Author's note/ My Darlings, I'm asking you to please bear with me, I was just accepted into college! (Yay!) But I'm sure my updates will be a little slow, (I'm just guessing but let's consider this a fair warning. Rest assured, Erin and Dave never go very long without talking. With that said, I had a guest reviewer who asked why Erin would even consider sleeping with Dave again after the way he treated her back before she was married and he was between wives.

I consider this a very valid question and it got me thinking, the reviewer was absolutely correct in saying that Erin had no self respect and that didn't jive with the woman I'd created in my mind. I wanted her to be strong and capable, someone who wouldn't bend to something as immature as fantasy or lust. I considered many different plot points, even consulting old soap opera story lines.

(What if she stole his condom and got pregnant on purpose?)but that was just too evil and I still wanted you all to see the human who lives in my head. Someone who feels pain and is capable of revenge, but can also learn from her mistakes and come back stronger. This is what I came up with and I hope you on some level, can connect with her.

All my love,

Aleize Claire

Love must have wings to fly away from love

They were on their third 'rematch' Dave sat in an easy chair with the plastic drum set in front of him, Paul was allowed to sing into the game's microphone and McKenzie and Paige were on guitars. Strains on 'She's My Cherry Pie' bounced through the house and Erin wondered why her kids never told her how much they liked playing Rock Band and why they hadn't asked her to buy it.

"Haha!" Dave chuckled at the song reached the end, he eyed Paige playfully. "Beat you again!"

"Barely, Ole Man!" She shot back, the girls had started playing while Paul was being lectured and then Dave joined in, between the three of them they had been playing for nearly four hours. Music thumped through the surround sound while Erin and Paul watched from the sofa.

"This old man is 500 points ahead of you." Dave reminded her.

"New song?" Paul asked diplomatically and reached for the controller. He worked the game system faster and more efficiently than anyone else and it kept the game fair.

"I'm out," Paige surrendered her bass guitar to the stand in the corner. "You guys are too competitive."

"Yeah, me too," McKenzie said, and plopped on the floor next to Mudgie.

Dave turned to Erin, "Can we un-ground him for 10 minutes?"

"Eight."

"You," He arched his brows and jabbed a finger at Paul. "You're in."

Paul breathed a sigh of relief, "Finally!"

"Last round," Erin warned."Paul is still grounded."

"Yes, Ma'am." Dave said with a nod.

And as the game started, Erin wondered how they had come to this point? From the night when all she wanted was to give Dave a taste of his own medicine and now, her kids were playing video games in his mansion and she was pregnant. They had come so far since that night.

"Smoking or non-smoking?" Erin smiled at the maitre d as she filed into the ballroom, the white marble floor swept the hem of her gown. The FBI gala was in full swing. "Smoking."

She swept the room, searching for a familiar face in a sea of tuxedos and sparkling cocktail dresses. Cigar smoke hung in the air like decoration, Poker tables filled the corners of the space and cocktail waitresses floated between them, brandishing their silver trays and flirty smiles.

She flashed her I. D.
"Yes, Ma'am, follow me. "

Once again, Erin wondered why she bothered to come to this shindig in the first place. She tugged at the beads along the waistline of her dress, a black mermaid gown with a sweetheart neckline. She knew it was probably a bit too formal compared to the skimpy cocktail dresses worn by the congress men's wives, but it was her first political function since getting clean and if she was being honest, the women she was comparing herself to, were probably girlfriends anyway.

They would be ensconced into a private limo when the party ended and hope that the men who invited them really did know the color of their eyes.

The wives knew better than to come to these things.

She followed the maitre d, to a private table near the french doors that opened to a balcony. The small room was empty, the other contributors were somewhere on the dance floor.

Her heels clicked against the marble floors and suddenly quieted as they moved to lush carpet, into private quarters. It was easier this way, she didn't have to dodge the cocktails and the questions that would be raised. Instead, she could approach any conversation with a champagne flute in hand and nobody had to know what was in it.

Thank God for Mark's father and his fifteen-hundred dollar 'donation.'

She was only there because her former in-laws insisted that she needed to get a piece of her life back to normal. To quote Joan Strauss, Erin needed to put on her best dress and her highest heels and get back out there. So they rented her a gown and paid the donation.

"Thank you," she said as the maitre d pulled out her seat and placed a menu on the table before disappearing back into the crowd.

She picked up her purse and reached for the faithful pack of Marlboro Red's. She could have been a woman on the prowl, Mark had finally moved all of his stuff into his condo and the divorce had been completely final for months. She could see who she wanted and she wouldn't feel the slightest bit of regret; but instead of a date, all she wanted was to light up and enjoy the feeling of freedom in an expensive dress.

