David Rossi; 2009
David Rossi wouldn’t describe himself as particularly religious, but being brought up Catholic leaves a lasting imprint on any man’s psyche.
There are the classic jokes about sexual repression,
That why you have three marriages under your belt, Rossi? Rebellion gone wrong?
the habits that are impossible to break, even long into adulthood,
Didn’t know you were a bad flyer, Rossi. (All he did was bless himself, the turbulence was severe)
and a healthy amount of guilt.
Healthy?
For the most part, Rossi didn’t care much for his religion. But tomorrow was Haley Hotchner’s funeral, and it seemed impossible to avoid.
Her service would be beautiful, in a harrowing sort of way. The aisles will be filled with dark coats and dark suits and darker hearts, and up the front will sit a little boy who doesn’t understand why this had to happen. Hell, Rossi doesn’t understand why this had to happen, and he has several decades and a war on the kid.
Her burial too, will be beautiful, but in a more devastating way. There is a finality to laying someone in the ground to rest forever. Jack had asked the other day, in a moment of such perfect innocence, whether his mother would be lonely down there when they bury her. Rossi had no answer, and neither did the God he prayed to for help. Aaron looked as hopeless as he felt.
The funeral was tomorrow, and nobody was quite ready for it. Especially not the five BAU agents gathered together in the briefing room, all of whom Rossi suddenly realised were painfully, almost mockingly young. He felt impossibly ancient sitting next to them, and yet could not think of a single thing to say. Not a word of reassurance saw fit to pass his lips.
There had been a dark cloud hanging over their workplace since Haley’s death, as each of them attempted to finalise paperwork on quite possibly the most horrific case any of them had ever worked. They had only seen Hotch once, when he swung by to collect some stray documents from his desk, Jack perched on his hip. He didn’t say a word, and no one could blame him.
No one was saying anything now, even though they had all assembled to discuss what tomorrow would bring. As Rossi looked around the room, it was second nature to profile them. In fact, he would hardly classify it as profiling since everyone was wearing their emotions on their faces so unreservedly that it nearly stunned him.
JJ, Garcia, and Reid all looked sad. As a best-selling author, Rossi wishes he could think of a better adjective to describe them, but none came to mind. There was no other word to capture the simplicity of their grief, the pure, unfiltered sorrow that seeped from their very beings. On the other hand, Prentiss and Morgan looked angry. Furious at Foyet and the rest of the goddamn world. He couldn’t blame them. He was angry, too.
Just as Rossi was beginning to think that no-one at all was going to speak, a scratchy voice piped up.
“I still can’t believe this,” Penelope sniffled. “It’s just the most heart-breaking thing in the world.”
Rossi could see the others nod in solemn agreement. Morgan moved slightly so that Garcia could rest her head on his shoulder, and JJ reached out so that she was grasping Garcia’s hand in her lap. Rossi knew that this was hitting Penelope and Morgan hard. Both of them knew what it was like to lose a parent. Although, Rossi’s brain supplied unhelpfully, neither of them were as devastatingly young as Jack was.
“I just keep imagining her final moments. How scared she must have been-“
“Penelope, you have to stop this.”
Rossi hadn’t intended for his words to come out as sharp as they did, and he felt guilt swell up inside of him when he saw Garcia’s wide, watery eyes staring at him in betrayal.
Rossi took a deep breath. “In my family, the day before the funeral is never filled with sadness. We only remember the good times. And we drink to them.”
The large bottle of sambuca that he promptly pulled out from his go-bag at his feet earned a small laugh from around the table. Rossi ordered Prentiss to fetch a few glasses from the kitchenette so they could begin. Garcia was still staring at him with wariness but seemed much more composed than a few moments ago.
“You know,” Rossi began, looking at Garcia but addressing everyone, “the day before my Uncle Enzo’s funeral in ’75, me and my cousins got so drunk we missed the first half of the ceremony the next day. Our mothers damn near killed us. We didn’t mind, we hated the guy.”
“Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen here.” Prentiss quipped, as she returned with the glasses and some tonic water.
“You must have known Haley during your first stint at the BAU, right Rossi?”
