"When things go wrong, don't go with them."
Elvis Presley
The more Dave thought about his most recent conversation with Erin, the more pissed off he got. One minute she was gung ho for them to raise their kid together, the next minute she was ready to duck out on both of them, but she still expected him to come to her place for lunch…. His hands clenched unnecessarily tight against the steering wheel as he pulled into the driveway. Getting jerked around was getting old, fast. He needed to take control of the situation.
Opening the garage door with the remote above his head. Gravel crunched under the tires of the Audi as he pulled into the garage and parked. He turned off the vehicle and got out, closing the door. His heavy footfalls sounded in the garage as he stomped up the two steps to the door. The keypad glowed in the garage's dim light and beeped as he punched in the alarm code. Without a second thought, he opened the door with a flick of his wrist and went inside. His eyes fell on Mudgie, who lay in his crate, his body rising and falling as he slept, stretched out, the door of the crate swung slightly on its hinges,against the breeze from the ceiling fan. The metallic squeak echoed through the house.
Dave shut the door and locked it behind him, then knelt in front of his dog and scratched him behind the ears. "Hey, Bud. How ya doin?"
Mudgie stared at him with doleful eyes, the vet kept him sedated while decompressing his stomach and he was still sleeping it off. Dave sat there, running his palm up and down the soft, silky fur, sending a silent thankful prayer that he was alright when it could have easily gone the other way. Sighing heavily, Dave absently stroked the dog behind his ears. There had been too many close calls lately…. Life could change in an instant. Grabbing it tightly and never letting go was the only option.
"Get some sleep," he patted Mudgie gently on the back. Then pushed himself off the floor, ignoring the way his knees cracked and his back stiffened he went to the kitchen and checked the dog bowl, only a few bites of shredded chicken lay in the bottom of the bowl. He crossed the hardwood floor, his footsteps reverberated as he wandered through the kitchen. Plundering through the cabinets for something to eat when nothing appealed to him.
He wanted a drink, just enough to help him sleep; but he needed to stay alert at the same time. It was a vicious internal debate, for a minute, he thought this is what it felt like to be an addict. Waffling back and forth when you already know the right answer. "I gotta go to bed," he mumbled, slamming the refrigerator closed. "I gotta go to bed before I talk myself into an AA meeting."
His heavy footfalls echoed through the empty house. He needed a plan, a speech, something to tip the scales in his favor. He'd never had a problem calling Strauss on the carpet, but it was never premeditated. He never had time to rehearse, before. He sat at the desk, with his pen in hand, bouncing it between his thumb and forefinger, he couldn't think of a nice, politically correct way to tell her she was being irrational. He wouldn't dare say exactly what he thought. Not if he liked his nose in its current position.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized she was leading him like a donkey, with a carrot on a stick. Well, nobody made an ass of David Rossi and got away with it.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, half expecting it to ring...at the very least, he thought he'd get a 'goodnight' text. He laid the phone on the corner of the desk….they were definitely on a break, whatever that meant. Standing up, his knees popped and he ignored the way his back pulled, he flipped the switch on the Tiffany lamp that sat behind his laptop. Then, crossed the room, flipping the switch on the overhead light. Sitting in the semi darkness, he let his thoughts run, he'd go wherever his imagination would take him. Pulling the laptop towards the edge of the desk, he opened a blank document and began to write….
"You didn't have to do that," Dave said, stepping into the kitchen, where a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup waited for him on the counter. "I could have ordered something." He was freshly showered, water droplets still clung to his hair. His silk pants slung low across his waist. The plain Hanes t-shirt accentuated his biceps. Erin hadn't changed out of her work-clothes. Her overnight bag filled with soft clothes sat in his closet. Now, her black pencil skirt hugged her body in all the right places.
She turned away from the stove, laying the ladle on a paper towel beside the stove. "I'll never leave you hungry or horny."
"Why's that?" His mouth pulled into a smirk as he sat down on the stool at the counter.
She lifted half of her sandwich off the plate, poised to bite off the corner. "Somewhere out there, there is a whore with a sandwich."
His hands paused on the keyboard as he read what he'd written. Everything he'd written was completely true. At that moment, he laughed and told her she didn't have to worry about that...now, he wondered if the shoe was on the other foot. The way she walked into her old house, like she owned it, wasn't lost on him. A small part of him wondered if Peter Strauss was competition after all.
Erin should have let the phone ring, but it was too late now. Vera was on a tirade, Erin pulled her phone from her ear poised to hang up, but thought better of it. She would just call back. So she listened to her mother, while rolling her eyes at the appropriate intervals, while she whipped butter with a fork, for the rolls, cooling on the counter.
"No, Mother," Erin clipped. "I don't think Peter's a bad father. I just wish he would have been paying attention to what was happening with Allison's I-Pad. Seriously, what else was he focusing on, if not our children? Those texts were happening for didn't he notice sooner?" She was being stalked, what was his excuse? She beat the hell out of the butter until her hands were sore, she couldn't help but imagine her mother's face at the bottom of the bowl.
