I debated posting this chapter because I felt that there was something missing. But when I looked it over, I realized that I really like the way Dave sounds. Honestly, when I was writing it, I could see JM's facial expressions and hear his voice in my head. So, I'm going to go ahead and post it.

Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

"I know you don't," Dave replied.

"Profiling me?" Em asked dryly.

"What can I say? It's a habit of mine." Dave leaned forward to look Em in the eyes. "I know you don't, because you called him by his last name."

She gave a slight snort. "So, you discovered all of that just by the way I don't say someone's name?"

Dave shrugged. "You went to great lengths to protect the people you love. I doubt that you would do that for a man you love. You faked your death and could have stayed hidden, but you risked everything to come out into the open to settle a score. If you loved anyone, it would have been that little boy."

Em blinked quickly to keep the sudden rush of tears at bay. "I failed him."

Dave looked at her in bewilderment. "How do you figure?"

"Louise is dead. And so are two federal agents," she whispered. "They were murdered because I wouldn't tell where Declyn was."

"They were murdered because a woman bent on revenge wanted to use him to get back at the man who had tortured her and stolen her son."

"But you saw the way he looked at me when he got on the plane…" Em closed her eyes as the memory of her last meeting with Declyn flashed. He had smiled at her and given her a hug, but there was something lost in his eyes. "It was as though he…he blamed me."

"I don't think he did. He's confused. When the time is right, things will be explained and he will understand," Dave replied.

"Will he? He watched us shoot and kill his mother and father right before his eyes! How do you explain that and make it understandable?" Em shot back.

Dave shook his head. "There's more than enough information out there for him to discover who his parents really were," he returned softly. "He will make the decision to follow the path that his parents did or the one that you and Louise and his foster parents set him on."

"But…" Em began.

"You were there during the formative years - the ones that matter most to a child. You were his mother and you taught him right from wrong. He will have you to thank in the end."

Em digested his words. So much of what he had said was true, but there was that doubt deep down inside. Declyn…the team…Dave. She could make a fresh start with each one, but would it be enough?

"You wonder if coming back was the wise thing to do?" Dave's voice broke through her thoughts.

"The team hates me."

"The team doesn't hate you. JJ and Hotch don't hold it against you. Penelope is happy to have her sister back - although she did grow attached to your cat. How is the custody arrangements working out?" he smiled.

"She has him on weekends and when we're out of town."

"So, that's three people who don't hate you."

"Derek and Spencer? You saw the way they acted tonight. I think they wished I was still dead," Em reluctantly added. She didn't want to believe her friends felt that way, but she wouldn't blame them. How could she?

"They are hurt. I would say 'put yourself in their shoes', but you have. I can see that you have by your actions. By the way you hold yourself back. In time, they will accept you."

"But it won't be the same."

"Things change. It's the way of life. You move on, and if you're lucky, you grow from it." Dave studied her face by the fading light. "Was Doyle the reason you broke up with me?"

"Yes," she confessed. "I had heard something in the grapevine, and even though I couldn't confirm it without raising attention at the FBI or CIA, I knew that if it was true, I was going to have to start cutting ties."

"And that included us."

Em snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, my mother and father and grandmother were in there too. I had to make up a lie and start a fight the way the old Emily would have when she threw a temper tantrum and stopped talking to people." She looked away in shame. "They were so used to my mood swings growing up that they didn't think twice about me hanging up on them and not answering."

"You did what you had to do." Dave's tone was neither accusatory nor gentle.

She took a shuddered breath and tried to ease the pain in her chest. "I did what I had to do," she repeated. "But that doesn't make me feel any better."

"Have you talked to your family since being resurrected?"

"Mother and Daddy…understand. They stopped short of inviting me to Thanksgiving."

Dave gave her a crooked grin. "There is always Christmas if they can't get over it by Thanksgiving."

"Guess it's me and Sergei," she joked weakly. She eyes the bottle on the coffee table and wondered if she could dive into it. The pain medications she had been on and her recuperation had weakened her so that she didn't dare have any alcohol. The wine tonight had been her first sip of liquor in almost a year. She thought her taste for any alcohol was dead along with her past, but that bottle was just calling to her. All she had to do was reach out and take it…

"Which leaves the question…" Dave's low voice startled her out of her reverie.

"Where does that leave us," she finished.

"Is there an 'us'?" he asked softly. "Anymore?" He held his breath as he waited for her answer. He remembered holding her as they made love - the feel of her lithe body pressed against his as he filled her - the way he called out her name. But that had been so long ago. More than a year had passed since he had touched her. What he would give to reach out and touch her once more. He could give the rest of his life for one more night.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "Do you want an 'us'?"