JJ’s slightly tear-strained voice broke from the silence that threatened to cloak the room once everyone was settled with their drinks. Their young media liaison seemed to have permanent redness around her eyes since that fateful day, no doubt imagining how distraught her own son would be if Mommy could never hug him again. Rossi couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face when he heard her speak. It took courage to begin conversations like these.
“I did.” Rossi supplied, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “The fist few months Aaron was working here, I thought he was engaged. He was just so smitten with her. He’d call her before a case, every night during one, and straight after it was finished. Then I found out that the ring around his finger wasn’t some fancy engagement ring Haley made him wear, but an actual wedding ring. They’d been married five years and were still in the honeymoon phase. I’d never seen anything like it. Hotch is a smart man, but he was absolutely stupidly in love.”
Suddenly the faces sitting beside him wore small smiles rather than frowns, and they toasted to the first memory shared, all of them laughing softly when Reid’s face scrunched up in distaste at the alcohol.
“Haley once offered to trash Morgan’s apartment for me.” Garcia said suddenly, sighing happily at what was obviously for her a treasured memory, but what was, for nearly everyone else, the single most confusing sentence they’d ever heard.
“What?
Morgan’s incredulous question could barely be heard over Prentiss confused guffaw of laughter and Reid and JJ’s knowing giggles. It was obvious that they already knew the details of what Rossi expected to be a very interesting story. With a twinkle in his eye and a refilling of her glass, he prompted Penelope to continue.
“We were all out drinking one night, God it was years ago now. Derek and I were just casually chatting-“
“Casually chatting?” interrupted JJ, voice an entire octave higher than usual. “I thought we were gonna have to book you two a room! Porn stars would be more modest than you two that night.”
“It was all words, Jayje my love. I call it spicy platonic.”
“I’m guessing Haley didn’t know about your spicy platonic relationship?” Prentiss cut in, grinning wickedly.
“No she didn’t! And then fifteen minutes later when Derek went off to dance with a pretty girl-“
“A few pretty girls.” Reid inputted cheekily.
“A few too many pretty girls. Anyway, Haley cornered me a while later, she was a bit tipsy and looked absolutely positively devastated. She told me that no woman deserves a husband who would cheat on her so openly. Then she offered to trash his apartment for me.”
“She thought you two were married?” Prentiss asked delightedly, thoroughly enjoying both Garcia’s story and the tremendous amount of embarrassment showing plain as day on Morgan’s face.
“Yes! She was ready to kill Morgan. I felt so supported.”
Another round of drinking ensued, with Morgan downing his quickly, a grumpy look on his face that didn’t last long because Rossi knew that there wasn’t anything Penelope Garcia could do to make Morgan properly angry at her.
“Do you remember when Hotch brought Haley and Jack into work one morning a few weeks after Jack was born?” Reid asked, turning to look at the members of the BAU who were there at the time. After their nods, he continued. “Haley asked me if I wanted to hold him. I said no, but she sort of insisted. The second he was in my arms, he sneezed. I got such a fright that I nearly dropped him, and Haley ended up just placing him on my lap instead. I also think I freaked her out a little by talking about how babies tend to sneeze on average 28% more than adults.”
“I remember that!” JJ cut in gleefully. “I didn’t know who was more nervous, you or her.”
“Definitely me. The Reid Effect, remember?”
And suddenly stories were being traded left right and centre, mainly from Garcia and JJ, but the occasional one from the boys as well. Prentiss was quieter, content to listen rather than actively contribute. Rossi figures this is because she didn’t know her as well. It doesn’t escape anyone’s notice that the happy stories they’re trading all occurred prior to the Hotchner’s divorce. No one wanted to mention how frosty their relationship had gotten towards the end. These last few years have been hard on Aaron, Rossi mused, and the next few were going to be harder still.
Rossi looked around the room, as Morgan and Garcia animatedly tell another tale, hands flying this way and that as they argue over whose account is more accurate. The redness surrounding JJ’s eyes has dissipated slightly, but she is clutching Reid’s hand like a lifeline, and Rossi can’t help but marvel at how far the kid’s come. A year ago there was no way his hand would be steady enough to comfort a friend.
They’ve all come so far, and there is further yet to go. Tomorrow they will mourn, listen to eulogies, and try not to think of the sound of the gunshot that killed Haley Hotchner.
Tonight they will drink and laugh and remember.
Because this is a Rossi family tradition.