They know the truth of many things. It's their job to dig it out. They've learned each others' secrets and deepest rooted fears, uncovered everything there is to know. They know everything when it comes to each other, even the one truth that most think would spur some kind of action. But feeling and doing are two very different things and somehow no matter how much they feel, they just can't do.

She knows that he loves her, really loves her. She can see it in the way he always flashes a smile when he sees her. She can feel it in the way he holds her when she's falling apart, so gently as not to hurt her any more, but hard enough to hold her brokenness together. She can hear it in the way his intonation softens and bends as he speaks her name. She knows.

He knows she feels it, too. He can see it in the way she rolls her eyes as she fights a smile at his silliness. He can feel it in the way she clings to his shoulders as they embrace. He can hear it in the way she begs for his life faced with Matheson and his gun. He truly knows.

But their line stands strong between them, keeping them from becoming any more of an 'us' than their roles as business partners or friends entail. Their line twists and morphs, until it is more than just a boundary line they can just trespass over, relishing in the danger. At some point, their line had become an asymptote, an invisible line they continue to inch closer and closer to, but just can't cross. At some point, almost has become the best they could ever hope for.

He's scared of being abandoned. She's terrified of being alone.

She's been rejected, rejected, rejected and she's so afraid. Her father didn't want her, Sophie's mother didn't want her, Alec didn't want her. How can Cal? How can anyone? How can she be anything, but alone?

He's been rejected, rejected, rejected and he is so afraid. His mother walked away, his friends all walked away, Zoe walked away. Why would Gill stay? Why would anyone? Why did he think he could be anything, but alone?

Their fear is equally crippling, y=0, and it just can't be overcome. It doesn't matter how beautiful a picture it could make if they finally did get together. Their line had become an asymptote that they can't cross.

So he pushes, she pulls. He tries so hard to make her go away, make her leave him and all this useless pain behind, but they're drawn together inexplicably like moths to a flame and how can it feel so good to be burned this way? How close can they get before their skin bubbles and chars and makes everything painful?

He kisses her closer nowadays, lips pressed so close to the corner of her mouth that he touches against the soft satin of her lips. She hugs him with her whole body, warm skin touching through two layers of clothing. He calls her 'love' or 'darling' or even sometimes 'my sweet', infusing every syllable with love. She can call him anything she likes as long as she does it with a smile and spoonful of honey in her voice.

They see the love on each other, but they say nothing, do nothing. They say nothing because their fear of this all going to hell has changed every aspect of what they have together, has changed their line into an even more daunting thing. Because as long as this asymptote remains, the closest they'll be to together will always be almost.