I hated every minute of training, but I said, 'Don't quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.'
Muhammad Ali
"I want a copy of these," Erin said, gesturing to the pile of paperwork from both the hospitals she'd been to since being attacked. The records, scattered on David's dining room table, painted a detailed picture of the assault and the medical care she received afterwards. Every scan, test and medication administered, while she was unconscious, was detailed in those files. She was prepared to give them to her new doctor, but she wanted copies for herself. The paperwork would be what saved her life, in the end. "They'll hold up in court," she said. Shuffling the papers into a neater stack.
"If I have my way, court won't be a problem," Dave said, scanning the document on the top of the stack. "Why doesn't it bother you?" He paused, accidently reading the medical report. "Why doesn't it bother you to read all of this?"
"It does," she slid a paperclip over the files to secure them and laid them in a folder. "It bothers me," she continued, "but it doesn't...it doesn't feel like it happened to me. Not," she gestured to the sheets of paper in front of her. "Not this part, anyway." The part where she lay suspended in Limbo, dangling between life and death. That part, she didn't remember. At least, not consciously. "It's what happened before this, that I keep reliving." She said, clearing her throat, she flashed him a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Come on," she slid the folder into her purse. "Let's go to my office and make some copies."
Dave chuckled slightly, shaking his head in amusement. "You just can't stay away from the Bureau. We can use my printer."
She shook her head, frowning. "Why would I use your ink to print this Russian novel, when it's free at the office?"
"I bet you steal office supplies, too," Dave said, amusement shining in his eyes.
"Only the good pens. "Come on, I need to water my plants." She picked up her bag, signaling she was ready to leave and by extension, so was he.
"If you consider BIC worth stealing, we need to have a serious talk about your standards," he deadpanned, following her out the door.
Erin pulled her keys from her purse, they clinked together as she balled her hand into a fist around them, to keep from shaking. The edge of the plastic key card that would admit her into the building bore into her palm.
Dave put the car in park, in his normal space in the FBI parking garage. He pulled the keys from the ignition, but he knew they weren't getting out of the car anytime soon. "What can I do?"
"Nothing," a cold sweat rolled down her back, despite the air conditioner running on full blast. "I don't want to answer any questions," the words tumbled out of her mouth. "I thought it wouldn't bother me to go back to the office, but it does. She's here and there's nothing I can do about it-I want to get in and get out as quickly as possible."
"I guess I'll call off the parade then," Dave said dryly. Still watching her in concern. "You don't want to run into Blake. Erin, she's not stupid enough to try anything here."
"I know." She looked him in the eye and straightened her spine. "Let's go."
Dave kept his head on a swivel; He knew Blake and her cronies wouldn't be stupid enough to do anything while on FBI campus, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. They passed the bullpen. J.J. waved, barely glancing up from the case files in front of her. Derek and Reid didn't bother looking up. Dave returned J.J's wave, Ignoring the others. Dave and Erin continued down the hallway until they reached her office.
"This won't take long," she said, letting them inside.
"I'd like to run something by Hotch, while we're here-"
"Go on," Erin waved him off. "I can handle this."
"You're sure?" He pressed.
"I think I can handle making copies, David. Go find Aaron." She said, all but pushing him out the door.
"I'm just asking what everyone else is thinking," Penelope hissed. Standing between, J.J. and Reid "How do we know that Rossi's the dad?"
"Does it matter?" J.J. asked, with a shrug. "He thinks it is, so he's stuck with her-"
"Child support in Virginia is roughly 2.6 percent of annual income." Reid said, " With his book sales and payment from The Bureau, He'd owe her a little over three thousand dollars a month-"
"That's where you're wrong," Dave cut in, sauntering towards the group. He wanted to laugh, watching his team, huddled in a group, gossiping like they wouldn't be noticed. He might have chuckled at their expense, if he weren't so angry. Their heads snapped to attention at the sound of his voice. "2.6 percent of my income is a little over seven thousand dollars, since I got lucky in a Texas Hold 'Em tournament." He said, coming closer to the group, "Another thing the three of you are wrong about," he stared at J.J. and Penelope with a hard expression. His tone was hard, with forced warmth. "I'm not stuck anywhere, but I appreciate the concern," his tone stated otherwise. "If you have a question for me, Hell, even for Erin, have the guts to ask. Don't disrespect us by whispering about us behind our backs." Every workplace advertises that their teams become like family, but for Rossi it was true until now. "This team has always been more than a team, I can't believe you guys would sit here and trash talk Erin and I when we right down the hall-"
"Rossi," J.J. cut in quietly. "It's not like that, we were just-"
"Theorizing," Dave supplied, more hurt than angry. "You were just profiling me to make sure everything was on the up and up? Let me tell you something, Rookie." He spat, his hands clenched at his sides. "I know exactly where I'm standing. Nobody said a word when you got pregnant and Will stood by you, you're in no position to pass judgement on Erin."
"Sir-" Penelope cut in, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for-"
"You didn't mean to get caught," Dave said, cutting her off. "Listen, if you want to hold a grudge against Erin for reassigning agents or hiring Prentiss or for doing her job in general, you go for it. You can avoid her, you can choose not to come to our house. You can profile and theorize till your heart's content, with your husband," he glared at J.J. "And your computer monitors, Penelope; but you're not going to disrespect Erin. Not here, not where she works. Which brings me to my next point," Rossi turned his frustration towards Reid, who had the good sense to keep silent.
"Unless you're talking about how cute he is or how much he looks like me, don't talk about my son. While we're on the subject, he is mine. Even if he wasn't, it wouldn't matter. I don't expect any of you to roll out the red carpet or plan a baby shower, but I do expect that you'll keep your opinions to yourself. Now, if you'll excuse me-"
He turned on his heel and rushed up the stairs leading to his office. He opened the door and stepped inside, slamming the door behind him. He sat down heavily in his chair, maybe he'd overreacted, he considered going back and apologizing, but thought better of it. Let them stew on it for a while...A minute later, two sharp knocks interrupted his train of thought.
