The Said & the Unsaid

"I know you will guess all I leave unsaid." ~Le Comte de Mirabeau

July 2002. Somerset, Massachusetts.

Walking through her childhood home was like living in a moment of time that stood still, Erin decided with a warm rush of nostalgia. She was sitting on the edge of the bed in the room that was hers for most of her childhood and early teen years, until her father was appointed to the Circuit Court of Appeals and they moved down to Washington, D.C. They'd kept this house, because her mother liked having somewhere to "get away to", though Erin suspected it was really part of a strange need to simply have some physical stake left behind in the little town that had been Elaine Breyer's home for most of her life.

After all, this was where Elaine wanted to be buried—back home, in the little church graveyard with all her people and all her husband's people, a long line of proud Breyers and MacLauchlans and Hammerschmidts. In this moment, Erin was thankful that they had somewhere to rest after the funeral, instead of simply getting back in the car to make a 450 mile trek into Vienna. Right now, she didn't think she could handle being around anyone in a small confined space for hours on end.

She leaned over and picked up the wine bottle that was patiently waiting at her feet, slipping out of her shoes as she moved further back onto the mattress, sitting Indian-style. She took another swig straight from the bottle, almost cringing as she thought of how her mother would berate her for being so uncouth. Really, Erin, it's such a shame to see those years of charm school wasted on such an ill-mannered child.

She gave a wicked grin as she retorted to the mother-voice in her head, Oh, Mama, you have no idea just how coarse your little girl is.

She shouldn't be joking about such things. Not at a time like this. Still, the steady stream of red wine that had been enlisted to get her through this day was doing its job, and she was beginning to feel the bubbly warmth that always accompanied it. She could mourn and be auspicious tomorrow. Today, she just needed to survive.

Paul appeared in the doorway, his face filled with gentle concern. She looked up at him, stamping down a wave of irritation that he'd come looking for her, like she was some small child that couldn't be trusted to walk around a damn house by herself.

He stepped into the room, reaching over and taking the bottle from Erin's hand, "I think you're done for the day."

She simply nodded in agreement, flopping onto her side. "I think I'll stay in here tonight. Are the kids alright?"

"Your sister has them downstairs washing dishes." Paul replied with a small smile.

"Of course she does," Erin felt her irritation rising again. Carole, Carole, picture-perfect Carole, domestic goddess and appropriate handler of crisis, faithful wife and loving mother. Well, fuck you, Carole.

She rolled away, turning her back to her husband so that he couldn't see her petty anger. He set the wine bottle down again, slowly crawling on the bed next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, nestling his chin in the curve of her neck. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, which only made her wince, and then he sat up in concern, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. My whole body just aches," she replied quietly. It wasn't a lie. She still hadn't recovered from her reunion with David Rossi, and the hours spent sitting still over long periods of time for flights and road trips certainly hadn't helped the soreness.

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," she gave a diplomatic shrug. That wasn't a lie, either. If she hadn't been such a messed up individual, she wouldn't have several rounds of tawdry sex in a hotel room with a man whom she should never have met, and she wouldn't still be suffering the after-effects three days later.

"Would you like me to try and massage the soreness away?" Paul asked solicitously, his hand already moving down her hip (down where the red imprint of David's fingers still lay, still pressed deep into her skin and blood and muscle, burned into her memory forever).

"I think it would only make it worse at this point." Also not a lie. Because Paul had hands like magic and eventually she'd be pulling her clothes off, and then he'd see the marks and he'd know. He'd know and she would wound him in a way that she never wanted to, she would hurt this man who never deserved such pain, his world and his heart would shatter and it would be her fault.

"Alright," he said quietly, taking a moment to give her a quick kiss on her temple before standing and grabbing the wine again. "I'm just gonna take this downstairs and check on the kids. You get some rest."

She gave a slight nod. As she heard him turn to leave, she said softly, "Paul?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Erin."

Of course you do, she wanted to reply. Of course you do, because you have no idea who I really am. If only you knew, my darling, if only, if only you knew.

