Author's Note: This isn't a terribly long chapter, but you'll see that it does kick forward a MAJOR plot point.

TV Prompt Set #1

Show: Deadwood

Title Challenge: I Am Not the Fine Man You Take Me For

Necessary Evil

Rossi stood back in the shadows, watching from the other end of the dark street as Emily was loaded into the Navy chopper.

First there had been an interminable three minutes on the ground while the doctor checked her over to make sure she was stable, but now the blades on the helicopter were beginning to spin again. That meant that they were leaving.

Finally.

As soon as Emily had disappeared into the small space, the Navy doctor clambered in behind her . . . then Hotch . . . and finally the two members of the flight crew that had carried Emily's backboard.

And then as he watched Reid and JJ scrambling to get back to a safe distance, Rossi's fists began to curl.

It was almost time.

Still though, he waited. Waited until the chopper lifted off the ground, and the kids . . . as old as they were, that's what they would always be to him . . . had run back down the street to where they'd last parked the SUV.

It was half up on the rotting sidewalk in front of the old saloon.

They jumped in, and Reid yelled out the window for him just as JJ pressed down hard on the horn. Oddly enough, the urgency of the situation could be heard in the bleating sound of that inanimate object.

Almost like it knew that they had an emergency.

Which of course they did. Still. And the kids were definitely expecting that he would leave their moaning . . . disabled . . . prisoner, to go see them. That they would all talk so that he could get an update on Emily, and then he would run down all of the things that still needed to be done. That way everybody would be in sync about what would be happening next.

Except . . . he wasn't going to go over there to see them. And he wasn't going to get any updates, or run anything down.

He wasn't moving an inch.

Suddenly seeing movement from stage left, Dave's eyes snapped over to the side.

Derek.

He was running out of the saloon that he'd just raced back into a moment ago. At that point Dave had no idea what he had been doing in there, but after Derek had crossed over to the SUV . . . which was where he was where he was already SUPPOSED to be, where Dave had sent him . . . he handed something to JJ through the driver's side window.

From a distance . . . and the vague shape visible in the moonlight . . . it looked maybe like it was Emily's gun. And perhaps her credentials. He must have found them inside.

Dave's jaw twitched.

They would have been souvenirs.

Now fighting to push down the rage working its way back up . . . he needed to stay detached to do this right . . . Dave watched while Derek conveyed the orders that he had already requested be passed along. And he knew that was exactly what Derek was doing, because Derek was a good soldier. And good soldiers always followed orders.

That's why Dave needed for him to be the one.

The one to stay, even as he told JJ and Reid that they were to leave without them. That he and Rossi would wait for the sheriff and his deputies to arrive and take their prisoner. And then Derek would say . . . hell, he was probably already saying it . . . that Rossi had decided that the other two should go. That it would be best for them to be with Emily.

That he and Derek could handle things alone.

In reality, the kids should NOT be leaving right now. Even if they had instinctually run over to the SUV, expecting to be able to follow Emily back to base, Rossi should have been instructing them to stay. Telling them that their job there wasn't done. That they needed to help complete the door to door search of the town, to make sure that there were no other victims being held here.

No other bodies rotting.

And the kids would understand. Because even in their panic and fear about Emily's condition, they still knew how this worked.

How NEVER ENDING it all was.

Because people went missing in Death Valley all the time. That fact is exactly what had triggered this whole God forsaken trip out to the middle of nowhere. Which meant that even though they hadn't been looking for anyone else besides Emily when they'd crashed into town, that didn't mean that Emily was the only one to find. The desert was a big place.

And a cruel one at that.

So Dave could absolutely guarantee that before they flew home, every fucking INCH, of this God forsaken ghost town, will have been crawled over with a microscope. And he would make sure that happened, because he was going to do it himself. He would begin in a minute.

Maybe three.

There was just something else that needed to be done first.

But now he could see that other action would be completed in just a moment. Because now JJ was passing Derek their full stash of Mag lights.

And then the mud splattered SUV was peeling out.

Loose strands from JJ's ponytail were blowing through the window as she banged the hard U turn. And once she'd gotten them turned around, she gunned the engine.