"I didn't know you smoked." David Rossi's prone figure appeared in front of her table. He was all confidence, from the toes of his shiny Italian leather shoes to the platinum cufflinks on his jacket.

She swallowed tightly, he was not the person she had in mind when she wished for a familiar face. Not by a long shot.

"I don't smile either," she said and shrugged one shoulder in his direction. Turning her attention back to the brand new pack of cigarettes, the cellophane slid off with ease, flipping the pack open, she prayed he would go away. Maybe, as clean as he was, he would be so put off by the smell of burning sulfur and nicotine that he would disappear in a cloud of smoke. The nicotine kissed the receptors in her brain as she inhaled and, just for kicks, blew a smoke ring in his direction.

Instead of leaving, he stalked closer to her.

"You don't smoke," he repeated.

"Or laugh, pass gas or eat." She volleyed back with a glare.

"It's too awkward in your hand," he countered. "Don't make it a habit. " He bent closer to her face and she couldn't tell if it was an observation or a warning.

"No," she said coldly, "I don't make you a habit." She took another drag, a smooth stream of smoke exited her lips, right into his face.

If that wasn't a clear implication that he could fuck off, then nothing else would be.

"Ouch." He growled, swatting the smoke away. "I was just trying to ask if you wanted to dance."

"Yeah," she took another puff and exhaled. "And I asked you to run for president."

"I'm being serious."

"You never could take 'No' for an answer."

"No' is for quitters and unfortunately, for you, you look like you need a friend and I'm without my date."

"Remind me how that's my problem." She sneered, barely suppressing an eye roll.

"It's not," he conceded. "But that doesn't change the facts that you looked like a lost puppy back there."

That was crap and she knew it, but the look in his eyes told her that it was him who actually needed the friend, she hadn't noticed the tumbler of scotch in his hand, first or the way his fingers seemed to tremble around it.

"One dance, I'll lead." She said, offering her hand.

"I thought that was the gentleman's job." He said and pulled out her chair.

Her brow knitted in confusion, "Where do you see one of those?"

Point 1-Erin.

Setting his glass on the table, he took her hand and led them onto the dance floor, the band picked up and the crooner on-stage sang of far off lands and heartache as Erin led them to the center of the dance floor.

"You're sure you don't want me to lead?" He offered.

"I'm sure."

"I've improved since the last time we danced," he argued.

"I would hope so, the last dance we had was over ten years ago."

His hands rested just above the small of her back, keeping her at a respectful distance but still close. She made a valid argument and he didn't want to sever the thin wire of trust that she'd offered him.

"So, how are things?" He offered the olive branch. She looked healthy, her dress hugged the curves of her body in a way that he knew it wouldn't have before she reclaimed sobriety

"Better." Why couldn't he just shut up and dance?

"Good."

"Not quite, but better."

"No, I mean it's a good thing that things are getting better."

"What about you?"

"It's been a long time since we've really talked about anything outside of work."

Why would they talk, at all? She wasn't going to say it, but that didn't mean she couldn't think it. "What if I don't want to talk?"

"What if I do?" Suddenly he was leading, his hand took her waist in a possessive grasp.

"I'd ask you not to."

"Why?"

"There's no natural ground with us."

"I wouldn't say that," The band picked up and they seemed to be spinning across the dance floor; her heart pounded with the effort. Exhaling quickly her chest slammed into his. "I thought we agreed that I would lead!" Her breasts heaved upward with accelerated breaths and she felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"It's a new dance, the song changed a few minutes ago."

The room whirled in a flurry of black and white in front of her eyes as he spun her around, for a split second, she was free-free of addiction and responsibility. She needed more of that, she realized and she needed to make him pay for that pathetic, two-word note on her pillow years ago. She deserved more than what he'd given her and she was going to take it. He gripped her hips and pulled her flush against his body in a frenzy of movement her lips crashed over his in a hard and claiming kiss. Even if he wanted to resist, he couldn't; not with her arms wrapped around his neck in a boa constrictor's grip.

"Fuck me." She spat and the look in his eye said he wouldn't deny her.

"You're wish, my command."

"Is everything okay?"Dave's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

She cleared her throat, suddenly parched, she moved from the sofa to stand behind his chair and wrapped her arm around his neck. "Did you get my note?" She dropped into his ear.

"I've read it a thousand times. Why?"

"Just making sure."

"Clearly, you left your impression, Erin."

"I'm glad."

"Otherwise we wouldn't be here now."

And to fly back again

Edwin Arlington Robinson.

TBC

Another author's note: So, do you guys like it here in Dave's house as much as I do?

These character's never fail to surprise me.