The present contains nothing more than the past, and what is found in the effect was already in the cause.

- Henri Bergson

And so, Lisa thought, the game was on. Hotch had called her to let her know that the BAU was taking on the case. She'd thought Dave would have called her, and was surprised to find herself disappointed that he had not.

She cautioned herself that it shouldn't matter who called her, what mattered was they were taking on the case and maybe, just maybe, little Tara would live through this ordeal. She didn't kid herself, knowing that statistics showed that each passing moment decreased the chances of that happening.

"So," Rossi's voice began from the doorway to her office, "Are you ready to help us?"

She jerked her head up, surprised to find him standing there. It only took her a moment to regroup and she calmly said, "Whatever you need, just let me know."

"We need to interview the families of the victims. Can you set that up?"

She nodded, "They're all located in western Pennsylvania, near the Ohio border. How do you want to work it?"

"We've got nine families, if we send everyone out; we can hit three at a time…"

"Leave it to me. By the time you guys get out to Pittsburgh, I'll have them all set up."

"Jet leaves in an hour," he said, "Do you still have a ready bag?

"Me?"

"You said you wanted to be involved," he shrugged, "So, get involved."

"I can do that from here," she dismissed.

"Okay, I thought you might want to take up residence at the command center in Pittsburgh, but I guess you run things differently than I would."

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, fighting back the urge to say something smart. He did have a point, she could really help out by being there and it would make the inevitable press conferences much easier if she was actually standing next to JJ instead of doing a video feed.

"You've got a point," she nodded, closing down her lap top. "I guess I'll come."

He smiled. "I knew you'd come around to the idea."

"I don't need your help, you know," she quietly said, standing up. "I can do this job without your guidance."

"No one ever said you couldn't."

"No, but you came down here and offered your opinion."

"We're working as a team, from what Hotch keeps telling me, that involves offering my opinion," he countered.

She stopped and took a breath, not willing to let this escalate any further. "Okay, my bad. I misconstrued your intention."

"Lisa…"

"Dave, we don't have time for a stroll down Mea Culpa Lane right now, we've got eight dead girls and one live one that we need to focus on." She shoved her laptop into its leather bag and fixed him with a pointed stare. "I need to go brief my team on my plans. I'll see you at the airport."

One cannot and must not try to erase the past merely because it does not fit the present.
- Golda Meir

Since moving into CASMIRC, Lisa travelled less frequently, spending less and less time in an endless stream of generic hotel rooms. Many years ago, when she was on the road more than not, she found ways to occupy the nights away, usually involving the hotel's bar. She'd found, over the years, that those weren't usually the best possible ways to pass the night.

After the short flight from Quantico to Pittsburgh, she spent the rest of the day setting up the command center and briefing the local authorities. She'd scheduled visits with the victims' families for first thing in the morning and watched as the BAU team dispatched to various crime scenes, leaving her standing there in an empty room.

Sometime around eleven, they broke for the night, to get some sleep before beginning the long day planned for tomorrow. But Lisa couldn't sleep, couldn't shut down. Instead, she sat, in her suitably generic hotel room, staring at crime scene photos, looking over pictures of nine little girls with dark hair and feeling about useless.

With a sigh, she stood up and opened the sliding doors to the small balcony and stepped out into the chilly Ohio night.

"Years ago," began Rossi's voice from her right, "We'd find other ways to spend our nights."

She turned to find him standing on the balcony of the room next to hers. "But, times change, don't they?"

"People change," he simply said. "I would invite you for a drink, but you'd probably turn me in for harassment."

"On a normal night, I would. But tonight, I think I could use one. I'll meet you in the bar in ten minutes."

XXXXX

"So," she laughed, draining the rest of her scotch, "That's when I told her that I will work my cases my way and if she didn't like it, she was welcome to reassign me to another office."

"I can picture that," Rossi laughed, watching as she swirled the ice in her empty glass. Her third glass of scotch of the evening, not that he was counting.

She'd had just enough to help her drop the chip she'd had on her shoulder and relax around him. True, their relationship had ended terribly. It was the final nail in the coffin of his third marriage and the beginning of the end of hers. The fact that he retired shortly thereafter only added salt to her wounds. Looking back, he would've done things differently all the way through.

"Ah, Erin's just an uptight bitch," she sniffed, and then stopped, looking at him, with a wry smile. "I didn't say that."

"Yes you did," he laughed.

"Okay, I did," she laughed, "But come on, you know she is."

"I'm not disagreeing with you. You know how I feel about her…"

"I'd say the feeling was mutual. I think the only one she still likes is Hotch, but even that is iffy at best."

"Ah, all the ladies like Hotch," he dismissed, finishing his drink.

"Yes, but Hotch is a good boy," she said, watching as the bartender refilled their glasses. "He has that restraint thing down pretty good."