"Well, what about you, why weren't you with Allison? This whole thing could have been avoided if you-"
Erin clenched the phone in her hand, frustrated. Her heart rate picked up, suddenly hammering in her chest. "You look for opportunities to take his side, don't you Mother?" She huffed, growing more aggravated by the minute. "Would it kill you to envision a world where Pete isn't the knight-in -shining armour?"
"He was a wonderful husband to you-"
"I never said he wasn't." Erin said, hackles rising. True, he'd taken care of the bills and made sure their family had what they needed. He stuck by her when she went to rehab, the first three times. "He's a good person, I'm not disputing that." She left the potato masher standing up in the pot and wiped her hands on her apron.
"Then you know he'd take you back in a New York minute-" Vera said, "Think about it, Erin. You could have your family-"
"That's not what I want," Erin said quickly. "I have my children, I don't have to be married to Peter, for that," she dropped a stick of butter into the steaming pot of potatoes. Clenching the phone between her neck and shoulder, she added a splash of milk and flung a heaping spoonful of sour cream into the pot. "Stop doing this-" She demanded, barely resisting the urge to toss her phone across the room.
"I'm sure he'd accept the baby," Vera ignored her daughter's protests.
"He doesn't need to," Erin said between her teeth, taking out her frustration on the spuds, beating them to a pulp with the potato masher as it scraped against the pot. "Carlo has a father and I have a partner-"
"With Dave?" Vera clipped, rolling her eyes at Erin's tired excuses. "We'll see."
"We will," Erin agreed, cooly, "now I have to go." She hung up the phone and laid it on the counter. Maybe it was the sudden heat wave making her mother crazy? Erin's t-shirt clung to her skin under the apron, the higher the temperature climbed, the more she started to rethink cooking a big meal. The air conditioner hummed, pumping cool air into the house, but the thermostat hadn't townhouse stayed at a stifling 80Ⓕ
The clocked ticked on the wall of Dave's bedroom, where he stood in front of his full-length mirror, examining his reflection. He clipped his silver cufflinks to his jacket, that hung on the back of the desk chair beside the bed and slapped some aftershave to his cheeks. The ticking of the clock mocked him. He was already late and if he cared he would have been in a hurry. He'd spent all night debating with himself. Who knew a lunch date could be so stressful? His ego still smarted. He had to show Erin that she couldn't push him around, like a puppet on a string. They were together or they weren't, no more of this back and forth B.S. He threw a sport's coat over his shoulders and stomped down the stairs.
"Should we wait?" Allison asked, eying the fresh bread that steamed on the counter. Her stomach grumbled impatiently, "the food's ready."
"No," Erin stepped off the staircase, she'd changed out of her jeans and boatneck t-shirt, into a sundress and sandals. "I don't think he's coming." She took two plates down from the cabinet and passed one to Allison. "We're eating without him."
Allison took the plate and scooped up a serving of mashed potatoes. "He could have at least called," she said and snatched a roll out of the basket. "Can I eat in my room?"
Erin nodded, adding roast beef to her daughter's plate."Sure. As long as you bring the dishes back to the kitchen."
"Thanks, Mom." Allison beamed and hugged her from the side, before going up the stairs.
With Allison entertained upstairs, Erin made her plate and sat down at the table. Picking at her food, she kept one eye on her phone. Surely he wasn't standing her up...no. She dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Something had to be wrong. Her mind raced with all of the horrible possibilities. His property was compromised, he'd sent the security detail to focus on her and the kids. Her chest ached with anxiety, her hands started to shake. On instinct, she grabbed her phone off the counter and dialed his number. "It's me, I'm worried about you. Call me back." She sighed, her shoulders dropped with the effort. Then, she called him again.
The doorbell rang, melodically through the house. She laid her phone on the table and scraped her chair across the floor, standing up. She checked the peephole, half thinking that she'd see David's car in the driveway. Instead, the shining face of her ex-husband greeted her. She opened the door, warm sunlight streamed into the house, bouncing off the windows, leaving streaks and shadows on the living room.
"I thought you might need this," Pete held out a fabric brace for her hand.
Erin stepped to the side to let him, "I don't." She flexed her knuckles into a fist to prove the point. "It's not as bad as it looks," she glanced down at the purplish bruise that worked its way up her wrist.
"Your neighborhood is a lot busier than I remember…" Pete stepped inside and closed the door.
"Dave hired a security firm to watch the house, while the Bureau focuses on the kids." Unmarked security cars circled the neighborhood, the average passerby wouldn't know they were being surveilled, but he knew what to look for. Plain cars in various makes, models and colors, fit in with the neighborhood perfectly. The security team were her neighbors, the gardners, the people walking their dogs at night.
"That's probably good," he nodded and went back to her hand. "Has anyone looked at that?" He eyed the bruising across her knuckles. "You should get it looked at."
"It's fine." She insisted, "It's been iced, rested and elevated."
