Erin tugged at her blouse, feeling awkward and uncomfortable as she stepped into the visitation room. She hadn't planned on spending a Thursday night at a funeral home and then a Friday morning at a funeral. But he was dead. And she was feeling such intense guilt about her own feelings.

After signing the guest book, she got in line to visit with his widow, Patricia. There was no one she knew in the room, and that was both a blessing and a curse. While passing the time in line, she looked at the pictures affixed to green boards. Seeing Ken so happy with his children, his grandchildren, made her heart ache all the more at his untimely passing. And then, she was nearing the casket, could look at his small frame being swallowed by the fabric of the lining, and she struggled to keep from crying. This was not about her, after all, it was about his family.

"Thank you for coming," Patricia said as she hugged Erin softly. Erin couldn't help but return the hug, rubbing her back a few times. "Isn't he handsome, my dear husband?" She reached out her hand and rested it on the edge of the casket as Erin let her own hand drift down her arm to clasp her other hand tightly. "You will be there tomorrow, right?"

Patricia looked at her, her eyes bright with tears, and Erin nodded. "Of course, Patricia."

"Good. Thank you. This is Ken's sister," she replied off-handedly, turning to the next person in line. They made polite small talk for a few moments and then Erin slipped off to look at more pictures, trying to get ahold of her emotions. And then, the cravings hit, hard. Looking around, she caught Patricia's eye and nodded, giving her a soft smile before walking out the door. Getting behind the wheel of her car, she gripped the wheel tightly, breathing in deeply through her nose.

Starting the car, she drove aimlessly for a few minutes, finally coming to a stop in front of loud, gaudy, bar. No one would recognize her here, and she could just claim that she had remained on the path of sobriety. No one needed to know that the intense guilt she was feeling was causing her to seriously rethink eight months sober. Not even her break up with Dave had created this feeling in her, and she just had to make it go away.

She parked in the first open space that she found and quickly made her way inside. Erin went right up to the bar and smiled at the bartender. He nodded at her and, after finishing a few drinks, ambled up to her. "What can I get you, darling?"

She bristled a little at the familiarity, but still smiled back. "I'd like a Pink Lady, please, with an extra twist of grenadine." He nodded and quickly whipped up her drink, handing it over. She picked up the glass and smelt the delicious scent of gin, her mouth watering with desire. Turning around, she scoped out the room, finding an empty booth and sliding in. Erin was just about to take that first sip when she heard a soft gasp.

"Chief Strauss?" Startled, she looked up into the chocolate brown eyes of one very concerned Penelope Garcia. "Is that non-alcoholic?"

Erin shrugged. "I don't think it really matters at this point, Ms. Garcia. Please, have a seat and join me in my debauchery." She put the glass back up to her lips and took that first sip of alcohol, relishing the feel it made pouring down her throat. And then that woman had the gall, the temerity, to knock the glass from her hand, sending it crashing to the floor.

"I'm not going to let you do that to yourself, not after you worked so hard to change your life, to turn things around." Penelope's cheeks were red with anger and Erin found herself mesmerized by the look she was getting, unable to tear her eyes away. "If you won't care about yourself enough not to do this, I will. We're getting out of here."

And then, she was grabbing hold of her wrist and tugging her out of the booth. Erin tried to pull away, but found she had little strength to do so. Bowing her head, she followed meekly after Penelope, feeling her heart shatter a little more. "I just wanted to forget the guilt," she whispered as they approached the other woman's car.

"Well, alcohol won't help with that," she replied tartly, opening the passenger door and strong-arming her inside. "Is your car here?"

"Of course it is, I didn't walk here."

"There's no need to be petulant. I'll have Anderson come and drop it off at my place." Penelope closed the door forcefully and then got behind the wheel, turning it on before rummaging through her purse and pulling out her cellphone. "Hi, Anderson, this is Garcia. I need your help with a little project to be kept solely between us and Gina. I need you to pick up Chief Strauss's car and drop it off at my place. It's in the parking lot of the Dancing Queen. Yes, that bar. No, I don't think that she did know it was that kind of bar. And no, it is not funny. Can you do this for me, please?" She let out a deep sigh of relief. "Thank you. You know where all the spare keys are kept, hers is number twelve."

