I own nothing of Criminal Minds, which is a damn good thing.

Faltering
by ScintillatingTart

Part one:

"You can't leave me," she whispered, holding his hand tightly, their wedding bands catching the last of the light and casting it back at the white walls in a glinting reflection of rainbow-hued light. "What am I going to do without you?"

His fingers twitched, trying to curl around hers and give her comfort, but he was running out of strength. "We had nineteen good years," he reminded her, his voice raspy from the pneumonia that had ravaged his body. It was only a matter of time now.

"It should've been twenty," she exhaled, choking back a sob. "It should've been twenty-five, but you had to be stupid and go out to the cabin with the dogs and –"

"Oh, cara," he breathed. "I don't want to go but I can't keep fighting."

"I am never going to forgive you," she whispered. "Never, not ever – Dave, don't you dare leave me…"

But her words fell on deaf ears. He'd already drawn his last breath.

Her heartbroken cries echoed through the house, their house, and the dogs began to howl with their mistress's hysterical anguish. Nineteen years, they had been happy – and now there was only pain.

By the time the door slammed open and Christina raced up the stairs, the mortuary people were loading up her father's body. "Mama," she whispered, pushing past the strangers and latching onto her mother's side. "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry – I drove as quickly as I could…"

"I know," Penelope murmured. "Your brother hasn't gotten home from his football game yet. I didn't want to pull him away."

"That's not fair to Luca – maybe he needed to say good-bye," Christina said.

"Daddy told him to go," Penelope whispered. "And play for him. I just… what am I going to do now?" she asked her daughter. "What now?"

"You're going to do what you always do," Christina said. "One foot in front of the other foot in front of the other foot – remember? That's what you told me when you had cancer, remember? One day at a time, one foot in front of the other. Dad wouldn't want you to –"

"He should still be here," Penelope exploded, shoving Christina away. "He shouldn't have gone out in the weather alone at his age – but we had an argument about something old and stupid and he just got his guns and took the dogs and went hunting. Stupid old man, thinking he was still…" She stopped speaking when her voice gave out completely, hung up on a broken sob.

"He wasn't that old," Christina said.

"How is eighty-three not that old?" Penelope asked, staring at her daughter.

"Dad always ate pretty well and exercised and stuff," Christina reminded her. "He could've gone on forever –"

"Then why didn't he?" Penelope asked caustically. "Why didn't he fight harder?"

Christina frowned and her brow furrowed. "Because bacteria and viruses don't care how old or young you are," she said softly. "Or how strong or weak you are. They just reproduce and kill you if they can. That's all there is to it."

"My logical daughter, the med student," Penelope sighed. "You're right – of course you're right. I just… I haven't been without him in so long that I can't… I can't do this alone, sweetheart."

"You're not doing anything alone, Mama," Christina assured her. "You've still got us – me and Luca. And all your friends…"

"You mean all the hangers-on?" Penelope dismissed sadly. "Sweetheart… I'd hardly call them friends. I'd call them snobs who have more money than sense. These people you think are my friends celebrate paying $20k for a bottle of wine."

"Yeah, but you and Dad have money – lots of it –"

"And have you ever seen us throw it to the wind willy-nilly?" Penelope shot back. "I don't really have friends anymore… just JJ and Emily, and I haven't seen them in… forever."

The heard the kitchen door slam open. "We did it!" Luca shouted, running through the house. "Dad, we –" He stopped just inside the door to the master suite and fell silent. He took a deep, shuddering breath and whispered, "We won. We're going to State."

Penelope Garcia Rossi turned from the window, took a few steps and pulled her son into her arms. "He's proud of you," she whispered. "He's so proud of you. I promise. I swear it – he knew you were going to win, Luca. He knew it. He wanted you to go and play your heart out. I'm so sorry, baby – I'm so sorry…" She held her own grief back, letting him cry for them both. She had no tears left to give at the moment, only a deep, hollow emptiness in her heart.

"No, we're going to follow my husband's instructions to the letter," Penelope said firmly. "He didn't want this to be a wake – he wanted it to be a celebration of life. Of our life together, and our children's lives and…" She swallowed hard and reached for her glass of water. When she'd wet her hoarse throat, she continued, "And the lives of everyone we helped through the BAU. He didn't want a funeral. He wanted it to be happy."

