A/N: I have tons to say- about the finale, Jeid and my other story, 'The Edge'. But I'll finish writing this one first. Hope you all enjoy. Please drop a line if you have feedback.

'Jennifer, truth or dare?', he said.

What would he have said if I'd answered 'dare'?

This is of no consequence at all, yet this is what I am thinking about. What if I took a dare? Knowing Spencer, he'd just work around it cleverly, say something like, 'I dare you to tell me the truth.' But what if he gave me an actual ridiculous dare? An image flashes before my eyes- me standing on the bar counter at Rossi's wedding, doing an impromptu karaoke of 'Don't Stop Believin''. I feel a mad giggle bubble up inside me. I swallow it down, hard.

I am not all right.

I can feel it- feel myself slipping. My thoughts are haphazard, nonsense at one moment and blinding in their clarity the next, such a strange mixture of wild fiction and even wilder truth it almost gives me vertigo. My hands are balled up, my focus not on now but on before, on memories, possibilities, right and wrong, an unbelievably messy tangle.

I take a deep breath. Steal a glance at Will on the driving seat. He sees me looking, flashes me a smile, and concentrates on driving again.

Will.

I lean back on my seat and close my eyes.

We are home. The boys are asleep. I go through the routine. Change my clothes, brush my teeth, put on skin cream, get into bed, kiss Will. Listen to his rhythmic breathing as he falls asleep.

Then it's only dark, only the ticking of a clock, only me and my thoughts, alone.

'Do you mean it?', Spencer asked.

The question sounded so simple. The answer options too- yes? Or no?

Yet, how do you answer that?

How do you answer that without explaining, without letting him know that he is the truth, but so is everything else? My life for the past decade, my home, my marriage with Will, my sons- it's not built on the base of a lie, but simply another happiness? Because that's what you do when you're not brave enough to go down the rocky road, you find another path to walk and settle for whatever happiness you find there. What ifs are best buried, best stored away in a neat little dark corner of the gigantic hedge maze of life, best not thought about. And when they're pulled out in the open with a yank, everything crumbles.

How do you put all that into words?

How do you leave the answer at a mere 'yes'?

'Always', I told Spencer. Truth is, I don't know since when.

I just know that in the days after I got to know our Redskins game was supposed to be a date I looked at him, really looked, and his eyes, his eyes reflected wonder. Not infatuation, not obsession for me, but unabashed wonder. And that pierced my heart.

I just know when I saw him being tortured on video- Tobias Hankel, the religious nut- I thought, 'I let him go and this is the result. I'll never lose him again.'

I know that seeing everyone else mess with him- him being the youngest, him being the way he is- I always felt surges of affection and protectiveness. I know he learned to lean on me.

I know we became friends- with his incessant talks of anything and everything at the slightest encouragement, yet his ability to listen without judgment and verdicts when I had something to share; with his quirks and my affection; with him confident yet vulnerable; with me reaching out time and again and always, always finding him there.

I know what I thought in the split-second before I rushed out to kiss Will, which door I was closing. Co-workers can't date. Spencer never said anything. He was deep into his struggle with drugs, losses. What was I in his life? I didn't even have figured out what he was to me. Why think about it when Will was right there, waiting?

Among all the crazy in my life, Will was one rock of steady and sane. So I savored it. I let myself love it, love him; liked having my job and and my other life running along in neat, separate lines, uninterrupted by one another. I know what I saw in Spencer's eyes when I officially told everyone about Will. But he didn't say anything. So I told myself not to think about it. And then I was pregnant.

I know when I had Henry that Spencer had to be the godfather. He needed to be in Henry's life.

I know when I finally decided to marry Will, I meant my vows. Feelings are out of your hands, but people you can choose. And if those people are as great as Will, you'll have genuine affection for them. I chose Will. I chose to build on my safe happiness.

I know that over the next years, I got closer and closer with Spencer. I also got better at training myself, controlling my feelings, allowing only what's right. I loved Will. I did. So what did it mean when I felt a sharp pang of jealousy when Morgan speculated Spence had a girlfriend? It meant I was pissed that he didn't tell me, his best friend. Not like it would bother me if he had someone, of course not.

