A note: I don't know anything about how a daytime talk show segment is filmed. I took some creative licenses. If you know how these things work, feel free to drop me a line.


"The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, is in its loyalty to each other."

Mario Puzo

Dave tip-toed across the room, gently closing the door between his room and his mother's, switching off the lights as he went. Still…something didn't seem right. Call it… father's intuition, even if he wasn't sure that was a real thing. She'd been to a million black-tie parties and most of them were more exciting and physically taxing than the one they'd just left. None of them would have left Erin this exhausted. He walked over to the bed, stepping over Mudgie, who briefly lifted his head in acknowledgment.

"How's your mom?" Erin lifted her head off the pillow.

"She's fine," The mattress dipped as he sat down beside Erin. "Are you going to clue me in here?" He trailed firm hands down her back, lowering the zipper of her evening gown.

She sat up, just enough to look him in the eye. "What do you mean?"

"Are we having a baby this week?" Being direct was his best option if he wanted a direct answer.

"What makes you think that?" She sat up all the way, lowering her feet to the floor, shoving the dress off her shoulders before crawling back under the covers clad in nothing but her underwear.

"Roll over," he directed, kneeling on the mattress. Pulling back the blankets to give himself access to her shoulders. "I'm concerned," he mumbled, pressing his warm lips against her neck. "You're never this tired and the books say…"

"You read the baby books?" He knew better than to be offended by the surprise in her tone.

"You didn't expect me to walk into this parent-thing, unprepared, now did ya?"

"No." She totally expected him to skim the opening chapter of 'What to Expect' when he first brought it home and read the last page the day before their child's birth.

"I've read at least one." He'd studied like he was cramming for the Bar exam and what he didn't understand, he Googled. His copy of 'What to Expect' was bloated with color-coded tags and annotated with handwritten notes in the margins. "But you didn't answer my question." His hands worked tenderly down her back, loosening the kinks in her muscles.

"If I was a betting woman… I'd say…Wednesday at the latest." It was a wild guess and she had nothing but her intuition to go on.

"Wednesday?" Dave countered, suddenly skeptical. "Bella, It's-" He looked over at the alarm clock on the table. That read, 1 am. "Babe, it's Saturday. Do we need to go home now?"

"No." She answered flatly. "We'll finish the tour and go home Sunday." They had plenty of time.

Later that night, Erin rolled out of bed, eyes still half-closed in sleep, she wandered across the hotel room and into the bathroom for what seemed like, the 100th time that night. The LED numbers on the alarm clock on the nightstand, read 3am. She didn't even bother flipping on the overhead light after she closed the door.

"Ugh, again, Babe?" Dave rolled over and stuck his arm across the table then flipped on the bedside lamp, filling the dark room with yellow light. "Are you alright?" He called, barely lifting his head off the pillow. She'd been up and down all night and the last leg of his book tour was kicking his ass too. He had two more events in New York City. Before kissing the tour-life goodbye, for several years.

He waited for her to respond; concern prickled his belly. "Erin?" He called, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. He stepped into his slippers and padded across the room towards the bathroom, stumbling over Bridget's pee pads, he reached out, catching his balance on the doorframe. These pregnant women were going to be the death of him.

He rapped sharply on the door, with his hand on the brass doorknob and his heart in his mouth. "Erin-"

"I'm fine," she called, her tone betraying her words. The toilet flushed, he heard the sink run and then turn off. Still, she didn't come out. "Go back to bed."

"Not a chance. I'm coming in," He turned the knob, opening the door just enough to step inside.

"I'm alright," she shielded her face with her hand against the dim light. "Close the door-" she blinked, trying to clear her vision.

He stepped closer and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Come back to bed-" he mumbled, instinctively rubbing her lower back the way she liked it.

"Can we turn out the lights?" She shut her eyes tightly. "My head-" she was starting to regret leaving the bottle of Tylenol in the other room, with her future mother-in-law.

"Where's your blood pressure cuff?" He asked concern colored his tone. She religiously kept track of her blood pressure, especially during the last few weeks. She was at a higher risk of preeclampsia and never left home without her cuff.

"The inside pocket of my suitcase-" she said, leaning over the sink. Then walked into the room, standing against the mattress.

"Got it," he unzipped the pocket and grabbed the cuff. Then hurried to her side. "Check it." He unwrapped the cuff and slid it around her arm, then pressed the button to start the machine. 30 seconds later, the digital screen gave the results.

