"Fancy meeting you here, Doctor."
Reid turned to the sound of a familiar voice and smiled as he saw Emily standing there, a wide grin on her face. "I know, how odd. I mean, where else would a Who fan be but at the ultimate Who experience?" He adjusted his scarf and held out his arms. She stepped forward and hugged him tightly and he breathed in the calming scent of lavender. It was a scent he had come to always associate with her, and he was glad that after a year away, she still smelled the same. "So, what brings you here?"
"I've found myself drawn to watching Doctor Who now, for some reason. I really liked Matt Smith's interpretation of the Doctor, though I am more partial to older Who, myself. Which is why I dressed up as Sarah Jane."
He smiled as he nodded and then they stepped away from each other. Reid held out his arm to her and she hooked up with him, letting him lead her on. It felt comfortable, having her on his arm as they toured the exhibit, and many people complimented them on their outfits, while a few asked if they were a couple. Those questions made Reid blush, but Emily seemed to take it in stride, shaking her head as she explained that they were old friends.
A small part of Reid felt slighted when she described them as friends, and when they had finally taken a seat in the café, he stared at her. "What?" she asked, seeming unnerved by his concentrated gaze.
"I wouldn't exactly call us just friends. We went through so much together." He knew that his eyes had taken on a sad look by the way her shoulders slumped slightly. Emily was just about to reach out to him when their waitress came with a pot of tea and their sandwiches.
"Spencer, you never wanted to see me as anything more than a friend."
"That's because you were too busy stringing Rossi and Derek along!" he burst out, picking up half his sandwich and taking an angry bite.
She blanched a little and picked up a chip, nibbling at it as she looked down at the table, obviously uncomfortable. "Is that how you saw me?" she finally whispered.
"No. I just knew that it would hurt you. And I wanted to hurt you. I'm sorry." She looked up at him, and he could read the question in her eyes. "Ever since Maeve was murdered, I've found that the way I react to people has changed. I don't want to just be friends with you. That implies something less than the connection we shared. Or that I thought we shared."
It was his turn to stare at the tabletop, and he blinked back tears. This was not how he had ever imagined reuniting with Emily to go. And then, she reached out across the table and covered his free hand with her own. Daring to look up at her, he saw that bright tears clouded her eyes and he nodded a little. "Everyone left you," she whispered.
"That's how it's always been in my life. It started with my father and now I've lost Maeve. I didn't think that it would hurt this much, to lose so many people."
She squeezed his hand once before getting up and sliding into his side of the booth, bumping him with her hip. "I've always been just a phone call away, you know."
"I don't like phones. They conceal too much." She sighed and he knew what she was going to say next. "And the internet is even worse. You can perfect the message you want to send. And yes, there is the science of forensic linguistics, but I would much rather talk to a person in person. So that I can see their face and suss out if they're telling me the truth, if they really mean their words."
"I thought you fell in love with Maeve over the phone?"
He blushed. "I did. I shouldn't have. Look at where it led."
"Oh, Spencer, none of that was your fault." He felt her kiss his cheek, and he turned his face, capturing her lips in a hungry buss. She leaned into him, her hand coming to close around his head, holding him close as the kiss lingered on.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so foreign," he stammered out when he finally tore his lips away from Emily's. She shook her head as she smiled. "What?"
"You are so American. There is nothing wrong with showing affection." She kissed him once more as if to prove a point. "It's something that I've noticed since I've been over here once more. I'm free to give physical displays of affection."
"I thought English people were straight-laced?" he asked, trying to find something to focus on other than the feel of her lips.
"Less so than Americans, it turns out. No one blinks an eye when two friends hold hands while walking down the street. Or when we kiss each other in greeting. Americans don't do that."
"Ah. So, who are you now? English or American?"
"English. And I know what I want."
He blushed and picked up his sandwich once more, deciding to occupy his mouth. Emily picked up on his unease and also began to eat and he stole quick glances at her, smiling every so often. "So, what is it that you want now?" he finally asked, picking up his cup and sipping at the Earl Grey.
"I want happiness. I think that's what we all want in the end. And if I find that happiness with you, then so be it. Could you stand having another relationship that consisted of emails, phone calls, and occasional visits?"
He thought for a moment, and then looked at her. In that moment, he saw the insecure girl that she had once been shining in her eyes, and he knew that he did want to pursue something with her. "If you can forgive my rudeness."
"I can. How long are you here for?"
"Two weeks. I used my entire leave time now, I had planned on touring the Continent."
"That sounds like the perfect vacation." She smiled, and suddenly, he knew exactly who he was and who he wanted to be. And he knew that it would be with her.
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