In every conceivable manner, the family is the link to our past and a bridge to our future.

Alex Haley


The party was in full swing, big band music played in the back of the room. Caterers in white shirts passed appetizers on trays; Caprese salads, melon balls with prosciutto, shrimp cocktail, bruschetta, cheeseburger sliders, and miniature tiramisu served in martini glasses. The cash-only bar served as a backdrop for the party, those who didn't want to socialize.

"Erin invites me here," Carmelina clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "Then she disappears without even saying 'hello.' Very rude, David. She's very rude."

"I'm sure she had a good reason," Dave said quickly, coming to Erin's defense. "Come sit down, Mama. I'm sure you're exhausted from the flight."

"I got here at 3 this morning," she said as Dave pulled out a chair from a nearby table. "I slept until 2 in the afternoon!" She bragged; a wide smile spread across her face.

"Good for you," Dave snagged a lemonade and a fruit plate off the tray of a passing waiter. "Eat something, Mama. Here." He slid the plate in front of her, frantically looking around the room.

"Melon balls and prosciutto," Carmelita lifted the skewer from her plate. "Is there anything better?"

"I don't think so," Dave said, still looking around the room. Erin was nowhere to be found. "I'll be right back…" he pulled out his phone from the jacket of his tuxedo.

"We got this, Rossi," Derek pulled out a chair for Penelope and then for himself. "We'll visit with your mom. Go find your girl."

"Ten minutes, Mama," he assured her. Kissing her cheek, "I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Hotch," Dave called out, catching his glance from across the room. Hotch stood at the bar with drinks in hand. "The beer will wait."

"What's going on?" Hotch asked, dodging the crowds of waiters and strangers meandering through the party space.

Dave looked around, hoping to lock eyes with her. "Erin's gone; she didn't say anything…."

"Gone?" Hotch echoed.

"I can't find her, her phone's going straight to voicemail."

"There's Beth," Hotch gestured across the room towards his girlfriend coming out of the Ladies' Room.

"Did you see Erin in there?" Dave called out, gesturing towards the bathroom door.

"No," Beth shook her head, unconcerned. "Why?"

"She ditched me," Dave explained, pulling out his phone. He dialed her number, for the third time, tapping his foot anxiously as the line rang in his ear. While he walked the perimeter of the room, overlooking the grand ballroom.

"Worry about your own, fat cat," Amanda said, looking around the abandoned ballroom.

"While we're negotiating," Erin dug in her heels. "You're going to talk to him with more respect. No more backhanded comments and listen to him when he speaks because he usually has good ideas."

"What do I get in return?" Amanda asked, holding her head high.

"What's stopping me from walking over to Mr. Collins right now and telling him what you're doing with the advertising budget?" Erin asked, suddenly standing ramrod straight, looming over Amanda.

Amanda wasn't fazed, "Go ahead. Another cocktail and he won't know his own name-"


"Erin!" Dave called out, from over the banister.

"I'll be up in a minute," she called out. Their voices echoed through the empty ballroom.

"Tomorrow," Amanda said. "9:00 A.M. As soon as the segment is over, I'll talk to David."

Game. Set. Match. "Either you tell him or I will." Erin left the threat hanging in the air, as she went back to the party.


"Where did you go?" Dave asked, pulling out Erin's chair, sandwiching him between her and his mother. "My two favorite girls," he boasted, leaning back in his chair.

"Just…" 'think, dammit, come up with something.' "Amanda and I were talking about the T.V. segment in the morning."

"You guys are going on T.V?" Penelope pipped in, taking another sip of her neon blue cocktail. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"It's just a book promotion," Dave waved off the question. "It's not serious."

"Not serious?" Penelope echoed; her voice turned high. "You're on T.V! Why wouldn't you tell us?"

"He's being…" Mrs. Rossi hiccupped, sipping from her glass. "My son is just being humble."