Hanging up, she thrust the phone and purse at Erin. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Make yourself useful and hold onto them until we get home. Or, you could put the phone in my purse." Erin nodded and slipped the phone inside the purse before turning to look out at the scenery that passed by. The night was alive with stars and she felt the pale light burn her soul. The first sob that tore from her throat was soft, like a whisper, but they grew with intensity as the drive wore on. "We're almost home, Erin."

She nodded absently, not really caring anymore what happened to her. Her cries hadn't lessened by the time Penelope pulled into a tiny parking lot. After stopping the car, she got out and came over to Erin's side and helped her out of the vehicle. Together, they walked up to her apartment, and in that small space of time, Erin became very used to Penelope rubbing her back. The comforting touch did little to assuage her guilt, however, and she struggled to stop crying so hard. "Just…"

"Just what, honey?"

The endearment sounded wrong to her ears, and she turned her head to look at the woman. "I'm no one's honey, not anymore. I gave up that right long ago."

"No one ever gives that up. No one should ever think that they don't deserve to be called pet names. Especially when they're hurting." The door to the apartment opened and they stumbled inside. As the door closed, she broke free of Penelope's embrace and went over to the sofa, curling up in a ball on the end of it.

Erin felt the sofa dip a little as Penelope sat next to her, resting her hand on her knee. "Please, don't touch me. I just want to be left alone with my guilt and sorrow."

"What do you have to be guilty for?" the woman asked gently, not removing her hand. The warmth bled into her skin and Erin relished the feeling, much though she did not want to.

"There is so much in my life…"

"Then begin with the reason why you were going to break your sobriety tonight. I'm not counting that one sip, since I was too slow to slap it from your hand."

Erin was just about to open her mouth when there came a knock at the door. Penelope stood and went outside, apparently to talk to whoever it was. She took a deep breath, wondering how much more the young woman would hate her after she told her why she felt so guilty. But there was no helping it, really. She wanted to know. And Erin knew she had to tell someone, even if that someone was her coworker.

Penelope rejoined her and set her keys on the coffee table, next to their purses. "Anderson parked your car next to mine, so you'll be able to find it tomorrow." Erin nodded and uncurled her body, slipping off her heels. "Now, before you tell me what's up, would you like anything to drink?"

"Water would be nice." Penelope nodded and went into the kitchen. Erin listened to the water turn on and splash into glasses. When the woman returned, she held out a gorgeous cut crystal goblet and Erin couldn't help but smile. "So fancy."

"Yes, well, you can always pretend it's the harder stuff this way."

She nodded and took a sip before clutching the stem. "So, you're going to hate me even more after I tell you this story. I'm not a nice person, but you know that already. I can only imagine the stories that David has told you all about our failed relationship. And what Alex has told you about me."

"Rossi hasn't told us any tales, other than that he wishes things had turned out differently between the two of you." Penelope hesitantly reached out, rubbing her shoulder. "And I tend to drown Alex out. I'm not too fond of her, I'm afraid."

Erin nodded. "So, a good friend lost her husband Monday morning."

"And why would you feel guilty about that? Did you sleep with him or something?"

She laughed a little, a mirthless, bitter, sound and shook her head. "No. We go to the same church, participate in the same small group. And I was the one who tried to persuade Ken to not have the surgery the first time he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He was waffling on the decision, since he loved Patricia so, but I told him to do what he thought would be best.

"And he agreed with me, up until he spoke with Pastor Tom. That changed everything. He came to church the following Sunday and told our class that he had decided to have the surgery to remove the lower lobe of his right lung."

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"I can only assume that Pastor Tom and Patricia talked him into having that surgery. He looked so defeated that Sunday, and all I wanted to do was tell him it would be okay if he changed his mind, if he didn't go through with the surgery. Instead, I said nothing."

She drew in a shaky breath and sipped at the water. Her stomach was knotting and cramping painfully and it seemed as if Penelope knew what she was feeling. She slid closer to her on the sofa, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "If you want, you can lean on me while you tell the rest of the story."

"It only gets worse from here on out, though." Erin rested her head on the woman's shoulder, finding herself craving the contact more than the alcohol in that moment. "Ken made it through that surgery okay, but he had a hard time coming out of the anesthesia. His recovery was slow, but the doctors declared him cancer free. It was such a blessing when he announced that in church." She paused once more, taking a deep breath. "And then, two months ago, everything changed."

