Breathless | David Rossi

Chapter Thirty

You approach the bed, cautiously reaching out to slip your hand in his. A tear slides down your cheek at his bedridden state, your jaw tense as you refrain from breaking down. The urge is so strong but you know once you start, you won't be able to stop.

Sliding the chair closer, you sit down, unable to remove your eyes from him. "This is all my fault," You whisper. "You should never have been caught up in my mess, you didn't deserve it. And I am so fucking sorry, David, and words can never express just how so."

You sit up, leaning over him and brushing your hand through his hair. The heart monitor spikes as you press your lips to his forehead, a small smile on your face.

You're not sure how much time passes, as you rest your stomach on the side of the bed and run your hand through his hair, your other hand still holding his. Your stomach churns every time you focus on his face, the swelling has gone down but the bruises still linger.

On your way in, the nurse had confirmed his injuries; broken cheekbone, mild concussion, bruised ribs and of course, his bullet wound in his waist. He is severely dehydrated though the fluids are rehydrating him as you sit here.

You release a shaky sigh, sitting back down and leaning your head over the chair. Your knuckles ache, reminding you of the damage you've done. You've probably fractured or at least broken some of the bones in your hands, considering the amount of force and repetitive hits you sent. You won't know for sure until someone checks you out, but right now your attention is focused solely on Rossi.

"I love you, David," You say after a while, unsure of what prompts you to do so. "I love you so fucking much it hurts. I don't want to think of a life without you, so you have to wake up, because I need you, David. You're the reason I get up every morning, the reason I fight so hard to come home when I put my life at risk, why I push myself to do better every day."

You wipe the tears away, clutching onto his hand as if your life depends on it. "Look at what happened to me when you were gone; I killed so many people, so many people, and I don't feel the slightest bit remorseful. I became the person I fear most because I didn't have you to stop me, to catch me."

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, David Rossi. I want to marry you, I want to grow old with you and-" You pause, subconsciously resting your palm on your stomach. "If I could, I'd raise a little Rossi with you, but I can't and for that, I am sorry, sorry that I can't give you what you've always wanted."

When you and Rossi first started sleeping together, he turned up unannounced at your penthouse. You knew from the moment you saw him that something was on his mind, but you didn't push it. You knew he'd tell you eventually and if not, that was okay because it wasn't your business.

The sex was rough, a little rougher than usual and for the first time, he was quiet. You let him release his frustrations, and afterwards, you took care of him. It meant a lot to you that Rossi came to you, he was always so closed off and generally Hotch would have to chip away at him and even then Rossi wouldn't completely budge.

He's a private man.

You didn't say anything, only wrapping yourself around him and laying in silence, until he finally spoke. It was James' anniversary. It was then you understood why he'd come to you. You listened, and when he finished, you brought his head to your chest and ran your hands through his hair, soothing him to sleep.

It constantly pains you, knowing you can't give Rossi what he's always wanted. It's one of your fears, a reason why you didn't tell him you love him because you feel that one day he may feel you aren't enough, that he wants to wake up not only beside his partner but his kid, who snuck into bed with them during the night.