"Yeah?"
"Dave?" Hotch let himself inside the room, closing the door behind him. "You put the fear of God into half of our team-"
"Somebody needed to," Dave said, shrugging his shoulders. "They need to learn how to keep their mouths shut-"
Hotch pulled up a chair on the other side of the desk and sat down. "What did they say?" Surely, their coworkers had more class than to say anything too disparaging.
"They questioned my son's paternity-"
"Out loud?" Hotch's eyes widened in surprise, "That seems extreme-"
"I wouldn't have believed it, if I hadn't walked in on it. So, yeah, I told them to knock it off."
Hotch nodded, grinning slightly. "Good for you. Everyone had their opinions about Hailey and Beth, but they knew better than to say it to me…"
"As they should," Dave agreed, leaning back in his chair, hands folded over his midsection.
"You're pretty excited about that, huh?" Hotch asked, "your son." Dave didn't notice it, but his entire demeanor changed when he talked about his impending fatherhood.
"It wasn't supposed to happen," Dave said, beaming. "Most days, I'm trying to wrap my head around the idea…I haven't been around a baby for longer than an hour, since Henry was born."
"It takes a while to figure it out," Hotch said, with a nod, "and you'll be exhausted for at least the first five years," he deadpanned, without a smile.
"Is that a joke?" Dave's eyebrows flew into his hairline, "Tell me you're kidding."
"Jack hasn't been asleep before nine, since he was three and he still gets up at six A.M."
That explained so much….but Dave knew better than to say that. "Did you read to Jack when Hailey was pregnant?"
"I read a couple books," Hotch nodded, he'd cycled through all of the books he'd read when he was young.
"Which ones?" Dave was suddenly hanging onto every word.
"Peter Pan-"
"That's too sad," Rossi dismissed, shaking his head. "I want him to like reading, remember?"
"Charlotte's Web then."
"Depressing."
"Stuart Li-"
"The movie was better-" Dave interjected.
"The book was fine," Hotch argued, "Show him the movie later when he can understand it."
"Good point…do you have any other tips to share?"
"Read the baby books-"
"Which one?"
"Stop by the bookstore, when you leave here. I'll put in your order."
"Now, you're sounding like an expert," Dave said, half in jest.
Hotch stood up and went to the door, "do you want my help or not?"
"I wouldn't have asked, if I didn't."
"Good. I'll make the call, you'll pay at the counter."
This conversation was sounding more and more like a secret hand off, "they're books, Aaron. This isn't a drug deal-"
"So, you're going to tell Erin?" Hotch snapped, knowing the answer.
"Well, no, but-"
"That's my point. You don't want her to know how involved you want to be, so she doesn't have leverage over you."
"You heard the ass chewing, I gave half our team." Rossi grumbled, with no suggestion of humor. "Do you want to join them? Erin wouldn't do that-" Hotch was clearly projecting his problems onto Dave and Erin, just because Hailey lorded Jack over everyone, like a weapon; that didn't mean Erin would do the same. "Using your kid as leverage, is a young person's game. If Erin wanted to hold something over my head, she wouldn't have to get pregnant to do it."
"I hope you're right," Hotch walked out the door, humming the melody to 'Secret Agent Man,'
"What's with the humidifiers?" Dave grumbled, pointing to the machine in the corner of Erin's office, cool mist emitting into the office. Microscopic water droplets hung in the air, evaporating as quickly as they came.
"Too many people were complaining about nose bleeds," Maryanne, Erin's assistant said, passing Erin the copies of her medical records. "Maintenance put them in all the high profile offices and the bullpens."
"They'll cause mold," Dave grouched, but didn't turn it off.
"Thank you, for making the copies, Maryanne." Erin shifted the folder into her other hand to reach out and brush against the bonsai on her desk affectionately. "You took care of the plants, too."
"Of course, I did, Ma'am."
"The fiscus looks great!" Erin praised, spritzing the soil with the spray bottle from her desk. She made her way around the office, plucking dead leaves from each of her plants. Slowly, but surely, she was unconsciously turning her office into a greenhouse. English Ivy crawled up the curio cabinet in the corner, a Rex Begonia sat in one corner behind her desk and a fiscus sat in the other. She rotated the pots throughout the day, making sure each plant got ample time at the window.
"Maybe they like the humidifier. I think it's a good addition," Maryanne nodded awkwardly.
"Don't run it too much," Erin instructed, gesturing to the succulents on the windowsill. "The cacti can't take a lot of water in the air."
"I hate to break this up," Dave checked his watch. "If we don't leave now, we'll be late."
"Are you alright?" Erin asked as she locked her office. David stood behind her holding her briefcase, tension radiated off his body.
"I'm fine," he bit out, threading his fingers with hers. Together, they walked past the bullpen, half the team sat at their desks. They looked up, but didn't say anything. Instead, their stares bore holes into Dave's back. Their body language said everything, he was a traitor. An act of treason had been committed and the team held the guillotine.
"Thanks for doing this," Erin said walking through the door of the clinic. Unconsciously, scanning the room, for the emergency exits. The whole place was exactly how she would want her doctor's office to be, warm, welcoming and tastefully decorated. The pale blue walls were covered in motivational sayings framed in a variety of colors and sizes. Mentally, she counted her steps from the door to the reception desk. There were eighty steps between the door and the car. Her sensible heels clicked against the hardwood floors as she walked towards the front desk. She counted twenty-five steps between the front door and the desk .
