75. Just...wow. Thank you all so much for your continued support. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, you all are the best bunch of readers a writer could ask for! So thank you! :)

This one was written entirely to the song "Will Grows Up" from the My Dog Skip soundtrack...

Happy reading =)

"The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing…not healing, not curing…that is a friend who cares." – Henri Nouwen

I take a sip of my wine and glance up to watch the sun's rays dance through the branches and leaves of a nearby tree. The green of the leaves and the white of the flowers stand out in contrast to the vibrant blue sky serving as its backdrop. It's a truly beautiful scene, with a certain calmness and sense of peace seeming to permeate the area. The sun's rays lend a depth of warmth to the beauty, and I find myself closing my eyes to let it soak in.

I hear the wind before I feel it, as the leaves of the nearby tree rustle softly, prompting me to open my eyes. A few stray petals that have fallen from the flowers nestled among the tree's branches capture my attention. I watch as they drift downward slowly, dancing in the gentle wind. I find their movements hypnotizing, if only for the fact that it gives my mind something to focus on other than the ache in my soul that had settled there just days ago.

I take another quick sip from the glass of wine held in my hands, and find my gaze shifting from the petals to the stone beside me. My eyes drift over the careful carvings, taking in their meaning. Here it was, proof that she was gone.

"You know, I never thought I'd be visiting you like this," I comment quietly, shifting my gaze back to my glass of wine. "I wasn't supposed to outlive you. You were supposed to be the one visiting my grave."

I find myself pausing, almost as though I'm waiting for a response. But the only reply is the continued rustling of the leaves.

"I'm sorry," I continue softly. "I should have been there for you before…before everything happened. I should have picked up on it. I should have done more to help you."

I pause again, this time to collect my thoughts. I let my eyes drift skyward again, feeling the warmth from the sun on my face. I feel the briefest of smiles spread as I remember her laugh, but it quickly fades as I'm brought back to the present and painfully reminded of what I've lost.

I let out a heavy sigh and hang my head. I feel the emotions of the past few days bubbling up and I shake my head slightly, making no effort to hold it in. It wasn't fair. To her, or to me. Things were never supposed to go like this.

Suddenly I feel a gentle pressure on my shoulder. The lack of reaction or surprise on my part leads me to believe that on some level I was aware of her presence. I raise my head and find Emily standing next to me, her hand resting on my shoulder.

"Hey," she says softly as we make eye contact.

"Hey," I reply.

"Can I...?" she trails off, gesturing to the space next to me.

I nod in reply before scooting over a bit to make more room for her. She sits down next to me and we settle into silence. I can see her eyes are taking in the scene, flitting from detail to detail, but she remains quiet even as she notices the smaller grave next to Carolyn's. Her presence reminds me just how grateful I am for her return – I'm not sure I'd have been able to deal with losing my son, my wife, and the woman who'd grown to be something of a daughter to me.

"Carolyn would have liked you," I say finally, breaking the silence.

"You think?" she answers, tearing her gaze away from the large tree and meeting mine.

"Yeah," I confirm with a smile. "She would have loved to watch you put Morgan in his place. She never did like overly cocky guys."

"Why'd she marry you then?" she asks with a smile, leaning over and bumping my shoulder with hers.

"Because she was the one woman who could put me in my place," I explain with a light laugh.

"And that's why you fell in love with her, isn't it?"

I nod. "Yes. There was just something about how she cut through all of my bullshit and bravado and got right down to me. Don't get me wrong, it was absolutely terrifying, but love always is."

She offers a small smile.

"Everything moved quickly with us. We barely knew each other when we were married. But then Carolyn always did say the best way to get to know someone was to marry them."

Emily chuckles lightly, her gaze still on me. "She sounds like she was a real force to contend with."

"She was," I confirm. "Not unlike yourself," I say, noticing more and more similarities as I describe Carolyn. For as much as parts of Emily reminded me of myself when I was younger, I saw things that reminded me of Carolyn too. Perhaps that's why Emily becoming something of a de facto daughter to me never felt awkward or forced. Really, it wasn't so terribly far-fetched an idea.

"So which one of you was the impulsive one?" she asks with a mischievous smile.

I arch an eyebrow. "Who says either of us was impulsive?"

"You said yourself things moved quickly. In my experience things only move that quickly if at least one party is impulsive…"

"We both were to an extent. We were young, and didn't care what everyone said. We had eyes only for each other, and with everything that had happened in the world, we figured there was no point in waiting."

Emily nods in understanding.

"But as quickly as things came together, they seemed to fall apart even faster."

"James?" she guesses, looking and nodding gently toward the smaller grave.

I sigh. "Yeah. Losing a child is…it…" I trail off, unable to decide how to finish the thought.

"Tears you apart?" she offers, and I see the briefest flash of pain and regret in her eyes. I'm reminded all too quickly of her painful experience in Italy as a teenager.

"Yeah," I agree. "We couldn't come back together as a couple…it was too painful for both of us. Over time we probably would have healed and been able to stay together…but back then we could barely look at each other. We still loved each other dearly, but we just couldn't get past that loss."

