Chapter 6 – Releasing Control

Max Pool's House - Halloween

Dave stands next to Aaron on the sidewalk. They watch as a very much alive Enid White is loaded into the back of the ambulance. A group of kids dressed as various monsters run across the street to where the rest of the profilers are handing out candy. Dave watches them, he envies their ability to lose themselves in the moment. He looks up to see Hotch watching him.

Aaron reaches out and gently smacks him on the shoulder while motioning to the SUV in the driveway. Reluctantly, Dave walks to the SUV and climbs into the passenger seat. He buckles his seatbelt and prepares for the inevitable as Hotch puts the SUV in gear and leaves before any of the team can join them.

"This was a rough one," Hotch says lowly.

"Really? I thought it was pretty straightforward, overall."

"I'm not talking about the case, Dave."

Dave glances over and takes in the set look on his protegee's face.

"What are you talking about," he asks.

"In the years that I have been working in, and running this unit, we've had a lot of new people enter our ranks. It's never been easy," Aaron concedes. "I thought with you… I thought because I knew you and your abilities as a profiler that this would be easier."

"But," Dave questions roughly.

They drive a block. Hotch stares out the front window. He finally glances at Dave.

"I know you're used to doing your own thing, running the cases, catching the bad guys, hell, getting laid frequently in the field. Times have changed, Dave. And if you don't catch up, then you're going to be on the outside."

"You can't fire me."

Hotch glances over at him again. "Yes, I can."

Dave shifts in his seat to look at Aaron head on.

Aaron continues as he drives. His voice softens. "The only reason you're back with the unit is because I told Jack Fickler it would be fine. You may have "volunteered" your services, but I had the final word to bring you in. I wanted you back, Dave. I need you here. This team needs you here."

Dave shakes his head. "I don't think they like me very much."

"They don't," Aaron replies bluntly. "Right at this moment, I don't either. I don't need a hot-headed lone ranger. I need a mentor. Someone who can lead this team with me and who can teach myself and the rest of the team how to do this job again. When Jason left, it threw everyone for a loop. We need a calm presence from someone who has done and seen it all. If that's not you, then tell me soon so my team doesn't get any more fucked up than it already is."

Dave turns to look out the side window, his mind racing. He does not like justifying his actions. Could he conform to this group long enough to do the things he wanted to do? Would it be worth it in the end?

"I don't need an answer right away," Aaron says breaking into the older man's thoughts. "I know you're taking in a lot right now. It's a big change and I don't expect you to become a new person overnight. I'd appreciate it if you think about it. Let's work a few more cases, see how things go. If you decide this isn't what you want to do anymore, that's okay. I understand."

Dave continues to stare out the window.

On the Jet – headed to DC

Dave sits in the back of the plane again. Drink in one hand, bracelet in the other and his mind on the day's events. The face of Max Pool flashes in his head. It didn't have to end that way. The man didn't have to die. Dave was justified in shooting him, of that, he was certain. It didn't make it any easier to accept though, he never liked taking another human life.

His hand tightens on the bracelet. The sharp edges dig into his palm. He looks up at the others sitting together, talking about who knows what. He misses the camaraderie, the feeling of shared experiences that he knew during his time in the Marines. The years he spent in the BAU, the memories he wants to remember, were the times he spent with Jason and the others talking about cases or life in general. It had been a long time since he had felt that way.

He opens his hand and stares at the bracelet. He wants to feel those good feelings again. He wants friends, people he could share his good and bad times with, people who understand.

Were these the people he was destined to find that feeling with again? He is much older than most of them – then again, most of the people his age were about to retire. If not these kids, then who?

He slips the bracelet into his pocket and sips at his drink. Change was never easy, could he do what Hotch asked of him? Could he become part of this team?

He looks up as someone slips into the seat across from him.

"Hey," JJ smiles. "Sorry to interrupt."

"You're fine," he replies.

She smiles and nods nervously. "I just wanted to say thank you."

He raises an eyebrow in question. "For what?"

"Not letting me take the heat for the news stations talking about the masks," she says quickly.

He frowns. "I'm not certain that you need to thank me, but… you're welcome."

She smiles more naturally, sits back in her seat, and relaxes. "A lot of people wouldn't have spoken up. They would have just let me take the heat and go on with their lives."