"The cancer came back, didn't it?"
She nodded. "Yes. It was partially his fault, since he refused to give up his pipe."

"And you never said anything about that, since you had alcohol in your life."

Erin wondered if she had taken some profiling classes, or if she had just picked it up from her teams. "Yes. He knew about my vice, I knew about his, and we covered for each other. I'm sure he wished more than once that he had the strength to do what Morgan and Aaron did for me. Or that I would do something similar. But we were both so damned stubborn and bullheaded."

Once more, tears began to clog her eyes and she realized she had no free hand to wipe them away. Penelope was there, a tissue in her free hand that she used to dab at those damnable tears. "We tend to gravitate to those who are like us."

"I know. And so, once more, I told him to do what he wanted. He was in constant pain, not enough to complain about, he said, but a dull ache in his chest. He would have been happy with pain management and spending the last of his time with his grandchildren and so I encouraged him to take that route. Not Patricia or Pastor Tom, though. They got to him once more and convinced him to have the lung removed. He never made it out of the hospital."

"And what about that makes you feel guilty? You tried to convince a friend to do what was right for him, even if it would hurt his wife. You were thinking about him at a time when they could only focus on her. What's the harm in that?"

"Judging her," she replied softly. "I've been judging her so harshly since he went in for the surgery. Well, her and Pastor Tom, but mainly her. I've been a completely selfish bitch, blaming everything on her, when she just wanted the man she loved to get better. She honestly thought that this would cure him."

"Did you tell her that you felt this way?"

"No, which makes it worse. I was just silently condemning her in my heart. I would never tell her how I felt, since it would hurt her so, and she doesn't need that on top of what she's going through."

"That does not make you a horrible person, Erin. We all judge people based on our life experiences. And it sounds like Ken was a good friend of yours. I know that I've judged you based on how you treated my friends up until your stint in rehab. And yeah, I did treat you differently. I'm ashamed that I did so, since you seem like a more complex person than I ever took you for. I only saw you as a caricature, not as a real person."

Erin looked up into Penelope's eyes, and saw no condemnation there, like she'd expected. Instead, there was just a gentle concern that tore at her heart. "But I feel awful, Penelope. I shouldn't have been so judgmental. I should have supported her in her hour of need. That makes me a horrible person."

"Oh, Sugar Plum, no, it doesn't. A horrible person would not feel guilt about their judgment. The fact that you do means you have a tender heart buried in that chest of yours and by feeling so strongly, you just make that heart all the more tender."

Again, with the pet names, Erin thought as she closed her eyes, unable to look at the sweet caring any longer. "Ken's funeral is tomorrow. I promised Patricia that I would go."

"Then it is a good thing I stopped you from getting blitzed. You'd be no good at the funeral hung over, and you know that, Sugar Plum." And then, Penelope leaned forward and kissed her gently. It was the furthest thing from a sexual kiss and Erin relished how tender it was. "I'm going with you, to make sure nothing else causes you to want to tumble off the wagon headlong into oblivion. You mean too much to too many people to let that happen."

Erin nodded slowly, willing herself to let Penelope take control. She'd been in control for so long, that it felt good to lay that burden down. "I suppose that means you're going to keep me here overnight?"

"You read my mind. I hope you had supper already, though, since I ate before I went to the bar. Did you know what kind of establishment you stepped into this evening?"

She shook her head, curling back up into the sofa. "No. Why?"

"It's one of the higher class gay bars in Quantico."

"Oh." Erin paused a beat, trying to work out what she was implying. "Oh. Are you? I thought you were with Mr. Lynch again. Did I hear that wrong?"

Penelope giggled a little. "I swing both ways. Double the pleasure, double the fun, you know. But it's been years since I was with a woman. I just haven't found the right one yet. And Kevin, well, we tried round two, but I should have just left it alone." Erin nodded, trying to understand everything she was learning.

"I go to a really liberal church. We have a few gay families that go there." She had officially crossed over into the babbling portion of their conversation, and Penelope smiled crookedly at her.

"And that just proves you are an incredibly sweet woman at heart."

"I'm hell on heels, Penelope."

