Chapter One:

Better be courted and jilted Than never be courted at all.

-Thomas Campbell

"So, will it be pink or blue balloons this time?" Dave asked JJ as they walked back inside the BAU bullpen, past the maze of desks and into the kitchenette, helping themselves to the coffee. JJ stopped in her tracks, her hand poised over the cupboard door. She Smiled slightly in disbelief.

"Excuse me?" She asked.

"Look, I saw the test in the head on the jet; I'm not going to say anything," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Rossi, that pregnancy test isn't mine."

"You saw it too?" He asked, knitting his brow.

"Yeah."

"So, if it's not yours, and Garcia and Prentiss are in London, who else is there?"

"It could be an old one maybe," JJ explained. "Somebody had a false alarm."

"That trash gets dumped every time the jet is refueled. Anything that was in that trashcan from when Prentiss was on-board was history before we left for Maryland," Rossi said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Rossi, I never took you for a gossip," JJ said, amusement coloring her tone.

"I'm not, I'm just trying to figure this out."

"You're profiling a jet?" JJ shook her head in disbelief.

"I like to keep my skills sharp."

"I'll leave you to your guessing game, I've got paperwork to finish." JJ made her good-byes, walking toward her desk.

The wheels in Dave's head continued to turn as he walked up the steps of the catwalk and into his office. Sitting down at his desk, the answer hit him like a bolt of lightning. Slapping his palm over his face, he groaned. God, he hated feeling stupid, but now he felt like a complete idiot. Ever since that night in the hotel, Erin had been distant. Anytime they were in the same room she made a quick exit. She was even more aloof while they were in Maryland. She hardly said ten words to him and he was the one to start that conversation.

"Dammit!" He muttered. Within seconds he was headed towards Erin's office. His heart thundered in his chest He threw open the door. Her startled expression when she looked up from her files did nothing to slow him down.

"What is this?" He demanded, slapping the plastic stick down on her desk.

Erin shot him a pointed glare.

"What does it look like?" She returned with experienced aloofness. Nothing would fizzle the Italian Stallion's temper faster than apathy.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Erin swiveled in her office chair. Her eyes were guarded and revealed nothing, but her tone was even and measured. "I was going to tell you as soon as I knew for sure, but since you like to snoop around airplane bathrooms...well, telling you now that I might be pregnant would be pointless. Don't you agree?"

"Why didn't you tell me there was even a possibility of this happening? What were you planning to do? Wait until you pop and leave me to do the math? Or were you just going to take care of this on your own so no one would know you slept with me!"

"I figured this pregnancy meant as much to you as I did," she shrugged. "So, what would it matter what I decide? The last time I looked, the law favored a woman's right to choose."

His fists clenched with rage as her meaning dawned on him. "You were going to kill my child?" He rasped, his voice raw from emotions running wild within him.

Shock and hurt were clear in her tone. "That's what you thought I was going to do? I am forty-five years old, David, and it's a miracle that I got pregnant at all! How would you even think that I would consider something like -"

Dave cut her off. "Come on, Erin, don't talk like you haven't thought about it. You obviously don't want to have my kid. If you did, you would have told me about it. Since we're weighing all your options-" The malice in his tone was enough to send shivers down The Devil's spine.

"Get. The. Hell. Out." Erin ordered in a deadly tone. The look in her eyes assured her intent.

She heard the door slam before she realized that he really had walked out. Blinking back hot tears, she tried to gather her thoughts. The thought of Dave walking out on their child hurt more than his action.

She was more than comfortable with being a single parent, but knowing the risks of having another baby at her age, she couldn't help but worry. She didn't want to leave this child – or any of her children – without a mother if she didn't survive the birth. Which, given the advances in medical technology, her death wasn't likely. Although, 'not likely' wasn't the same as impossible.

If David didn't want to be a father, then her baby would be at the mercy of her three eldest children. That should be a fun reveal, she mused with a sigh, telling the three teenagers their mother had an unprotected one-night-stand with a subordinate/ex-lover, resulting in a baby barely a year after she was hauled off to rehab by another subordinate.

She leaned back in her chair, her eyes never left the ceiling.

Dave thundered back inside his office, slamming the door behind him. He stood behind his desk digging through one of the top cupboards. Tossing books and folders aside he pulled the heavy glass decanter towards him. His hands shook with anger and shock sloshing the amber colored liquid in the bottle. Lowering the bottle toward the desk, his hand slipped and with a mighty crash the bottle lay shattered on the floor.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork when his office window shook from the force of Dave's door. He jumped to his feet when he heard the sound of breaking glass. He could distinctly hear Dave muttering none too quietly about a spare bottle. Hotch listened intently when he heard his friend slamming a drawer closed. He knew he should have been worried that his best friend kept not one, but two bottles of liquor in his FBI office. No, what worried him was that Dave was actually breaking them out. Leaving his office Hotch headed down the hallway. Stopping by the custodian's closet, he grabbed a broom and a dustpan before doubling back and entering Dave's office.

"Thought you knew how to knock, Hotch," Dave muttered, staring at his empty tumbler as if he were debating whether or not to fill it. The broken shards of crystal lay under his chair reflecting the sunset on the wall.

"Dave, you shook my windows when you slammed the door. What's going on? We both know you don't break out a bottle in the office without a good reason."

After a beat of silence, Aaron grabbed the bottle and the glass he poured a heavy measure and pushed it towards Dave. "You drink, I'll drive."

Dave lifted the glass and its contents disappeared in a gulp. Normally he would have sipped the fortifying liquid, savored it. Right now he needed to catch a buzz fast.

"I slept with Erin," Dave confessed, refilling the glass and knocking it back.

"After JJ's wedding. Yeah, I kind of figured," Aaron admitted, thinking back to the way the couple couldn't keep their hands off each other. Anyone paying attention knew that they were just waiting for an opportunity to sneak away.

Dave poured another glass and held it as the last two drinks caught up to him. Usually he would have stopped right there but desperate times called for desperate measures and a lot of Scotch.

"I got her pregnant, Aaron. I didn't even think that was a possibility. Erin didn't clue me in at all. She took the test on the jet on the way home. She didn't even seem happy. She wasn't planning on telling me, Hotch. Which begs the question what she would have done had I not found the test and confronted her."

"What did you say to her?" Hotch probed gently.

"Let's just say it wasn't pretty and leave it at that."

"What are you going to do?"

"I started with that, good guess." Dave tipped the glass in Hotch's direction. With a scowl before knocking it back.

"I wasn't guessing, I'm asking you what you're going to do."

"I don't know, Hotch, I didn't exactly draw up a blueprint for a one-night gone sour," Dave said with a scowl.

"You're thinking that she really is pregnant. I'm not saying Strauss is lying, but that one test could have been false positive. Has she made an appointment?"

"Menopause. Hell, I didn't think about," Dave nodded, snapping his fingers in the air. " I'm willing to bet that stick lied. How bad do I smell?" Dave asked, as he stood.

"Pretty bad, Dave. You can bother her assistant after you've slept it off. Let's clean up the mess and get out of here."

Aaron took the broom and swept up the glass while Dave put the discarded papers back in their proper place.

"Perfectly good, top-shelf whiskey wasted on a stick of plastic," Dave grumbled, shaking his head as Hotch emptied the dustpan into the trash.

"You know I heard you muttering about a spare, do I want to know what else you hide in here?" Aaron asked, slightly amused.

"No, Aaron, you most defiantly do not," Dave warned as they boarded the elevator.