm tired of fighting and arguing and having my every move second guessed. I'm tired of butting heads and trying to clear my name to prove my innocence. But most of all, I'm tired of walking on eggshells trying to prove to you how much I love you. I'm giving you the divorce because it no longer matters what I want; it's what you want. I have loved you since the day you 'sir'd' me in the bullpen. I loved you when you were trying to find justice for Matthew. I loved you when you moved heaven and earth for Hotch. And I loved you when I thought I'd lost you and then got you back," Dave said sincerely.

"I moved on to Erin because I knew that you would never love me back. After all, why would the daughter of ambassadors want to be with a man of my reputation? Even with all of my wealth and fame, I don't have the nobility and pedigree status to have you hanging off my arm."

With his one hand still on Emily's abdomen, Dave used his other to cup her cheek. He took a step forward. His eyes met and held hers as he continued to pour his heart out.

"I was jaded by love—maybe because I didn't know what it was; but you taught me differently. I love you, Emily. I always will—even if it means you don't love me. Someday, you might, but if you don't, I can live with that."

Leaning over, he placed a kiss on Emily's forehead.

"You have a flair for the dramatic," Emily's tight voice reprimanded.

"My one flaw," he agreed. "But it's too late to take it back." He moved his head so his lips hovered over hers.

"Dave, what are you doing?" Emily asked, breathless with anticipation of what he might do next. The reasonable part of her demanded she snap out of it and come to her senses. But her heart was beating so fast at the thought of him taking her in his arms and making love to her.

"I don't know." Just mere inches away, all he had to do was take what was his and kiss her senseless. "I think I should go now. I need to pack for my trip."

Feeling rejected, Emily nodded. "Be safe."

Dave opened the door and stepped over the threshold. "I know nothing is going to change your mind, I just ask that you don't let your past jade you so that you become the last unbroken heart. It isn't a badge of honour you want to wear. Trust me." He closed the door quietly.

Stunned by all that had transpired, Emily leaned against the door and tried to catch her breath. Tears she thought were long gone, pricked at her eyes. She tried to blink them back.

"Damn you, Dave," she whispered.