"I'm not most people."

She laughs. "No, you're not."

She stares at the floor as he watches her for a moment. She shifts nervously, then stands.

"JJ," he says stopping her. "May I call you JJ?"

She nods. He motions for her to sit, which she does perching on the edge of the cushion.

"I'm sorry that I put you in that situation," he continues. "I'll never let you take the blame for something you haven't done, that's a promise."

She stares at him for several moments. "Thank you," she says seriously.

"You're welcome," he smiles.

She slides back on the seat again and relaxes. "So, how do you like the jet?"

They spend the rest of the flight sitting across from each other talking.

BAU

The camaraderie amongst the other team members continues into the bullpen. Dave walks past taking in their gentle teasing of each other and heads for Hotch's office. He sets his bag down and slips through the half open door.

Hotch is already ensconced behind his desk, pen in hand and head bent over a file. Dave waits a moment before speaking. "You said out there, the team shares everything."

Hotch's head jerks up. "That's right."

"There is no, I?"

"Uh-huh."

"It seems a big thing to withhold, separating from your wife and child."

Hotch's eyes narrow. "What are you talking about?"

"You used to call Haley ten times a day," Dave points out. "We've been together 48 hours and I haven't seen you call her once. You haven't mentioned her and you're not going home now."

"What's your point," Hotch bites out.

"I guess you're just not use to sharing," Dave says blandly.

Hotch nearly growls. "My private life is not the same as a case."

"I'm just saying, sharing is a learned skill," Dave continues calmly. He takes a breath before continuing. "You know, when this all started there were only a few of us. We'd go out on the road alone. We didn't group think."

"We don't group think," Hotch replies defensively. "We think as individuals and we share our thoughts with the rest of the team. We don't write them down in a little notebook and keep them to ourselves."

Dave nods at the jab regarding his ancient method of notetaking, makes a mental note and takes a few steps for the door.

"Dave," Hotch's voice is less harsh. Dave swivels back to him. Hotch stares at him for several seconds before he speaks again. "All this - the people we've helped, the ones we've put away; it's all because of you and the guys who started this unit. You believed, when nobody else did, that there was a way of understanding these crimes and getting ahead of them."

"And?"

All the aggression and defensiveness leaves Hotch's body. "I don't see that you have anything to prove. You don't have to come back."

"I know that," Dave agrees.

"So, why?"

Dave evaluates his friend a moment. "Maybe I have unfinished business."

Before Hotch can inquire further, Dave leaves the room. Picking up his go bag, he walks along the raised platform. The rest of the team has bolted out the glass doors headed for home or at least someplace not near him.

He stops at the entrance to his new office. A quick glance inside the darkened room re-affirms his thought that this room was not the bunker he had before. Again he pulls the bracelet out of his pants pocket and takes a moment to let the weight in his hand outweigh the weight on his shoulders. The nameplate on the door reads Jason Gideon, he reaches up and slides it out of the holder then taps it lightly against his leg as he surveys his new kingdom. An unfamiliar voice to his right calls his name.

"Yes?" he answers.

"I'm sorry sir," the young male agent replies. "Chief Strauss would like to see you."

Dave lets out a breath. He drops the nameplate on his go-bag, heads towards the exit.

Erin Strauss's Office

Dave doesn't bother knocking on the interior door, he opens it and strolls inside leaving the door open. Erin Strauss looks up, startled.

"David," she growls. "Close the damn door."

Dave drops into the chair and glances over his shoulder at the door. "Why? There's no one here but us."

He turns to her. She glares at him

"Besides," he continues. "We wouldn't want anyone to think something inappropriate was happening."

He watches as she rises from her chair, stomps to the door, and slams it shut.

"I was hoping we wouldn't have to have this conversation," she growls. "I was hoping that if we did have this conversation it would take a lot longer than two and a half days to come about. What the hell is wrong with you?"

He shrugs. "Nothing that I can think of."

She perches on the edge of the desk, hovering over him. "You said you wanted to come back to help, but from what I've heard, you've only been a hindrance."

He raises an eyebrow at her.

"You sent information to the press without permission from your superior, you lied, you withheld information from your teammates… and what was the last thing? Oh yes, you shot and killed the main suspect. David! I expected better from you," she admonishes.

