A/N: **hiding behind my bedroom door, peeking through a crack—I've been doing this a lot lately** Hello, everyone! **dodges a shoe being thrown at her** A shoe? Seriously? Ok, ok, I deserve it. **Peeks again, wait, there's no one there? Then where did the shoe come from?**

Lol… Ok, so if anyone is still reading this, you'll see that I've obviously not been here updating. I think the last time I updated I was thanking you all for voting for Protector in the 2013 Profiler Choice Awards. And now, I'm helping to run the 2014 awards. Whoops. Needless to say, it's been too long.

The summer was a super busy one. My sister announced her engagement and had a huge engagement party and bridal shower all in the span of the summer. And then she set her wedding date for November 1. So, we had a few months to help her plan. It was super hectic! In the meantime, my other sister had her spleen removed and we were also helping her deal with her real-life drama. And, all in all, I can honestly say I haven't focused much on myself—which includes writing—lately. **takes the tissue being handed her** Uh… thanks; how did you get in my house? Never mind, enjoy this chapter! Hopefully, I'll be back with more soon.

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds:

Chapter 24: Moving On:

~ 5 months later ~

Shake. Shake. Shake.

What the hell? Rossi thought groggily. Is that… an earthquake?

The shaking was insistent and had him coming out slowly from the more than pleasant dream he'd been having.

It can't be an earthquake, his brain rationalized. Earthquakes aren't common in D.C. And then another thought occurred to him: I am in D.C., aren't I?

Dave was out of it enough to not remember if he was on a case or not.

Eyes still closed, he let out a long-suffering sigh. There was no helping it; he'd have to open his eyes, lest he die in this persistent earthquake, wherever he was.

Still, quake or not, he could only muster up the energy to open a single eye.

There wasn't a lot of light; an early morning quake, then. From his vantage point, all he could see was a generic looking ceiling. Not very telling by itself. So, he turned his head to the left, coming face-to-face with his very real and authentic Rolex watch; it was sitting on his very own marble-topped nightstand.

Yep, it was his bedroom. In D.C. Meaning no quake.

It also meant that he could very much fall back asleep.

Sighing contently, Dave turned his head back to the ceiling and closed his one eye. He was just about to settle in for the rest of the morning when another thought struck: the shaking had stopped.

And that would have been a good thing if the last thing he'd seen before he'd shut his eye hadn't been a pillow poised over his head.

Dave opened his eyes wide this time, exclaiming, "Malika!" just before the pillow smacked him right dab in the face.

He put his hands up to protect his face as his girlfriend, laughing pretty manically, continued the onslaught from the right side of the bed.

Dating for five months, he'd gotten accustomed to the various methods to Malika's wake-up calls—most memorable of all was the time she'd thrown a snowball in his face; excited over the season's first snow, apparently. This, pseudo-pillow-fight, was a close a second.

He grabbed the pillow on its fifth blow, laughing too as he struggled for the upper hand. Rossi managed to sit up and turn towards his assaulting partner. She was still pulling at the pillow, grinning from ear-to-ear, not giving up.

"Dave!" she called out as he wrestled her to the bed, giggling all the way.

He tossed the pillow aside, pinning her to the bed, staring down into her twinkling, dark eyes. He allowed his gaze to travel down the length of her face, further; her chest, much like his, was heaving from exertion.

Malika's lovely, dark hair was splayed all around her, like a dark halo. Fitting, since at the moment he considered her the devil-in-disguise. She had a very pleased with herself smile on her face. And damn if she didn't look completely kissable, devil or not.

"Took you long enough," she said smugly.

"Mali, honey, one question. Do you attack all your boyfriends this way or just the special ones?"

"Just you," she assured.

Her tone was more sincere than her grin. He leaned forward to kiss her soundly in return.

"Mmm…" she murmured, pulling back. "What was that for?"

He groaned, reluctantly getting off her. "I could ask you the same… By the way, you've got my attention now, if that was your aim."

She sat up too, pressing her body into his bare back, hugging him tightly from behind. As much as he enjoyed her crazy side, he loved these rare affectionate moments from her even more.

"You're late," she murmured into the skin of his shoulder, placing a few butterfly kisses there.

"Late?" Dave echoed, reaching a hand behind him; he skimmed the smooth skin of her side. At the moment, he didn't much care to be on time to whatever he was supposed to be on time for.

