"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."-Oscar Wilde

There was a quietness that surrounded them, and it was as heavy as it was unbearable. The team was on the jet heading back home, for how long was anyone's guess. The reason was obvious to everyone, but it was most profound to Spencer. The youngest member of the team had been stabbed once in the back, but it wasn't the almost fatal wound that threatened to leave lasting scars. The stabbing would have never occurred if Derek hadn't had let it.

A series of murders had been occurring in Chicago for over ten months now, but only recently had police been able to connect them to a single murderer. The victims were all over the map when it came to class, color, location, sex and age. There wasn't much to work with, but they could deduce that the killer was male and lived in a lower class neighbor hood. They had been right about the lower class neighborhood, but were far from correct about the gender of the Unsub. The serial killer was a woman by the name of Julia Mantel, and Derek knew her.

The two had grown up together, and had even dated briefly. When this knowledge had reached Hotch, it was clear he didn't want Derek on the case. Derek had protested vehemently, making his case to his superior, but not to himself. The team had split up into pairs of two: Rossi with Seaver, Prentiss with Hotch, and Reid with Morgan. Derek and Spencer were sent to Mantel's mothers' house to interview her, never expecting Julia to be there.

The whole first floor was covered in blood, but the kitchen could be compared to an absolute slaughter house. This is where Julia's mother laid dead on the black and white checkered floor a lot of the older houses were designed with. Spencer moved to head into the dinning room, not expecting Julia to be hiding in the pantry. She had knocked the gun out of his hand and held the knife to his back as Derek began to try and talk her down. She hadn't recognized him at first.

"I know this isn't your fault, Julia. Something must have happened, right? Why can't we just talk about this?"

"I don't want to talk, Derek," she cursed, pressing the point further into Spencer's skin. The obvious discomfort and worry painted over the slender mans face in a frown, usually Derek would have thought about something by now.

"Julia, come on. This isn't like you. Why are you doing this?" Derek questioned, pressing harder for an answer. Julia didn't want to answer, whether or not she couldn't didn't matter. Derek dropped his gun, taking a step closer to her.

"Don't come any closer!" she yelled.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"I said don't!"

"Derek, stop!" Spencer had shouted, but it was too late. Julia had driven that knife up where Spencer's ribs sat, digging in. Spencer dropped to the floor where he had stood, more out of shock then actual pain. And Derek just stood there.

The elder of the two had not chased after the culprit, nor did he radio in for help. Derek had just stared blankly out of the side door Julia had vacated from. It had took Spencer yelling at him for Derek to do something, anything to help him. When the paramedics had arrived they had loaded Spencer into the back of the ambulance, and had asked if Spencer wanted Derek to accompany him. Spencer declined the offer, and chose to ride alone instead.

Spencer was taken good care of in the emergency care, and though he refused narcotics, a high dosage of ibuprofen made the sharp pain he felt constantly somewhat bearable. The team had arrived shortly, every policeman in uniform was out looking for Julia, and they were on high alert. The story began to piece itself slowly together, and no one liked the direction in which it had taken. This wasn't something minor, they all knew.

The consequences were yet to be revealed, but loomed insistently above their heads.

While in the hospital, Derek had visit briefly. Derek had had the nerve to tell Spencer that Julia was in a mental state of decay. Spencer, for the first time he could remember, had truly been angry. With absolutely no restraint, Spencer spoke his mind with out any hindrance. "You didn't know that at the time, did you? You didn't know there was something mentally wrong with her, and even if you did, you should have been more cautious! Instead, you did nothing. You let me get stabbed, and you can't even come in here with me laying in a hospital bed and apologize."

"Reid—"

"You know what makes me more upset then all of that, Morgan? The fact that you've known me for over seven years, worked with me on a day to day basis, and still cared more about someone you knew fifteen years ago, and who has killed over twenty people more than you care about me. I really thought I had someone I could...trust and consider a friend, but I was wrong, and I feel stupid for ever thinking you could see me as someone you like spending time with."