"132 over 80," Dave read off the results. "That's high-"

"Barely," She yanked the cuff off her arm. "It's borderline, at best."

He took the cuff and dropped it haphazardly in her suitcase. "Want some water?" He was already standing in front of the mini- fridge.

"Just turn out the lights-"

He grabbed a bottle of water and sat it beside her on the nightstand. "Right…. right…" he rushed around the room, flipping light switches. "Can I get you something else?"

"You can come back to bed," she assured him, patting the mattress beside her.


The alarm blared through the quiet darkness of the hotel room, the blackout curtains lived up to their name Erin reached over Bridget, who had curled up beside her in the middle of the night, and found her phone. Forcing one eye open, she killed the alarm and turned on the lamp. "David…" She called out, gently trailing her fingers up his arm.

"Leave it alone," he didn't bother opening his eyes. All the public appearances and everything else that came with being on tour, was a young man's game. "I don't want to get up," he groaned into his pillow.

"We're going on T.V." Erin reminded him, without getting out of bed. Instead, she stared at the white popcorn ceiling, waiting for the motivation that wouldn't come.

"I don't care. How do you sleep like that?" He asked, running his hand down her taut belly, where he felt their son constantly moving.

"I don't. I think Bridget might be stuck," she said, referencing the dog that had somehow rolled on her back, with her paws batting the air.

"Roll her over," he mumbled into the cotton pillowcase, without moving his hand.

"Poor, fat thing," Erin tsked, scratching the sparse gray hairs scattered through Bridget's blonde coat. Her abdomen was stretched to capacity, with impending puppies, and her bright pink, swollen nipples drooped, when she walked. Age and human ignorance had taken their toll. "You're not the only one who's too old for this, Erin mumbled."

"Who are you calling 'old?" Dave countered, propping himself up on one arm.

"I'm commiserating with the dog,"

"Well, stop it. We're not old…we're-seasoned."

"Like a cast-iron skillet," Erin quipped with a smile. "We'll last forever."

"Damn straight. Cast iron's the best there is. I'm going out with the cockroaches and Duct Tape," he said, dropping back on the pillow. Another 10 minutes of sleep didn't sound so bad.


Standing backstage in the television studio, Dave had the microphone clipped to his collar and the transmitter was attached to the waistband of his jeans. He didn't know if he had stage fright or if the ancient studio's central air unit couldn't keep up with the heat outside. The studio makeup seemed to be melting off his face, to prove the point, the makeup artist appeared for the third time, blotting powder on his nose.

"Can you put my phone in your bag?" He asked, glancing over the woman's shoulder, to look at Erin.

"Sure," Erin held out her hand and unzipped her clutch. "Are you alright?" He didn't usually sweat so much.

"I'm fine," he gave a smile that was more confident than he felt and handed over his phone.

"I'll put it in a locker," Erin assured him, crossing the room. She grabbed an empty lockbox, stuffed her purse inside and put the key in her pocket. Just as she was about to close the door, her phone vibrated. If she had known for sure that it wasn't one of her progeny on the other end of the line, she wouldn't have bothered opening her bag; But she didn't know, so she checked.

'Fake it. Make him look good-Amanda.'

She slammed the locker closed, her hands shaking.

"Are you alright?" She felt Dave's quizzical gaze on her.

"It was the wind," she answered, brushing past him.

"The wind?" He countered, willing to give anything for a breeze in the stuffy, overcrowded green room, where various TV production staff milled around as they waited for the cameras to start rolling.

"Five…four…three…two…Action!"

Dave's forehead stayed damp with sweat, but he didn't dare reach for the handkerchief in his breast pocket, lest they have to stop the cameras again. "Agent Rossi…" the talk show host caught his attention. "Your first book was published ten years ago, is that right?" She probed, leaning in over her crossed legs.

"Ten years ago this week," he said, with pride. "I never expected it to... go so well." He had the good grace to blush as the studio swelled with noise from the audience. His team and his mother took up the middle row of the auditorium.

The talk show host leaned in again, she was a Katie Couric or Barbara Walters wannabe, but too young to walk the line between unabashed questioning and genuine empathy. "Can you tell us what happened in the warehouse? What about the hotel where you were first attacked?"

Erin paused, the knot in her throat grew larger when she tried to speak around it. "I'd rather not." She cleared her throat, Dave's hand squeezed hers, letting her know he had her back.

"But you did have a complicated relationship with Alex Blake, before the attack."

"It wasn't complicated," Erin denied, locking eyes with the host. "We were coworkers, it's that simple."