"Rested, iced, compressed and elevated." He corrected, "R.I.C.E. Remember?"
"That's the only thing you retained from the emergency medical class we took in college…" She took the brace and laid it aside, just in case.
"Technically," he hedged at the word... "I'm an M.D. I could take a look." Not that he remembered much from Med school, but he was pretty confident that he could identify a broken bone.
"You're a head- shrinker," she countered. "That's not the same thing."
"Okay," he held up his hands. "Fine, I'll get to the point then."
"That's probably a good idea," she deadpanned.
"I'm here with my hat in my hand…I've got a patient that I think would benefit from Allison's old keyboard-" He worked part time as a school counselor and ran a psychiatry practice the rest of the time. "Can I have it?"
"Ask Allison."
"She quit piano lessons three years ago," Pete argued.
"Then you know she won't have a problem giving it to you. She's in her room." Erin closed the door, waiting for him to head towards the staircase. Instead, he sat down on her couch.
"I thought you wanted the keyboard-"
"I do. Just listen for a minute," he leaned forward with his hands on his knees. "After you left last night, I started thinking-"
"You really shouldn't do that," she deadpanned, with her hip resting on the staircase. Waiting for him to get the point.
"You know, anxiety is literally my specialty…I can help you get a handle on it."
"I don't need it-" She insisted, "the anxiety isn't going to kill me, but you and David are going to hassle me to death-"
"I can set you up with Baylor-"
"Patrick Baylor is an overgrown frat boy."
"He's a solid therapist." Peter defended his business partner, Baylor was the only one in the group who specialized in treating PTSD. Which was a safe assumption, considering what she'd been through. "He's worked with the VA, I'm sure he can get approved by the Bureau."
"What about Chad?" Erin argued, "I've always liked him."
"Chad Jacobs?" Peter answered quickly. "He's a womanizer and a prick. You're better off with Baylor."
She rolled her eyes. "I'd be better off if you minded your own business."
"Fine," Pete stood up and cracked his knuckles. "As usual, you're going to wait until the very last minute to get help."
"If I end up in a padded room, I won't ask you for a visit," she said smoothly.
"And when you do, I won't say, 'I told you so," he mounted the staircase, his chinos rustling as he hurried towards Allison's room.
Erin was just about to go clean the kitchen, when Allison stopped her.
"Mom!" Allison thundered down the staircase, like a herd of elephants, brushing past her father on the stairs. "Oh, hey Dad!"
Peter turned slightly, eyes wide, mouth hanging open like an oven door. "Where's the fire?" Allison ignored him, racing to her mother. She practically bounced everywhere she went. "He's here!" She called excitedly, bouncing on her toes. "Dave just pulled up!"
"Okay," Erin held up her hand, halting Allison in her place. "Let him ring the bell first." Not that she was eager to see him, or anything. Just then, the doorbell chimed.
Looking through the peephole, Peter's car was parked on the curb, blocking the driveway. Dave's Cadillac sat parallel against the curb, in front of Peter's.
She turned the doorknob. Undisguised relief spread across her face. "You're late."
"We need to talk," Dave said, through the screen door of Erin's porch.
"Come inside," she unlocked the door with eager fingers and held it open. The warm summer breeze brushed the hem of her green dress against her knees. "I'll make you a plate."
"I'm not here to eat," he brushed past her, into the house. "We need to talk about our arrangement."
She bristled at his sudden brashness. "Now...really isn't a good time for that. Come inside and sit-"
Erin turned sharply when Peter's voice interrupted. "Thanks for letting me borrow this-" he said, coming down the staircase, balancing Allison's keyboard in his arms. "I appreciate it…"
"Now, I see why," Dave said and stepped further into the house. He couldn't help eyeing Peter Strauss up and down.
"What's up Dave?" Peter groaned, resting the keyboard against the wall, he swiped the back of his hand against his forehead.
"I have a standing invite," Dave answered, his tone bordered on smug. If they were under different circumstances, Peter Strauss was someone he wouldn't mind having a drink with. He was a nice guy, a little soft for Dave's liking, but overall, he was decent. The problem was Erin and Peter's overly friendly relationship with her. "Want some help with that?" He offered, gesturing to the keyboard. Sweat beaded down Peter's face, his cheeks red with exertion.
"Do you mind? It's not heavy, just awkward."
Dave crossed the room and stood next to the keyboard, "let's go." He picked up one end of the keyboard and Peter grabbed the other. "Babe, do you mind holding the door?" Dave said.
"Not at all," Erin pushed the door open and stepped onto the porch, standing against the screen door to keep the wind from blowing it closed. She watched the two men trek through the front yard, balancing the keyboard between them. Shaking her head at the ridiculousness, but it was better than Dave peeing on her rug to mark his territory.
"Watch your step," Peter grunted, with his eyes on the lawn. "There's a hole next to your left foot."
"There's a dip to your right," Dave countered, inching closer to Peter's car. They leaned the keyboard against Peter's Buick Enclave, Peter lifted the hatch and they loaded it inside.