"If it were something pertinent to a case, or even remotely exciting, then I'd tell ya." Dave assured the group. "We weren't even that popular-"

"Until you, two came out as a couple!" Penelope shot a glance between Rossi and Strauss.

"David, I don't like that phrase." Mrs. Rossi slurred, patting his hand.

"Mama," Dave surveyed his mother quizzically, taking in her flushed cheeks. "Are you drunk?"

"Maybe," she hiccupped, pressing her fingers to her mouth. Sliding one hand over Derek's bicep, "not that I'm complaining."

Dave picked up the lemonade glass and took a whiff. Wrinkling his nose, turning back to Erin, whispering conspiringly "Stay away from the lemonade."

"It's French 75," Erin explained, sniffing the glass. "Champagne and lemon juice."

"Gross," he mumbled, laying the glass on a tray beside the table. "Give me a scotch and a cheeseburger any day."

"There's plenty of scotch making its way around the room, too." She pointed to the waiters, brandishing low-ball glasses with spherical ice cubes.

A minute later, waiters laid plates of gourmet cheeseburger sliders on the table. Erin squeezed his knee under the table, "It's your party, Love."

"It's terrific," he settled back in his chair, snagging a scotch from a passing tray.

He'd mingle with the company executives later; they weren't any more interested in him than he was in them. For now, Dave was content, enjoying an evening with some of the people he loved most in the world. The woman to his left gave him life, and the one on his right gave him a new life. Something to look forward to and cling to, like a raft in a storm.

"I'd like to propose a toast," he stood, lifting his glass aloft. The whole room fell quiet, he took a breath, thinking about what words he could say that would do justice to the feelings he held in his heart. He was surrounded by his friends, the people who loved and believed in him. "Thank you all for coming," he looked around, making eye contact with his team. They didn't have to come. "For standing by my side…I couldn't…. I wouldn't even want to be here without any of you- Uh…" He paused, glancing around the room. The flash of a photographer's camera cut across the room.

"No pictures, please." Dave held up one hand, eyeing the reporter on the far side of the room, against the wall and the giant camera hanging around the skinny guy's neck.

"Uh..." the guy scratched his neck, sweating beading down the collar of his shirt. "I'm Jeff from People Magazine." He said flatly. "I have a press pass."

"I don't care who you are, Jeff. I said no pictures."

"Can I record it? Just the voice?"

"No."

"Fine," Jeff relented.

"Never mind," Dave said, sitting back down. The moment for romanticized speeches had passed.

"That was beautiful, David," Erin squeezed his hand on top of the table.

"No specific thank yous," Carmelina pointed out, eyeing her only son disapprovingly. "I only gave birth to you… 9 and a half pounds, this one was." Dave winced when she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. "After you, your sisters just…fell out."

"Oh boy…" Erin blanched pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.

"She's kidding, Erin," Dave said quickly. "Don't listen to her… she's drunk."

"Hmm... yeah, I… I thought you would have been bigger."

The band changed to a slower song; couples began to make their way to the dance floor. "Dance with me?" He asked, reaching for her hand. She nodded, letting him lead her to the floor.

"Thank you…" he whispered in her ear, holding her close. "I know Amanda didn't arrange for the scotch and the cheeseburgers."

"I might have had something to do with it." She admitted, resting her head on his shoulder, "Amanda's terrible at her job. So, the publishing house asked my opinion on the menu. Once we got here, they asked if we wanted mini-tacos or the cheeseburgers."

"Nice choice," he chuckled. "Thanks for getting my mom here," he hadn't realized how much he missed having his family around until he saw her.

"She jumped at the chance to see you." Erin said, "I booked her tickets on the drive here."

"I knew you were on your phone a lot," he acknowledged as the song changed.

"Can we sit for this one?" She asked, her hand unconsciously went to the tight spot on her belly. "I'm tired."

"Sure," he led them back to the table. Surely the dim lighting was playing tricks on his aging eyes.

"Are you sure you're, okay? Babe, you don't look so good."