"Dad!" Paul called out, jabbing the 'pause' button on the remote. He rushed

down the stairs, his footsteps thundered through the house until he found his father, poised over the pool table.

"What's the matter," Pete laid the pool stick aside.

"Mom and Dave are on T.V."

"Take your shot, Pete," Vera said, still holding the stick. She went over to the flat screen that was mounted on the wall and grabbed the remote, turning on the T.V.

"Hurry!" Paul shuffled from side to side, his grandma seemed to be taking her sweet time turning the T.V. to the right channel.

"Hold your horses," Vera complained, finally landing on the right show. She clicked the remote, raising the volume.

Peter stopped in his tracks, focusing on the 60-inch TV.

"But that wasn't the case," Lisa Robinson pressed.

"Alex Blake and I were in direct contact," she was being deliberately vague. Her children were watching, and they didn't need to know all the gory details of what she'd been through.

"What does that mean? You were her superior?"

"Yes. But this interview isn't about me." She turned back to Dave, plastering a smile on her face.

"Maybe…" Dave picked up the thread, "it'll be in a book."

Erin laughed, a dark hollow sound, that no one other than Dave would know was completely fabricated. "We'll see." Her hand flew to her abdomen, her back went ramrod straight in the armchair.

Peter checked his watch, eyes lifting between the TV and the clock. "It's hard to tell, but if I had to guess…." he checked his watch again, watching Erin shift uncomfortably in her seat. "I'd say my ex-wife is in labor."

"No…" Vera shook her head, picking up her pool stick again. "She still has 3 weeks to go."

Peter grabbed his phone, poised to dial Dave's number. "If she wants to have that baby in Virginia, they need to leave now."


"Babe," Dave's voice took a concerned edge as she squeezed his hand like a vice. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, patting her belly with the other hand. "Just a cramp."

"A cramp?" Lisa echoed, unconcerned.

Erin nodded, plastering her best smile on her face. "Wait…" She squeezed her eyes closed, "there's another one."

"Erin?" Dave's heart jumped in his throat. "I thought we had a few days." He said, suddenly panicked.

"Annd…" the host called out, beaming for the camera. "That's all the time we have because I'm your host, Lisa Robinson and I know nothing about birthing babies!"

"Are you okay?" Dave stood up, helping Erin to her feet and back into the green room. His mind racing with possibilities. "Let's get out of here- we'll go to the hospital-I'll install the car seat-"

"I'm fine, Dave." Erin stated, passing him the key to the locker. "Can you grab my purse from the locker?"

"You're fine?" He echoed, taking the key.

She nodded, "they're not steady contractions."

"You're sure? Maybe we should get you checked out?"

"The only thing we need to do is go eat," Erin assured him. Laying a soft hand on his arm. "I promise."

"Okay," he breathed a sigh of relief before walking to the lockers and grabbing her bag. Once he swung the metal door closed, the bag in his hand vibrated. He knew the rules about going into a woman's purse, but it could have been his phone. They were both technically on-call. Surely the etiquette made an exception for FBI agents. With his eyes closed, he found his phone in the bag and shoved it in his pocket. Before crossing the room and passing the purse back to her.

"Alright," she flashed him a genuine smile, slinging the strap over her shoulder. "Let's go eat."

The hotel's restaurant was top-notch, and their lunch fare was something to behold. The BAU team took up two tables in the middle of the restaurant.

By the end of the meal, everyone was happy and satisfied. Good food, family, and good friends, what more could a man ask for. He looked over at Erin and noticed how carefree and happy she looked. He hadn't seen her this stress-free and relaxed in forever. God knows she needed it, after all the crap, Blake and her coconspirators had put her through. It also appeared that the contractions had eased. He watched her throw her head back and howl with laughter as his mother related another of his childhood antics.

Dave knew he wanted to commemorate this day. The next time one of the waiters that had been serving their group passed by, he waited until the young man had dropped off his burden and then called him over, asking him if he would do him a favor by taking a picture of the group. The young man was happy to oblige, so Garcia handed him her phone since she had the better camera and she showed him how to use it.

The young man took several shots from different angles and then had everyone line up on one side of the table for a group shot. Dave thanked him again, as Penelope took her phone back, showed off the photo gallery, and smiled at how good the photos came out. Dessert and coffee came next and of course more good-natured ribbing of their favorite FBI Agent and Author.

It was getting late, it had been a long day and everyone was exhausted. The young man who took the pictures was busy with another table, so a waitress from another table brought over the check.