"Don't mention it," Dave said and reached for her hand. Unaware of the mental gymnastics happening in her head. If paranoid was an Olympic sport, she would bring home the Gold. Erin lifted the pen from the reception desk, poised to sign her name. "I left my paperwork in the car," she said, laying the pen down, prepared to go get her medical records out of the backseat.
"I got it," Dave offered, "Sign in and I'll be back." He turned on his heel, the automatic doors slid open, she watched him disappear outside.
No sooner had she signed her name and sat down, her name was called.
"Erin Strauss?"
"Yes?"
"Are you a new patient?" The receptionist asked, with the smile of someone who longed for the weekend.
"I am." Erin slid her insurance card across the counter, tapping her foot anxiously. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she glanced around the room. It was half filled to capacity. Women lined the perimeter of the waiting room as if sitting in the middle seats would draw too much attention. Erin turned back to the receptionist, who was busy staring at the computer monitor, holding Erin's insurance card in one hand.
"Can I see your ID?" She finally asked, without looking away from the screen.
Erin slid her driver's license across the desk and focused on the Nora Ephron quote hanging above the reception desk. "Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim."
Trying to be the heroine is what caused all of her problems to begin with, she thought, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Finally, when the receptionist still hadn't looked up from the screen, Erin said, in her most patient, yet authoritative tone, "Is there a problem?"
"Ma'am," the receptionist cleared her throat awkwardly. "We don't accept this insurance, we did..." She corrected, passing Erin her ID and insurance card, "last year. It appears the office terminated the contract with your insurance company."
Great. It was her own fault, she should have called the office to verify before they left the house. "Okay," Erin shoved her cards back in her handbag, just as the automatic doors slid open and David strode in. She could tell him. She should tell him, but Carlo was 'her baby' and she could take care of him. She'd pay the doctor this one time and find someone else for the next visit, not that she needed many more. She ran the math in her head. It wouldn't be long before he was delivered and she would have a whole new set of bills to worry about. She needed five OB appointments, at best. Around five-hundred apiece… $2,500. It would take a significant bite out of her savings, but she could handle that on her own. "Will you take a credit card?"
"Yes, of course!" The receptionist brightened, "but the office visit alone is around three-hundred dollars."
"Fine," Erin handed her the emergency Visa card from the back of her wallet.
"That doesn't include testing and ultras-"
"I said that's fine." Erin said hurriedly, Dave was on her heels. She could only pray that he was far enough away that he couldn't overhear the conversation. As the receptionist ran her card, Erin turned away from the desk, keeping her eye on Dave. He sat down, in the chair furthest from the desk and picked up a copy of Parent's magazine. Erin breathed a sigh of relief… as the receptionist slid her cards across the counter, just in time.
Dave laid the magazine aside, something wasn't right. He hadn't been to the doctor, aside from his yearly physical but he knew it didn't take this long to sign in. He strained to hear what the receptionist was saying, but he was too far away. Fed up, he got up and sauntered over to the desk. "Is everything okay?" He asked, with his arm around her waist.
"Fine," Erin shoved both the credit and insurance cards back in her wallet before he could see them.
"Go, fill this out," the receptionist said, sliding a clipboard across the desk. "The nurse will call your name shortly."
"What do we think of this place?" Dave mused, glancing around the waiting room. It was mostly empty, either this office had a quick turnaround, or it wasn't as popular as the reviews led him to believe.
"Too soon to tell," she decided. "I'll let you know on the way home."
"Good point," Dave glanced down at the clipboard in her lap as she filled out the paperwork. "What's the story there?" He asked, eyeing her middle name. Surely, he'd asked her for her middle name before? Not that they were always on the best of terms...They'd known each other over twenty years, yet he was constantly learning something new about her.
"My parents spent time in Italy after they got married-"
"I didn't picture Vera as the sentimental type," he mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
"She's not." Erin said flatly, without looking away from the clipboard. She wrote and checked off boxes as she spoke. "My father wouldn't take no for an answer."
"What do you think of Hilton for Carlo's middle name?" He teased, grinning with mischief. "Since it's a family tradition and all?"
"Veto," Erin said, shaking her head. "If we're using a location, "I vote for Washington-"
"As in, D.C.?" He clarified.
"Yes." Erin nodded, "it's classic-"
"It's awful. Veto," Dave said, raising an eyebrow. "Marriott? God knows we've spent enough time in those-" He said, sarcastically.
"Veto. Richmond-"
"Pass!" Dave said, sharply, shaking his head in denial. "No way."
"Why?" Erin asked, looking up from the clipboard.
He leaned in close to avoid being overheard. "You're not playing the game right."
"What do you mean?" She shot back, "there are no rules-"
He whispered, his breath brushed lightly against the shell of her ear. "We haven't done it in Richmond."
Erin smirked like the cat who caught the canary, she had him right where she wanted him. "Not yet," she said in her best sing-song tone. "Give it time, David. I'm sure Richmond will grow on you."
"Well," he swallowed tightly and shifted in his seat. "Something else sure is."
Erin grinned and opened her mouth to reply.
"Erin Strauss?" A voice called, interrupting her response.
"I thought we were going back to your house," Erin looked around, anxiously. The strip mall was about a mile from doctor Leigh's office, but she didn't know why they were there. "What are you doing, David? This wasn't in the plan-"
"I have books on hold at the bookstore," he explained. "Do you want to come inside?"
"No," Erin shook her head. "You go ahead."
"I'll be quick," he put the car in park, leaving the keys in the ignition. Then he got out of the car.
Erin locked the doors, watching him wander across the parking lot. Her hands clenched tightly in her lap, watching people amble through the parking lot. She made a mental note of the car closest to her, white, four door sedan. She pulled down the visor, watching the vehicles parked behind her, cataloging them in her head. A black Audi, blue jeep with North Carolina tags, silver minivan….