David Rossi knew. He knew just how fucked up she really was, and yet, somehow, he stayed around. Although staying around had its obvious rewards, Erin was certain that a man of David's looks and charm could find much less damaged women to spend his evenings with—women who were younger and prettier and kinder and more endearing. Still, he'd chosen to stay. Even after she'd pushed him and hit him and bullied him, he'd chosen to stay.

Which meant there had to be something more between them than just a few nights of crazy sex. Erin didn't really want to think about what that meant, because last time she'd done that, she'd ended up with a kid. A cute, funny, gregarious, inquisitive kid who never failed to bring a smile to his mother's face. A kid who was a gift, given in secret, who would never understand all the reasons why his mother loved him so, or why she smiled whenever he did or said something that seemed to mimic a man whom he'd never met.

David knew what she really was, but he didn't know everything about her. There was a sad, aching sense of isolation as Erin realized that no one would ever truly know every side of her, because so many of those sides were in direct conflict with one another—if one were revealed, it would destroy the other. Even if her love for Paul faded, her devotion to her son would always ensure that she kept those secrets locked away. There was no power in heaven or hell that could force her to rip apart her son's world in such a horrible way.

Perhaps it wasn't entirely for Paul's sake that she kept these secrets. Perhaps it wasn't for Paul's sake at all. Perhaps it was for the little dark-haired boy with the big brown eyes, who always looked at her with such love and trust. She'd die a thousand deaths before she broke his tender heart.

Once again (just like every other time before) Erin Strauss told herself that she had finally gotten rid of whatever illness had possessed her to seek out the comfort of David Rossi. This time she'd truly gone too far—physically, emotionally, mentally. He had been a welcome distraction from her current troubles, but nothing more. She'd had a moment of weakness (for which she was physically still atoning, her muscles reminded her), but the moment had passed. The moment had passed and she was here, where she belonged, and David was somewhere far away, where he belonged, and soon the bruises would fade and soon she could just pretend it never happened, moving along with her life. Their paths probably would never cross again (she ignored the fact that she'd thought the exact same thing four years ago), and that was how it should be. That was how it should be and that was how it would be.

Erin suddenly realized that her mind was still much too clear. She shouldn't be thinking about this at all—she should be drifting away in a lovely warm haze, tumbling out of reality for a few blessed hours. She moaned and wished that Paul had let her keep the alcohol.

April 2013. Quantico, Virginia.

Aaron Hotchner was not expecting David to show up looking so refreshed—especially after such a rough case. He knew Dave's backstory better than the rest of the team, and he knew that this last case had several elements that were key triggers for the older agent, so he'd braced himself to expect a much darker, much quieter, much moodier version of Rossi.

Dave didn't act any different—he still said his gruff good mornings as he made his way through the bullpen—but the weight that had seemed to press on his shoulders last night was completely gone, and the dark circles under his eyes had disappeared as well.

Although Hotch was certain that the next bit of news was going to change all of that. He stuck his head out of the conference room, motioning for Dave to join the rest of the team (minus Garcia), who were already seated around the table.

By now, Reid's work on the maps was complete. Pinned above the map was the photo of the invisible ink message left by the Replicator three weeks ago. On the dry erase board was a hurriedly scratched out list of names—names that David Rossi knew all too well.

"What the hell has Tommy Yates got to do with the Replicator?" David stood in the doorway, slightly shocked by the sight that greeted his eyes.

"The list of numbers were map coordinates for Yates' dump sites," Blake turned to him with an almost apologetic expression. She nodded back towards the young doctor, "Spencer figured it out this morning."

"The problem is that this isn't all of the victims," Hotch spoke quietly. "The list has 36 sets of coordinates. Yates has given you 42 names so far."

"He might not have been able to get the last six," Blake pointed out.

Rossi shook his head slowly, "No. Everything means something with this guy. If he knows where the bodies are, then he had to have gotten the locations from Yates himself. That sick bastard would be more than happy to oblige, especially if it gave him another chance to yank my chain."

The lovely feeling inspired by his quiet morning with Erin was now completely dissipated. On the drive over, he'd constantly replayed their last moments together—he'd bemoaned the time, and she had quickly taken his coffee mug, giving him a light peck on the forehead as she breezily said that she'd see him later at the office. It was so blissfully domestic that David had wondered if he'd slipped into some strange parallel universe, but as he watched the slow sway of Erin's hips as she disappeared back into the house, he realized that if he was, he'd gladly stay a captive in this new version of reality.