Then they were off.

Dave bit his lip.

His eyes were following the red lights, watching as they rapidly rolled away . . . and then began fading into the open black that was the desert surrounding them.

Further and further they went . . . he was counting the seconds . . . he knew that Derek was doing the same. And he knew Derek was doing that because he was a good soldier . . . and he was a good friend. And although he might have had initial doubts about sending the others away, he'd immediately gotten on board with Dave's reasoning for that decision. Because Dave had pointed out to him that it would be best, given the shared abduction history of Reid and JJ, to let them get out of this shithole situation sooner than later. It was rolling up on midnight, and they'd already been on the verge of hysterics since they'd found Emily. So with the sheriff and his team on the way to help with the search, they should just let the other two go back to the base now.

It would do them a hell of a lot more good to pace in the waiting room with Hotch, than chase ghosts around in this old mining town.

And even though that specific worry for the mental state of the other two apparently hadn't occurred to Derek on his own . . . probably too distracted with his own grief . . . he had immediately nodded his agreement when Dave had pointed it out to him. Then his gaze had shifted to the ground as he muttered.

"You're absolutely right, man. Absolutely right. They should go."

So even though Morgan was now on board with this perfectly logical decision to splinter the team into three scattered groups rather than just the two . . . them on the ground, Hotch and Emily in the air . . . he still didn't quite know the score.

That was okay though . . . Dave slowly slipped his weapon out of its holster . . . he wasn't supposed to know the score. That was the whole point.

It would be what saved him.

And as he saw Morgan finally turning towards him, Dave couldn't help but note that his body was half in shadows, and half outlined by the artificial light pooling through the door of the saloon. He looked like a man caught between two worlds. And of course he was.

As were they all.

Just as Derek began to take a step towards him, Dave called out, making sure to tuck his gun behind his back before Morgan would notice that it was out.

"The flashlights are good. But we'll need those lanterns in there for the search. We'll put them in the street. But leave one in the doorway," he gestured with his free hand, "we'll use the saloon as base."

His voice echoed across the darkness and through the still night.

The sound gave him the creeps.

If it had the same effect on Morgan, Rossi didn't know. All he saw was the other man give him a tight nod, right before he put the three mag lights on the ground, and turned to hurry back inside the old structure.

The good soldier following his orders.

Once he'd disappeared . . . and knowing that he would only be gone for a moment . . . Dave finally got down to the business of doing what needed to be done.

God forgive him.

Rossi's hardened gaze dropped down to the UNSUB lying a few feet away from him. He was curled up in a fetal position, whimpering softly into his forearm. His ruined face . . . and his good arm . . . were only half visible in the shadows. That was just perfect.

That shadow would make what happened next all the more believable.

So Dave leaned down. One hand was on his thigh, the other was busy sliding the safety off his pistol.

"You're not going to jail," he hissed, "you're about to attempt an escape. You had a knife hidden, one that I missed on the initial search. This one right here."

Dave continued speaking while using his glove to pull a small, bloodied, switchblade from his jacket pocket and snapping it open.

"You're going to pull this on me, but I'm all alone out here, and a little jittery, and I'm going to accidentally shoot you. I won't mean to kill you, but," he slowly shook his head, "you won't be surviving your injuries."

Even in the shifting darkness, the rising terror was visible on the UNSUB's pained, broken, face. Dave's lip quirked up. He knew that his smile was terrifying.

That was the point.

"I just wanted you to know that this bullet was coming," he dropped the knife down into the dirt by the UNSUB's hand, "you deserved that hell. I only wish it could have lasted a little longer."

The fingerprints were already on the knife. Dave had taken care of that when the UNSUB was still unconscious and everyone else had been focused on getting Emily onto the backboard. He'd even smeared it in the blood and urine to make it look like it had been hidden down in the UNSUB's briefs.

Which would be Dave's explanation on how he'd missed it on the initial search.

It wouldn't be the first time some jackass hid a knife in his shorts. Of course many, MANY, questions would be asked, but Rossi was prepared to answer them. And if they didn't buy his story, he was prepared for the consequences . . . as bad as they could get. But . . . he sucked in a breath . . . at least the others would be saved.