A sharp knock on the window caught her attention, her head jerked towards the sound. Exhaling, she hit the button to unlock the doors.
"I said I would be quick," Dave got in the car and turned to lay the paper bag on the floorboard of the backseat.
"Did you give the doctor's office access to all of your medical records?" Dave asked, Erin hadn't looked up from her phone since they got home. She stared at it, on the table, willing it to ring. Doctor Leigh wasted no time, running every test imaginable, blood panels, urine testing, hair follicles. The only thing she didn't demand was a copy of her tax records.
"Of course, I did." She responded, without breaking eye contact with the table her eyes shifted to the 3D black and white ultrasound photo. She didn't need it, but she thought it would help David. Maybe, if he saw their son, he would feel more connected to him. So far, she wasn't sure if the photo was worth the extra $300.
"I gave her access to everything, even the records from rehab."
"Then why are we worried about it?" He got up from the couch, went to the kitchen and refilled his glass of lemonade. "You didn't drink, didn't do drugs, willingly. Everyone knows that." He said, weary from having the same conversation, over and over again.
"Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better."
"I know." He let out a breath, coming around the counter with two glasses of lemonade in hand. "But you can't make the phone ring through the power of suggestion." He sat a glass on the table in front of her. "Come on. We're not doing any good sitting here." Not that there was anything else to do. In Dave's opinion, that was the problem. All they could do was sit around and think, they'd inadvertently turned his mansion into a foxhole. A place to hide until the worst was over. How do you know when it's safe, if you don't know what to be afraid of?
He lifted the ultrasound photo from the table and looked at it. He could clearly make out the image of his son's chubby cheeks, sucking on his thumb. "Come on." He laid the picture back on the table. "I'll show you what I bought at the bookstore."
The buzzing of her cell phone interrupted her response. She jumped slightly and snatched the phone off the table, sliding the screen with shaky hands. "Hello." She waited impatiently for a response. "Hello?" She snapped and pulled the phone away from her face. Whomever it was, hung up without a word.
"Who was it?" Dave asked, anxiously, pulling up a chair beside her.
"Nobody," she bit out. The wooden chair she sat in scraped against the tile floor as she pushed away from the table. "They hung up."
"Well, did they say anything?" He barked, unnecessarily and unintentionally harsh.
"No." Erin laid the phone on the table. "It's probably a telemarketer," she waved a hand, letting him know that his opinion was neither needed nor appreciated.
"I doubt it. Nobody can get through Garcia's security systems."
"That's happened twice, David." Erin pointed out, he was always quick to defend Garcia, but the tech was too trusting, almost to the point of recklessness. "She's good," Erin continued before Dave could interject to further defend Garcia. She knew he would, but she didn't want to hear it, "Garcia's good," Erin continued, "but she's not infallible."
"Fine." Dave stood from the table, "but the security on that phone," he jabbed a finger at the table for emphasis. "Is better than the security system on your house. A telemarketer couldn't beg, borrow or steal his way in."
"Okay," Erin held up her hands in surrender, backing away from him. "I'll give you that."
"Thank you," Dave said, his temper fizzling. "Where are you going? "He asked, when she stood up and grabbed the phone off the table.
She huffed, put out and tired of being continuously under a microscope, "Can I use your treadmill?" She asked, more out of courtesy than permission.
"I-I guess," he responded, she'd caught him off guard with that one.
She turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest. "Is that a problem?"
"No. No, of course not." He stood and pushed his chair back in its place. "Can I show you how to turn it on?"
She shrugged, dismissing him. "I think I can handle it."
"Well...um..be careful," he said, awkwardly bereft of anything useful to offer.
With Erin busy downstairs, Dave let out a sigh, his shoulders slumped and his neck was stiff. Stress always started in his neck. He poured himself a drink from the decanter in the corner in the living room. He picked up the crystal bottle and brought it to the side table, next to the front door. Booze and firearms were never a good combo so he opened the drawer and laid his service weapon inside, next to his keys. He wouldn't be needing either, any time soon.
For a moment, he considered bringing the entire bottle into his office but he knew, once he got there he wouldn't want to get up. He'd finish the bottle and fall asleep in his chair. Given the circumstances, he wanted to keep his reflexes sharp. With that thought, he wandered into his office, with just the glass in hand. He sat down in his favorite recliner and took a sip. Good ole Glenlivet, only got better with age. Sighing contently, his shoulders relaxed as he sunk further into the worn leather. If he didn't make a move soon, he and Erin were going to kill each other. She'd have his body dropped in a hole in his own backyard, the birds would be feasting on his eyeballs before his corpse got cold.
He would have thought that a twelve thousand square foot house would have been plenty of space to keep them from exploding on each other. Even as he thought it, he knew Erin wasn't the problem. It was their situation, just when they thought things were headed towards 'normal' something happened to remind them that normal was subjective and they weren't getting there anytime soon. He swirled the whiskey in the glass, weighing his options...not that he had many of those.
He only looked up, when the grandfather clock chimed. Ten consecutive bells echoed through the house.
On the tenth chime, Dave finished his drink in one go and pushed to his feet, intent on letting Mudgie out one last time before setting the alarm. He'd sat there, longer than intended, letting his mind wander in the silence. He crossed into the living room, the door to the basement was still closed.
"Mudgie, come." He commanded, waiting for the dog to heel at his side, "Out." He said, holding open the door. Mudgie hurried out the door, taking full advantage of the fenced yard. Dave closed the door, giving Mudgie his privacy.