He leans back in the chair and adjusts his tie. "What's the big deal? We stopped the bad guy and recovered the woman before she became a statistic."

"What's the big deal?!" She slides off the desk and returns to her seat. "Listen, it may not seem like it, but I'm rooting for you. I want you to be here. I want you to be successful. With your experience and knowledge, you can help this team be better than they are."

She leans forward resting her elbows on her desk. "However, even though this team could use some help – you can be dismissed."

He eyes her carefully. His chin wobbles like he wants to say something, but he holds back. That's the second time in a matter of hours that he's been threatened with dismissal and he doesn't like it.

"We don't need the Lone Ranger. We don't need a lone wolf. We need a team leader," she explains. "You need to learn to get along with your teammates. And when I say get along, I don't mean sleep with them. Do you understand?"

He sighs and rises to his feet. "I understand. Is that it?"

"David," she says sharply. He looks at her. "Aaron told me that you've already shown interest in Agent Jareau. I swear, if I catch you with her or any other agent of the female persuasion, I will personally turn you into an eunuch."

He tilts his head. "I have nothing but a professional interest in Agent Jareau."

"Keep it that way," she warns as he walks out of her office leaving her door open again.

BAU Bullpen and Elevator

He returns to the bullpen to retrieve his bag. He picks it up. The bullpen, now deserted, is quiet. Even Hotch has left as his door is closed and the light is out. Dave exits the room and calls for the elevator. Just as he steps inside the car, the glass door bangs open and a pair of high heel shoes scurry on the tiles.

"Hold the elevator," Garcia calls out.

Recognizing her voice, Dave obliges, pressing the button to hold the door until she is in. He takes in her appearance and feels that stirring in his loins again.

"Thank you," she says breathlessly as she searches through her purse.

"You're welcome," he replies softly.

Penelope freezes. She peeks at him. "Oh, Agent Rossi. I thought you were long gone, Sir."

"I just spent the last twenty minutes sitting with Chief Strauss," he admits.

"Ugh! I'm sorry," she returns quickly then stops mortified at her words. "I mean…"

Dave chuckles. "I feel the same way."

She looks at him for a moment then relaxes. They ride in comfortable silence to the main floor. He watches her out of the corner of his eye. She's all brightness and sunshine, something he is definitely not used to at the FBI and he wonders how he could get to know her better. Jarred from his thoughts as the elevator comes to an abrupt stop, he reaches out to steady her as she wavers on her high heels.

Dave holds the elevator door as they step out. He follows her through the lobby, holds the door for her then continues to the parking garage.

"You headed home," Dave asks amiably. It's late, very late and he wonders briefly why Morgan left without his 'Baby Girl'.

She nods. "Yes, but first I'm going to stop and have some of the most amazing Thai food."

"That sounds good," Dave admits.

"The best," she smiles. "I gave it 5 stars on Yelp."

The reference is beyond him, but he doesn't ask. "Can I join you? My treat."

She trips on the flat pavement. He grabs her elbow to steady her. "Excuse me," she says shakily.

He releases her elbow and looks around. If anyone saw him talking to her or them leaving together, Strauss would have his ass roasting over a fire. But, at the moment, he didn't care.

"I asked if I could join you for dinner," he tells her. "I'll pay."

She blinks at him a few times. "Okay," she breathes. "But you have to promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"To trust me and let me order for you," she says.

He studies her for a moment. "I promise," he says solemnly.

She smiles and hooks her arm around his dragging him towards the parking lot. He quickly gets into step with her. The feel of her body brushing his turns him on even more.

"Do you want to follow me over there?" she asks jovially. "It's a couple of miles from here."

"Yeah," he agrees. She slips her arm out of his. He refrains from grabbing her and pulling her next to him again.

She stops at her car, a large orange Cadillac convertible. He's not surprised as everything about this woman shouts for the world to notice her. And he, has noticed her.

"I'll wait for you by the exit," she announces.

She slips into her car as he crosses to his silver Escalade. He starts the SUV and backs out of the parking spot. His phone rings, it's Bren. He ignores it and lets the call go to voicemail. His mind is on one woman and she's not on the phone, but in the car in front of him. He waits for her to back out of her spot and in moments, they are on the road.