"Gee, thanks, David. Would it kill the caterers to pass out water?" Erin complained, blinking past the sudden spots in her vision. "Is it hot in here?"

"We're going to get some air." He stood, pulling out her chair and offering his hand. They ambled up to the bar, for a glass of water before going to the door.

"They're sweet together," Penelope gushed.

"She's…" Hotch took another sip of his beer and thought for a minute. Laying the bottle down with a 'clink.' "She's softened with him."

"Aww…Like you did with me," Beth observed, rubbing his shoulder.

"Oh yeah," Hotch deadpanned, fixing the table with a glare. "I'm practically a marshmallow."

"She keeps me involved," Carmelina said, "Dave's first wife…" she clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "He never let me meet the other two."

"That's saying something," Reid played with the stir stick in his Manhattan.


"Feeling, okay?" Dave asked, holding open the door that led to the sidewalk. The temperature had dropped considerably as the night wore on and the smells of the city dissipated with the rain. He led them a bit down the sidewalk to a decent-looking park bench. "Sit down for a minute."

"Dave-" she protested, shaking her head. Flashes of the last time she was on a bench in New York, filled her head. "It's too much like last time."

"This isn't like that," he reminded her. "I'm not leaving you and the bad guys are either dead or in jail." He said, with conviction. The gun hiding under his pant leg, helped him feel more secure. "Nothing bad is going to happen to us now."

"Hang on," she pulled a pack of antibacterial wipes from her clutch and wiped down the bench before they sat.

"Are you going to answer my question or make me guess?" He asked pointedly.

"I don't want to be that obnoxiously whiny pregnant person-" she deflected, crossing her arms against the cool wind.

"I asked you a question and I want an honest answer," he said sitting down, tugging her down beside him.

"My feet feel like I shoved two Christmas hams into my pumps."

"Let's sneak to the hotel," he offered. "You can put your feet up and we can split a pint of Chunky Monkey from the bodega next to the hotel."

"Hmm… that sounds like a plan. We can't leave your mother with the team." Erin pointed out. "Another cocktail and I'm afraid she'll make a pass at Agent Morgan."

He chuckled, "I wouldn't want to get between Garcia and Morgan."

"That's what I'm saying," she said, with a laugh. Neither made a move to stand up. Just sitting there, in the dark with nothing but the streetlights to guide them. Sharing space, listening to the city pass them by.

"My mother was right about something," Dave reached inside his pocket, feeling for the velvet box. "I didn't thank you… in my toast…. I should have."

"You wrote your first book long before I came along," she said, threading her arm through his. "There's no need to thank me."

"I have a lot to be thankful for," he said. "I never thought I'd be here again…" his voice trailed off. "I have everything I've ever wanted." He said, pulling out the box.

"Agent Rossi!" A voice called out; a blinding flash cut through Dave's line of sight. "I'm Parker, with the Daily Mail. Are you going to propose?"

"Hey, Kid. I don't want to be filmed-"

"Show off the ring-" the reporter argued, coming closer to the bench.

Back off!" Dave demanded, shoving one hand over his face. Blocking the camera's view of Erin, with his body. "

"We're TMZ we're supposed to be here," more paparazzi called out. The flash of the cameras was blinding, the press passes dangled from their necks.

"Who called you?" Erin called out; this was exactly what he didn't want. Dave's hand clenched around her fingers. Small steps brought them further and further from the bench and the party.

"Tell us what happened in the warehouse," a reporter shouted. The hoard of press clamored for attention. "FBI agents attacking each other is a problem. Strife inside law enforcement is dangerous for the public."

Erin moved to stand beside Dave, as a Bureau Section Chief, hiding behind her man wasn't a good look. "It's a problem that the FBI is working tirelessly to combat and Human Resources is working overtime to make sure that agents are able to work together without bias. The public can be assured that Alex Blake is no longer a representative of the Bureau," Erin shouted to be heard. "That's my statement. Now go home," Erin said in her best 'don't fuck with me' tone. "Go home to your families."

