CHAPTER 15: Epilogue (Season 7, episode 6)

Character(s): Rossi, Father Davison (briefly)

A/N: Mentions of various deaths related to certain team members. Also, I am not Catholic, so I am focusing on Davison's possible views on the topics discussed within, instead of the church's views as a whole.

"We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love." - Madame de Stael

Today was the fifth time he stood looking at these graves.

It had been two weeks since Carolyn's passing, and David Rossi was back at the cemetery again, staring down at the spot where she was laid to rest. He would've been here every day if he could, but duty called, unsubs were to be caught, paperwork to be done. Even now work still comes between us, he thought dryly.

His eyes traveled back and forth between her grave and that of the one right next to it. The one that held a boy who left this world far, far too quickly. His baby boy.

It was at the funeral where his teammates had first seen that other grave. Some of them looked at him with a hint of surprise and curiosity in their eyes, others with heavy sorrow. None of them commented about it, though, and for that, Rossi was grateful. They knew if he wanted to discuss the topic further with them, he would.

If. That bitter memory would stare him in the face every time he was here (as well as when he wasn't), but to not pay a visit seemed downright sacrilegious.

Now the pain was doubled, unfortunately. Instead of reflection and sorrow, though, Rossi's blood was boiling.

Every day, every single damned day, he heard stories about the worst of the worst, seen horrifying images that would stay with him for the rest of his life, listened to specific details of brutalities, some of which he didn't even realize humans were capable of. He was able to fill multiple books about these crimes, these sorry excuses for people.

Most of those criminals were still alive and well. Sitting in jail, perhaps, or waiting for what seemed like ages for their ultimate punishments on death row, but still, they could breathe. They got to wake to see another day. Even worse, some got to do both of those things while having escaped punishment altogether.

Meanwhile, two people Rossi loved dearly lay cold in the ground. A sweet, lovely, intelligent woman who (he could easily admit this now) had been far too much of a saint to put up with him as long as she did, and a newborn who didn't even get a chance to see a full day.

And that wasn't all. He also thought of how Hotch's son Jack had been robbed of his mother when Haley died, as well as Hotch of a woman he once loved.

Still loved, Rossi corrected. He understood all too well Hotch's feelings for Haley even after their split.

Then there was Emily Prentiss. They'd very nearly lost her, thought they had actually lost her for a time. She'd even stated as much recently, with her story of coding in the ambulance after her battle against Ian Doyle. Every time he came here he'd think of her funeral, of the time afterward when he and his teammates had struggled to go on without her.

Rossi's gaze turned towards the bright blue sky, its brilliant beauty supposedly created by the very God that allowed him to be standing where he currently was. He wanted to rail at the total injustice and nonsense of it all. He may have been raised Catholic, may have still held some tenuous grasp on his faith, but it was times like this when he wanted to break all ties and walk away. He'd been to far too many damn funerals lately, had far too many close calls with loved ones. When would it all finally be enough?

That was one mystery that had been bugging him the past fourteen days. The other had to do with another recent discussion.

Hearing Prentiss and Reid talk about their near-death experiences had disturbed and confused Rossi. All Prentiss claimed to have seen in hers was total darkness, feeling no warmth anywhere. Reid, on the other hand, when discussing his own brush with death, claimed to have seen just the opposite. Good thing for him, of course, Rossi was glad he found comfort in that moment. But why wasn't Emily given that same good fortune and reassurance?

And what did that mean for Carolyn? Did she see anything? If so, what? James, too. If such tragedy must befall such young ones, do they get a chance to have such visions? Would they even understand them?

Rossi shook his head, his mind spinning with all the questions. He took that as his cue to head out of the cemetery, only to turn away from his car at the last minute. He needed to walk a while. Clear his head. No specific destination, just…wandering.

Well, maybe he had some idea of where to go.

A few minutes later Rossi found himself looking up at the cathedral looming over him, its grand, aged structure scholarly yet foreboding. He hadn't been to church in so long, in part because of his work, but also, admittedly, because he was finding it hard enough making sense of why the world was the way it was at his job. He didn't need to think about that very thing in church, too, especially with the knowledge that he'd probably get about as helpful an explanation there as he would anywhere else.

Still, though, his mind was obviously refusing to rest today. Even if he didn't get the answers he sought, maybe venting to someone, anyone, might help, at least a little bit.

Once inside the church, he settled into one of the pews, relieved to realize he was one of very few people there at the moment. Hands clasped in his lap, he took a moment to admire the various pictures on the glass windows, the soft, glowing candles that added to the hushed feel of the room. He even amused himself a bit by having a staring contest with the Jesus statue that loomed high in the room.

"David."

Rossi looked up then, the kind face of Father Davison coming into his line of sight.

"Father Davison," he replied, standing briefly to shake the priest's hand, before inviting the man to sit down next to him.

"What a pleasant surprise to see you here. May I ask what brings you by today?"

Rossi sat silently, bowing his head, tapping his fingers together a couple times. He blinked quickly before facing Davison.

"My first wife, Carolyn… She…she passed away, recently." Nope, still not any easier to say it aloud.

Father Davison placed a hand on Rossi's arm, his face now the picture of complete sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Dave."

Rossi merely nodded his thanks.

"I would tell you the usual comforting words people such as myself say in situations like this…but I have a feeling that's not really what you want to hear right now," Davison said wryly.

Rossi responded in kind, the first actual hint of a pleasant response within the last couple weeks. "You know me well."

"So," Davison continued. "what are you here for, then, if I may ask?"

Rossi hesitated. He didn't want to betray the stories Emily and Reid had shared with the group. They'd probably never know if he had said anything to Father Davison, but still, that sort of information wasn't something one shared easily. Morgan had seemed genuinely shocked by Reid's revelation, after all, and those two were as close of friends as one could get.

