What was she thinking? Actually, she wasn't thinking. That's what happened. She wasn't thinking when she found herself alone at the Dead Drop after Emma's funeral, she wasn't thinking when Ray pushed the door, probably looking for is former best friend. She wasn't thinking when her eyes meet his, when they exchanged a long look filled with grief and pain, with something that they never acknowledged, because they never knew it was there.

After all, Susan never thought of him in other ways than as the annoying guy that broke her best friend's heart. He was that guy on the outskirts of their little family, gravitating around them like a comet without landing in their world. He was not allowed to do it. They make sure of it. They kept him at arm's length. Maybe because of Will's history with him, maybe because she was too loyal to let him get close to her. Actually, she didn't like him. She didn't like his behaviour, the way he acted when he was close to them, the way he betrayed his only friend and thought he could get him back that easily.

So no, she never thought of him this way. That night, she just didn't think. Her train of thoughts never caught up with her when he reached for her. On the contrary, Susan felt like her mind went blank when she felt his warm hands against her skin. She didn't think about taking a step back to get away from him. She didn't think about asking him to leave her alone, to push him away to be alone with the lump in her throat. She didn't want to be alone, not that night, not now when they just lost one of their own. She felt vulnerable, something she never struggle with, but she never liked either, she wasn't Will, she didn't embrace that part of her, but she was more open, more aware of her feelings than Frankie, for sure.

However, she wasn't aware of the feelings she had for him before that moment. Of course, he listened to her when she was down, while the rest of the team was on a mission in France. Ray was there, listening, telling her how lucky she was to be a part of this family, to be needed by the team. Yes, he was there, in his own way, both annoying and endearing. He was there when she was kidnapped by Ollerman, he saved her life. He was heroic, fearless, badass. He was a different man than the goofy one she was used to.

That night in the bar, after Emma's funeral, he was also different from the man she learned to know in the past few months. His touch was gentle against her arms, trying to comfort her with his touching awkwardness. For a moment, she dropped her gaze, watching his thumb rubbing her upper arm gently through the fabric of her dress.

''You're okay?'

She looked up at him, watching his face carefully. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't okay, none of them was. She could see in his eyes that he wasn't either. Not because Emma was a part of their team, she hardly knew her, but because of the pain in Will's eyes. Suddenly, they understood that their lives were fragile. She knew that before, of course, she was aware of how dangerous their job was, but she tends to forget it, because she can't live thinking about it all the time.

Slowly, she nodded before dropping her gaze again, not knowing what to say. She should have taken a step back, but somehow Ray's hands on her were comforting.

'I'll be fine.' It was the only thing that she said, and she knew from the look in his eyes that he didn't believe her. Ray wasn't the smartest guy around, but he wasn't that stupid, he just played that part.

Thinking about it now, she wishes she could say it was only the circumstances. That she needed to feel alive and he was there for her. She wished she believed it when she said to Frankie that they just took comfort in each other, that it meant nothing. She was lying. Not to her friend, not to Ray, but to herself. She never felt more alive than when she felt his hands running up and down her arms as he stepped a little bit closer to her, so close that she had to lift her head up to look at him. So close that she felt the warmth of his body. She would like to say that she has made a mistake. It wasn't one. She knew what she was doing when she lifted her own hands to press her palms against his chest, her fingers played a moment with his black tie.

It was Ray who hugged her. His strong arms wrapping around her slender figure, pressing her against his body. She didn't hesitate to rest her cheek against his chest, listening to his calming beating heart for un moment, her own arms wounded around him. Susan doesn't know how long they stayed like that, hugging each other, breathing each other. All she knew is that it felt like home.

'I never thought you were the cuddly type,' he said, his husky voice tickling her neck as he spoke, forcing her to move a little bit away from him to look at his eyes, wanting to glare at him. Her dead stare melt quickly in front of his smirk.

'Shut up, Ray.' Was her only answer, the only thing she could say before filling the last centimetres between them.

Ray met her lips halfway, leaning towards her, his hands sliding down her back before going back up again to frame her face. It was a slow, shy kiss. A clumsy attempt to learn each other's lips. Lips that seemed to be known by heart, like if she did that thousands of times. It wasn't the case, in fact, she never thought of kissing him, to let him get that close to her.

It was Ray who took it further, his tongue brushed her lower lip, asking for permission. She answered him by allowing him to taste her own. He tasted like mint gum and Scotch, like childhood and loss. Somehow, the way his tongue played with hers made her weak in the knees and she can't describe the feeling she felt when his hands moved across her body, learning every curve. When they had to take a step back to breathe a little, she felt the loss of him, the need to be closer to him again.

'You're sure you want to….' He moved one of his hands between them like it was enough to express what he was thinking about. 'Maybe you want to think about it.'

Even to him, it sounded dumb. After all she didn't step back, even now. She didn't push him away, on the contrary. Her fingers played with his short hair a moment as she stayed in his arms, her body pressed against him.

'No. I don't want to think.'

Susan reached for his lips, pulling him closer to her, asking for his tongue again, for his hands on her. She didn't want to think about the day she had, about the loss she felt, about what tomorrow will bring. She didn't want to think about anything other than his lips nipping at her pulse point or his hands working on the zipper of her dress. That night, she didn't want to think about anything else that feeling, the one that made her feel alive.

Tomorrow, she'll think about it. Regarding the fact that the only way she felt alive after Emma's funeral was in Ray's arms.