True to his word, Dave went downstairs. As he made his way down stairs, Rossi thought to himself that he must have been out of his mind, when he agreed to do this. Why should he care what happens to her? Yet he did care, even after all of these years apart and if he was being honest with himself, he felt like just maybe, some of this was his fault. He knew her demons; Dave was also keenly aware of what she had been through in the last few years with that neanderthal, she finally divorced.

Yet, he continued to goad her, needle her and put pressure on her. How much of her picking up the bottle again was his fault, he wondered. Deep down, he knew that the reality of it was that it was her choice but when you feel like everything is falling apart, it's easy to fall back into the old patterns of addiction. He'd seen it over and over again, in various incarnations, with various people in his life. Some of those situations turned out okay, whereas others, not so well, as he ended up losing some of his friends, permanently. David Rossi vowed to himself, right then and there as he stepped off the last step that he would do everything in his power, to ensure Erin Strauss ended up in the former group and not the latter, because there was one thing he knew, his heart couldn't take seeing her lowered into the grave.

With that thought, he made his way into the kitchen and mentally worked on a plan as he made breakfast and started the coffee. Sparring with Erin was exhausting, he considered breaking out the espresso machine, but thought better of it. He couldn't trust Erin to catch his heart and put it back if it blew out of his chest.

As the coffee brewed, he mulled over everything they talked about last night. 20 years too late, he could understand why she left him. If the shoe had been on the other foot, he would have sought greener pastures. Of course, he would never say that out loud. He went to the refrigerator and stared at the contents, he cleaned it out before going out of town. Orange juice (for screwdrivers.) creamer, (for coffee) and cheese, (for Mudgie.) He shook his head, there was nothing in there to feed a sick person. He went to the garage and surveyed the freezer, there was nothing in there for breakfast.

He debated going to the store, but chances were good Erin wouldn't eat, hell she barely ate when she was healthy. If he offered her food now, she would probably throw it at him. Cooking for one wasn't worth the effort.

He plundered through the pantry, oatmeal and toast would have to do until he went to the grocery store.

Erin laid in bed, the weight of her choices threatened to suffocate her. For the millionth time, she questioned why she was laying in her ex-husband's bed. Even if it wasn't the bed he slept in, it was still jarring.

She sat up and looked around, sunlight filtered through the curtains. The very thought of daylight was too cheery for Erin. Instead, she held the pillow over her head and waited for sleep to claim her. She closed her eyes, waiting to sink into that sweet black abyss, that would allow her to forget her present circumstances. She waited, pressing the pillow harder against her face, still sleep was nowhere to be found. Annoyed, she tossed the pillow to the side and sat up, slowly lowering her feet to the floor. Laying around wasn't doing her any good, she went to the bathroom, washed her hands and left the bedroom. Her head pounded, but the pain had improved overnight. Apparently, terrorizing David made her feel better.

"I thought you were asleep," Dave called, from the bottom of the staircase.

"Couldn't." she mumbled, tying the sash of his robe around her waist. "Is there coffee?"

Dave glanced at the counter, "it's almost done."

"Fine." She sat down at the counter, effectively ignoring him. He took two cups from the hook above the coffee pot. "Sugar?" He offered, "Creamer?" If she wanted anything fancier, she was out of luck.

"Black's fine."

He turned back to the coffee pot and filled the mugs. "Are we going to talk?"

"What's to talk about?"

He slid a cup in front of her and turned toward the stove, with his back to her. "Do you have a plan after this?" He asked, measuring water and oatmeal into a pot and turned on the stove.

Erin took a sip of her coffee to buy time. "I should be asking you." She didn't even have her car, much less a plan.

He stirred the oatmeal, adding sugar and butter, then lowered the flame. "You can stay here, until you're back on your feet."

"Why?" She asked, watching him spoon oatmeal into two bowls. "We're not friends, David." Like he needed a reminder, he had no reason to be nice to her, unless he planned to make her pay for it later. The last thing her career needed was for him to launch a missile at it.

"Nope." He slid a bowl in front of her and laid a spoon on the counter, eyeing her, half dressed in his clothes, there was a time when he would have liked that. Now, it got on his nerves for reasons he couldn't place. She couldn't assert dominance over him anymore. "How many other options do you have?"

Erin took a sip of coffee and folded her hands on the counter to keep from fidgeting. "I'll go home-" to an empty house and full bar and most importantly, away from David Rossi and his hero-complex.

"And you'll be right back where you started," he argued.

She stirred her bowl of oatmeal, the bowl of mush was very appealing. "That's not your problem."

"You're right, it's not. I should just wash my hands of the whole situation and walk away. It's not my problem if you drink yourself into an early grave. It has no bearing on me, if you let the bottle cause you to lose everything; your family, your friends, your job, your home… I'm sure you will jazz up Skid Row, being the best dressed person out there, at least at first." Dave began to walk around her in a circle, eyeing up her body. "Lucky for you, you still are attractive enough, that you can probably earn enough to keep you in bottles for a while, using your body, but what happens when that is all used up and you are out of options?"

Erin drew in a sharp breath, "How dare you!"

"What?" He shrugged, "it's the truth. I should just walk away and let you drink yourself to death. It won't be like it was the first time," Rossi whispered and Erin, met his eyes, as his voice cracked and he fought back his emotions.

"I'm not Dom, David!" Erin replied, remembering how devastated David had been when his younger brother lost not only his battle with the bottle, but ultimately his life.

David and Dominic Rossi grew up thick as thieves. They were so close and looked so much alike, most people, thought they were twins, instead of two years for Dom, he loved fast cars, fast women and fast money a little too much to see, the pitfalls that lay ahead of him. He fell in with the wrong crowd and despite Dave's repeated warnings, got tangled up in Organized Crime. Dom was a gentle soul and had a hard time stomaching some of the things his association with the criminal element forced him to do. It changed him, from a happy go lucky party boy, to a person that his family hardly recognized once he had fallen so deep into the world of drugs and alcohol, that he couldn't have found his way out, if someone had given him a road map and had neon signs, showing him the way.

Dave licked his lips predatorily, "you could have fooled me."

She stared at him, waiting for him to back down. When he didn't, she said; "You're not going to let this go are you?"

"Nope."