Author's Note 1 - This story is a spin-off from our completed epic, "In Sickness or In Health". It's dedicated to our very special fellow author, SunnyinOregon. Chick, I hope you like it and it helps to brighten your day. It will be two chapters.

A Thousand Deaths

Chapter One

David Rossi had stared death in the face countless times. Whether he was forcing confessions from the worst society had to offer humanity or leading some of the most ruthless men La Familia had ever seen into the light, he'd faced down his foes with a lethal ferocity honed by many years of experience. He was a man admired by a few, but feared by a great many. Courage and conviction were his middle names.

Why the hell hadn't anybody ever told his kids that?

And more important than that, why hadn't anyone ever told him that having children would be the most dangerous job he'd ever even think of having?

Grabbing the pillow from his son's hands just seconds before it was certain to land upside his daughter's head, Dave ordered, "Henry, what did I tell you about hitting your sister?"

"But Daddy, she started it!" Henry whined, his hand on his hip in a perfect imitation of his father.

"It doesn't matter, son," Dave said with a sigh, staring down into the perfect blue eyes that were an exact copy of his mother's, "We're men. We don't hit girls. Remember?"

Just as the words came out of his mouth, he grunted as he felt a sharp sting against his ankle. Looking down, he watched as his daughter growled and raised the wooden spoon in her hand, taking perfect aim for his leg once again.

When had his daughter become armed with kitchen implements?

Making a grab for the wooden spoon in Marina's entirely too capable hands, Dave frowned. "Where did you get that, young lady?" he asked sternly as the little wonder that was his daughter easily avoided relinquishing her weapon.

"Mine!" she yelped, as the spoon connected painfully with his ankle. "Mine! Mine! Mine!" she chanted, her blows landing in quick succession as her father gasped in pain.

"Son of a bi-," Dave growled.

"Don't say it, daddy," Henry warned, shaking his blonde head in a perfect imitation of his mother. "Mama said you'd get the soap, too!" he informed the man now balancing on one foot in the kitchen.

"Biscuit," Dave grimaced, rubbing his abused ankle. "I was gonna say biscuit, son," Dave managed as he reached for a nearby chair.

"Were not," four year old Henry Rossi said sagely.

When did his kids become smarter than him, Dave asked himself desperately.

"Want mama!" his two and a half year old daughter demanded, her cheeks reddening with fury as she gazed up at her father. "Want mama NOW!" she yelled obstinately, beating her spoon against the floor in a surprisingly good rhythm.

Clearing his throat as he gingerly lowered his foot back to the kitchen floor and looked between his two children, he began authoritatively, "Look, guys, I already told you that Mama would be home tonight, remember?"

"You said that last night," Marina retorted, climbing back to her sturdy feet, her wooden weapon held tightly in her chubby fingers.

"No, last night I told you that she'd be home tomorrow," he reasoned with his little girl, his lips twitching as she rolled her sapphire eyes at him.

"It is tomorrow," Henry huffed, stomping his foot.

"But tomorrow isn't over until tonight," Dave said plaintively, realizing that not even HE could understand his convoluted logic. Oh, God, he owed JJ a medal if this was the kind of negotiating she did with their kids on a daily basis. Taking a deep breath, he stared down at his son and daughter, both wearing identical expressions that threatened mayhem of mass proportions if he didn't act fast. "Okay, kids," he said, glancing at the wall clock, "we've officially got about six hours until Aunt Emily and Mama's flight lands."

"How long is that?" Henry frowned, cocking his head and wrinkling his nose.

"Six hours," Dave repeated stupidly. Realizing that the concept of time meant absolutely nothing to his children, he amended, "It's twelve episodes of Sponge Bob." Wincing as Marina promptly burst into tears, wailing at the top of her tiny lungs, "Toooooo longgggg!", Dave groaned, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Three days without his wife had proven to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was ill-equipped to EVER be a single parent.

"Sweetie," Dave sighed as Marina scrambled back to her hiding place under the kitchen table, "It won't be that bad," he lied, knowing full well it WOULDN'T be that bad...it'd be worse.