"Thanks for the help," Peter said, closing the hatch.
"No problem," Dave glanced back at the house and the empty porch.
Peter turned, with his hand on the car door, clearing his throat. "My ex-wife has an iron clad poker face. If things look bad to you, it's worse than you think."
"I'll keep that in mind," He nodded and went back to the house.
"That was kind of you," Erin said, mildly impressed, when Dave came back inside an0d sat down in the recliner in the corner.
"Anything to get him out of here," he deadpanned, lips pulling to the side.
"Whatever," she smiled slightly. "Are you hungry? I made a roast, it's still warm."
"You cooked?" He feigned surprise, standing up, he stretched and took his place at the table. "I wouldn't pass that up." It was a rare occurrence to see her in the kitchen, willingly...cooking relaxed him, but stressed her out. She focused too hard on following a recipe to the micron, rather than enjoying the process. With that said, her recipes were foolproof and delicious.
She took a plate down from the cabinet next to the sink. "Good, Allie won't eat leftovers and I would hate for it to go to waste." She said, scooping mashed potatoes onto the plate. "Gravy?"
"Thanks." He nodded, leaning back slightly, just enough to watch her from across the counter.
She spooned pan drippings on top of the potatoes, added a pile of roast and multi-colored roasted carrots, like a work of art against the white plate.
"Smells good," he said, watching her closely as if her body language would tell him which side of the pendulum they were on today. Were they on the right track? Or was she only feeding him to soften the blow, when she dumped him completely? "You didn't have to go to so much trouble."
"I didn't. Allie did the prep work." She went to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of lemonade, the pitcher clinked gently against the rim of the glass. "You weren't planning on coming," she sat the plate, a fork and a glass in front of him.
"Well…" he paused, keeping an eye on her as she sat down in the chair beside him, in front of her plate.
"You weren't," she repeated, her tone was neutral. "That's not really a secret, when I can read you like a book."
"You're right," he speared a bite of the roast and chewed thoughtfully. "I didn't want to intrude on your time with Allison." He didn't want to be jerked around again.
"What changed your mind?" She took a sip from her straw, waiting on his answer.
He fixed her with a look, then studied his plate. Picking at the potatoes with his fork. "Is this a lunch date or an interrogation?" It came out harsher than intended, but it was too late.
Her spine stiffened against the back of her chair. "Really, David?" He could take his smartass attitude somewhere else. "I was worried about you. I called you three times, I thought you were- God, David, with everything that's happened, it wouldn't have killed you to answer your phone."
He sighed, the fork clattered against the plate. "Look, I needed to get my head together." he pushed the plate away and stood up. "We need to talk."
"So talk," she demanded, standing up with her arms tight against her chest. "Say what you want to say." It wasn't an invitation, it was finally happening. He was walking out, for real. She braced for the impact.
"I'm tired of being jerked around, one minute I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you, three hours later you don't want anything to do with me or the baby."
"It's not like-"
"No," he held up his hand. "It's my turn to do the talking, Erin." His eyes flashed, frustrated, close to exploding. Everything he'd held back, to avoid hurting her feelings, was spilling out. "I'm tired of having my family dangled in front of my face, only for you to keep yanking the rug out from under me at the last minute. I know you're having a hard time, but that's not an excuse to push me away."
"Please, David...come on," she shook her head, flashing a tired smirk. "Don't do this right now."
"Do what?"
"Lecture me."
"I'm asking you to let me help you, give me a chance to get to know your kids before you decide how I feel. You keep us separated, there's an invisible line between Church and State." She kept them all at arm's length, the kids never crossed Dave's path, except for their extremely well supervised weekly dinners. "How is that fair to anyone?"
"Is that really what you want?" Was he just saying the things she wanted to hear?
He stepped closer, reaching for her hand. "I wouldn't drag your kids into something I wasn't totally serious about." She would know that if she took longer than ten minutes to consider the idea. "We were on the right track before, what's stopping us from getting back there? Let me spend time with the kids…."
"Well," Erin took his hands in hers. "For what it's worth, Allison was more excited when you pulled up, than I was."
"That's sweet," he grinned. "Where is she, anyway?"
"I guess she's up in her room," Assuming the child heard the adults talking, her first instinct was to duck and cover. "She'll be glad to see you."
"Good," he nodded and went back to his plate, suddenly ravenous. "I'll have to thank her for cooking."
"What are you looking for?" Dave scraped the last of the potatoes into a tupperware bowl. Erin stood behind him, scavenging through the refrigerator.
"Something sweet," she mumbled without looking up. Surely there was a stray candy bar in the bottom of the fridge, old Halloween candy...at this point, she'd settle for a handful of candy corn. Or an After-Dinner, mint. "Something sweet and cold," she clarified. Standing up, she leaned against the counter, fanning her face with a napkin.
"Since when?" He turned to face her.
"I'm blaming Carlo," she huffed, annoyed at the lack of junk food in her house and the heat that hadn't dissipated when the sun went down.
