Chapter 3 – Back In The Game

Episode – About Face

Dave's Cabin – Little Creek Reservoir

"Come on, Mudgie," Dave orders as he steps into the small boat.

The chocolate lab eagerly runs down the wooden dock and jumps into the boat. Dave sits and yanks the string to start the onboard motor. He turns the boat away from the shore and heads across the water to his favorite spot. Even though it is still dark out, he knows exactly where he is going.

He had been hunting and fishing in this area since he had first joined the bureau. Growing up in Commack, he had done a little fishing, but after he got out of the Marines it had become his solace. One of his friends in the Corps had introduced him to duck hunting and he had become instantly hooked.

He guides the boat through the reeds until he comes upon his favorite spot. Silence prevails as he cuts the motor and drops the anchor. Bloop! The water ripples as the anchor sinks smoothly to the bottom of the lake.

Grabbing his satchel, he pulls out a thermos and a sandwich; pours himself a cup of coffee, drinking it as he munches on his sandwich. Mudgie lays in the bow of the boat, sleeping.

As the sun rises and darkness fades into the day, he finishes his sandwich and coffee then puts the remains away in his satchel.

The fog lifts slowly as it swirls across the water. In the distance, he makes out the edges of the cabin he calls his home. The property once overrun with trees, brush, and weeds, is now the envy of the neighborhood.

Dave had done a lot of the work himself, spending most of his time off clearing the land and building the house. That had been years ago, now, he can relax.

The flapping of wings and soft calls of a duck wakes Mudgie who rises with a whimper and stares into the fog expectantly.

"Easy Buddy," Dave says softly. "Not yet."

Dave picks up the shotgun from the bottom of the boat. He opens the chamber, grabs two shells from his pocket and loads the weapon. With a quick snap, he is ready to go.

He stands and watches as the fog clears and the sun reflects off the lake. He takes a deep breath and smiles. This was perfect. Not a soul around except him and his dog.

A flock of ducks pass overhead. Dave raises his shotgun and aims. He pulls the trigger. The shotgun jerks, driving deep into his shoulder with a loud crack. A puff of fire and smoke exit the barrel as the boat rocks back and forth underneath him. He watches as one of the birds falls from the sky and splashes lifelessly into the water.

"Go on, Mudgie," he orders eagerly. "Go on, boy!"

The dog leaps from the boat and swims furiously towards the duck.

"Attaboy," Dave says encouragingly. "Go on boy."

Mudgie closes in on the floating carcass. He gently takes it into his mouth and swims towards the opposite shore.

"Come," Dave orders. The dog starts to turn. "Come."

The phone in Dave's pocket rings.

He pulls it out, flips it open and glares at the screen. He punches the send button.

"Strauss," he growls into the transceiver. He doesn't wait for a reply. "I'm coming in to see you this afternoon."

"No. I have another appointment, David," a female voice replies through the speaker.

"Well, then cancel it," Dave states gruffly. "I'll be there at 2:30."

He doesn't wait for a reply. Instead, he snaps the phone closed and puts it back into his pocket. He made his decision and no one, not even the Ice Queen, was going to get into his way.

"That's it," he smiles at the dog, now only a few feet away. "Come on, boy. Come on. Yeah."

Dave's cabin – later

Dave places the now cleaned and de-feathered duck carcass in the freezer. He goes upstairs to his bedroom strips out of his hunting gear and pads naked to the bathroom for a quick shower. He catches sight of himself in the mirror over the sink and does a quick appraisal.

It's a good thing his face sells books and not his body, he thinks. He's not fat, but he does have a little more padding around the middle a lot less definition in his muscles. He could still take down a bad guy if needed. Should he spend a little more time in his gym, he wonders.

With a shake of his head, he wanders over to the shower and turns on the water. He was doing a lot more introspection these days than he ever had in the past.

Several minutes later, he shuts the water off and grabs a towel. He skims the water off his body and wraps the towel around his waist. He combs his hair then brushes his teeth. He reaches for his razor, then looks into the mirror again.

This was the start of a new chapter in his life, he should look new as well. He studies his own face for a few moments, decision made he raises the razor to his cheek and begins to scrape the hair off the side of his face. He repeats the process on the other side.

Putting the razor down, he does another close inspection. With a satisfied nod, he exits the room dropping the towel on the floor as he goes.

He dresses carefully, choosing a pair of expensive Italian made jeans, a light purple button-down shirt with dark purple pin stripes and a purple tie, topped with a dark sports jacket. He wants to remind Strauss that even though she was the Director, he is still in charge. He started the BAU, and people were going to respect that.