But he'd be damned if he said that out loud. He'd learned his lesson on that one already.

"I'll get 'er," Henry offered with a long-suffering sigh.

"No!" Dave yelped immediately, remembering his son's so-called help from the previous evening when he'd dragged Marina out from under the table - - by the hair. "Daddy can do it," he said, forcing a reassuring smile to his lips as Marina's sobs reached a fever pitch. Who knew his daughter could achieve sound levels that made the dogs living a mile away howl?

Kneeling on the tiled floor, Dave looked under the table, his heart breaking at his baby's wet eyes. "C'mon, pumpkin," he soothed, holding out his arms, "Come on out from under there."

"No!" Marina shook her head furiously, jamming her thumb in her mouth. "Want mama!"

Inhaling deeply as he inched his way beneath the wide oak table, Dave prayed for his sanity. He was going to make it a mission in life to exact retribution on Aaron Hotchner for sending his wife away for a three day seminar if it killed him. "Soon, Marina. I promise," Dave vowed.

"I want my mama!" Marina yelled, scooting backward as her father advanced.

Making a grab for his little terror's ankle, Dave realized belatedly that yet again Marina's reflexes were quicker, jerking out of his grasp and evading capture. Lunging forward to make another play for his elusive daughter, Dave smacked his head against the table. "Ouch! Sh-"

"Soap, daddy!" Henry chimed in from behind him.

"Sugar!" Dave moaned, "I was gonna say sugar, son!" Blinking rapidly to clear the stars from his vision, Dave focused on his wayward angel.

"Go for the hair, Daddy!" Henry coached from his crouched position on the floor behind him.

"No!" Marina shrieked, slamming both hands to her head. "No pull my hair!"

"Nobody's gonna pull anybody's hair, Marina," Dave said as calmly as he could, his head bending in defeat.

"I want my mama!" Marina pouted, her lower lip jutting out. "I want my mama, daddy!"

"Me, too," Henry concurred, adding his opinion to the medley.

"Me, three! I want my mama, too," Dave groaned, ready to whimper as he heard a familiar laugh from the vicinity of the kitchen door. Turning his head to peer between the chairs, he spotted a familiar pair on no-nonsense black pumps planted on the floor. "Ma?" he called hopefully.

"Nonna?" he heard both his children say simultaneously, their little heads turning toward the sound of the gentle laughter.

"Come out from under there, Marina," her familiar voice called gently.

Watching as his agile daughter darted between the kitchen chairs toward his mother legs, Dave collapsed on the floor. He didn't know whether to be grateful for his mother's unannounced appearance or bitter that he couldn't produce the same cooperation from his own children.

"Hello, bambina," Sofia Rossi's wrinkled face smiled down at her granddaughter, pressing a kiss to her silky hair as she clasped her grandson to her with her other hand. "What have you two been doing to your father?" she asked, eying her son's legs beneath the kitchen table.

"He's hiding mama's body, Nonna!" Marina tattled, burying her face against her grandmother's dress. "Spank 'im!"

Laboriously sliding out from his less than graceful position on the floor below the table, Dave retorted, "I am not!"

"Are, too," his kids announced in unison, both of them turning to stare up into Sofia Rossi's serene face.

"Am not!" Dave argued insistently, his jaw dropping as his mother wrapped her arms around his children consolingly and raised an eyebrow at him. "You know I'm not, Mama," he mumbled, his own cheeks reddening under her scrutiny. "You're on their side, aren't you?" he asked tiredly, meeting his mother's wise eyes.

"I'm their grandmother, Davie. Of course I'm on their side," she informed him with lips that twitched in amusement. "Did you expect otherwise?"

A/N 2 - Hello. We have exactly THREE days left to NOMINATE your favorite authors and stories in the second annual Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards hosted by "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. Random drawings for TWO $10.00 Amazon gift cards will be given to two lucky nominators. To be considered eligible, all you have to do is fill out a ballot in ten categories or more. Winners will be announced October 16, 2011! So PLEASE, take a trip to the forum and grab those ballots!

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