"So, it's the baby's fault now?"
"And your genetics," she countered.
"Why me?" He pried, just to annoy her.
"You're the one with the stash of Snickers in the sock drawer," she goaded him. "I don't eat like that."
He smirked, eyes suddenly bright and teasing, "till now."
"That's just rude," she stuck her tongue out at him as she walked to the staircase, she balanced one foot on the bottom step. "Allie," she called.
Ten seconds later, a door slammed and Allison emerged at the top of the stairs, red faced and sweaty. "Yeah?"
"I'm sending David to go get dessert, what do you want?"
He chuckled, shaking his head at them. He rested his hand on the rail of the staircase, behind Erin. The donkey finally caught the carrot.
"Did you clean out the store?" Erin laughed at the absurd number of grocery bags hanging from his arms on the front porch.
"You guys didn't give me much to go on," Dave complained. The plastic grocery bags rustled as he went inside and sat his purchases on the table. When Erin sent him off to the store, he knew she wanted something cold and sweet. To him, that sounded like a milkshake but when he asked Allison what she wanted, 'cold and sweet' translated to cheesecake and cookie dough.
"There's ice cream…" he pulled out the box of neapolitan, the condensation dripped on the wooden table. "A sampler cheesecake, vanilla cake, cookies and the pièce de résistance, edible cookie dough."
"All cookie dough is edible," Allison said as Erin opened the package and handed her a piece.
He shook his head, watching Erin interact with her kid was more entertaining than he ever realized. Especially when her unique and sometimes, downright odd, habits reflected off of Allison. Neither of them ate the whole square of dough at once, they picked at it, between sips of milk, making it last like there wasn't enough cookie dough for two dozen cookies "His forehead wrinkled, "Don't you think we should cook that first?"
"No." Erin and Allison answered in unison, staring at him like he'd grown the second head.
"You two are nuts," he chuckled and walked around the bar, separating the kitchen from the living space. Then tossed the ice cream in the freezer.
"Just a touch," Allison grinned and held out the package across the marble countertop. "Try it with milk." She went to the refrigerator and poured him a glass.
"I don't think that was a suggestion," he mumbled.
"It wasn't." Erin said, dunking her piece of raw cookie dough into her glass. She took a bite, "Don't knock it till you try it."
"Nah, I think this is Carlo talking," he wrinkled his nose in disgust. At the floating remnants of raw cookie dough in her glass. "I'll take my cookie dough, baked at 350Ⓕ for 15 minutes; Thank you very much."
"You're loss," Erin said, sipping her milk.
Just then, Allison sat a glass of milk and a square of dough on a napkin in front of him. He discreetly pushed the napkin towards Erin and took a drink of the milk.
"Anybody up for a Scrabble game?" Dave asked, folding his hands against the wooden tabletop.
. Allison's face lit up, her siblings never wanted to play and it was more fun with more people.
"I'll play," Erin got up from the table, with her glass in hand. She took his glass and sat them both in the sink. "But I'm not keeping score."
"I'll do it," he discreetly slid the napkin and cookie dough into his pocket and went to the kitchen.
"I'll go get it!" Allison bounced towards the staircase to get the game from her room.
Once Allison was out of sight, Dave dropped the napkin into the trash.
"I saw that," Erin smirked as the lid on the garbage can swung closed.
"What?" His brows knitted, innocently. "You weren't supposed to see that."
"I know," Erin turned on the faucet, hot water filled the sink. She added a measure of dish soap and turned back to him.
"I didn't want to hurt her feelings." That didn't mean he had to subject himself to the women's hormonal cravings….
"It's sweet," she turned off the water and crossed the small kitchen and took his hand, leading them back to the table.
"This is nice," he sighed, leaning back in the dining chair.
"Domesticity looks good on you," Erin said, laying her hand on his knee. "I don't think I've given you enough credit." She sighed contently, resting her head on his shoulder. His sport coat hung on the back of the chair and his sleeves were casually rolled up.
"You haven't," he acknowledged, "but that's okay." He squeezed her hand, then his palm found its way to her midsection. His hand perched on the slightly defined baby bump. Her dress was loose enough that it wasn't noticeable. "We're here now."
"I'm glad," she said, her bright eyes shining with undisguised pride. "I'm ready to watch you be a dad." He'd be good at it, if he gave himself the chance.
"What choice do I have? That's my boy," he praised, "my boy," he repeated faintly, thinking back to what Erin said the night before. He knew if she truly couldn't handle the demands of a newborn, he would take Carlo. Of course, he'd rather have both of them in his house, but if that wasn't feasible...my baby. His definition of devotion was changing...he thought he was devoted to the BAU, to his writing, his relationship with Erin. All of that paled in comparison to his commitment to a person he hadn't met yet. "I'll keep him," Dave said firmly. "When he's born, if you still think you can't handle it, I'll take him. You can have him as much or as little as you want."
"David-" Erin started to protest, she wanted to tell him that she'd changed her mind. They could raise him together. But she stopped, when a small gasp from behind caught their attention, he dropped his hands from her waist and they turned around.