Aaron Hotchner's face was still stony. "Penelope, you do realize that he just didn't want you to suffer, right?" he asked. "That's why he wanted it to be happy. Because he loved you and he loved the kids and he wanted you to remember all of the good things –"

She licked her lips and stared at her husband's lawyer – her former friend. "I know," she whispered. "And that's why we should follow his wishes."

"Even the one about playing 'Don't Worry, Be Happy'?" Hotch asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, well, maybe not that one," she said, laughing a little. "Even he thought that was a little over the top, but he put it in anyway because that was Luca's favorite song when we would drive out to the…" Her voice trailed off and she sighed. "It doesn't matter now, does it?" she asked him.

"Everything matters," Hotch said. "Especially the little things."

Penelope looked up at him and murmured, "I know things went south in a hurry between you and me when Jack and Christina eloped and then got divorced. I'm sorry I was a catty bitch, but – can we put it behind us and be friends again?"

Hotch sighed. "Some things are best left as they are, Mrs. Rossi," he said, gathering his things. "I'll make the arrangements and give you a call in the morning. I assume you'll sign the check when the time comes?"

She nodded, her frown deepening. "I am sorry," she said very quietly. "I never meant to hurt you or Jack. I just… I had to take Christina's side. I'm her mother. Until you're on that line, you never know which way you're going to step, do you?"

"Blood is thicker than friendship," Hotch said, locking his briefcase and walking away.

"Morgan," he grunted into the phone, smothering a yawn. He was back to working the graveyard shift and someone calling him at the buttcrack of noon was going to get them killed.

"You sound chipper," Hotch said sarcastically down the line.

"You woke me up," Derek growled.

"There's no easy way to say this," Hotch said. "David Rossi died last night. Pneumonia on top of his heart condition. The funeral is on Thursday at four. The visitation is Wednesday evening."

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Because you were friends."

Derek swung his legs out of bed and started pacing as soon as his feet hit the floor. "Yeah," he said, "we were. Once. But not anymore."

"You're in his will, Morgan – the least you can do is show up."

Derek stopped still in his tracks. "Why the hell would I be in Rossi's will after…"

"You'll know when you show up," Hotch replied.

"How's Jack?" Derek asked. "Doing okay up in Washington?"

"He's fine," Hotch said. "He's getting serious with a nice girl. He's been a little gun-shy after the incident."

"Well, that's to be expected – eloping and then finding out your bride is a psycho? That takes the cake."

"I might have been a little overly harsh in describing her," Hotch said cautiously. "But they made the right decision to get divorced."

"I'll be there," Derek said with a sigh. "I just can't guarantee that I'm going to be happy about it."

"I can't guarantee that the Widow Rossi will be very happy about it, either," Hotch snorted. "She's being melodramatic, like her world is ending."

Derek sat down hard in his broken-down old recliner. "Losing the person you love isn't easy," he said. "You know that. The world does end. But then it starts again." He sighed and said, "Besides, she loves him. She always did. It's okay. She's allowed to break."

Hotch sighed down the line. "Morgan, if I were you, I'd be more upset about her than you are."

Derek's lips quirked up into a wry smile. "You're about nineteen years too late with that advice," he commented. "But thank you anyway, Aaron. I'll see you Wednesday."

He hung up the phone and sat there for a long time. He wasn't angry, not anymore. How could he be? They'd both made their decisions and that was that. He had a sixteen year old daughter and a fourteen year old son, and he'd had six blissful years with Terri before she'd died. He couldn't complain.

And she'd clearly been happy – he'd seen the wedding pictures, the photos that were forwarded by email to him from their colleagues. Penelope's kids were just like her, all smiles and laughter. He couldn't fault her for wanting to have that.

He just wished that…

No, the past was past and over and done.

He got to his feet and crossed the apartment to the computer, quickly ordering three round-trip flights for him and the kids. No way he was leaving them with Sarah again. That was a recipe for disaster. His sister was a very indulgent aunt. And the last thing he needed was Mick stealing his motorcycle again. Derek had almost grounded him into the middle of the next century – till Wanda had sprung it on him that she needed birth control or condoms or something.

Yeah, they were coming with him.

Or they were going to be duct taped to their beds for three days. Either way, they were going to behave themselves.