What more could be said then that? In all honesty, Spencer ached the entire way through his heartfelt piece. With his shoulders pinned to the bed, and head tossed back in a groggy, gloomy manner, it was clear he no longer wanted to talk. And, as much as Derek might have wanted to press him, try to say how truly sorry he was, he didn't. Instead, Derek pushed himself away from Spencer's side, knowing that the other man did not want him there. Derek had never not been by Spencer's side before, and the falling night proved no sleep for him.

Derek's mother had visited Spencer while he was in the hospital, unaware of any of the crucial details explaining Spencer's injuries. She had brought him cake and cookies as well as homemade chicken noodle soup. The gifts were all very kind, but unnecessary. Mama Morgan didn't owe Spencer anything, especially not her time, but the woman stayed, showering him with her presence. She was a warm woman, and her warmth was infectious.

Spencer couldn't find it within himself to tell the woman all that had happened between them. From what she was telling Spencer, Derek often talked about the youngest member of the team, boasting his accomplishments and impressive IQ. Spencer found it odd how different Derek treated Spencer to the way he talked about him to his mother, it didn't make any sense, but nothing did at this point. When she left, Spencer noticed that he missed her company. That wasn't something he was accustomed to feeling.

Later that night, for his own peace of mind, Spencer wrote to his mother in depth letters of everything he could think to tell her, ending the letter with a I Love You he had never used before.

The jet had landed, but Spencer hadn't noticed it all too much. This proved to Hotch just how lost inside his head Spencer truly was. The team leader did not like this silence, nor did he like the looks two of his agents had shrouded about their face: one of betrayal and the other of regret. Out of everyone, Spencer and Derek had known each other the best. Their initial meeting was skeptical, but they quickly and quite irritatingly grew to become close team members and eventually friends, but maybe Hotch had been wrong.

Maybe the two weren't meant to work so closely together or at all, for that manner.

"I got you coffee, my prince."

"I'm not thirsty, Penelope," Derek muttered, teeth tugging at the cuff of his dress shirt. The stress and what he perceived as guilt ate away at the lining of his stomach, making him sicker than a dog.

"Things will get better, you know? Reid will talk to you eventually, and you'll both be able to make your peace," Penelope stated, so sure of herself and them.

The entire team had become quite tense around each other. The incident had made everyone take a step back, and really exam if they could trust the people they worked with on a day to day basis. The shame Derek felt intensified when he realized what his actions had done to the people around him, and the person who he cared about most. When JJ and Spencer had split up and Hankel had been able to not only kidnap Spencer, but torture him, Derek had been furious at her. She had made a mistake, but this...what Derek had done to Spencer was unforgivable.

"He'll never forgive me. I can't even forgive myself, Garcia."

"He can't forgive you if you don't explain what happened, Morgan. You know him. He only wants an answer."

"An answer I can't give him! I don't know what came over me...I—I froze. I just stood there, and I wouldn't back off. I just did nothing,"Derek groaned, folding his hand over his face as he tried to understand what was wrong with him. Why he wasn't there for Spencer when he needed him the most.

Penelope placed her shawl over the distraught mans shoulder. The reason was simple to her, but it seemed everyone else was slow to catch up. Yes, Derek had known Julia in depth. Yes, they had grown up together, but no, that wasn't why Derek couldn't respond when the time came. Fear. Fear had gripped Derek's entire being, and had distorted his mind.

Yes, it was obvious to her. Penelope merely wished it would become apparent to the two of them as well before they ended up alienating each other. That was the last thing she wanted for them, but knew she could not interfere. This needed to happen on its own, or she thought, with the help of a certain someone's mom. Yes, Mama Morgan might be exactly what these two needed to start the ball rolling.

"Don't worry, everything will work out the way it's suppose to. You know Reid more than you believe you do, and the kiddo sure as hell knows a lot about you. You just need to give it some time, okay? Cheer up."

The day his mother arrived on his door step, Derek had thought he had been dreaming. The stern look she gave him and scoffing at his rudeness quickly told Derek that he was not asleep. That his mother was indeed there, and wanted something from him; he just couldn't tell what, exactly. She studied him with her all knowing eyes, and it was useless to try and hide, it never worked. With one glance she knew all she needed to know, and set about making herself at home.