The clattering on the stairs caught their attention. The scrabble board and tiles scattered down the staircase. "When were we going to see him?" Allison asked, she stood on the stairs her eyes wide with betrayal and undisguised horror, with her hands on her hips. Poised to run from the situation if needed. "Mom- y-you, you were going to give the baby away. You're giving him away and you're keeping him from us!"
"Allie," Erin stood and reached for her daughter, but Allison backed up, shaking her head. Her arms crossed firmly across her chest. "No, Mom. There's nothing you can say to make this better."
"Allie, it wasn't like that," Erin tried again to convince her daughter. "I'm not-I wasn't giving him away."
"Well," Allison grappled for the right words to explain herself. "That's what it sounds like! Dave said you could have him as much or as little as you want," she flashed a tearful look at her mother, "but what about the rest of us? When was he going to be with us? You're giving my brother away!"
"That's not what's happening," Erin said quickly. Her mind raced as she tried to articulate their situation. "Allie, you know I wouldn't do that."
"Do I?" Allison exploded, barely holding back her sobs.
"Allie, please, just take a breath and talk to me. It's not at all what you think."
"Then, what was it?" Allison swiped her hands across her cheeks, her chin held high in defiance.
"I know what you heard," Erin stepped closer to her daughter, but didn't touch her. "You walked into the absolute worst part of the conversation…."
"Why was that even a conversation at all?" Allison countered, "we're not talking about a can of soup, Mom. It's my brother."
"Okay, that's enough." Dave said quickly, stepping in to defuse the situation. "Nobody's giving your brother away." He stood next to Erin in a united front, then grabbed a napkin from the table behind him and handed it to Allison.
"I'm sorry for what you heard, but what your mom said is completely true. You walked in on a piece of the conversation." He led her to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair, with Erin hanging behind, waiting and watching to see how he handled Allison.
"Let's sit down and talk about it." He offered, the child trembled with emotion in front of him as she sat. "Take a deep breath, I'll do it with you, ready? One, two, three." He coached, breathing deeply, letting his chest fill with air as she followed him. When Allison seemed calmer, her hands didn't shake as much and tears weren't actively rolling down her face, he continued, gently; "Kiddo, I'm so sorry that you walked in on the worst part of that conversation. I'm sure it hurt your feelings, maybe even scared you…"
Allison nodded, her green eyes welled with fresh tears and her chin trembled. "What were you really talking about?"
"All I was saying is that Mom might need a little more help with the baby. We were talking about the best way to take care of him, but that doesn't mean you and your siblings wouldn't still be able to see him. Even if he had to live with me sometimes. I promise, you'll still get to be his big sister."
Allison nodded, she started to put the pieces together…. "So, it would be like, when I go to my dad's and then come back to live with Mom? I still get to see Paul, even if he spends more time at Dad's."
"That's right," Dave nodded with a smile. "You're still a family, even if you don't live together." He dropped one shoulder nonchalantly, "it's the same thing."
Allison exhaled, her shoulders slumped slightly, "oh good!" She flashed a sheepish grin. "I don't know why I didn't think of that…"
"Because," Dave answered, true affection shined in his eyes. "You were too busy thinking about your little brother."
"I-" Allison took another breath, just to keep her emotions in check. "I think I can live with this arrangement, but," She held up her palm, the sudden image of her mother when she was trying to make a point. "Dave has to change the poopy diapers."
"I can work with that," Erin teased, with her hands on Allison's shoulders, affectionately. She laughed and said,"David, What do you think of that arrangement?"
Allison stood up and hugged Erin from the side in apology. Then started cleaning up the fallen game pieces.
He gave a theatrical grimace, "Somebody's gotta do it."
"Now that we've settled that," Erin said, she held out her hand, expecting Dave to take it. "Come upstairs."
"Yeah!" Allison said, bouncing out of her seat towards the staircase. "Come on, see what we bought."
"Lead the way," they waited until Allison was halfway up the staircase to follow suit.
"Do you think...did I handle that okay?" Dave kept his voice low and his hand on Erin's back as they climbed the stairs. "I didn't want to overstep-"
"You did fine," she answered, watching Allison push off the last step on the staircase, she headed for the guest room. "You explained things on her level...you know, 9 times out of 10, I can handle it. I know what to say to my kids and how to say it, so they understand, but…" she tightened her grip on the railing, suddenly rethinking her choice in footwear. "David, I froze, thank you for stepping in." She said, as they stepped off the staircase and into the hallway. "Now that I think about it, of course she was confused." They moved down the hall towards the guest room. The ceiling fan turned at full capacity, circulating cool air through the upstairs level of the house."We picked up groceries from Target and bought a bassinet on the way home."
"Poor Kid," Dave chuckled. "New rule: we have serious conversations when the kids aren't home."