Dave had just turned to go check on Erin, when Mudgie began to bark his head off. This wasn't his excited, chasing a rabbit or some other small animal bark. This was a bark that started in his throat and ended in someone else's. Visions of mangled bodies and the rising costs of homeowners insurance, sent Dave into action. He snatched his service weapon out of the drawer from the side table and slid it into the holster. With one hand on the door and the other on the handle of the gun, Dave turned the knob before stepping onto the porch into the velvet night. The white glow of the porch light was the only light for miles. It cast a weak shadow around the property. The motion detectors wouldn't turn on unless something bigger than the dog walked by.
Mudgie stood in the middle of the yard, tail erect, ears pointed up, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Even as Dave closed the door, the dog didn't turn away from the tree line. He was ready. Just waiting for a reason to attack. His body rippled with tension, he waited….it would come. No doubt about it.
Dave listened intently, the rustling of the trees against the night breeze, amplified. Mudgie stayed in his place, still growling, teeth bared. "What is it, Boy?" Dave stepped off the porch, with his hand still on his weapon. Mudgie didn't growl like that without a good reason. "Show me." As if on cue, Mudgie bolted towards the tree line, barking his head off.
Dave scanned the area for any sign of a threat. Half expecting an animal to come barreling away from the yard. An opossum or worse, a bobcat, it wouldn't be the first time Mudgie tangled with a wildcat and won. Dave paused, holding his breath. Heart hammering a little harder than normal, Dave kept his grip firmly on his gun as he scanned the area. The trees rustled against the cool wind, Mudgie's barking cut through the otherwise ordinary sounds of nature. Whatever Mudgie heard, Dave still couldn't place it. He was starting to think his dog was overreacting, when Mudgie lunged into the woods, taking off at breakneck speed down the trail. Barking all the way down the trail, sounds of snarling and gnashing of teeth rolled through the silence. If Dave had neighbors close by, they would have called the cops and he would get a citation.
Dave rushed back into the house, grabbing his flashlight off the side table, next to the door, ready to catch up with his dog. When Mudgie barked again, loud enough to get his attention, but calmer than before. Dave turned on his heel; the flashlight's beam illuminated the way ahead, Mudgie trotted across the tree line, tail wagging, chest puffed out. His job was done.
"What the hell, Mudgie?" Dave stepped off the porch, surveying the land. The beam of the flashlight bounced around the trees, there was nothing out of the ordinary, as far as he could tell, but he made a mental note to check the trail for tracks once the sun came up.
Mudgie stepped onto the porch and laid down, waiting for his master to open the door.
"What the hell was that about?" Dave grumbled, appreciative, scratching Mudgie behind the ears. Next he gave Mudgie a once over, there wasn't so much as a fleck of drool on the dog.
Relieved, he opened the door, and the two of them went inside, before Rossi locked the door; he released a breath and poured another drink to steady his nerves. He wasn't nervous by nature, but even the dog was on edge. That alone was enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up a little higher. With that thought in mind, Dave slammed the rest of his whiskey, letting the liquor burn a warm, comforting trail down his throat. When his nerves were calm, he laid the glass on the sideboard next to the whiskey decanter. From his vantage point, he could see that the basement door was still closed. Erin hadn't been back upstairs. She didn't hear Mudgie's outburst. If she had, she would have come running. How much working out did one person need? Better yet, how much time did she need to stew in her own self loathing before he was allowed to step in? Was it safe for a pregnant woman, who had been through all that Erin had been through recently, to work out that long, he wondered? He didn't know the correct answer, but he decided she'd had more than enough time to beat herself up.
He crossed into the kitchen, pulling open the door to the refrigerator. He grabbed a bottle of water as a gentle reminder that he was waiting for her, a peace offering to get her to come back upstairs. With the bottle in hand, he went into the living room. Putting one hand on the doorknob, listening intently, he was half expecting to hear strains of 80s rock music coming from the surround-sound stereo system. Instead, the quiet squeaking of old hinges graced his ears as he opened the door that led to the basement. He flipped the switch on the wall, illuminating the carpeted staircase. He hated those steps, the threadbare carpeting was slick under his feet, but he didn't have time or inclination to have them restored. He held the railing tightly to keep from slipping as he reached the middle of the staircase.
"Erin?" Her name echoed, bouncing off the concrete walls. "Hey, I didn't know if there was anything to drink down here or not. I brought you some water. I'm going to bed but I wanted to say goodnight first." He stepped off the last step, surrendering his hold on the old wooden rail. "Erin?" He strained to hear, listening for a response but the silence spoke for itself. The treadmill, sat in the corner of the room, turned off. He brushed his hand against the button panel, it was still warm, very warm in weights on the bench sat untouched. "Babe?" He called, stepping further into the basement. The weight room was the only room in the basement that led directly to the staircase. You had to walk through there to access the rest of the basement. There was an office that he hardly used, that's where the booze lived. He knew he wouldn't find her there. He had a media room that was only used for boxing matches and sports on TV until Erin came along. Now, he played video games with her kids on the 60 inch flat screen and watched movies on the projector. He pushed open the door to the media room, expecting to find her on the couch, watching Anderson Cooper in HD. The leather captains' chairs were empty, the room was dark.
"Erin?" He called again, stepping through the media room and into the hallway. The glow under the doorway beside him told him everything he needed to know. He changed out the motor on the bathtub, years ago because he couldn't stand the noise. He could still hear the low hum of the jacuzzi tub and sounds of splashing water confirmed his suspicions. A sly grin spread over his face, he knocked gently on the door.
Erin cleared her throat, there was more splashing. "Come in."
He turned the knob, letting himself inside the bathroom. "Should we patent this? The Erin Strauss workout routine?" He teased, leaning against the doorframe, watching her legs hang over the edge of the tub, frothy bubbles clinging to her skin, dripping onto the marble floor below.
"I'm swimming," Erin said casually. "Come in and close the door, you're letting the heat out."
He stepped lightly across the heated floors into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. "I thought you were working out," he observed, leaning against the marble vanity.