"She called them!" Dave exploded, stamping his foot. "I told Amanda that I didn't want this. I don't like pandering to the press in my personal life-"

"Dave-"

"I know what you're going to say and it's not okay, Erin." He argued, "It's not okay." The only place where he had no authority was on his own damn tour. "I pay her to keep this shit from happening. This kind of stunt has nothing to do with my books!"

"I know…" her stomach clenched, she should tell him what Amanda was doing… but if she waited long enough, Amanda would hang herself with her own rope. "Let's go back to the party."

He nodded, scanning the area around them for any other lurkers. "Let's go back." They walked back into the party, snagging plates of food on the way back to their table. "You'll feel better after you eat." He decided, pulling out her chair. Food was his love language, and she wouldn't turn it down.

The conversation had died down just enough for Dave to get a word in edgewise. "Erin and I are going to eat and head out; we have to be in the studio by 7 Am."

"I'm not ready to leave," Mrs. Rossi protested, snagging another glass of champagne off a passing tray.

"Ma—" Dave protested, he didn't want to leave her behind in the middle of New York City, it didn't seem right. "Come back with us, Mama."

Derek shook his head, "we can bring her back to the hotel, Rossi."

"She's fun," Penelope assured him, with a smile and patted Dave's hand.

"You're sure?" He wanted to be certain that his mom wasn't encroaching on their night out.

"I'm good for another hour," Hotch said, still stone sober. He checked his watch and grabbed another passing plate.

"She'll be fine, Dave," Beth assured him. "Nobody at this table is going to let anything happen to your mom."


"Would you come and sit down," Dave complained, standing in the doorway of their adjoining rooms. "At least change out of your dress." She'd abandoned her heels at the door, but there was no time to change out of the floor-length gown. "I told Mother she should have come back with us."

"She wasn't ready to leave," Erin pointed out. "Aaron's bringing your mother and all of her stuff back here-" Erin was suddenly in a rush to clean out the room. Dave had already moved her suitcases into his room, but the bed needed to be made. "Can you go to the lobby and get clean sheets?" She called out, ripping the sheets off the bed and into a heap on the floor.

"She doesn't have to stay here," he pointed out, exasperated. "We can get her, her own room down the hall." He scrambled for a solution to a problem that didn't exist, "you don't have to wear yourself out."

"Dave," she stood up, kicking the sheets further into the corner. With her lips pressed in a thin line. The look in her eyes told him how stupid his suggestion really was. "She's 83 years old, hungover in a new city. She'll stay here with us." She said, with finality. Nobody would ever accuse her of being an inconsiderate daughter-in-law. "Can you please go get the sheets and take the dogs out?"

"Be right back," he decided, knocking on the doorframe.

She waited until the door swung closed before crossing into the other room and grabbing the bottle of Tylenol from her suitcase. According to David, his mother barely drank. Which meant a hangover headache was imminent in the morning?

Erin popped open the bottle and brought it back into Mrs. Rossi's room. Intent on leaving the bottle on the nightstand. She padded across the room, reaching for the edge of the nightstand. "Dammit!" The bottle missed the table, rattling to the floor. It rolled across the beige carpet, leaving a trail of tablets on the carpet and disappeared under the bed. Of course, it did. She knelt, balancing one hand on the edge of the mattress, and grabbed the bottle, shoving her fist into the small of her back, to relieve some of the pain there; and using her other hand to push herself back up onto the mattress. Usually, she'd leave it until morning, but she didn't want the dogs to find it.

Her body was heavy and exhausted. She was over it. She picked up the pills, dropping them one by one into the bottle.

Leaving the Tylenol on the table, too exhausted to notice that she might benefit from actually taking some before giving away the whole bottle, she crossed into the other room and crawled on top of the bed, fully dressed.

She didn't notice that all the lamps in both rooms were on and barely registered the way the door beeped when Dave withdrew his key card.