She nodded and grabbed his hand, pushing open the door to the guest room. Where a desk fan blew on the nightstand, Erin could have sighed in relief at the momentary change in temperature. "I'd like to redecorate this room, but for right now, the bassinet fits right next to the bed."
"I hope you used my card for all of that," he said, eyeing the pile of Target bags inside the bassinet.
"You can buy the one for your house," Erin pulled out a bag and started to empty it onto the bed. Clothes, bottles, blankets and tiny socks covered the mattress. "What do you think?"
Allison beamed with pride, "I picked them out."
"Good choices," he praised and picked up an outfit, to show her he was interested. "I like this one," he held out a red, blue and white striped onesie with a teddy bear on the front.
"Allison nodded, "I'm pretty sure we'd have to go to Chicago for an actual Cubs shirt."
"Smart kid!"
"What?" She shrugged, "I pay attention, I know who to root for during baseball season."
"Who?" Erin asked, she wasn't entirely sold that Allison even liked baseball.
"The Cardinals," she replied, full of wide-eyed innocence. "Who else?"
"Hey!" He jabbed his finger towards her good-naturedly. "I need to get some ice for that burn," Dave grumbled, grinning from ear to ear. He didn't miss the subtle fist-bump between Erin and Allison. "You two are too much," he said, when the phone in his jacket pocket vibrated. "Be right back," he took out the phone and left the room.
"Mommy?" Allison asked, when the door closed and Dave was out of earshot. She picked up a onesie and folded it, without looking her mom in the eye.
"Yes?" She wasn't 'mommy' until Allison was nervous. Erin added a baby blanket to the stack beside her then gave her daughter her full attention. "What is it?"
"I was just wondering why the baby has to live in two places, when Dave could just live here with us."
Erin's head snapped up. This was a conversation she wasn't ready to have. "Why would you want that?"
"We have fun together," Allison answered. "Paul and Cassie like being at dad's, so...if Dave lived here, it would just be you, me, the baby and Dave."
"But, you know it wouldn't always be fun if we lived together. Dave and I both work a lot and he has a lot more in his life to think about than just us."
"You have us." Allison countered, thinking of herself and her siblings.
"That's true and that's part of the reason why I don't think it's a good idea for us to live together. I like that we can have fun and enjoy our time together, but when we're not having fun, we can go to our own houses."
"Like a break?" Allison asked, chewing her cheek, "You can take a break until you're ready to have fun again?"
"What's up, Hotch?" Dave asked, holding the phone in one hand as he walked down the hall. He took a discreet look at the thermostat, then lowered the temperature by several degrees. He wasn't one to complain, but there was no point in saving money, if they died of heat exhaustion in the process.
"Edwards checks out," Hotch clipped. "Techs went through his car-"
Dave grabbed the railing on the staircase and started down, towards the kitchen.
"Why didn't they find anything the first time?" Dave ground out, he kept a white-knuckled grip on the phone and stepped off the staircase. He walked into the kitchen and yanked open the dishwasher to load it.
"They did," Hotch answered, flipping through the files in front of him that Cooper had compiled. His team was working tirelessly with Garcia to build a list of suspects. "Someone paid them off."
"Who?" Dave barked, taking a plate from the sink, he shoved it in the rack.
"That's what Garcia's trying to figure out," Hotch offered. "She's already combed through Blake's, Curtis' and Edwards' but came up empty."
"Try Blake's husband-" He was grasping at straws and clenched his fist around a fork and dropped it in the basket. "Screw it, call Fickler, let him clean out that whole department."
"Dave…" Hotch treaded carefully, "I didn't call for a consult here, I wanted to keep you in the loop. I already called The Director, he's cleaning house-"
"So we're screwed?" Dave paused, holding a plate in his hand. "Are we sunk?" He spent his life building the BAU, if it went down, it was going down swinging.
"Only if we don't solve the case," Hotch said, flipping the folder in front of him closed. "He can't handle the idea that someone in the Bureau is playing both sides. Once we have proof, he's prepared to take the hit and do what needs to be done to save face."
"Good," Dave huffed, dropping a fistful of serving utensils in the basket. He let his shoulders roll back and relax, at least they didn't have to hide the investigation now. "Anything else?" He turned the faucet on the sink, letting the water heat up as he rinsed the plates and cutlery.
"How's it going?" Hotch pried into his best friend's business like a crowbar on a car door, without shame.
"Agent Hotchner, has anyone ever told you that you're nosey?" Dave responded glibly.
"Well?" Hotch shrugged, "Not if they like their jobs."
"Are you pulling rank on me?"
"That depends, are you planning wedding number 4, yet?"
"Nope and sitting on the phone with you, ain't helping."
"Good point," Hotch smirked, "Get back out there."
"Eye eye, Captain," Dave hung up the phone and sat it on the marble countertop, next to Erin's and went back to the dishes. He picked up the platter and started to run it under the water. He moved it in the dishwasher when it slipped through his fingers and it shattered on the floor beside the open door. "Shit!"