"I did. I jogged on the treadmill for the kids called-" She huffed, in a long suffering tone.
"What did they say?" Dave pulled the vanity stool away from the counter and sat down, facing her.
Water splashed as she reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "We had a nice talk."
"Is this privileged information?"
" I told them about Carlo-"
He had a sneaking suspicion that her children hadn't exactly rolled out the welcome wagon, in fact, they probably set it on fire.
"What happened?" He walked over to the tub and sat down on the marble ledge beside her. "How did they take it?"
"Nobody hung up on me," Erin deadpanned, her head lolled to the side. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. "That's better than what I expected. The girls are fine. They love babies," she shrugged despondently. Her son was a different story. "Paul...he didn't take it well."
"He's not the only boy anymore-" Dave surmised.
"Right." Erin had a feeling there was more to it than being usurped from his position as her only son, but only time would tell.
Dave had a feeling there was more than teenage angst on her mind. "To quote my mother, Penny, for your thoughts?"
"It's nothing you haven't heard before," she huffed, sinking further under the water. Her mind ran on an endless loop, Blake, Carlo, kids, David, rinse and repeat indefinitely. Oh wait, money, she could fit that in somewhere between David and the kids….
"Hang on," he stood up and opened the cabinet under the sink. Crouching down, he searched through the cabinet until he found what he was looking for. He didn't spend a lot of time down in the basement, by himself but there was always a surplus of supplies stashed away. "Is this okay?" He straightened up and handed her the bottle of shampoo.
"It's fine," she said, without reading the label.
He grabbed the extra long shower head off the hook and turned on the water. "Lean back a little," he directed the spray against the back of her head, working downwards.
"What's this about?" She asked, as he turned the water off. "You've never considered washing my hair before." Massages, sure. He had no problem starting at her neck and working his way down, but usually that led to a different kind of exercise…. "What's with you?" she pressed, before he could put the shampoo in her hair.
"Nothing," he picked up the bottle and squeezed some in his hands. "I want to do it," he explained, rubbing his palms together. "You came down here to relax, I'm just upping the ante." He massaged her scalp with his fingers, gently working the shampoo through her hair.
"That smells nice," Erin closed her eyes, sinking further into his touch. The distinct floral scent drifted through the bathroom, "but it's not mine," she said, pulling slightly away from him.
"It's not," he picked up the bottle and studied the label. "Shit."
"David, what did you put in my hair?" She jerked away from him, reaching for the shower head.
"It's shampoo," he said hurriedly, "You're hair's fine," he assured her. She leaned back, letting him continue.
"Then what's wrong?"
"Nothing," he worked the soap into her scalp, watching the bubbles foam, the more he touched them.
"Did you moonlight as a beautician or something?" She asked, his hands massaged her scalp, moving towards her neck and back again. "You could teach my stylist a thing or two." If he learned how to give a blowout, she could give up the salon altogether.
"Nope," he popped the 'p' on the end. "I just...I realized that I like taking care of you."
"No you don't," she denied. "You feel guilty-"
"That too," he acknowledged, his fingers gently untangled the knots in her hair.
"Are you ever going to tell me where you got that shampoo?" She knew that scent, but couldn't put her finger on it…
He turned on the water, angling the shower head down her hair until the water ran clear. "I got it from the gettin' place," he answered.
"That's not an answer."
He opened a bottle of conditioner and began to massage it through her hair. More to get her off this line of questioning than anything.
"David-"
"Relax." His warm hands gripped her shoulders, smoothing away the kinks in her neck.
Damn him, he was trying to distract her. Her breath hitched when the heel of his hand glided between her shoulder blades. His plan was working, damn him, straight to Hell, don't pass go. No collections. She couldn't let it go, the conditioner had that same, delicate scent as the shampoo. She knew that smell, but she couldn't remember why. It was on the tip of her tongue. If she didn't figure it out, soon she would go crazy. "Please tell me."
"I bought it," he confessed, with his hands on her shoulders. "I bought it when you were in the hospital-"
"Why?" Her brow furrowed in confusion. He guided her backwards until her head was resting against the tub.
"Shh.." his thumbs ran down the crease between her eyebrows. "It doesn't matter."
"You washed my hair?" She breathed, half in disbelief. "Why would you do that?"
"I should have told you I was well practiced," he teased but his tone turned serious. "You don't like to be seen with dirty hair." He ran the shower head over her hair, rinsing away the conditioner.
That much was true, she washed her hair religiously. "Why didn't you say something?" She asked, affection for him rolled over her in waves. She reached up and caught his hand in hers.
He shrugged, "that's not something to brag about-"
She groaned in embarrassment, "please tell me, you didn't wipe my ass too."
"I didn't wipe your ass," he assured her, cracking a smile. "I couldn't even see your ass most of the time. I rolled you over once, and I accidently scared your mom into not buying you flowers."
"What do you mean?" She pulled away to look at him, "she's never done that before."
"Well, she wanted to," Erin thought she caught him blushing. "The doctor said you were on 'room air,' and I didn't realize what that meant. I thought they were pumping some kind of special air into your room. I thought the flowers would mess it up."
"Oh," she chuckled slightly. This was officially the weirdest conversation she would ever have. 'Hello, Honey. How are you? Let's talk about what I missed while I was comatose.' "That's okay." She said with a small grin. "Get in," Erin moved further into the tub to make room for him. "Let me rub your neck before you get a headache and we'll talk."
"Are there towels down here?" He asked, pulling his shirt over his head, before she changed her mind.
"A closet full," she said, hanging up the shower head.
"What the hell is wrong with me? A beautiful woman wants to give me a massage in a hot tub and I'm worried about towels?" He groused, shaking his head at his own foolishness. He shucked off his pants and climbed over the edge of the marble tub.
