What was supposed to be a one-shot has fueled my muse to create a movie in my head and now it's become a series. I hope you guys don't mind that what was supposed to be a hurt/comfort/friendship piece between Hotch and Dave is now going to be a Dave/Em crime/intrigue/suspense/romance piece. Please forgive me. Second in the "You Won't Get To Heaven Alive Series".

Dedicated to Patrizia.

I don't own Criminal Minds, but I would have given anything to have had MGG direct the film my muse created; at least it would've made better sense on paper!

Song prompt: "Innocence Lost" by Amy Grant

Innocence Lost

Parco della Repubblica, S. Lazzaro, a municipality of Bologna, Italy.

Dave looked around at his surroundings and took a seat at the canopied table. Taking the menu, he looked it over as a server approached him. Thin, pretty, soft black hair…for a moment his heart beat rapidly as he was consumed by a memory of the raven haired beauty who had been his partner.

"Sir?" the young woman asked in Italian, her brow furrowed.

Coming back to the present, Dave shook his head. "I'm sorry," he replied back in her native tongue.

"Are you ready to order?"

Dave glanced at the sheet. "I'll have the coffee and a scone," he replied and set the menu down.

With a soft smile, the server walked off. Shyly she cast a glance at the tall, dark man, but he was staring off into space.

Any other time in his life, Dave would have eaten the attention up, but not now. He wasn't sure about anything anymore and if he thought he was going to find the answers by getting away on holiday, he sure fooled himself. Now if only he could figure out why he chose Italy to come to, then maybe he would feel better about things.

Okay, so it had been the first thing that had popped up on the travel search when he was looking for fares. And it was the birthplace of his grandparents, but still… He sighed as the light breeze blew over him. He had forgotten it was still on the brink of spring when he set out earlier in nothing but a light weight sports coat. But he had wanted to get some sight seeing in before he left in a few days.

Having landed in Rome, he made his way through the well known cities before settling on S. Lazzaro to spend the remainder of his vacation before heading on to Belgium then England.

Thanking the server as she set the items down, he turned his thoughts back to the last conversation he had had with Hotch. He needed to make a decision about his future…and soon. He wanted to stay at the FBI but without the fire in his belly, he didn't want to be there taking up space and air. But what difference would it be if he was stuck at home all day twiddling his thumbs and fighting writer's block?

Sipping the hot brew, he considered the possibilities.

There was always the teaching position…or a desk job…or worse…being kept on, but sent out to pasture and mentor young up and coming agents. His love for fighting crime only went so far. And there was no way he was going to mentor and get close to some fresh faced kid only to watch them lose their life while trying to apprehend the bad guy. Once was enough. One heart break was more than enough to last a life time.

Still that left the question of what he was going to do when he stepped back on US land in twenty three days… God, how was it possible he could get into the mind of a serial killer and predict their next move, but when it came to dissecting his pathetic existence, he was out of answers?

He could always get married again, he groused as he cut the delicate scone and chewed the bite thoughtfully. What was that saying? The fourth time is the charm? Hell Dave, if it couldn't work for Liz Taylor or Larry King, what makes you think it would work for you?

True…but it never hurt to wish. Besides, he was a writer and every writer lived a bit of their lives in fantasy… He stopped in mid thought as his nose picked up a scent. On alert, he dropped his fork and looked around. He was being watched. Carefully, he scanned the area trying to pick out who might be tailing him.

He made sure not to call attention to himself as his eyes, concealed by sunglasses, looked over each and every face in the crowd. Nothing was out of place, but still…what was that smell? Vanilla? His mind searched to put a name to it. Vanilla Sandalwood! That was it! Emily!

Standing up, he spun around quickly but no one was there. Confused, he looked around again. A couple of women glanced at him and smiled. Smiling back, he sat down and finished his meal.

Pushing the plate back, he drained the coffee cup. He needed to get back to his hotel and rest. It was bad enough that he had let Emily haunt him during cases, but now she was haunting him on his vacation. Maybe that was the sign he needed to hang up his credentials once and for all.

"Will there be anything else?" the server asked as she scanned Dave from head to toe. Unconcealed desire was in her eyes. No ring on the finger was the first thing she noticed, then she made her way up his body to his face. He was a foreigner - an American - but that was alright.

"No, thank you," Dave replied.

"Are you in Italy for business or pleasure?" she wondered as she gathered up the dishes.

"Vacation. I had hoped to clear my head and make sense of some things, but…"

"Vacations are supposed to clear your mind," she agreed. "What's irritating you that you cannot relax and enjoy your time off?"

Dave hesitated. It wasn't like him to open up to strangers but there was something familiar and comforting about her. And God knew he couldn't keep it inside a minute longer.

"I came here to forget someone."

"A lover?"

"A friend," Dave corrected.

"She left you?"

"She was killed."

"So you came to Italy to forget her? Or to remember?"

"Uh…" Dave struggled to remember if he had caught her name.

"Patrizia," the woman offered. "She must have hurt you very much for you to still be grieving."

"Her death was sudden," Dave remarked as tears threatened to choke him. He hadn't cried since the night of the funeral but he could feel a bout coming on. "She loved Italy. She grew up outside Rome," he added. "I wanted to come here and lay her ghost to rest."

"You are a good friend," Patrizia commented and touched Dave's shoulder gently. "How did you end up here?"

"Just driving around. I made it to all the tourist spots. I fly back to the States in a week." Dave pulled out his wallet and extracted a few bills to hand to Patrizia.

"Since you are new here, maybe I can show you around," she offered and handed him a slip of paper.

Dave gave her a half smile. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll be leaving tomorrow."

"Just in case you change your mind." Patrizia turned and walked away. Dave watched her, then looked down at the yellow piece of paper. Opening it, he read her name and number. Giving a slight snort, he folded it and placed it in his breast pocket. He wasn't interested, but he was still here for the night and anything was possible.

Turning, he made his way to the sidewalk and was suddenly knocked back as a body collided with him. Trying to regain his balance, he caught the woman by the shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine. I'm fine," the blonde woman replied in Russian before hiking her purse strap up and hurrying down the sidewalk.

Dave sniffed the air. There it was again. It was the woman he had just held. Looking around, he searched for her, but she was gone. Where had she gone?

Another look around, then he gave up. Maybe he was just imagining things. But that feeling of being watched was still eating at him. It was just as well he was leaving tomorrow. Picking up the pace, he walked back to his hotel.
*****

Slipping between the two buildings, the woman who had bumped into Dave was struggling to catch her breath. Pressing a hand to heart, she felt the tears threaten to overwhelm her.

Dave!

What was he doing in Italy? Was something wrong? Had Doyle done something? Why hadn't JJ notified her?

"Calm down," Em cautioned herself, "he didn't recognize you. At least I don't think he did." Still… She peeked around the corner of the brick building and scanned the area. The guy with the dark sun glasses and aviator jacket was still sitting across the street from where Dave had been. Dave was being tailed.

She had heard something thru the grapevine but wasn't sure. Until now. Doyle had found Dave. But how? How did the terrorist manage to slip thru American customs? This was not good.

Pulling out her phone, Em dialed quickly and waited. "Yes, I have a complaint about the order you sent me. If you look close at the manifest, you will find that Irish sourdough got mixed in too. The place it ended up should be on your computer. I'll take all loaves, yes." She nodded. "Let's make sure this gets cleared up. I'll try to send back the erroneous order in one piece."

Hanging up. Em placed the phone in her purse. She had let Hotch know that Dave was in Italy and was being tailed. Now she had to pray that she got to Dave and made him understand all the deceit before Doyle made his move.

Before it was too late.