"He does," he said, looking into his glass. "I never could get a handle on it."

"You're two different people," she mused, wearing, to his surprise a fond smile. "You're just a bit more…hot blooded than he is."

"Hot blooded," he laughed. "I've been accused of worse."

"You've done worse."

He held up his glass in a mock toast. "I plead the Fifth."

"Ah, the stories I could tell about you," she said, sipping her scotch.

"That goes two ways, Ms. O'Reilly," he countered.

She wore a devilish grin, "I'm just picturing how Erin would react if she were to hear those stories."

"I'm sure she wouldn't be surprised that I was involved. You, on the other hand…"

"Oh, yeah, right…"

"You have quite a straitlaced reputation, my dear," he went on, watching her squirm. "There are many in the Bureau, who see you traveling way up the ladder."

She contemplated his statement for a moment, then, still smiling, "I think you're confusing me with Aaron Hotchner."

"I may have had a few drinks, but there's no way I could confuse you for Aaron Hotchner," he lightly said, watching as she blushed.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're still sharp after all these years," she teased.

"And you are still beautiful after all these years," he said, wondering, the moment the words left his mouth why he allowed them out.

She shook her head, then, with a soft laugh said, "I was waiting for that."

"What?"

"One of us was bound to slip," she said, her eyes locking onto his. "You know, when you left the Bureau, I'd convinced myself that I really didn't feel anything for you, that everything that went on between us was just sex, just release and that our relationship, was nothing more than a fling."

"I don't think it was," he said, alcohol aiding the honesty. "Of course, back then, I didn't even think about classifying it."

"What did you think about?"

"Spending time with you," he admitted.

"When Nick and I finally broke up," she went on, sadness crossing her features, "He told me that he was jealous of you, because in all of the time he and I were together, I never was as close to him as I was to you."

"I'm sorry," he simply said, hoping she understood the full meaning of his words.

"Are you sorry we ended it the way we did?"

"I'm sorry we ended it, at all," he responded, watching as the weight of his statement hit her.

"I can't do this…" she said, standing up. Without another word, she grabbed her purse and walked from the bar.

He followed her, catching up to her as the elevator door opened and following her in. Once the door closed, leaving them alone, he turned to her.

"Lisa," he began.

"Don't, please?" she said, turning to face him. "Nick was right; I have never been closer to someone than I was to you. Looking back at it, we had an amazing relationship, except for your wife and my husband."

The elevator doors opened and she walked out and down the hall to her room, he followed her, waiting as she opened the door. She walked in, leaving the door open and he took it as an invitation to follow her. He did, closing the door behind him.

She stood, looking out of the windows.

"It was my fault," he said, causing her to turn towards him. "I initiated it. I should have known better."

"No, don't. I was not some innocent school girl led astray by her teacher. I was a grown woman and I went willingly every step of the way. Hell, I probably led you half the time."

He smiled. "I'd say it was about even."

"I guess," She said, "That I thought once you left, that you'd realize that you really did love me and that you would have called me…"

"I wanted to," he said, knowing how lame the response sounded. "But I thought you and Nick were still together."

"We lasted about a year after," she said. "We tried, but there was always something between us that we just couldn't get past."

"I never meant for that to happen."

"Didn't you? Didn't we?" she sighed. "God, David, if you would have only asked, I would have walked away from Nick, from the Bureau, I would have given everything up just to be with you."

"I would have never asked you to do that," he said, surprised by the depth of her emotion, even after all of this time.

"And that's what hurt," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I was so naïve back then. You know, I really did love Nick. From the day I met him, I knew that he was such a solid, honest guy. We complimented each other in so many ways. Things were comfortable, safe, and we built this nice little routine. And then I met you." She stepped closer to him. "I wasn't exactly a saint, I'd been around, but never before had I met someone with your passion, your fire…no one I'd ever been with had ever gotten as deep into my head as you had. No one had ever pushed me further." She stopped and shook her head. "I am where I am in the Bureau today because of you and what you pushed me to do. And mostly what I did after you left, to spite you, to prove to you that I didn't need you…"

"You're where you are today because you are an intelligent, analytical, compassionate woman. I had nothing to do with it."

"And that's where you're wrong," she insisted. "You gave me courage in myself that I never had. Yes, I was good at faking it. I could talk shit like nobody's business, but I never really believed it until you made me see it."

"I've always been proud of you," he said. "I've kept track of your progress over the years and I'm not surprised in the least."

"Thank you," she blushed. "As long as we're going for full disclosure, I'll admit, I own and have read all of your books."

"Thank you," he returned, with a nod. He wanted to say so much more to her, but despite his talent and ability, the words failed him.