He runs his right hand over his groomed face, happy with the decision to keep the goatee. Inspecting his collection of watches he chooses one that he straps to his left wrist. From another box, he grabs his FBI ring and slides it onto his right ring finger.

He flips open his credentials, noting the "retired" stamp, before slipping it into his inner jacket pocket. Then finally, he removes his service weapon from its case and slides it into the holster on his hip. It feels good to wear it again. He cleans it regularly and practices weekly at the shooting range, but it wasn't the same feeling.

He pauses as he realizes that he missed this. He missed the feeling of power, the feeling of knowing that he was the fine line between good and evil. Briefly, he thinks that maybe: he would stay longer than the few weeks or months it would take for Jack to find a replacement.

He looks up at the bracelet hanging on the black velvet backdrop that sits on top of the dresser. Another stab of guilt hits his heart as the faces of three young children fills his mind. This time, he promises silently, he won't stop until justice was served. He reaches up and removes the bracelet from the backdrop and slips it carefully into his pocket.

FBI Building Quantico, VA

Dave walks through the front doors and strolls across the lobby to the security desk. Not much has changed since his last visit. A familiar looking man rises from the chair behind the desk.

"Agent Rossi," the man greets warmly. "George Harris. I don't know if you remember me."

Dave smiles and thinks hard for a moment before his memory kicks in. He nods. "How's Mary? And the twins?"

George beams. "They're great. Thanks for asking."

"I can't believe you're still here," Dave says. He shakes his head. "How long has it been?"

"Twenty-seven years next month." George beams with pride.

"You should write a book," Dave teases. "I bet you have a few stories to tell."

George grins. "Most of them would be about you."

They share a laugh.

"I don't know if I want you tell all those stories," Dave grins.

"Just the raunchy ones," George whispers and gives Dave a wink.

"That would be most of them?"

"What are you doing here?" George asks.

"I'm coming back to work."

George's eyes go wide, and he lets out a whistle. "Miracle of miracles. I thought you were done with this place."

Dave shrugs. "Times change. It's time to close the book on some unfinished business."

George nods slowly. He opens a program on his computer. "Who are you here to see?"

"I have a meeting with Erin Strauss."

George gives him a look. "Going to get back together with the Ice Queen?"

"We were never together," Dave replies.

"Not according to her," George laughs. "And many other women here."

"Women are fickle, give them a second look and they think you want to spend the rest of their lives with them."

Office of the Ice Queen, umm Erin Strauss

Dave enters the office, closing the door not so gently behind him. Erin Strauss, blonde, thin, and gracefully beautiful, looks up from her desk.

"I'd say it was a pleasure to see you again," Erin states calmly. "But it's not."

He grins cheekily. "The pleasure is all mine then."

"How can I help you, Mister Rossi?"

He clutches his hands over his chest. "You wound me, Erin."

"I doubt it," she says. "I re-scheduled my meeting. You have half an hour of my time. Don't waste it on pleasantries that I know you don't mean. What do you want, David?"

"I'm sure you know why I'm here. Jack Fickler said he would talk to you."

Dave pulls out the chair in front of the desk and settles into it without permission. He stares at the woman staring at him. She's still fuckable, he thinks. He contemplates the idea of actually having a relationship with her. And then she starts talking again.

"I really don't understand this, David."

"What's to understand… Erin," he emphasizes her first name.

Her nostrils flare.

"You've been retired for nearly ten years," she says as if that is explanation enough.

"BAU is a man down, I'm offering to help."

"You've written how many books?"

He leans forward and picks up a trinket off her desk. Thinks about how big the desk is and how much stress it could take if he bent Erin over it and fucked her senseless.

She continues. "World tours. Speaking engagements. Big payday private consultations. You've made quite a name for yourself."

Dave puts the trinket back on the desk. He clears his mind of all thoughts of fucking Erin Strauss, she wasn't worth the time. "Well, this is getting boring."

"You know you won't be in charge. Agent Hotchner is the S.A.C. and I'll be seeking his endorsement."

"I'm not looking for anyone's permission here," he snaps.

She pauses, watching him carefully for several seconds. "So, you're coming in, in a subordinate position."

"Is that a question?"

"The question is, why?"

"To help."

"A completely selfless act," she half asks.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," she growls. They both rise from their chairs. Dave sneaks a peek down her blouse but sees nothing but shadows.

"I've missed you too, Erin," he tells her.

She frowns at him. "You'll meet the team tomorrow."

She hands him a new set of credentials; an ID devoid of the word retired. It's obvious that she knew why he was coming and this was just another one of her little power games.