"And the devil wears Prada. Your point?" She shrugged. "So, you don't have clothes for bed or for tomorrow, so we're going to have to make something work from my closet." Penelope got up and tugged her to her feet, leading her over to the bedroom closet. "You'll want something dark, which limits us somewhat. Here's my funeral dress." She pulled out a prim looking black dress and set it on the bed. "Now, as for you, you're what, a size four?"

"Six, actually."

"All right, which means my current size fourteen shape is totally wrong for you. Well, I do have this navy dress, let's try it on and see what I can do with a decorative pin." Erin nodded and reached out her hand for the dress. "Just strip, Sugar Plum. You don't have anything that I don't have."

Her cheeks flushed as she looked around nervously. "Could I at least step behind your screen?"

Penelope nodded and she let out a relieved breath. Stepping behind the silk screen, she quickly stripped and then reached her hand over the top for the dress. Pulling it on over her head, she found it to be a nice length, even if it was large on her. "Are you ready to step out, Erin?"

"Yes." Coming out, she stood before Penelope, looking at the floor. "Do you think you can make this work?"

"I love fashion almost as much as I love hacking. This will be no problem." She held out a large jewelry box. "Now, is there anything here that catches your eye?"

Erin opened the box and looked at the assortment of pins. Instantly, her gaze was drawn to a long Celtic knot design pin. It was a soft silver color and as she picked it up, she could feel the heft that it had. "Would this work all right? It's so heavy. I wouldn't want to tear the fabric."

"This shouldn't be too heavy. Hand it over and then turn around." Erin did so and felt Penelope's hands pull the fabric of the dress tight against her body.

"Not that tight, Penelope. I need to look funeral apropos." The dress loosened a little and she nodded. Going over to the mirror, she saw that it looked fine from the front. Turning, she looked at her side and craned her neck to see her back. Vaguely, she could make out how Penelope had folded the fabric, making it look elegant. "This is perfect. Thank you."

"Well, I do have to make you look perfect, since I shanghaied you tonight. Now, let's get you out of this and into a nightie." Erin felt the dress loosen around her as Penelope removed the pin and then unzipped the dress. She gasped a little when Penelope unclasped her bra, too. "Don't worry, I'm not going to ravish you. It's just as easy for me to undo it while I'm so close. Now, I'm thinking you prefer pink or blush. Am I right?"

She nodded, not really sure what to say in response. Holding the neckline of the dress against her chest, she turned and watched the other woman dig through her dresser. It only took a moment for her to pull out two nightgowns, handing a light pink one to her. Erin stepped behind the screen once more and stepped out of the dress, placing it over the screen along with her bra, and pulling on the nightgown. Like the dress, the nightie was large on her frame, but short, barely longer than her fingertips. "Am I taking the sofa?" she asked softly as she rejoined Penelope in the room proper.

"No, you can take the bed. I'll be fine on the couch." Penelope's smile was sunny and Erin found herself smiling back. "Now, in the bathroom, you'll find a fresh toothbrush and feel free to use any of my toiletries."

Erin nodded and followed her over to the other door, stepping inside the bathroom. She quickly peed and then washed her hands before brushing her teeth and washing her makeup off her face. When she came out, Penelope was setting a blanket on the sofa and she looked up at her, smiling. "So, I think I'm going to go to sleep now. I need to put today from my mind."

"All right. What time do we need to get up tomorrow?"

"The funeral is at eleven, and I would like to be there by half past ten. I'm not too sure how many people will be there, since it is a weekday." Erin felt tears prickle her eyes once more and Penelope came up to her side, reaching out for her hand. "I'm going to be fine."

"In time." She squeezed her hand lightly before going back to the sofa. "I'll set the alarm for six, so we both can take a shower."

"Thank you." Erin turned to the bed and climbed in, pulling the covers up around her shoulders as she snuggled into the soft mattress. The lights came down and she willed herself to sleep, to not focus on her guilt. It seemed useless and as she tried to pray, she began to sob once more, wishing Alan or Dave were with her, holding her, comforting her.

She wasn't surprised to feel the bed dip minutes later, or to find Penelope's arm around her waist, holding her close. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes," she whispered, not turning around to face the woman. "Please, stay."

"I'm right here." Erin gave into her sobs once more, letting Penelope rub her stomach softly. The gentle touches lulled her to sleep finally, and she welcomed the darkness.