Sadly, that reality had been shattered less than five minutes after he entered the building. Now Aaron Hotchner was looking at him, his dark eyes filled with concern as he quietly asked, "Dave, do you still have the list?"

It was really a rhetorical question, because he knew that David would never throw away such a thing. The older man simply nodded, turning back to his office to retrieve the worn and folded piece of yellow legal pad paper. As soon as he returned, Hotch began speaking again, "I think our main focus should be the women whose coordinates are not on the invisible ink list—there has to be a reason that they weren't included."

"So what do we do?" Morgan sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Compare the ones who aren't on the Replicator's list? What's that supposed to tell us?"

"We might need to go back and plot the coordinates for them as well—he might be telling us something with a geographical pattern," Reid suggested.

"Or he's left something at one or all of those dump sites," JJ theorized.

"So we send the local PD out there to have a look," Blake surmised, to which Hotch gave a curt nod of agreement. She held her hands up in confusion, "Well, what do we tell them to look for? I mean, it could be anything—it could be something that wouldn't stand out to them, that would only have significant meaning to someone who's worked a BAU case."

"Let's learn to walk before we try to run," Hotch brought them all back from whatever theories and rabbit trails their brains were following. "First we'll figure out which names were left off the list. Then we'll get the names to Garcia and see what she can tell us."

Morgan's face suddenly lit up as he spied Penelope making her way to the conference room, "Speaking of our lovely lady—"

"Good morning, crime fighters," she chirped, busily handing out folders as she made her way around the room. She took a moment to congratulate Reid on his new discovery, "Good job on the coordinate thingy, Boy Wonder."

"Thanks," he beamed, taking a folder as he slipped into his usual chair.

Garcia continued in her usual rapid-fire conversational pattern, "I know, I know, we'd all rather be trying to catch this sucker and nailing him to the nearest wall, but sadly, my little righters of wrongs and foilers of mayhem, the world is filled with sickos and we've got a little city in Wisconsin that could use our help."

She sat down, popping open her laptop and pulling up the information on their latest case, "I'm gonna give ya the quick and dirty version, because you need to be on your way ASAP and more details will be provided on the plane—there's a string of missing women in Plainfield—and if you're already flashing back to Ed Gein and Psycho, then you're right on track, Clarice, because the women whose bodies have been found are missing sexual organs and various patches of skin."

Alex's brow furrowed as she glanced up at the photos on the screen. "This doesn't look like a Gein copycat, though."

"It isn't." Garcia agreed. "At least, that's the opinion of local PD. Aside from the missing organs and skin, this new guy doesn't have any similarities to Ed Gein. But from what the coroner can tell, these women are being held for at least 72 hours before being killed and mutilated post-mortem. The body count is up to four, but there are two more missing."

"Our window of time to find the remaining two women alive is only open for about another 43 hours," Hotch added, glancing at his watch as he gathered his things. "We'll finish the briefing on the plane. Wheels up in 30 minutes."

Erin Strauss was moving through the hallways as quickly as her new nude Louboutin pumps would allow, biting her lip as she breezed past people who were walking much slower than she was (honestly, was everyone just aimlessly wandering the halls today? didn't they have jobs to do?). She knew that the BAU team had a flight scheduled to leave in less than twenty minutes, and she wanted to catch David before he left.

She'd heard the latest news on the Replicator case, and she'd felt the immediate urge to seek out her dark-haired love, to somehow reassure herself that he was alright (her head knew that he was, but her foolish little heart kept clamoring that maybe she should check, just to be sure, and dammit if her heart hadn't won out). She knew that she was being irrational, impulsive, reckless—all the things that she tried so hard not to be, all the things that David Rossi seemed to pull out of her, against her will and better judgment.

She caught the team in the hall, ignoring the momentary look of confusion which flashed across Agent Hotchner's face, which he wisely and quickly concealed.

"Chief Strauss," he greeted her in his usual noncommittal tone.

"I know you're on your way out," she didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I just need a quick word with Agent Rossi."