"David?" Erin called from the top of the stairs, making her way down the staircase. "I heard something fall-"
"Everything's fine," he stooped down and started picking up the larger pieces of porcelain. "Don't worry," he waved her off.
"What happened?" She stepped off the last stair and grabbed the broom to sweep up the mess.
"I'm sorry," he took the broom from her and dropped the larger glass pieces into the garbage can. "I dropped the platter." He noticed that she'd ditched her heels in favor of slippers. He looked up, she'd changed from her dress into blue silk shorts and a matching robe.
"You changed," he acknowledged.
"I'm not planning on going anywhere, are you?"
"Are you sure? There's a bag in my trunk, but..." He pushed to his feet and dumped the dustpan into the garbage. "I don't want to confuse Allison."
"Well…" Erin grinned like a cat with the canary and said, "she thinks it would be a good idea for all of us to live together.
"Well," he took a step towards her, grabbing her waist. His thumb brushed against the silky, smooth material of her waistband. "I'd like that, but you're the one who wanted to take it slow," he said, shaking his head. Feeling like he'd dropped down the rabbit hole and landed in the Twilight Zone. "Maybe we can think about it?" He offered. "Actually," he paused… "Let's talk about it now," he said, "I think you're right," Dave pulled up a chair at the table and sat down. "Maybe we need to redefine our relationship."
"What do you mean?" Erin leaned forward and looked him in the eye.
"We should focus on the children," he decided. "All of them, we need to nail down plans for Carlo and your kids. Until we do that…we should go back to the basics."
She paused, what would 'back to basics' look like for them? "I want to make us work," her fingers tapped nervously on the wooden tabletop.
"Me too," he reached across the table, stalling her movements. The only way they would strengthen their relationship was to pinpoint their weaknesses. "What can we do to make us both comfortable?"
"I don't want to live together," she said.
His face fell slightly, then brightened again when she said, "not yet." She didn't want him to get the wrong idea.
"Are you open to building up to it, at least.
"Yes," her pulse pounded eagerly. "Currently, I like being on the same bus route as the kids." It was the main reason she bought the townhouse after the divorce.
"That makes total sense," he nodded, "I'm not trying to take that from you." He didn't want to take anything from her life, only add to it. "Is my house in the same school district?" He wouldn't be upset if the kids wanted to get off the bus and go to his place, if Erin was there.
"I'll find out," she offered.
"Good," he nodded, "what else?"
"No more weeknight sleepovers," Erin added, thinking quickly, she added, "But, we have breakfast on Sundays-" She loved their weekends, when the mornings were slow, gradually fading into lazy afternoons.
"And lunch, at least three times a week-"
"I pay my own way-"
"No dice," Dave shook his head with a smirk. "Sorry, Babe. A gentleman pays."
"I don't see one of those," she countered, returning the smirk.
"You always have to win, don't you?" He asked, exasperated.
"No," she grinned, playing with his hand across the table, "but I prefer it."
"I still want you to come on tour with me-" The attention and the single life was great, ten years ago. Now he was ready to move on.
"And I still want to go."
He smiled gently and squeezed her hand, leaning back in his chair. "Then, I'll talk to Amanda and make it work."
"Tesoro," Dave kept his tone casual as he yanked his sweaty t-shirt over his head and pulled on an undershirt. "Aren't you on the HOA committee?" If she were, maybe it would move her air conditioner up the priority list.
"I was," she threw the last pillow off the bed and pulled back the blankets, even though she had no interest in climbing under them. It was far too hot for that. Sweat beaded down her back and strands of hair clung to the nape of her neck. "It turns out that a stint in rehab gets you voted out."
"Ouch-" Dave shook his head. "That's unfair. I'm sorry."
"Forget it," she said, crossing the room to the standing fan in the corner. She turned the dial, the sudden cool air sent the curtains fluttering. She didn't mention that she was behind on her dues. Not far enough to be voted out of the neighborhood, but behind enough to lose her social capital. She was low enough on the totem pole that drawing attention to her busted A/C might shine a light on her missing HOA fees. That wasn't a check she was prepared to write.
"The only difference between me and the wife of the HOA president is that my secret was remembered." Half the neighborhood remembered Erin's 60 days in a facility, but everyone forgot when Sophie Pace was arrested in the elementary school parking lot, with white powder residue on her nose.
"I'm sorry," he offered and sat down on the edge of the bed. Nobody deserved to have their dirty laundry aired and be punished for it.
"It wasn't a problem until now," she hiked her knee on the edge of the bed and crawled towards the headboard to lay against it, on top of the blankets. "Now, it's hot as Hell in here." She slid off the bed, "there's a couple of window units in the attic."
"Which I will go get," he said. "Just point me in the right direction and tell me where to put it."
Twenty minutes later, a window unit was secured in Allison's bedroom. The other unit hummed noisily in the window of Erin's room. Supplementing the paltry airflow from the central air conditioner. "Job done," Dave said, tying back the curtains to keep them from blocking the flow of cold air.
TBC
A/N: Thoughts? Feelings? Is there anyone out there?