"Your lunch meeting with Aaron and JJ and the others, remember?" she said as her hands began to roam his body.

"Lunch?" How did she expect him to think straight when she was doing… that. "God, Malika…" he groaned.

He turned around, wanting to touch her, too. She smiled shaking her head.

"But, lunch is way off," he protested.

"Actually," she said, pulling back out of his reach, taking the sheet with her. "It's eleven-fifteen."

The time didn't register, all that mattered was how she looked like a Greek Goddess wrapped in the white sheet and how much he wanted to worship her just then.

Lunging forward, he managed to grasp her hand before she moved completely off the bed. She laughed, heartily, as he pulled her back down to the bed. "Dave!"

"Come with me, then," he said from overtop her, kissing her neck, her shoulder, the line of her collarbone.

He liked the pleased noises she made at his touch.

"We can spend the day together, after," he continued between kisses. Rossi didn't much feel like parting with her so soon.

"I can't," she said, her tone lost its playfulness and he stopped kissing her to glance back at her face. She was frowning. "You need to meet your friends, and my parents will start wondering if I don't make an appearance soon."

"Ugh," he groaned, letting go of her. He swung his feet over the side of his bed, turning his back on her.

So, it was this again. And not the other thing, the fact that she had yet to meet his friends.

"Where do your parents think you were all of last night?"

It took her a moment to answer. She came around to stand before him; she'd put on her slip and had her dress in hand.

"Working a night shift in the ER," Malika replied. She was looking at him, but not quite meeting his gaze.

He sighed, staring down into his lap. Dave thought Ali and Leena Sayid were great. He'd gotten to know them even more these past few months. But the one thing he'd been having a hard time dealing with when it came to the Sayid's and their daughter was the fact that Malika felt the need to hide that they were intimate from them. She said it was because they were very traditional. He thought it was because they were straight from the dark ages.

"Don't look like that," she said pleadingly.

He shook his head, not understanding what she meant. She reached for his hands, forcing him to look up at her. This time she did meet his gaze.

"Like what?" He blew out an annoyed breath. Dave was far from a teenager and he didn't much like having to act like one again some forty years later.

"Like my parents are crazy," she answered.

He quirked an eyebrow up at her. "You had to get it from somewhere, didn't you?"

His joke earned him another pillow to the face. And when he recovered, he opened his eyes to see she'd left the room. Water running, told him she was in the en-suite. The door was open and he took that as open invitation to follow her.

Dave hung back in the doorway. Malika was at one of the double sinks, brushing her teeth with the toothbrush she'd started to keep there. "Dave…" she said when she noticed his reflection in the mirror.

"Ok, ok…" he said reluctantly. "I give."

She finished brushing and dried her lips on the towel before facing him.

"I'm sorry, Mali, ok," he said, holding his hands to both sides. Her face softened, just like he knew it would, at the use of his nickname for her.

"I just feel like with you not having met my friends yet, and hiding this from your parents… I feel like we're doing something wrong, you know?" he explained, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "And this couldn't feel more right to me. I feel… conflicted."

"I know," she said, patting his chest. "And I'm sorry, I just can't tell them. Not yet. It's a cul—"

"—cultural thing," he grumbled, finishing the sentence for her. "I just—"

She cut him off with a quick kiss. "Later, ok?" Malika glanced at her watch. "You're going to be later than you already were going to be and now so am I."

"Fine," he answered out loud, silently promising himself that they would finish this conversation later. "You're still going to be my date for the wedding, right?"

Malika was halfway to his bedroom door before she stopped and turned to face him, a grimace on her face—she hated weddings. "Of course, I am. Why wouldn't I?"

He nodded, reassured by her answer. Still, it'd taken months to get this face to face meeting with his friends. Rossi couldn't help but wonder if she was avoiding the meeting. And if so, why?

"See you later," she said, giving him a quick kiss, and departing swiftly.

"Bye," he replied to empty air.

Malika unlocked the door to her home and rushed inside; with luck she'd have just timed her arrival with her parent's routine weekend plans. And they'd only have time for a cursory greeting. Enough to see she was home from "work," but not long enough that she'd have to fake sleeping for too long, on account of her exhausting night shift.

"Mom, Dad," she yelled into the house. "I'm home! I'm going to—"

"Dr. Sayid," Jenny interrupted, suddenly appearing in the foyer, as per usual.