She didn't miss the grin on Derek Morgan's handsome face, and she briefly contemplated removing that smirk with a quick smack of her hand, but she refrained. The rest of the team continued their trek; David stayed behind, grasping the clasp of his go-bag with an uncharacteristic bout of nervousness that Erin found endearing.

"What's up, Strauss?"

She looked around quickly before pulling him down another hallway, into a small alcove created by the doorway of the utility closet.

"I heard about the new development," she spoke in a hushed tone, her green eyes filled with tender concern. She gently placed her hand on his arm as she gently queried, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Erin." He couldn't decide whether to find her worry irritating or sweet.

"I know," she admitted, her eyes dropping to his chest. "I just—I think I wanted an excuse to see you before you left."

"I see," his voice became warmer, more knowing.

"There was something I wanted to say to you, before you left this morning," she added nervously. "And now that you're leaving again, I just didn't want to miss my chance."

"Erin, I've got a plane to catch. So whatever you need to say, just say—"

His words were stopped by the sudden clasp of her hand at his neck, pulling him downward, her mouth covering his own, her other hand tightening its grip on his arm as she leaned forward on the balls of her feet. Her tongue pushed into his mouth with a sense of urgency, seeking out the comfort of his own. David's free hand immediately moved to the back of that blonde head, pulling her lips further into his. He felt the breath leave her lungs, traveling into his, felt whatever strange worry that had been zinging from her skin suddenly melt away.

She pulled back, her cheeks glowing and her eyes twinkling—she reminded David of a girl kissing her first crush under the bleachers at school.

"Is that all you needed to say?" He asked quietly.

She gave a sheepish smile, "That's all."

She turned pertly on her heel, sashaying back down the hall (and leaving such a lovely image in her pencil skirt and well-defined calves, David smiled naughtily). She didn't even turn to see his reaction as she threw her last volley over her shoulder, "For now."

David Rossi simply shook his head, picking up his pace as he headed back to the elevators, taking another moment to enjoy the delightful view of her retreating form. Erin Strauss always said she wasn't good with words, but boy, the things she said without them were more than enough compensation.

For now, for now...oh, Erin. I can't wait to see what you do next.

Derek Morgan was still wearing a sly grin by the time David Rossi boarded the plane. To his credit, he did at least wait until after takeoff before sidling up to the older agent and quietly asking, "So, what did Strauss want?"

Rossi turned, showering the inquisitive man with his most disdainful look before answering, "She wanted to discuss the breakthrough on the Replicator case."

"Didn't Hotch already send her all the information?" Derek wasn't going to let him get off so easily.

"I guess she just wanted to hear it in person."

"And I'm guessing that's not all she wanted," the younger man sat back with another smile.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rossi summoned his iciest glare, but it didn't seem to have its usual effect.

Derek just shrugged, "Call it intuition."

He rose to his feet again, turning back to Rossi as if he'd forgotten something, "Oh, and by the way, that shade of lipstick looks good on you. Really brings out those gorgeous green eyes."

David fought back the wave of irritation at his own foolishness—wasn't that the first trick in the book, covering your tracks? Still, he wouldn't let his friend win so easily, "My eyes are brown, Morgan."

The younger agent's devilish grin deepened as he wagged his eyebrows, "But Strauss' aren't."

With that, he returned to his seat further back in the plane, shaking his head as he continued to smile to himself. David wanted to be angry, but he found that he couldn't be, not truly. He slowly wiped the physical proof of Erin's confession from his lips, taking a moment to stare at the light pink stain that now streaked across the back of his hand. Without even thinking, he gingerly traced the outline with his finger—it was a simple, inconsequential thing, a smudge of lipstick, but it was a token of Erin, and he decided to let it stay next to his skin for a little while longer. He suddenly realized that it was the first time they'd actually kissed in almost a year, and he smiled at the implication—that was what her tongue was telling him (I'm worried, I miss you, I need you, I'm here, I'm in, I'm for us), that was the thing that she wanted to say before he left again, because she wanted him to go out into the wild world without a shadow of a doubt that she was right there with him. For someone who professed to be bad with words, she was damn near poetic when it came to showing her sentiments.