"I went to the sundry store in the lobby-" he said, fully expecting her to hear him. "They had Gatorade, I thought it'd be good for the hangover." He crossed into the adjoining room, expecting Erin to be on the other side of the mattress, waiting for him to return with the sheets. "Erin?" He laid the shopping bag on the nightstand beside the bare mattress, then ducked into the bathroom. "Babe?"

He crossed into their room, "You're wiped out," Dave observed, padding over to the edge of the bed.

"I just need a minute," she lifted her head off the pillow, but her words were slurred.

It took him 15 minutes to put the sheets on the bed for his mother and another 20 to take both dogs out to do their business. In that time, he expected Erin might wake up and change into something that didn't have a 'dry-clean only' tag.

"Bella," he called out, padding across the room. He waited for the heap on the mattress to respond, a snore was all he got. "Babe, I can't cuddle an evening gown." He said, a little louder.

"Huh?" Erin mumbled, forcing her eyes open and pushing herself up on one arm. She looked down at the satin and spandex monstrosity she was wearing. "Can you please cut me out of this thing?"

"With pleasure," he went to his suitcase, pulling out an old FBI sweatshirt, before cranking up the hotel's air conditioner up to the full blast.


"We love to stay at the YMCA-AAA!"

"Shh!" Hotch and Morgan hissed in unison. "We're in a hotel," Derek pointed out. As Mrs. Rossi caught her balance on his arm.

"Strangers in the night…." She slurred off-key, batting her lashes at Derek.

"We were dancin,' Penelope joined in, only slightly more coherent. As they wandered down the hallways.

"Guys!" Dave called out, waving them over. "Would you four be quiet?" He asked in a harsh whisper.

"It's just k-k-araoke!" Mrs. Rossi argued, grabbing his arm.

"Without the bar," Derek deadpanned.

"Or a stage," Hotch countered, rolling his eyes, passing off Carmelita's suitcase to Dave.

"Who needs a microphone when we have our lungs!" Penelope called out, throwing her head back.

"Shh! Baby Girl!" Derek scolded, grabbing her arm. "We'll sing on the way home."

"How much have they had?" Dave asked, over Carmelita's head. His mother didn't drink, surely this wouldn't end well.

"They shared a bottle of wine and a round of tequila shots," Hotch answered, grabbing Mrs. Rossi's arm to steady her.

"Thanks for taking care of her," Rossi said glibly. Taking his mother's elbow, "say goodnight, Ma." He felt like a parent, picking up the kid from his ex. "I've never paid a babysitter before."

"Save it for the actual baby," Derek said, "Reid is waiting for us in the car. I never thought I would have to D. D. for the group."

"Thanks again, let's get brunch after the taping," Dave offered.

"Goodnight, Ma!" Carmelita hiccupped, waving her hand. "Thanks for the night out," She grinned, making eyes at Hotch, batting her lashes. Brushing her fingers down his arm. "See ya later, Suits."

"My job," Hotch pointed to himself, mildly uncomfortable. He pulled on his collar "is done here. See you tomorrow."

"Sorry about her," Dave didn't bother trying to seem guilty. "Goodnight, thanks for bringing her back." He said, leading her back to their rooms.

"Did you have a fun time, Ma?" Dave asked, leading her to her room.

"I'm not nearly as intoxicated as you think I am," Mrs. Rossi said stoically.

He gave a wry smile, pulling back the blankets on the bed, "Then why did you act like you were?"

She shrugged offhandedly. "It made Penelope laugh and she is as drunk as she seems."

"And flirting with Aaron?" Dave asked pointedly. As she sat down on the edge of the mattress. "What was that about?"

She shrugged again, giving a saucy smile. "That was for me… and he's cute when he blushes."

Now Dave was curious, "What about the tequila?"

Carmelita grinned sneakily, "I bought the round, and they were water."

Dave laughed, a rolling belly laugh. His mother was a sainted devil, he was sure of it.