"You've reached the pinnacle of adulthood," she praised as he sat back between her legs.
He leaned his head back against her as her fingers went to work on his neck. "More worried about having to cross this floor without them."
"I don't think your neck could take a fall," she groused. The muscles under her hands were as hard as the marble floors beneath them.
"Oh, don't jinx me," he groaned as her hands hit just the right spot in the middle of his shoulders. "What else did you want to talk about?" He exhaled, sinking further into the tub. The hot water, the scotch and close proximity to Erin, was a perfect storm. For sex, or sleep. Either way, he was sure this was as close to Heaven as he was going to get.
"How much scotch have you had?" She asked, running her hands lightly down his shoulders. The muscles in his neck were rapidly turning to butter under her touch. She traced the dip in his spine; she loved touching him, watching the goosebumps spread across his back. She dipped hand in the warm water and laid it against him, watching the goosebumps disappear as quickly as they came.
He turned slightly, to look her in the eye. "Why?"
"I'm guessing you've drunk one and poured two…" she said coyly, her fingers playing with his hair.
"Wrong. Drank two, poured two." He raised an eyebrow, his forehead furrowed in suspicion. She wanted something, he just didn't know what; but, if she kept touching him that way, she could have anything she wanted. "Tell me what you want, Erin."
He felt her exhale against him, "I'm making the executive decision to call off the protective detail."
"No!" Dave said, yanking them both into the present. "Maybe you should've waited until I had that third scotch, but no amount of booze is going to change my mind."
"If we let things go back to normal, it will draw the unsub out-" Erin explained.
"I'm aware of that!" He said hotly. "That's precisely what I don't want."
"So, you want to live in fear forever?" She countered. With her hands on his shoulders. "You know that these kinds of people don't just disappear. Give Blake enough rope to hang herself-"
"Not yet-" he cut in. "She'll get antsy and when that happens, we'll have the backup to take her down."
"You told me, you learn more about the unsub with every new victim. Every time they make a move, you learn something about how to catch them. Blake's not making any moves. She can't when we're locked in here, tighter than Fort Knox."
"That's the whole point of a security team-" he argued. "Someone put the powder on Moore's glove-"
"All the more reason to pull them out of the field, get the whole team off the case." Erin said, "We need to weed them out."
"Why do I get the feeling that you only told me this as a courtesy?"
"I dunno," Erin dropped a warm kiss on the back of his neck. "It might be because I outrank you."
"You handle the paperwork, I handle the bad guys." Dave bit out, his chest puffed out with pride. "That's how this works."
"What you mean to say is, 'you run amuck and I'm supposed to cover your ass-"
"It's not expected," he said with a shrug, "but it is appreciated-"
"David-" she protested.
"Give it four weeks," he offered as a compromise. "Please, Erin. Just give me a little time and if we haven't hit a break by then, we can call it off."
"David," she said harshly. As if he was completely clueless, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, "Haven't you been listening?" We don't have that kind of
time. I don't know about you, but I want that bitch apprehended and under the jail before my son is born."
"I'd like to put a bullet between her eyes," Dave growled, low in his throat. Just the thought that someone could terrorize his son, the way they did Erin...that hit him differently. "I'll get her," he promised. "You have to believe that, Erin but we need more time. Remember Blake is not any ordinary unsub. She is a profiler and has worked with the team all these months. We can't go at this like we would a lay person, Blake knows how we work. When our team takes her down and make no mistake we will, we need to make sure that we catch her and any accomplices. The case has to be airtight, so no one gets off on a technicality."
The sound of her phone ringing on the counter, cut off her response.
"Do you want to get that?"
"They'll leave a voicemail," she mumbled, in no hurry to move.
"That jacuzzi is magnificent," Erin said, wrapping a towel around her body. "The heated floors are a nice touch."
Dave opened the bathroom closet and scanned the shelf. Two bathrobes sat, neatly folded on the shelf in front of him. He didn't deserve his housekeeper and he knew it. He pulled one off the shelf and passed it to Erin, "put this on."
"Oooh fancy," she shoved her arms in the sleeves. "Your housekeeper did this?" David didn't know there were towels, he didn't put bathrobes in the closet.
"Apparently, she's angling for a raise," he said tugging on his robe. "There weren't even towels in here the last time I looked. Remind me to put a bonus in her check." He pulled Erin close to him, he felt secure knowing she was nearby; She was safe.
They stood there, enjoying the closeness, Dave caught sight of their reflection in the mirror. "He looks like me," he said faintly, rubbing his jaw in the mirror. "I didn't think about it before, but I think he has my chin…"
"Who does?" She asked, knowing the answer.
"The baby," Dave said eagerly, beaming with sudden paternal pride. "Our baby-Carlo!" He corrected quickly.
"No way," Erin grinned as she said it. "I don't think you can see that much detail."
He preened with pride, "wanna bet?"
"Let's go look." She said, shrugging with feigned indifference. "I still don't think you'll see much."
"We'll see," he opened the door, holding it open for her. "Be careful on the stairs," he warned as they crossed through the gym.
"I got it," Erin grabbed the railing and mounted the carpeted stairs. "I said, I got it," she said when she felt his hand on her back.
"I hate this carpet," he complained, "it's slick and I don't want you to fall."
"I won't," she stepped on the last stair and into the living room. "What's the matter, Mudgie?" She asked softly, the dog laid in the corner, between the couch and the end table, trying to make himself as small as possible. His normally bright eyes were suddenly cloudy, a small fleck of drool dripped from his mouth.
She knelt down beside him, rubbing his ears. "David, he looks terrible," she said, looking up at him. "What did he eat?" She ran her hand gently down Mudgie's back, but she didn't know what she was expecting to feel.