XXXXXXX

Lisa watched him, realizing that he was at a loss for words. She felt a strange satisfaction in the fact that she'd rendered him that way. She'd always imagined what she would do and say if she were ever face to face with him again, but this moment was nothing like any scene she'd imagined. Never had she imagined they'd be working together again, right back where they were years before.

"So," she said, watching him as he fought some sort of internal battle. "Here we sit, in a hotel room after one to many glasses of scotch. After all this time, we find ourselves back where we started. Kind of ironic, don't you think?"

"I don't know if I'd say it was ironic," he thoughtfully said, reaching out and placing his right hand on her left arm.

His hand felt like fire on her arm, burning through to her core. She cursed her body for reacting to his touch. She knew she should pull away, but didn't.

"What disturbs me about this," she began, watching his expression. "Is that I know, no matter what we say, we both would jump right back into that relationship if we could."

He shook his head and smiled at her, "You don't mince words, do you?"

"Can you tell me that we won't?" she challenged, studying him, waiting for a chink in his armor. Despite his commanding presence, he used to love it when she took control. With a quietly confident tone, she continued. "See, you taught me how to profile, David. And I've been profiling you all night. Tell me you didn't notice."

"I noticed," he returned, his tone even, his dark eyes sparkling.

"Want to know what I discovered?" She asked, placing her hand on his chest. She was rewarded with the most subtle clench of his jaw, causing her to smile triumphantly. Encouraged, she went on. "I discovered that despite all the time and miles between us, you haven't changed all that much."

XXXXXXXX

Rossi watched her, with an outwardly calm fascination that betrayed the inner raging of his body. She had learned early on how to push his buttons and clearly, she'd remembered. Still, he wasn't going to let her take total control of this situation. No, if they were going to make this situation work, they would have be on equal footing.

He knew she was purposely controlling her breathing, keeping it calm and steady. She'd gotten better at hiding her reactions, he noted, almost as good as he was, almost. But, as she had said, he'd taught her everything she knew and now, he was going to remind her of that fact.

"Neither have you," he countered, placing his left hand on her right arm and watching her eyes. Despite the even breathing, her pupils flared at his touch, desire showing in the icy green stare. "You think you've figured me out, do you? Because you've picked up on my physical reaction to your touch?"

Doubt flickered in her eyes, but she said nothing.

It was his turn for the triumphant smile. "I've already admitted that I'm sorry we ended it. I've got nothing to hide."

"If you followed my career," she said, with a defiant glare, "Then you must've eventually heard about my divorce."

"I heard in passing, a couple of years after I left," he admitted.

"Then why didn't you call me?"

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Because I was still pissed at you," she said, color rising in her cheeks. "So instead, I started working my ass off. You'd have been proud of me. I was so like you. I was relentless, single minded, and best of all, I had one hell of a lot of one night stands."

Her words were meant to sting, and, they did, but not for the reasons she'd thought. He felt no need to defend his life, he did what he did and nothing he could say would change it. What did hurt him was how she lived her life, because of him.

"See," she went on, lips curling into an evil smile, "I learned from you, Dave. More than you'll ever know. I watched you play that dark, sexy charm to get what you wanted. Eventually, I realized that I could use my charms just the same way. Hell, a beer drinking, red head with big boobs makes out great when she tries to pick up in just about any situation."

"Lisa," he protested, not wanting to hear more. He didn't want to think of her as lonely and so desperate for human comfort that she would throw herself at strangers for a night of release. No, that was his story; it should have never been hers.

"What? Did I cut too close to the bone?" She laughed and it was a dry, harsh sound. "You taught me well, too well."

XXXXX

She watched as he closed his eyes, fighting to control his emotions, opening them a moment later. Gone was the smug, triumphant look, instead, he looked tired and defeated. She'd meant to hurt him with her words and it was apparent that she had. She resisted the urge to comfort him. Instead, she stood still, watching him.

"You're right," he replied, the hubris gone from his voice. "I guess I did teach you too well and I'm sorry. I honestly didn't believe that I'd hurt you as bad as I have."

She held fast, not moving, not showing any emotion, watching as he studied her carefully. After a moment, she spoke.

"It's okay, like I said, I'm where I am today because of you." The bitterness she heard in her own voice chilled her. She'd won the battle; she knew she should stop before things went too far.

"I can see that," he said, and she could hear the regret in his voice. "And I will never forgive myself for that."

The look on his face tore at her heart. She'd gone into the discussion with every intent to hurt him as much as he'd hurt her. She could see that she had reached her objective, but it didn't make her feel any better. Instead, she felt like shit.

"I'll go," he said, taking his hands from her arms. "I'll see you at the command center in the morning."

She watched him walk out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Shit," she spat, running her hands through her hair.

Tiredly, she sat on the bed, deciding that she played the whole situation wrong. She resisted the urge to go after him. Instead, she changed into her pajamas and got into bed, willing herself to fall into a restless sleep.