FBI Hallway

Dave exits Erin's office. He stops, pins the ID badge to his lapel and rips the visitor badge off his pocket. He looks up and down the hallway taking in everything. It's weird how one's perspective is altered after a small change in one's thinking. A few seconds ago, this place was strange, and he was out of place and now, it feels like home again.

He makes his way back to the elevator and pushes the down button. He glances over his shoulder at the double glass doors behind him. He watches the activity inside the room. He takes a couple of steps and peers through the glass at the room filled with desks and a few offices on a catwalk. He focuses on the sign etched into the glass doors, Behavioral Analysis Unit.

"Wow," he whispers. "This is definitely better than the bunkers."

He counts the desks he can see. A few people glance in his direction.

"How many profilers are there now," he wonders aloud.

Another step closer reveals exactly how big the room is, nearly triple the size of the old BAU bunker.

Dave follows Jason and Max Ryan down the cold metal steps to the basement. The air was stale and the lighting almost non-existent. Max pulls open the large metal door a screech echoes through the stairwell as the metal hinges protest. They walk into the room vacant of life and stare at the three beat up desks that have been pushed together in the middle of the room.

"Welcome home," Max snorts.

"Excuse me," a voice to his left drags Dave out of the memory. He turns to the young man waiting patiently.

"I'm sorry?" Dave asks.

"I'd like to…" the younger man begins as he points to the doors Dave is blocking.

Dave steps out of the way. "I'm sorry."

The younger man smiles and opens the glass door, he steps inside. For a moment, Dave is enveloped in the sounds of people working until the door closing again. Soon he would be part of that.

"Wait," he murmurs to himself. "Did Erin say team? What team?"

He's tempted to walk inside and introduce himself but decides to wait until tomorrow.

The elevator doors open behind him. He takes one last glance through the glass before turning and stepping into the elevator. He presses the first-floor button as the door closes.

Bren's apartment in DC – later that evening

Dave, still wearing the Italian made jeans and purple button-down shirt, sets the dinner plates in the sink. He grabs the bottle of wine off the counter and walks to the living room. Brenda, brunette, slim, with legs as long as the Eiffel Tower is tall, paces in front of the fireplace.

"I don't understand this, David."

He rolls his eyes having heard the words and the tone earlier in the day.

She stops in front of him and he takes a moment to refill the glass in her hand before doing the same for himself.

"It's going to be fine, Bren," he says reassuringly. He sets the bottle on the table and reclines on the couch. "I thought you would be ecstatic about it."

She pauses with her glass to her lips. "You thought I would be ecstatic? My meal ticket is putting his life on the line, and you thought I would be ecstatic? Are you a lunatic?"

He snorts. "Well, at least you have your priorities straight."

He sets his glass down and picks up a cigar.

"Uh-uh," she admonishes and takes the cigar out of his hand. "You know I hate it when you smoke before we fuck."

She tosses the cigar onto the table.

"Oh, are we still fucking tonight?"

"You owe me."

He sighs, picks up his glass and sits back on the couch again.

"I don't like the idea of you being out in the field as an agent again. When I became your manager, Dave, you promised to live a long life so I wouldn't need to represent anyone else."

"I'm not reneging on that deal. This is only temporary."

"Oh, well then, that fixes everything," she snarks. "Can't you do whatever you need to do outside of the Bureau? Without the danger?"

"Now you sound like my sister," he groans. "You don't understand."

"Explain it to me so that I can. I'm not stupid, you know? What are you doing it for?"

He thinks for a moment. He could tell her. He has told her plenty of things in the past, but this is different. If she knew why he really wanted to return to the Bureau – to the BAU, she would probably have him committed. He looks her directly in the eye. "Research. It's been a while since I was in the field, I know that things have changed. I've read police and science journals. I need to get current on the latest trends."

"Aren't you the one who says an unsub is still an unsub? What's changed about that?"

He waves his hand dismissively. "Come sit with me."

She crosses the room, kicks off her heels and settles onto the couch next to him.

"Look at it this way, I'm still writing about bad guys I caught fifteen years ago. The same bad guys that every other schmo is writing about. We need new material."

He puts his arm around her and pulls her close. "Besides, you already have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life."

"That's not the point," she concedes. She runs her fingers through his hair. "Who's going to take care of me when I get horny?"

He grins at her. "I'll still take care of you in that department too."

"Yeah? Prove it."

He kisses her hard and runs his hand between her legs and up under her skirt. His fingers skim across the soft skin at the tops of her thighs where the silk stockings end.

She moans and spreads her knees. Her fingers nimbly unbutton his shirt. He slides his hand higher until he touches the smooth wet skin at the apex of her groin. He breaks the kiss.