From his vantage point at the back of the cabin, Derek Morgan witnessed this quiet little moment—the soft smile on David's face, the way his body shifted and relaxed at the mere remembrance of whatever exchange that left Erin's mark on his mouth. It was then that Morgan realized that it wasn't just some weird sexual-tension-blowout between the two (which was his first guess, after what he'd seen two weeks ago in Hotch's office). A man didn't smile like that when it was just a fling. A man didn't stare at a smear of lipstick like it was the mark of holy devotion if the lipstick belonged to a woman he didn't care about. This man was way past that—he was in deep, past the point of no return. David Rossi was in love.

With his superior.

With a woman who could eviscerate a person with a single glance.

With Erin Strauss.

Oh, Good Lord have mercy.

Vienna, Virginia.

"Good Lord, Mother, hurry up!"

The voice of Erin's eldest child rang through the house, causing Erin to roll her eyes heavenward. Patience never was Jordan's strong suit.

"Just a minute," she called from the kitchen.

"We're starting the movie without you," came the reply.

Erin grabbed the bowls of popcorn, shaking her head wryly—years of reenacting this exact conversation had taught her that Jordan would never follow through with her threats, regardless of how long her mother took. It was part of being the overly considerate people-pleasing eldest child (something Erin understood because she was the eldest of her siblings).

She entered the living room and took her place on the couch, passing out the popcorn, "OK, I'm ready."

Glancing around the living room, she felt her heart swell with the familiar warmth that always appeared when all her children were home again—Chris was in the overstuffed armchair, his lanky legs stretched out on the coffee table (she was silently thankful that he'd at least taken his shoes off), Jordan was curled up at the other end of the couch, with Anna's head on her shoulder. Her girls were always closer than Erin and her sister had been, and she found herself wishing that her relationship with Carole hadn't always been so fraught with negativity and cattiness.

The film began, and Anna grinned when she saw the dark-haired lead actor, "Hey, Mom, he looks like the guy you brought home last night."

Jordan and Chris' heads immediately snapped around to their mother, their eyes as wide as saucers.

"Excuse me?" Jordan nearly choked on her popcorn.

"It wasn't like that," Erin replied, giving Anna a quick spat on the shoulder, silently reprimanding her for causing such an uproar. Her youngest simply laughed, taking a certain delight in watching her mother try to wiggle her way out of this one. "He's just a colleague from work; he stayed in the guest room."

"And when have you ever had 'just a colleague from work' stay over?" Christopher asked, arching his eyebrow.

"A male colleague," Jordan added.

"Let's watch the movie," Erin turned her attention back to the screen.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Jordan sat up, quickly pausing the DVD. "No, ma'am, we are not just changing the subject."

Chris nodded in agreement, pulling his feet off the coffee table so he could sit on the edge of his seat."I mean, how many times have you grilled us about girlfriends or boyfriends—"

"Or friends that you thought should have been boyfriends," Jordan interjected.

Chris pointed to his sister, as if she were an exhibit in a trial, "Exactly! Now, after all those years of nagging questions and embarrassing conversations, do you really think we're going to let this slip by without repaying the favor?"

Erin could see the absolute glee in her two eldest children's eyes at the prospect of finally turning the tables on their dear mother, and she scowled darkly at the source of this inquisition, "Anna, I swear, I'm grounding you for life."

Anna was laughing too hard to take her mother's threat seriously.

Erin sighed, knowing that the easiest thing was to simply take her children's questions head-on, "What do you want to know?"

"His name would probably be a good start," Jordan remarked dryly.

"David Rossi," Anna supplied helpfully.

"Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi," her mother corrected, trying her best to look austere as she added, "He is a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, which, as you know, is just one of the many units that I oversee."

"She's so adorable when she gets all defensive and uppity," Chris grinned at his elder sister. The look his mother shot him was anything but adorable.

"Is he good-looking?" Jordan asked.

Again, Anna answered before her mother could, "He's a little old for my tastes, but I think he's got a hot quality that Mom would really—"

"Anna Claire!"

"Ohmigod, Mom, you're blushing!" Jordan crowed with delight.

"This is hell," Erin moaned, burying her head in her heads. "I've died and gone to hell."

"Wait," Christopher's dark eyes suddenly light up in recognition. "David Rossi—isn't that the guy who wrote all those books in your library?"