"I got this," Dave held out his hand for the check. He looked around the table, and everyone suddenly looked uncomfortable. Penelope shared a wide-eyed glance with Reid and Derek.

"We can split it," Hotch offered, holding out his hand for the bill.

"Or…" Morgan paused, "we can each pay our part."

"What's going on here? Dave asked, each of his friends looked like they'd been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"I just think we should pay our own way," Penelope squeaked.

Reid shrugged, shoveling another mouthful of potatoes into his mouth. "Fine with me, but with Rossi's income, another forty dollars on his credit card is a grain of salt in the Gulf of Mexico."

"Is this your way of saying you're broke, Pretty Boy?" Derek teased. "You got the…" he waved his hand. "Homeless artist, look what's going on."

"I'm not homeless," Reid grabbed a roll and shoved it in the pocket of his sweater. "I can pay my own way."

"You're not putting up a good argument," Dave pointed out. "We can split the next one."

"And I'll cover Reid," Erin said, pulling out her wallet.

"I don't care who pays," Camelina said, pushing her plate away. "As long as I only have to cover myself."

"I got you, Mama," Dave assured her. "Put your checkbook away." He turned to Erin, patting her knee. "Put yours away too."

He laid his card in the check folio in the middle of the table, "I'll be right back." He made his way to the men's room, and the phone in his pocket vibrated. On instinct, before walking into the bathroom, he pulled out the phone.

Peter: Saw you on T.V. Is everything okay?

That was odd. Erin's ex never texted him directly. Before he could think about that too hard, another text flashed across the screen.

Amanda: 'Nice timing on those 'cramps.' Everyone bought it.

Shit. He closed out the texts, realizing that he'd grabbed the wrong phone. What the hell was Amanda talking about? The curiosity was too much… he knew better than to go through Erin's phone. But she went through his too. Fuck it. He'd beg for forgiveness later. Scrolling through the texts between Erin and Amanda, his blood pressure rose. He saw red. Peeing would have to wait. He went back to the table, with all eyes on him.

"What's wrong, David?" Erin reached for him, but he pulled back. "I'm going back to the room…" He turned on his heel, stalking toward the elevators. He needed to figure out his next move.


Dave stepped off the elevator, practically jogging back to his room. His mind raced, he loved Erin and he thought she believed in him. He thought they had worked out all of their trust issues. Apparently, he was wrong, and she didn't fully trust him. He unlocked the room and sat down on the bed with his head in his hands. He should have bought a scotch before storming out of the restaurant… just a little something to take the edge off. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair. He wouldn't need his wallet or his room key for the foreseeable future.

Just as the thought left his head, there was a tentative knock on the door. He yanked the door open, "What do you want?"

"I don't know what your problem is," Erin stated, holding out a glass of scotch. "You look like you need to calm down."

"I found your phone," he stalked across the room, tossing Erin's phone onto the bed.

"Oh?" The ice cubes clinked in the glass as she sat it on the table. "Did you grab the wrong one when you went into my purse?"

"Don't ask me stupid questions. You lied, Erin! You lied to me on Live Television!" He hissed, from across the room.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You pretended to be in labor, how is that not a lie?"

"I wanted to play up your image of a loving father and husband, David I swear," she begged, pleading for him to look past his ego and see things from her perspective. "I was trying to help you!"

"You went to Penelope to fix my stats." He said, matter of fact, there was no room for argument. "That's why the team was being so weird over the bill. They think the tour is failing and I'm going broke."

"Of course, I did, David!"

His eyes widened as if she'd slapped him. "You told Penelope that we're broke?" If Garcia thought he was having problems, it was a guarantee that the rest of the team thought so too.

"We're not broke," she insisted, she'd been over their expenses a hundred times. Things could be so much worse. "I asked for her help with the advertising; but what did you think I was going to do? You weren't even coming up on Google, David! Amanda's been screwing you all this time. She gets you to sign a contract, skimps on the advertising, and pockets what's left of the budget then she stages run-ins with the press to drum up publicity."

"You're acting like I don't already know this! You intervened, Erin! I had my numbers under control, and you intervened. You interfered because you thought I couldn't do it."

"That's not true. Do you hear how silly you sound, David Rossi? I didn't do it because I didn't trust you, I did it, you, horse's ass because I LOVE YOU. I will be dammed if I stand by and let someone take advantage of you, not as long as there is breath in my body." She was adamant, standing in front of him, arms crossed over her boat neck blouse. "I knew you could pull it off, but you needed help-"

He cut her off. "You lost faith in me, you thought I couldn't provide for us, so you cheated the system!" Sometimes being a profiler was a real kick in the teeth. He didn't want to know that the person he loved more than the air in his lungs, had gone behind his back.