That was all that mattered.

So he fired.

Just one shot, it was aimed to look like a startle reaction. The muzzle fire flashed in the darkness, illuminating the spray of blood as the bullet sliced diagonally through the other man's frontal lobe.

Oops.

As he'd expected would happen next, Derek immediately came racing back out of the saloon.

"ROSSI!" he screamed while pulling his gun, "ROSSI, ARE YOU OKAY?!"

"I'm fine, Morgan."

Dave's voice was low, calm . . . detached. He was already re-holstering his weapon. He no longer cared.

It was done.

One more body . . . one more glass of scotch at the end of the day. That was the price to save Hotch. The price to save their team.

And it was a price that he could live with.

So when Derek ran up, gun hanging by his side, jaw slack at the expanding pool of inky blood visibly shining in the moonlight, Rossi didn't even blink.

"Wha . . . wha . . . what the FUCK, MAN!?"

The stammer was one of disbelief.

Rossi had just blown away their UNARMED, DISABLED, prisoner! Yeah, Morgan had wanted him dead too, but seriously, WHAT THE FUCK?!

"It was an accident," Rossi responded calmly as he met Derek's shocked gaze, "I had my back to him, I was looking down the street to see where we should start the search, when I heard a noise from behind me. When I spun back around, I saw the flash of the knife and I was startled, I stumbled, and I fired." He shrugged, "I don't know, I guess the knife was in his shorts and I missed it in the rush earlier. But," he pointed to the mess at his feet, "what's done is done. I know it looks bad, but it was an accident Derek, really, and he's dead now. And I can't fix that."

And with that, Rossi was done 'making his statement.' He just needed for Derek to be able to repeat that statement to the sheriff . . . and later the FBI review board . . . with a straight face. And there was enough plausibility to the story that it would be hard to punch holes in it.

It had been a terrible day. He was stressed and tired and alone in the dark with a serial killer.

And that's when accidents happened.

Was it a 'convenient' accident, yes? But it was still a plausible one. And nobody was going to WANT to believe that a decorated FBI agent would just execute a maimed prisoner, in cold blood.

It was too ridiculous.

Even Hotch . . . who would of course be the first one to ask what the fuck had happened . . . would find it impossible to believe that he would have decided to randomly kill their UNSUB, when earlier, he was the one who had tried to keep everybody calm.

So yes, everyone would believe Dave's lie.

He was sure of it.

And with that lie already implanting itself in Morgan's brain . . . he could see it in the way he was frantically rubbing his forehead, trying to reconcile the words that had been spoken with the visual in front of him . . . Rossi clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm going to go get those lanterns."

And with that, he walked away. He didn't look back even when Morgan called his name. There was no point in turning back.

There was nothing more to say.

A/N 2: As to whether you believe it's in Rossi's character to kill an UNSUB under these circumstances, people would have to decide that for themselves. Personally, obviously, I think that he would. I think they're all capable of it under the right circumstances, and here, these were the right circumstances for him. He doesn't operate under the rule of law like a (clear headed) Hotch or Morgan. Remember, Dave was a soldier. Here, he saw a genuine threat to his team, and he removed it. That was the last thing he wanted to happen going in there, but in the end it was the only way he could think to save them. The injuries that Hotch and Morgan inflicted will now be incidental next to the bullet in the UNSUB's skull. That will have come from Rossi's gun. The other injuries weren't lethal. And he made sure that he insulated the others from any responsibility, by sending them all away. As to whether his story will pass the OFFICIAL smell test, time will tell. It is kind of a bullshit story, but, it's also the kind of bullshit story that's rather hard to disprove too. There's nothing specifically to contradict what he's saying. Not to say there won't be consequences either way, but we shouldn't get ready to ship Rossi off to the pokey quite yet.

And this was a bit of a 'cheese stands alone' type scenario, like "OH, GASP!" hence not pulling Hotch or Emily into this one. I promise, they will be the focus next time :)

And thank you EVERYBODY for all the kind notes I've been getting on the last few posts!