Thai restaurant

Dave parks next to her in the parking lot. He quickly gets out, hustles to her car and opens the door for her. He offers her his hand as she exits the automobile.

"Thank you, Agent Rossi," she says automatically.

"David," he replies. "Or Dave. My Mom is the only one who calls me David and that's only when she's mad at me, well, her and Reeni."

"Which would you prefer?"

He shrugs. "Whatever you want to call me is fine."

She reaches up and fingers a button on his shirt. His breath catches in his throat as she looks up through her lashes at him. "I think I prefer… David."

He swallows and gives her a small smile. "Okay."

He escorts her into the restaurant. The waiter seats them and hands them both menus. Dave hands his back to the waiter.

"The lady is ordering for both of us," Dave tells him.

Penelope beams and tells the waiter what they are eating. She allows Dave to order his own drink.

The waiter grabs their menus and walks away. Penelope side-glances at Dave once again while she straightens her chopsticks.

"So," Penelope begins nervously. "Is Reeni your girlfriend?"

Dave smirks. "She's my sister, well one of my sisters."

Penelope perks up. "How many sisters do you have?"

"Three," he replies quickly. He grins at her expectant face. "My oldest sister is Sophia, then there's Isabella and finally Reeni, Irene is her given name."

"And where do you fit in the birth order," she asks as the waiter returns with their drinks.

"I'm the youngest," he admits.

"Uh-huh," she says knowingly.

"What's that supposed to mean," he asks. A frown creases his forehead.

"You give off that spoiled vibe."

She giggles at his raised eyebrow and continues. "Oh, don't even try to deny it. The youngest child of Italian parents? And a boy to boot? You were definitely spoiled."

He gives her a pointed look. "Have you trained in profiling?"

She laughs heartily. "Me? A profiler? No, I just understand men pretty well."

"Uh-huh," he huffs back at her. "So, you say."

She laughs again. "Tell me I'm wrong."

He looks around the room before smirking. "You're not wrong. My Momma and sisters still try to do everything for me. But I can take care of myself."

"Oh, I'm sure," she agrees as she shakes her head no. "No brothers to fight with?"

"No," he answers slowly. He pauses as the waiter comes back with their drinks. He continues after the waiter leaves. "I had a brother, he died when I was 12."

"What happened," she asks automatically. He looks at her sharply. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me."

He shakes his head and fiddles with his utensils.

"He was murdered and it was my fault," Dave says quietly. "I saw him die."

"You were so young," she croaks.

He nods. "It was quite a while ago."

"Did they find the person who did it?"

"No," he says tightly. "They never figured it out. Knowing what I know now, I don't think they really tried. Besides, it was my fault."

Penelope reaches out and touches his hand. "Without knowing exactly who killed him… there's no way to know anything."

He stares at their hands on the table. "I know, but I'm Catholic so I'm obligated to carry all the guilt I come across."

She rolls her eyes. "How are you still alive?"

"That's a good question," he smiles. "What about you? You have siblings?"

She nods as she takes a sip of her drink. "I have four step-brothers; Carlos, Eddie, Manny and Rafe."

"Do they live around here," he asks carefully. He'd rather not get beaten up by four brothers at once if he pisses them off.

"California," she says wistfully. "We don't talk much."

"And your parents? They're in California too."

She nods and looks away hiding her face behind her glass and hair. "They died when I was eighteen. I was out late, past my curfew, and they were out looking for me when they got hit head-on by a drunk driver."

Dave's eyes narrow as he takes in her behavior. He reaches over the table and touches her arm.

She jumps in surprise and looks at him.

"Are you Catholic too," he asks her.

"What? No. Why would you ask that?"

"All that guilt I see in your demeanor."

"I guess I do feel guilty. My brothers blame me. They haven't said so out right, but I know they do. It's a complicated story."

He smiles humorlessly. "I get that. Families are complicated. My sister Reeni is pissed at me right now. Refuses to talk to me."

"What did you do," Penelope asks curious.

He lets out a short bark of laughter. "I re-joined the FBI."

"You regret coming back?"

He looks up at her. "No. I regret hurting her though."

"The two of you are close, I take it."

He nods. "Reeni and I are only four years apart. We grew up together, got in trouble together and have always had each-other's backs. She hates this job."