"I can only imagine how hard that must have been."

"You don't have to imagine, Emily," I point out sadly, thinking of her abortion. She knows exactly how hard it is to lose a child.

She shakes her head. "It's not quite the same. I was a teenager, and not ready for it. You and Carolyn were older, were ready for him, and could give him a home and the love he deserved."

"You still-"

"I know," she interrupts. "But we're not talking about me. Tell me about James," she says, putting her hand over mine and squeezing gently in support.

I feel a smile spread on my face. "He was definitely a Rossi – dark hair, dark eyes, my nose – but there was a gentleness on his face that was all Carolyn. And the way he frowned, like he was worried about something, that was all her."

"He sounds beautiful," she says softly.

"He was. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life." I feel a stray tear make its way down my face. "He was born with a heart defect. The doctors said he didn't really stand much of a chance surviving past a couple of hours, but he held on for almost 15."

"He was a tough little one. Got that from his dad, I think," she says with an encouraging smile.

"She held onto him long after he'd passed. I don't think she could quite bear to put him down."

Emily just nods and gives my hand another squeeze.

"I don't think I've ever loved anything or anyone as much as I loved him," I say, my voice beginning to crack with emotion.

"Love," she corrects gently. "That love doesn't disappear, even though he's gone. A parent's love for a child lasts forever."

"At least he died in his mother's arms," I say with a nod.

I can see the pain flash in her eyes again, but it's replaced quickly by sympathy. I instantly feel guilty and want to kick myself for my insensitive comment. This time I give her hand a squeeze and we fall into that familiar silence again.

My mind begins to wander, knowing that her support is helping to anchor my emotions. I recall all the memories I'd long since tucked away in the far reaches of my mind, and the ones I'd allowed myself to enjoy over the years. By the time my mind wanders to my last moments with Carolyn, the emotion is spilling out and I can feel the tears escaping.

I begin to shake my head. "I should have been there for her," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You were, Dave," Emily murmurs comfortingly.

"I couldn't do anything to save her. I couldn't help her."

"She made this choice, Dave. All she wanted from you was for the man she loved to hold her."

I close my eyes and feel the tears stinging and the sob threatening to escape. I open my mouth to say something, but find that emotion has overwhelmed me and the tears have begun to fall.

"It helped, Dave. I promise you it helped her," she says firmly.

How can she promise that? Emily Prentiss is not one to offer empty words, so if she's saying it, she means it. Suddenly it hits me. She knows because she's been there. She's been the one having her hand held as she's dying.

"It's all you want," she explains softly. "You just want to feel someone you love holding onto you. The pain and fear sort of ebb away when you focus on that."

Her words, while painfully poignant, do offer me some peace. I know Carolyn had made her decision, and that she was happier to go as she'd lived – on her own terms and as the person she had become, not the person she was going to become.

I realize I've been silent for a few moments now, and that her arm is around my shoulders, holding me tightly. I blink in surprise at her gesture – she wasn't normally one to hug, or offer physical comfort, and yet here she was holding me.

"You know I sat in this exact same position a few times at your grave," I say quietly, lifting my gaze from the glass in my hands to her face. I see an expression of guilt immediately form on her face and feel her release her hold on me, bringing her arm back into her lap. "I enjoyed some very expensive and very delicious scotch with you."

Her gaze drops to her hands where I see she's begun to pick almost frantically at her nails. I reach over a hand to stop the motion she's probably not even aware she's doing. "Don't go there, Emily. It wasn't your fault," I say softly. She nods gently and we lapse into silence again. Days like today just seem to lend themselves to bouts of silence.

We both watch petals and leaves dance in the breeze, and enjoy the sun's warmth for a minute before I speak up. "You busy tonight?"

She shakes her head. "No, I was just going to curl up with Sergio and maybe do some reading."

"Let me cook you dinner."

"Oh, you don't have to, Dave. I know cooking is the last thing you-"

"I'm Italian, Bella. Cooking is a way of life, and that includes grief and coping," I reply as I stand up.

She offers a small smile. "Okay."

"Good. Maybe I'll tell you the story of how I met the first Mrs. Rossi."

"I'd like that," she says with another smile, accepting the hand I offer to help her up.

"Oh, and Emily?"

"Yeah, Dave?"

"Thank you," I say sincerely. I don't know what it was about her that made me open up to her about Carolyn, but whatever it was, I'm thankful for it. This wasn't the kind of secret I wanted to hold onto, and she'd certainly helped alleviate some of the pain that had built up because of it.

"Of course, Dave. Returning the favour was the least I could do," she says with a warm smile. And just like that moment in front of her friend's grave many years ago, I feel a certain sense of peace settle in, and I think that maybe healing has begun.

This one, of course, was tagged to the wonderful season 7 episode "Epilogue", and references events from chapter 34 of this story.

So...did I kick you in the feels on this one? Did you enjoy the dynamic between Emily and Dave? Got you wishing and hoping for a quicker update than once a week? ;) Do let me know in a review - I love to read your thoughts!

'til next time!