"Nothing," Dave closed the basement door. "At least not that I know of." Mudgie wasn't an aggressive chewer and he wasn't curious enough to chew on something in
the house that he wasn't supposed to. "Be careful, Erin." He warned, coming to stand beside her, close enough to intervene if Mudgie lunged for her. "He's in pain, he could bite you."
"He could, " Erin nodded, looking at Dave, "but he won't."
As if to prove Dave wrong, Mudgie scooted out of his hiding place just far enough to lay his head in Erin's hand. "What happened, Baby? What hurts?"
Mudgie whimpered in response, closing his eyes.
"He was fine, a while ago." Dave said, he grabbed his phone urgently from the table, "I'll call the vet and get someone over here."
Just then, Erin's phone rang from her pocket and the ringtone was rapidly grinding on her nerves. She dug it out of the pocket of her robe, unknown flashed across the screen. Annoyed, she slid the phone across the floor to the other side of the room. It was a terrible time for prank calls and she wasn't having it.
"I called the emergency line, he's gotten into stuff before, but not for a long time." Dave tried to reassure her, with the phone pressed against his ear. "He'll be 'll send someone over." Dave said. "Hello!" He turned away from Erin and Mudgie to speak with the vet.
Mudgie slowly emerged from the corner, laying on his side with his head in Erin's lap. She ran her hand down his chest, watching him closely. "What did you eat?" She whispered, reaching towards his abnormally distended abdomen, lightly stroking his fur with her fingertips, trying to give him some comfort and relief without causing more pain.
"The vet's on the way," Dave said, he'd gone upstairs to put on his pajamas. "Go get dressed."
"He ate something," Erin insisted, moving out from underneath the 80lb dog. "He won't move, his stomach is tight-" she said, getting to her feet. The white robe she wore, covered in black dog hair. "David, look at him, he's miserable."
"They'll give him something," Dave said, confidently. "He'll be alright." Even as he said it, he wasn't sure if it was true. One thing was certain, he needed to check that trail. Whatever Mudgie got into, came from there. "I got him," Dave insisted, when Erin still hadn't left the room. Dave knelt in front of Mudgie. Mudgie leaned against his leg, drooling on his flannel pants. "Go put some clothes on."
"Okay," Erin turned on her heel, heading for the staircase. "I'm turning off the alarm, so they can come in."
"Thanks," Dave unlocked the door, but he'd forgotten to turn off the alarm. "They'll pick him up and we can go get him in the morning. They'll keep us in the loop,
he'll be fine."
"What happens if he needs surgery?"
Dave's eyes widened. "Then I guess he'll have surgery." He responded, as if that was the most obvious course of action. "We're not getting rid of him that easily. He's stuck with us."
"Okay," Erin exhaled, relieved. "I hope it doesn't come to that." she said, turning towards the staircase.
When Dave was sure Erin was out of earshot, he sat down on the floor near Mudgie's head. "We're not going to tell her about the trail, okay?" Moving slowly, Dave petted Mudgie's back, his ears, neck working his way towards the dog's mouth. Giving Mudgie ample opportunity to let him know he didn't want to be messed with. Mudgie didn't put up a fight.
There had to be some sort of clue as to what he got into and what was on that trail. Dave grabbed a small flashlight from the side table. "I just want to look," he said softly, while still petting Mudgie. Carefully, Dave lifted Mudgie's lip, peeling it back just enough to reveal the dog's pink gum line. He angled the flashlight, just enough to reveal Mudgie's teeth. "Ahha!" Just as he thought, Dave would never forget the rush of finding a clue, putting another piece of the puzzle in place. Too bad, his dog was paying the price. Wrapped around Mudgie's teeth, was a tiny piece of thread. If Dave had to guess, it looked like denim but he couldn't be sure. Whoever Mudgie ripped into was likely headed for the hospital and Mudgie earned himself a porterhouse once he could eat again.
"Good Boy, Mudgie!" Dave praised, scratching his ears. He turned off the flashlight and sat it aside. "Very good Boy." He wanted to help him, Mudgie was trying to protect them and he was paying a high price. Dave exhaled, letting his shoulders drop, his back ached from his position on the floor, he leaned back on the italian rug, next to his dog, rubbing his stomach with the back of his hand. The way he did, the first night Dave brought him home from the pound. "It's okay, Tough Guy."
"How's it going?" Erin asked, stepping lightly into the room, dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt.
"'Bout the same," Dave didn't even try to sit up. Mudgie's upper body was against Dave's torso, he didn't want to hurt him by getting up. "He won't move, won't throw up, he won't even growl at me. He just lays here and I keep rubbing him, but I don't think it's helping."
"If it weren't so serious, I'd say you were pretty sweet to hold him like that," she said, a soft smile on her face.
"If it weren't so serious, I wouldn't have to hold him." Dave swiped his free hand across his face, "I'm not," he cleared his throat. Tamping down his emotions. "I'm not getting good traction, can you help?" With the angle Mudgie was laying, his arm was going numb. If the belly rubs helped before, they weren't doing any good now. Dave's arm grazed against Mudgie with all the grace and finesse of a dead fish. "I can't feel my hand."
"I got it," Erin sat down beside them, gently stroking Mudgie, leading back to his belly.
Mudgie whimpered slightly, Dave rubbed his favorite spot behind his ears to keep him calm. "It's okay, Bud, you're mama's here to help."
"David-"
"You keep his bowl full, you worry about him, you give him treats behind my back. Erin...that's what a mother does." He closed his eyes. "Face it, Sweetheart, you're a dog mom."
"Not that." She felt Mudgie's stomach with the back of her hand, "he wasn't warm before. He's burning up."
Just then, the doorbell rang.
"Oh thank God!" Erin got to her feet, hurrying to the door. "They're right on time."