"That's not true." she reached for him, but he saw right through her attempts at connecting. "Just come sit down-"

"I don't want to sit down," he growled. "I don't want to sit down; I don't want to connect. I think I deserve to be angry! My team thinks I'm headed for the poor house and my publicist is screwing me over! You…" he threw an irate hand in her direction. "Are the one person who is supposed to be on my side!"

"I'm always on your side." She said softly, withdrawing from him, "but I'm not going to stand here and argue with you when you know that everything, I've ever done that you disagreed with, has been for your own good." There was a terrible note of finality to her voice, their fight was over.

"What are you doing?" He watched as she fastened a leash to Bridget's collar and grabbed her suitcase from the corner of the room. "Erin," he stood in front of her, blocking the door. "Where are you going? You can't leave-"


"What do you think is going on over there?" Penelope asked, she and Derek changed rooms to the one next door from Dave and Erin. Garcia and Morgan stayed put, flipping through the T.V. channels, if they tried to leave, they might accidentally overhear their boss's fighting. Or worse, run into them in the hallway. Nobody wanted that.

"They'll get past it," Hotch chimed in. Kneeling on the mattress with his ear pressed to the wall that connected the two rooms. He and Carmelina followed Morgan and Garcia back to the room. Reid was smart enough to get a cab and nobody knew where he went. "It sounds like she's leaving."

Morgan bit back an amused grin, "I didn't know you were so nosey, Hotch."

"He's holding my place." Carmelina explained, "here." She held out a drinking glass. "Try this."

"I don't know…. Rossi looked pissed," Morgan said.

"I've never seen him like that," Penelope agreed, keeping her voice low.

"I'm taking Bridget home," Erin decided with her head held high.

"Why are you so quick to walk out?" His voice was hard and the look on his face cut her to the quick.

"I'm not going to trap myself in a hotel room, with a man who doesn't trust me to do the right thing."

"You don't have to take Bridget-" he said quickly, reaching for the leash.

"She's my dog." Erin countered, digging in her heels. "We're going to go home and see whose water breaks first. I'm sure Amanda can handle doing her job and getting you a car," She threw back, with her hand on the doorknob. A car, a plane ticket, a one-way shuttle to the moon. She didn't care, as long as David Rossi was as far away from her as possible. She crossed the room, tossing things into her bag as she went.

"Babe," Dave reached for her. She was too calm, he expected tears, yelling, and empty threats. It was her calm, calculating complacency that he wasn't prepared for. It shook him to his core. "Just tell me," He begged. "Did I blow up our lives?" Was he going to come home to an empty house and a note?

She blew out a breath, choking back the lump in her throat. She didn't expect a fight with him would hurt so much. They had their share of arguments over the years, but they were never personal. They never made her question their foundation. If he didn't trust her, then she couldn't stay. "Dave, I just want you to believe in me. It's clear that you don't," blinking back tears, she squeezed his bicep. "Finish your tour and I'll see you at home."

"Erin, wait- don't go like this!"

"Watch me," she snarled as she walked out and slammed the door.

Dave just stood there; his feet were made of lead. Who knew if she would still be home when he got there?

As soon as the door clicked shut, the adjoining door opened. Carmelina Rossi entered the room, giving her son a piece of her mind in rapid Italian.


Erin Strauss didn't run unless someone was chasing her. It wasn't ladylike, but that didn't stop her from walking with purpose down the hallway, with her suitcase dragging behind her and her dog by her side. Pressing the button for the elevator, she tapped her foot impatiently. The last thing she needed was to run into someone she knew, with her bags packed and tears in her eyes. After an eternity, the elevator dinged, parting the double doors. She stepped inside the metal box, nudging Bridget to her side.


Dave waited for a beat, then wandered into the hallway. "You guys can come out now," he called out. Rapping twice on the door to Morgan and Garcia's room.

"Just a minute," Penelope called out, shoving Hotch to the floor.

"Ouch!" Hotch sat up, rubbing his shoulder. "Was that necessary, Garcia?" He groaned, looking up at her from the floor.

"He's gonna know!" She hissed through clenched teeth.

"What are you guys doing in there?" Dave called out, from the other side of the door.

Penelope yanked the door wide, "You let her leave?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Dave countered, stepping inside the room. "Lock her in the room?"