"No panties?"

She grins. "Surprise."

He laughs and presses her onto her back. He drops open mouthed kisses on her neck and the top of her still covered breasts. His fingers glide across her nether lips softly teasing. He finds the tip of her clit and circles it gently with one finger.

"Oh God yes," she moans. "I love your hands."

He pulls her blouse out of the skirt, yanking it up her torso. She helps him remove the blouse and takes off her own bra. Her small tits still sit high upon her chest. Her nipples, cherry red and extended, draw his attention. Dave tongues one nipple then sucks it into his mouth. She plunges her hands into his hair and holds him tight as he teases the nipple and her clit at the same time.

"Fuck," she screams. Her hips hump up and down.

"Hold still or I'll have to tie you down," he teases.

"You going to handcuff me, Mr. FBI agent?"

He laughs. "Don't tempt me."

He kisses across her chest to lick and suck on her other nipple. He rubs her clit harder and faster. He slides two fingers inside her and uses his thumb to rub her clit until she orgasms. He slows his pace and allows her to catch her breath.

"Damn," she groans.

"You're making a mess on the couch," he tells her blandly.

"Maybe you should've taken me upstairs before you started molesting me," she smiles.

He smiles. "Good point. Speaking of molesting… my turn?"

He leans back on the couch, shirt open, hair mussed he's sexy as hell and he knows it. Brenda eyes him lustily, her eyes linger on the front of his jeans which strains to contain his erection. Leaning forward, she rubs her palm over his bulge eliciting a moan from him.

She stands up, grabs her wine glass, and downs the contents. She hands him the glass and picks up her shoes. "I'll think about it."

She skips to the side as he lunges for her. She laughs and shrieks as he chases her up the stairs.

"Where are you going," he laughs.

He chases her into the bedroom. He stops in the doorway still holding the wine glass. He watches mesmerized as she twirls around the room slowly removing the rest of her clothes. When she is naked, she lays back on the bed and motions for him to come closer.

Blindly, he puts the glass on the dresser. He toes out of his shoes and loosens his belt. He sits on the edge of the chair and slips out of his socks, rolling them neatly and tucking them inside his shoes. He stands and removes his pants as she watches.

He folds them and places them on the chair, takes off his shirt and lays it over the back of the chair.

"One of these days," she says. "I'd love it if you just went crazy and threw your clothes every which way without thought."

He crawls next to her on the bed still wearing his boxers and undershirt. "That will never happen."

"I don't drive you crazy," she asks as she reaches out and touches his chest.

"All the time," he says as he rolls his eyes.

She grabs the bottom of his t-shirt and starts to pull it up. He grabs her hands.

"You know that this stays on," he growls.

She pouts at him. "We've been fucking for, how many years? And I have never seen you naked. You don't trust me?"

"It's not a matter of trust Bren," he tells her. He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth. She lets him play for a minute before she pushes him away.

"Huh," she huffs. "Why don't you lay back and let me blow your mind for a while."

He gets comfortable on the bed. "Go for it."

He closes his eyes and lets her take over. She pulls his boxers over his hips and down long, slim legs. She holds them in her hand, a feral grin on her face. He watches as she tosses the boxers to the side.

"Does that drive you crazy," she asks.

He chuckles. "Not really. I thought you were going to blow my mind?"

"Oh, I am," she promises. She leans over and kisses him. She nips his lower lip before moving down the side of his neck.

He lets out a breath and looks to the side. A picture of the two of them sits on her bedside table; taken at his retirement party from the FBI. He wonders why she has it in the bedroom.

The feel of her mouth kissing the tip of his erection brings him back to the present. He forces his mind to focus on the touch of her hands and lips; the soft feel of her hair as it brushes across his skin. She pleasures him for a long time until he finally decides enough is enough.

"Time to fuck," he says as he pushes her gently away. She lays on her back and watches as he grabs a condom off the bedside table.

"I hope you invested in Trojan, with as many of those you have used over the years, you are definitely making someone else rich," she teases.

"Shut up," he replies as he reaches for her.

He turns her onto her hands and knees, entering her from behind. They've been fucking for years and this is the favorite position for both of them. He strokes in and out slowly until she is keening for more and his own need has peaked to the boiling point. His thrusts become hard and rapid as they both crest to almost simultaneous orgasms.

Dave leaves the bed, pads into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean up. He re-enters the bedroom and turns off the lights.

They crawl under the covers together and cuddle.

"You be careful out there," she whispers in the darkness.

His arms tighten around her briefly. "Don't worry, I'm going to be your fuck buddy for a long time."