"She's afraid of losing you," Penelope states.

"Yeah," he nods again. "Her husband Brian was a cop up in Boston. He and his partner were killed in an ambush."

He pauses as the waiter brings out their food. After the waiter leaves, he continues. "I promised her I would never put myself in danger again."

"You could always stay out of the field," Penelope suggests.

"Really? You think I could handle working in the office day in and day out?"

She shrugs. "Wouldn't it be the same as when you're writing?"

"I can write from anyplace," he tells her. "I can go outside on my deck; I could go to a coffee shop or the beach. I put a lot of variety in my writing workspace."

"Interesting," she murmurs. "I always thought that writers tucked away in a dark room surrounded by books and memorabilia."

He takes a drink then smirks at her. "There's that too."

"So how was your first case back?" she asks innocently.

Dave chuckles mirthlessly.

"What?"

"It probably could not have been any worse," he says lowly. "Hence the time with Strauss."

"Oh no! What happened?" she asks, concern lines her face.

He shrugs.

"No, come on," she urges. She places a hand on top of his on the table. "We're friends now."

"I pretty much fucked up everything," he admits. He unconsciously rubs his thumb across the back of her soft hand. He lets out a bark of laughter and briefly takes her hand between both of his and gives her a quick recap of the previous 48 hours, making certain to skip the gory parts. She nods in sympathy as he details his reasoning for sharing the info about the mask with the reporters and trying to draw out the unsub.

They have both finished their meals and set their plates to the side.

"I can see why you would do that," she agrees. She reaches across the table and takes his hand again. "But I can also see Hotch's side too."

He sighs. "Yeah, me too. I'm just… I'm not used to working with other people, you know?"

She nods. "Oh, I understand that perfectly well. My job is designed to be done by one person and one person only. I get all hyped up if anyone comes into my space. But wouldn't it help a little bit to have differing opinions when you're working a case?"

He looks at her speculatively.

She stammers. "I mean… I don't know… I'm just saying…"

He sighs and squeezes her hand. "I actually hadn't thought about that. I guess it would help. It's just going to take me a little while to get used to it."

He looks into her eyes and sees that she is focused solely on him. He takes in the lack of pink streaks in her hair, replaced by large hair pins covered in flowers. She wears different glasses; these are green rimmed which highlights her eyes. His eyes drop to her red painted lips and he suddenly has an urge to lean over the table and kiss the breath right out of her.

The waiter interrupts those thoughts as he picks up their plates and sets their dessert on the table.

"Oh, this looks amazing," she beams.

"I agree," Dave replies, only his eyes are on her.

Later

Meal finished and paid for, Dave and Penelope walk out into the night air. The sky is clear, a half-moon hangs in the sky. A chilly breeze crosses over them causing both to shiver. Dave escorts her to her car.

"Thank you for listening. You're really easy to talk to," he says sincerely. "I am going to work on being better. I just hope the team gives me another chance."

She smiles. "You're welcome. Just give them some time. It will be fine."

Dave smiles back.

"I'll see you in the morning," she says wistfully.

"Yeah, I guess I have to face the firing squad."

"Don't say that," she admonishes as she gently smacks his shoulder. "Tomorrow is going to be a better day, you'll see. Do you like apple fritters?"

His head spins as he tries to keep up with her train of thought. "Those are the cinnamon and apple ones, right?"

She nods.

"Yeah, I like those. Why?"

"They're my favorite," she shares. "There's a little place not far from my apartment. Maybe I'll buy two of them tomorrow."

He reaches for his wallet. "How much are they? I'll pay."

She puts her hand on his chest. "Let me treat, mon ami."

He blinks again as that powerful urge to kiss her overwhelms him again. Under any other circumstance he would lean over and kiss her, but something tells him to be patient. "I can't argue with a lady."

"Or me," she quips.

He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. "Honey, you are the most ladylike woman I have ever met. Don't let anyone treat you any less."

She gulps. The air vibrates with electricity. She panics. "I should get going."

"Okay," he says softly as he watches her climb into her car. "See you in the morning."

He continues to watch as she backs out of the parking lot and heads off down the street. When her taillights are no longer visible, he heads to his own vehicle.

End Chapter 6