"Yes!" Garcia shouted, glaring at him.

"Good luck with that," Hotch deadpanned. "Erin's a good shot."

"And she throws a mean right hook," Morgan added. "But seriously… what happened in there?"

He didn't know why, but he told his friends as many details as he could muster. When he was done, he wanted the floor under his feet to open and swallow him whole. The fight was stupid, he realized, maybe too late. Who cares that Penelope had to do the advertising, the point was, it got done and that wouldn't have happened without her.

While Dave was busy with his friends, Erin handed over her parking ticket to the valet and waited for him to bring her car around. She didn't want to drive home alone, the thought of pulling up the driveway without David left a gaping hole in her chest. Maybe getting another room, at a different hotel was the best option? They would have the space they needed to calm down and drive back together.

Spotting her Lexus coming around the corner, Erin took her keys from the valet, handed over her suitcase, and coaxed Bridget into the backseat. Before climbing in and putting the car in 'drive.'

"Wait!" A familiar voice called out; Erin caught her future mother-in-law's reflection in the rearview mirror. She hit the locks, waving her over.

"Are you running away from him?" Carmelina asked quickly, climbing into the passenger seat.

"We're at an impasse," Erin explained. Pulling away from the hotel. "I don't want to go home without him, but-"

"Spending another minute arguing with him sounds like torture?" Carmelina supplied, in understanding. "His father was the same way."

They made it about a block down the street, when Erin's hands clenched against the steering wheel, the sudden pain spreading across her back made her toes curl. "Dammit!" Erin hissed, blowing out a breath. She pulled onto the side of the road, hitting her hazard lights.

"Erin?" Carmelina called out, "What's wrong, talk to me?"

"Uh…" Erin squeezed her eyes shut against another searing wave of pain in her back. "I- think-" no. She shook her head, "I- need Dave."

After talking it out, Dave knew that he had to call her and apologize. Then he would fire Amanda, if she kept up the attitude, he'd do it publicly.


Erin grabbed the phone from her bag, realizing too late that she never switched back. The two black iPhones were practically identical. Going into labor in the car wasn't a part of her weekend itinerary. She didn't factor in a catastrophic fight with her child's father, in another state; when she wrote out her birth plan and she sure as hell didn't expect him to stop answering her calls.

"What the hell, David?" She bit out, as her own voicemail came on the line. "I-" she froze against another clench of white-hot pain in her back. "I don't want to explain myself on my own answering machine! I know you're mad at me, but this isn't the time to be so petty!"

"Breathe…" Carmelina coaxed, "you're okay-"

Erin wanted to argue that she absolutely was not okay. Driving a car with contractions coming less than ten minutes apart. She had no idea where her child's father was-

Pulling in another breath to calm herself down, "I'm in labor…Dave, I need you."


Dave walked back to his own room, planning to call Erin when he got there. He stopped in front of the door, reaching for the room key in the pocket of his jeans. "Shit!" He ground out, coming up short. His stomach dropped, his room key was next to his phone, and both were in his jacket. He took off at a run for the lobby, to get a new key.

As Dave reached to jab the Elevator button, it dinged and as Rossi hurried in, he plowed right into a frazzled-looking Hotch.

"There you are. We've been looking for you, everywhere. We'll call the others to let them know I found you on the way."

"Whatever you guys need me for is going to have to wait. I have to get a key for my room from the front desk, so I can get my phone. I am locked in the room, so I can call Erin, apologize, and beg her to come back."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Dave, Erin called me when she couldn't reach you…"

"Why in the blue blazes didn't you say that in the first place. Is she okay? Where is she? Did she sound like she had calmed down? Wait, why was she trying to reach me? What could be so vital that she would call you to reach me? Oh my God!" Dave's mind raced to fill in the blanks. "Don't tell me that Erin is in labor, all alone out there, by herself?"

Hotch just looked straight forward and watched as the numbers on the elevator counted down. Dave had to restrain himself from physically grabbing Hotch and shaking the answers he wanted out of him. "Hotch, answer me, man! Why aren't you saying anything?"

Hotch just shrugged as the elevator doors opened on the main floor and said, "You told me not to." Hotch replied as he exited the hotel, quickly crossed the parking lot, and started his SUV. Rossi was hot on his heels and jumped in the passenger seat before the engine had finished turning over. As soon as Dave clicked his seatbelt closed, Hotch whipped the vehicle out of the space, speeding off to get Rossi to Erin before his child entered the world.