But right now, he needed answers. He knew that whether he agreed with Davison's views or not, he'd always get a straight answer from the priest.

"Father," he began carefully. "you've heard stories about near-death experiences, I'm sure."

"Yes," Davison replied, curious as to where this was going. "Many people have come to me, describing in great detail what all they saw or heard. Loved ones appeared to them, there were lights. Some even say they saw Jesus himself."

"And you obviously believe them?"

"Of course. I think many people who make such claims, if not all of them, truly believe they saw the things they did. I can't claim to know what's going on in their minds at that moment, so how can I say they're wrong?"

Rossi nodded. He could accept that. "Did any of these people see nothing but darkness?"

Davison paused at this query. "A couple."

"Did this scare them?"

"Very much so."

"What do you make of that?"

He waited for a few moments as Davison mulled the topic over. "Are you wondering if I think that's a bad sign, the darkness?" Davison finally asked.

Rossi shrugged. "Maybe."

"No. No, not necessarily." He looked over to see Rossi staring at him, his eyes seeming to say, "Go on…".

"I think the darkness represents a warning, but not of immediate death. More like a warning to change your ways once you 'return from the dead', so to speak. Or to tell you that your time isn't up yet."

"Why would some people see that, though, while others get the lights and the people and everything?"

Davison sighed. "I honestly can't say for sure," he admitted.

Rossi raised his eyebrows. Not often one heard that sentence in this setting.

Noting his friend's surprise, Davison explained further. "I personally think that if one is lucky to come back to life, any visions they see are up to them to interpret and do with what they will. I can try and tell them what I think their visions might mean based off what I learn about what they've been through lately, and if I can find something in the Bible to support or explain their visions, and help them better understand them, I'll use it. But ultimately, it's something for them to figure out."

"Do you think everyone sees something before they die?"

"I think so, yes."

Rossi tried to swallow the lump that suddenly rose in his throat upon asking his next question. "Does…does it matter…their age…at the time of death?"

Davison gazed at Rossi with a slightly puzzled expression, leading Rossi to quickly duck his head. "…no. No, I shouldn't think that would matter."

Rossi let that sink in for a moment. Not a complete guarantee, but it was something to cling to.

Just then, a voice floated through the doorway, calling Davison's name.

"Ah, yes," Davison murmured. He then stood, turning to look down at Rossi. "I'm sorry to have to cut this short, but duty calls."

Rossi held up his hands. "It's fine, I completely understand." He stood as well, face to face with his old friend. "Thank you, Father, as always."

"Anytime, Dave. You know where to find me. Again, my deepest condolences to you." A quick pat on the shoulder, and Davison headed off.

The windows were rolled up, but Rossi still shivered a little. Fall was definitely making its appearance known, though he sensed that wasn't the only reason he was a bit chilled at the moment.

It'd been fifteen minutes since he'd left the church. He now sat in his car in the parking lot near the cemetery. Yet Rossi couldn't bring himself to drive away. He was still lost in his recent discussion with Davison, still had various names and memories floating through his mind.

James. Reid. Haley. Emily. Carolyn.

All these people had met with death. Four of them had it happen within the last four years alone.

Two of those people came back, though. Rossi obviously had to find comfort and solace in that fact, and he did. Reid's incident had been before Rossi's time, but that didn't make the mere thought of him going through such a frightening experience any less troubling to the elder man. He'd come to forge a close bond with the intelligent, quirky young agent over the years. He appreciated how they could be so honest with each other, he admittedly liked that Reid looked up to and trusted him and his opinions, and he truly enjoyed being able to be a mentor of sorts to the kid in return. Rossi greatly admired the ever-growing maturity and strength he observed in Reid, and looked forward to seeing what other successes lay ahead for him.

He enjoyed the friendship he had with Prentiss as well. She also had a refreshing honesty about her, but she also had a tactfulness that helped balance out his more blunt side. She was dignified and classy, and yet she could match wits with him or anyone else when bantering back and forth, had a natural tough streak in her that he could easily relate to.

She was also an incredible pillar of support in times of need. Prentiss had originally encouraged Rossi when he hoped to rekindle the romance with his first love, giving him as much advice as he needed. Once she found out about Carolyn's illness, however, she stopped, because what the hell kind of advice do you give then? She knew what line not to cross.

No, she then chose to simply stay by his side, silently letting him know that she was there if he needed to vent, or hell, even if he wanted to break down and cry. He'd nearly forgotten how good a listener Emily was, how patient and understanding and sympathetic she could be. If she or Reid had actually died…Rossi didn't even want to think about the effects of those tragedies on the team as a whole.

None of this explained why he, or Hotch, or Jack had to go through their own pain and sorrow, of course, and Rossi didn't think any explanation would ever be sufficient enough or make sense. All he did know was that two people he cared deeply about did get their second chances. Whether it was a way to try and make up for what he and the others had lost over time, whether it was just random luck of the draw, he couldn't say. But to not make the most of said chances? Rossi knew that would be a very foolish move, on everyone's parts.

Rossi smiled as his thoughts turned back to Hotch then. He'd been amazing these last two weeks as well – much as he hated that personal tragedy was what bonded the two of them, there was definitely something to be said for having someone around who would truly understand what you're going through. Hotch had been leaving his office door open a crack each day, just in case Rossi happened to be passing by, just in case he wanted to "talk about anything". He never stated that aloud, but that was one of the many upsides to being friends with someone for so long. He didn't have to.

Rossi glanced at his watch. Everyone else had left work for the day hours ago, but when he'd left, Hotch was still plugging away upstairs. And if he knew his friend as well as he thought he did…

After finally starting up his car, Rossi began driving in the direction of the BAU building.

"Faith begins where reason sinks, exhausted." - Albert Pike