What did my unbearable frustration mean when Maeve died and Spencer locked him inside his apartment for days? It meant I was sad not to be able to help him. It clearly wasn't the fact that he was treating me like everyone else, not even letting me in, me!

When I saw him play with my sons, showing them magic tricks, making them laugh effortlessly, why did my heart twist inexplicably? For him, of course. I wanted him to be happy, have a family. It was sad that he didn't. My heart wasn't twisting for me, for the what-if whispers in my head. No.

What did my choking apprehension mean when he got shot? When he was exposed to anthrax? Why did my world threaten to crumble? It was because I didn't want to lose my best friend. You're allowed to feel that way for your friend. And that's all he was.

But something broke inside me when he was in prison. I thought my luck had run out and I really was going to lose him this time. And then, during those restless days and sleepless nights, I knew. I knew what I once felt was buried deep, deep enough for me to be happy, but it wasn't gone. It was never really gone.

We got him out of prison. I still remember standing there, holding him tightly, letting myself feel things I never did before, thinking, 'just here, just now, just in this moment'. Then it was back to normal, or as normal it can be with our job and our life, but coming so close to losing him had shaken me, and now I had cracks.

My carefully built layers showed wear and tear, untrained feelings seeping through, feelings that didn't know their place in that tightly shut vault within me. Feelings like the skip of my heart when he came in and sat beside me; like the imperceptible shake of my hand just after it has touched his; like the spreading warmth inside me when we were locked in an embrace- his arms tight around my waist and back, securing me against his tall frame, my arm around his neck, his hair brushing my skin, and us so painfully close; like the lingering melancholy in me afterwards.

I reined in my focus every time. I did. I'd catch myself breathing him in when he was standing next to me, then wouldn't get close to him for the rest of the day. I'd notice myself gazing at him from my desk, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, his tousled hair, piercing hazel eyes, and I'd shake myself out of it by making a beeline to Penelope's room and talking about shoes for an hour. I'd get an urge to touch him when we were talking, and sit with someone else on the jet back home.

And at home, every time he came to my mind, I'd consciously push the thought away.

Don't tell me I let it happen. Don't tell me I didn't try. Don't.

But he was gone frequently, off teaching. I missed him. I missed him so much.

And then he was taken again.

The cracks spread, and I gave up.

Emily saw me in the washroom that day and I gave her a bullshit story of Spencer, Penelope and I becoming peas in a pod after the Redskin game fiasco , but all I was thinking was, 'No. Not again. Not him. He's mine, and I won't lose him like this, no.'

And so I knew.

I thought Spencer mine.

I'd learned to love my husband, the way I should- in sickness and in health, in good days and in bad. It's logical. It's a kind, considerate, supportive, mutual, solid partnership.

But Spencer… there is no rhyme. There is no reason. There is only walking on the safe side of the line and not letting yourself think too much about the friendship you have, and the moment you can't do that there's only this all-consuming, irrational, uncontrollable want, and nothing else matters any more.

It was when he got taken by the Ben's Believer's cult, on my way to rescue him, on the jet, I let myself look at that side of the line, that want. Years of looking the other way, grooming my feelings, teaching myself to react right, telling myself it's nothing, sidestepping whenever I had any uncomfortable emotions- I let all that go, and I acknowledged it.

Spencer. What he has become to me is more than I can ever explain to anyone.

And I wanted him.

I loved him.

I love him.

But I was still training myself to forget, ignore, behave, wasn't I? I was trying, trying so hard, and then yesterday happened, a crazy UnSub and his crazy truth-or-dare game happened and I had to save Spence, save myself but then I thought no, this is the end, I can't save us, and either I would die or he would so what the hell? I thought I was saying my last words to him. Why couldn't they be the truth?

Except he saved me, and we made it.

And now we're here.

How many hours have passed since I came to the bed? One? Two?

I slip out. Pick up my phone from the nightstand. Go the living room. Sit down on the couch.

My finger hovers over the name for a split second before I make the call.

He picks up on the first ring. Waits for me to talk.

I say one word.

'Yes.'

Silence. I can hear him breathing. A little uneven. A little ragged. I hear my own heartbeat. It seems so loud.

'Truth or dare, Spence?', I say.

'Truth.', he replies now.

'Do you love me?', I hear myself ask, voice shaking slightly.

Spencer doesn't hesitate. Not one second.

'I do.'