"It is!" Jordan gasped, turning back to her mother in awe. "I love his books. Are you telling me that's the guy who slept in our house?"

"My house," Erin corrected with a sigh. "And yes, David Rossi is the one who wrote the books. He still writes, actually, when he isn't working for the BAU."

"He's the one who worked for the FBI before," Jordan was suddenly remembering the things she'd read in his books. "He worked joint task forces with White Collar and ViCAP and like, dozens of other sections—you two must've been working together for years now."

"I did consult as an analyst on several cases with him, yes," Erin answered diplomatically.

"So, wait...," Chris' brow quirked quizzically. "How long have you known each other?"

Erin took a moment to think. "Well...I guess it'll be 28 years in December."

"Wow." Jordan suddenly sobered. "That's a long time."

"It is." Erin agreed, although it still seemed like it wasn't that long ago at all.

"So if this guy is just a colleague, why did you bring him home last night?" Christopher returned to the matter at hand.

His mother took a deep breath, carefully trying to find the words to explain, "Because there had been a particularly rough case, and I didn't think he needed to be alone. It's not easy, the job they have to do, and sometimes it can be too much. And since we have known each other for such a long time, I do care about him and I didn't want him to be alone."

"And so you've just turned your house into a rescue shelter for lost souls?" Chris sat back, giving his mother a critical look.

"I think it's sweet," Jordan suddenly decided, offering her mother a soft smile, for which Erin was very grateful. Then she turned to her younger sister, "So, what was your take on him?"

Erin held her breath, actually anxious to hear what Anna had to say.

"I liked him," Anna pronounced. "He didn't act all weird, trying to be my pal or talking to me in a completely patronizing way like some of Dad's dates."

She cringed at the last part, turning back to her mother with an apologetic glance, "Sorry, I'm not sure you wanted to hear that—"

"Honey, I know your father's dating," Erin assured her. "And there's nothing wrong with it. He deserves to be happy."

"So do you," Jordan added quietly, her eyes watching her mother's face with soft concern.

"I am," Erin returned, her tone softening as well. She motioned around the room with a smile, "I have three brilliant, charming children who love their mother enough to spend their Friday night with her. What more do I need?"

Anna snuggled closer to her mother, but Jordan and Chris exchanged dubious glances.

"Mother," he adopted an air of mock seriousness. "I'm not sure if you're old enough to have the talk yet, but I assure you, one day you'll learn there are things that are much more enjoyable—"

"Christopher Paul Strauss!" The color drained from Erin's face.

Jordan erupted into laughter, throwing a pillow cushion at her brother, "You are horrible!"

"It's the truth!" He countered playfully.

"Don't scar your poor mother for life," his older sister scolded. With a wry shake of her head, she picked up the remote again. "Well, on that note, I say we return to our movie."

The others agreed, and Erin silently thanked the heavens above that she'd survived her first ordeal by fire—though Jordan had saved her from further embarrassment by ending the interrogation, the look in her eldest daughter's eyes told Erin that this was far from over. As her children's attention returned to the TV screen, she allowed her mind to wander back to Chris' words. There are things that are much more enjoyable...she knew, she knew exactly what things and just how enjoyable they were, especially with David Rossi. Her pulse quickened at the thought that for the first time, they would have more than just a single night to pursue these passions, and suddenly she felt like a kid again, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Christmas or her birthday.

Birthday. David's birthday was coming up soon. She knew that he usually didn't like celebrating, because he had to spend the day traveling up to see Thomas Yates, after which he'd set out to find the family belonging to the name written on that ominous sheet of paper. Sometimes he'd drive, or sometimes he would just book the next available flight to wherever the family of the newest victim lived. He didn't have to—he could have called the local PD, or even the nearest FBI field office—but he shouldered the burden anyways, because that was the kind of man he was. Her chest filled with an odd mixture of adoration and sadness for the beautiful, compassionate soul that was David Rossi.

She suddenly decided that this year, he was going to enjoy his birthday. She'd do whatever it took to ensure that this celebration would be one for the books.

*Author's Note: A huge THANK YOU to everyone who has been so kind to leave reviews so far.*