"Hi, Jenny," she greeted. Keeping up the act, she let out a fake yawn. "I'm exhausted, long shift you know? Nigh—"

Jenny shook her head. "Your parents are waiting for you in the living room."

"For me?" she repeated, barely getting her voice under control. Oh crap! Crap, crap, crapitty! I'm so going to kill Dave! "All right…" she replied tentatively.

Jenny nodded once, an amused twinkle in the housekeeper's eye, and was on her way.

All Malika could do was take a breath and deal with whatever came next. For God's sake, she was a thirty-one—soon-to-be thirty-two in a few days—year old woman. They couldn't expect her to stay a virgin forever, right?

Right, she answered herself.

Problem was, she was so wrong.

Malika remembered a certain uncomfortable conversation she'd had with her mother just after she'd turned fifteen. It was made pretty clear then that that's what they thought. Or at least until she got married… Maybe.

Calm down, Malika, she scolded herself. They can't possibly know that you've been with Dave all night.

But as she entered the sitting room, two stern looking faces honed in on her. And suddenly she wasn't so sure.

Rossi followed the hostess as she manoeuvered through the tables, leading him to the table reserved for their group. JJ and Hotch's wedding was only five days away and apparently—so JJ claimed—there were a few more last minute kinks to work out.

"So, are you ready?" he heard a voice that was unmistakably JJ's say; but when he looked around all he could see were a line of booths. She, and whoever she was speaking to, must have been at a table behind the booths.

"For marriage?" That was Derek's surprised voice. Were they talking about what Dave thought they were talking about? If they were, Derek seemed pretty hesitant. "Oh man, JJ… I don't know about that, I mean me and Emily are just starting to get back to normal…"

After him, Derek meant. Dave had thrown a wrench into their relationship. However, after Emily's near death experience and him stepping aside, Dave thought that the pair was doing quite nicely. Maybe not?

"Yeah, what was that all about anyway? Was there even an actual other guy?" JJ apparently not only liaised with the media, but could be a regular reporter when she wanted to be.

"Not on her part," Derek answered.

Uh…what? Yes there was. Me. Hello… he thought indignantly. He'd moved on sure, but were they really going to forget all about the part he'd played in getting the two most stubborn members of the team back together again? Granted, he'd played a small part in breaking them up in the first place… Very small… Still, give credit where credit was due. If he hadn't broken things off with Emily, would she have ever figured it out? That Derek was the one she was meant to be with?

It was then he rounded the corner and saw that the only two people to have arrived were JJ and Derek. The latter of which noticed him immediately and went tight-lipped. A knowing sort of look passed between him and Derek. And Dave knew Morgan was done talking.

"Am I late?" he asked as way of greeting, stepping up to the table.

JJ gave him a warm smile. "Hey, Dave. Not at all. We're still waiting for everyone else. Have a seat."

He did just that, taking off his sunglasses, choosing a seat that left space between him, JJ, and Derek.

An awkward silence immediately settled over the table. Dave struggled to find something to fill it with. Perfunctory questions about the wedding would do, but all that filled his brain were thoughts of Derek and Emily and whether they were all right or not.

Luckily, JJ broke it for them. "Still, Derek, you thought of Emily the instant I mentioned marriage. That must mean things are better than normal."

Derek gave him a sidelong look. "Things are great," he said simply, very uncomfortable.

"Wait a second, you're asking Emily to marry you?" His tone came out a little more incredulous than he would have liked. And Derek looked very annoyed by his inquiry.

"Sorry, Dave," JJ to the rescue again. "I was just wondering out loud, you know. Just asking if Morgan would be ready for marriage anytime soon."

"I see," he answered and his response earned him an eye roll. Whoops! This meeting was going downhill and fast. Where were the others?

Speak and you shall receive, Reid and Layla were shown to the table. And just like that he had two buffers against Morgan. Or so he'd thought.

Dave let out a sigh of relief as the longest lunch meeting in the history of noon-time meetings was adjourned and everyone began to disperse. He held in his very annoyed groan, trying to keep the fake smile on his face for JJ and Hotch's sake. But it was hard. He was just so done. Without trying, he had butted heads with Derek over what seemed like everything. The man clearly had it in for him still. And Dave had to wonder if the younger man still believed him to be a threat.

