"I will get in touch with her and let you know. Thank you, Sir," Garcia ended the call and returned her attention to her computer keyboard. A few minutes later, her eyebrows rose in surprise. She tapped a few more keystrokes, saved the file and then shut down the computer. After securing her office, she made her way down to the bullpen.

"Ready to go, JJ?" she asked, stopping at Agent Jareau's desk.

"Yep. I told Grace we'd pick her up and meet Emily and Tara at the club. Kristy Simmons can't make it unfortunately. One of the kids took ill and Matt is at home with the others while she takes the sick one to the Urgent Care Centre. You know, cause it's late and the doctor's office would be closed." Her face reflected the knowing look of a similarly experienced parent.

"Awww. Hope the little Simmons is feeling better soon," Garcia said sympathetically. "But Grace is feeling up to coming with us?" Garcia asked her.

"Spence says she has up days and down days. Mostly up days, thank goodness. It's been almost three weeks. He's been with her most of it, apparently. But his thirty out of the field is up; he's due back to the team on Monday. And she went back to work yesterday. Spence tried to talk her out of it, but you know Grace."

"Stubborn and feisty. I love her."

"And smart enough to know what's best for her, too, Pen."

"We're overdue, I'm so pumped for Ladies' Night." Garcia was bubbling with anticipation. "I got a bunch us little tiaras for the occasion." Rifling through her oversized purse, she procured one from its depths to show JJ. "And I made sure I got a ton of singles from the bank."

JJ laughed as they entered the elevator.

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"I'm glad you said you'd come to dinner with me tonight, Spencer, I've been wanting to talk to you. But between our cases, and your seminars, I haven't been able to touch base with you for ages. Until this morning." Rossi spoke as he pulled into the parking lot of one of his favourite DC restaurants.

"Grace is at Ladies' Night with Garcia and the others tonight," Reid replied. "So this is the perfect opportunity."

After they were seated off in a private little corner at Rossi's request, he ordered drinks and appetizers. Rossi's Scotch and Reid's Arnold Palmer arrived in record time and Rossi began his inquisition.

"So. We talked about cases. And courses. And now, my friend, I want to know. How are you doing?" Rossi's concern was genuine and Reid recognised this immediately.

His voice lowered, "I'm okay, Rossi."

"Dave."

"Dave," he conceded. "I'm disappointed, obviously, that we lost our baby. But I didn't even know about it until it was gone. And honestly, my concern was," he paused and amended, "is, Grace."

Rossi nodded attentively.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't affected. It hurt. It still hurts." His gaze dropped from Rossi to the tablecloth and his fingers drew circles in the linen as his thoughts lingered on that terrible night.

Rossi looked up and saw the waiter approaching with a basket of garlic bread. Subtly, he sent the waiter a message with his eyes and the observant server took the hint and quickly detoured away from their table.

Reid's eyes filled and Rossi discreetly feigned attention to his Scotch glass for a moment to give Reid an opportunity to blink them away.

Fishing a handkerchief from his pocket, Reid wiped at his eyes and then returned the small square to his pocket. A few minutes later and unseen by Reid, Rossi signaled the waiter once more. Almost immediately, their garlic bread and antipasto arrived at the table and then the waiter again made himself scarce.

"Obviously, Grace is more affected than I am," Reid reasoned. "I mean, she suffered both mentally and physically. We've talked about it though, Dave. She warned me she'd have good days and bad. And there have been. Fortunately, more good days than bad."

He paused and made eye contact with Rossi, and sighed. He bit his lip, looked down at the table and stalled, and Rossi's heart went out to him.

"I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, Spencer, but I thought you might wanna commiserate with somebody who's been there."

Reid's head shot up at this revelation. "Ross—Dave," he corrected, "You've lost a baby?"

Rossi's eyes clouded over and he nodded. "James David Rossi. Born and died April 26, 1979. He would've been a couple years older than you, Spencer."

"I'm sorry Dave. I had no idea." Reid pondered this disclosure for a moment and gained insight and new respect for the older man sitting across the table from him.

"Glad to hear the two of you are working on healing together. That was the second biggest mistake Caroline and I made. We didn't talk to each other. We pushed each other away. I buried myself in my work. And she just buried herself in her misery. Which led to the biggest mistake we ever made."

"The divorce?" Reid guessed in a quiet voice.

Rossi nodded, grimaced and told him, "So, keep talking. Don't do what we did. You and Grace. Talk to each other. Help each other. And don't sell your own pain short, Spencer," Rossi said with the knowing voice of experience.

The light returned to Rossi's eyes and he told the younger man, "Losing my own kid, almost the same age as you. It's one of the reasons why I think of you as a son."

A slight smile crossed Reid's face. "Thank you," he murmured.

"Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I know what it's like to lose a child. I know what it's like to have to hold it together for the sake of the woman you love when all you really want to do is just curl up and cry yourself. Or yell and scream. Throw things. Blame the Fates or God or whatever. And I hope you've done those things, Spencer. It's not healthy to hold it in. You get to be human and react, too, Son."

"I have, Dave, I have. Cried a river and thrown a mountain. Blamed everything and everyone but Grace. I even went running with Luke Alvez one day," he told his older friend. "Although Roxie left us both in her dust," he added as a slight grin crossed his face.

"That's my boy." Rossi was heartened to hear this. "But, just know. If you need to vent, need to talk, Spencer, I am always here for you."

"Thank you so much, Dave. This," he brightened somewhat, "this is helping, too. I even had a talk with Will. He's been through this too."

"Indeed he has," Rossi conceded. "See, you're not alone."

"No. No I'm not. Everyone's been really great. JJ. Will. You. Emily—" a thought occurred to him and he shared, "Did you know Emily made sure the seminars were rescheduled? She rearranged everything for me. She even offered to deliver one of my seminars."

"We take care of our own," Rossi voiced as their wine and dinner arrived. "And speaking of which," he gestured as the waiter set their linguine before them. He poured their wine and nodded as he left them to enjoy their meals.

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