See, this is why he'd wanted Malika to meet them all, sooner rather than later. Because as much as he cared for Emily, he'd finally happily moved on.

Speaking of Malika, Layla stopped him just outside the restaurant.

"Heads up, Dave," she said conspiratorially. "I heard my parents talking this morning… about talking to Malika when she got home. About her 'night shift.'" The young woman waggled her eyebrows comically.

"Crap!" he exclaimed. "They know?"

"I'm not sure," she said, frowning. "Maybe."

Reid came up and took his girlfriend's hand. "Good luck, Rossi." The kid was grimacing like he knew something.

"What?"

"You think 'the talk' is awkward when you're a teenager… try it when you're an adult and from your girlfriend's parents."

The groan he'd been feeling all afternoon slipped out. This was not happening, he thought grimly. He was fifty-four years old, for goodness's sake.

He started to walk off when Layla, never one to want to cause anyone any grief called out, "Sorry!"

Rossi waved his hand back, hoping it conveyed the 'it's not your fault' message it was supposed to.

What made it all the worse was the two witnesses to the conversation: Derek and Emily. He saw his friend, give Morgan's hand a pat and then Emily was following him to the parking lot.

"'The Talk?'" she questioned, falling into step next to him.

"Ugh," he responded, not holding back an eye-roll. "Serves me right for dating a younger woman."

She put a hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Emily narrowed her eyes at him. "How much younger, Dave?"

"Really, Emily?" he responded sardonically, completely annoyed at this point. "You know Malika is Layla's older sister. Don't worry, there's no robbing the cradle happening on my part."

She shrugged her shoulders apologetically. "I'm sorry, Dave. Just… you seem tense. I didn't mean to come accuse you of anything. I just wanted to make sure you're all right."

Ah, she was doing for him what he once did for her. Or attempting to, he should say.

"It's… fine," he brushed off.

She gave him a firm look. "No, it's not. Tell."

And because it was Emily and he could never keep anything from her, he spilled it all. He told her about Malika, he told her how he thought he was beginning to fall in love with her. But he also told her about how he thought she was keeping him at arm's length, first with not meeting his friends, and now with not letting her parents know about the real status of their relationship.

"Hmm…" Emily said when he'd blurted it all out in the restaurant's parking lot.

"Hmm?" he replied, scoffing.

"I'm glad you're in love. Malika sounds like a special person and if she's half the person her sister is, then I approve…" She grimaced. "Not that you need my approval or anything. I just mean—"

"Emily," he said, cutting her off.

"Sorry. But… maybe she's telling the truth. That it is a cultural thing…" she reasoned. "Also, what parent wants their child to have sex before marriage, Middle Eastern or not. She lives at home, right? It must be awkward to come home the next day to your parents with everyone knowing what was happening all night."

She grinned. And Dave thought maybe she was right.

"I am so right," she said, reading his mind. "Cut her some slack, all right. She'll tell them in time."

"Fine…" he breathed out, knowing she was right. He really looked at her then; Emily's complexion was on the sallow side. She'd been sick with the flu for a bit. And she'd just come off a doctor's appointment. "How about you? You feeling all right?"

She looked uncomfortable suddenly. "Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just the after effects of the flu, you know?"

"Uh huh… The flu, right…" he said, starting to get an idea of what was really going on.

"Yep," she said too enthusiastically. "I should get going. Morgan's waiting."

He put a hand on her arm, halting her momentarily. "You know, Emily, you can still talk to me about anything… at all…"

She sighed, giving him a shrewd look. She knew that he knew. "Not about this, Dave. Not before I talk to him."

"Do it soon, all right," he gave her the piece of advice. Sooner was always better than later.

"Yeah, sure…"

That's it for this one. This isn't where I wanted to end this chapter originally, but it was getting on the long side already. And I don't think this one is up to my usual standards, so I think I'll save the rest for when I can do it better justice at least.

Anyways, I hope if you're still reading this that you enjoyed this latest installment. Not much longer to go, now… two chapters max (I think I said that two chapters ago… oh well. Lol).

Thanks to my two Guest reviewers (oh, and sorry Guest #1, yes that does mean that Emily and Rossi won't be together in the end. Sorry to disappoint).

Make sure you check out the 2014 Profiler's Choice Awards. The Final Ballot is now up. Voting for your favorites ends February 16. Details are in my profile (with a link to the Final Ballot).