"You look terrible, baby," she mused, glancing casually over her shoulder, "You need some rest and a good meal."

Derek remained where he stood, dumbfounded. She was here for a reason, not just a random drop-in. No, his Mama respected his privacy...unless she was worried. Why would she be worried, though? Derek hadn't sounded distraught over the phone, had he? Sure, he was deeply upset over what was going on with Spencer, but he wouldn't have let it shown in his voice.

Someone else must have been responsible, but who? Derek knew Hotch to be stern and authoritative, but he would never call Derek's mother on him. Spencer wasn't talking to him, but maybe...maybe he called his mom, but that, too, seemed unlikely. Penelope. She sprang to mind, and clung to the inside of Derek's thoughts. She must have been responsible, but why? Why would she feel the need to involve his mom?

There must have been some reason, but it completely evaded Derek. Instead, he focused on the woman who stood studying the inside of his fridge with a frown on her face. "You have absolutely nothing to eat, Derek!"

"That's not true, mama, I have milk and eggs in there!" Derek defended himself, but fell short when his mother grabbed the carton and shook it lightly, indicating that absolutely no eggs remained.

"I'll get my keys."

Shopping at the store with your mom as an adult was a completely different experience than when you did it as a child. You realize how slow they really are, and how the promise of candy just didn't make up for the lack of time. Nonetheless, Derek knew he needed decent food, though he hadn't ate properly since he had gotten home nearly two weeks ago. Two weeks, and Spencer was still out on recovery. Two weeks, and he still didn't want anything to do with Derek.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"That somber look on your face, and you've nearly chewed your fingers off," Mama Morgan pressed, stopping mid stride and completely throwing Derek off as he stumbled to follow her lead. She looked up at him with big green eyes that were obviously worried at the troubled expression in Derek's dark brown.

"I want to know what's wrong, Derek? What's making you so miserable?"

"Ma, Mama, I can't about this right now, not with you."

"Then with who?"

"No one. I can't talk to anyone about this, ma."

"And why not?"

"Because, I'm not even sure what it is I need to say. I'm just very lost, right now. I feel really alone," he answered truthfully, and regretted the sadness it caused his mother. No parent ever wants to see their child hurting.

"Oh, Derek. You'll figure it out, and when you do, you'll feel so much better," she reassured, but Derek felt less than optimistic.

Spencer,

do you know you are my only child? The only light in this life of mine. I love you, more than I think you believe I am capable of, and I know you, more than you believe I can see through words hesitantly splotched down onto paper. Shelly and I joke often that we will one day escape this place and flee to France, just the two of us. We both know that we won't, but it is so lovely to dream of things outside of our reach.

I say this to you, not to frighten you, Spencer, but to tell that what you dream of seems to be closer than you realize. If you could only pinpoint what exactly it is you dream. I believe you do, I see it clear as day, Spencer, but I can only guide you as any mother can. You must be the one who realizes what your heart desires most, and go after it.

I can only tell you this: Don't be afraid.

Love,

Your eternally relevant mother.

Spencer sat, stunned. If his mother could sense something without him present, or even hearing his voice, for that matter, then surely, something was wrong with him. Terribly, terribly wrong. The only question was: What was it that bothered him so greatly? Spencer wanted the answer to that question, but wasn't sure whether or not he could handle. In order to prepare himself, Spencer sat rugged in an old, rumpled chair, held a hot mug in his hand, and downed two Aspirin.

This would be a long night.

A night in which Spencer couldn't lie to himself. A night where he had to be truthful about everything and anything that walked across his mind like some scurrying rodent who knows where it is not wanted. A pen in one hand, Spencer nestled the paper closer to him, made it neater, but knew he was stalling for time. A great technique that aided him in his work force, but not for soul searching.

This was not work.

Spencer had to remind himself to focus, and to cut out all of the distractions he was trying to conjure up. With his hand, he began to write. The writing was neither perfect or sensible, but it wasn't suppose to be. Spencer wrote of his father leaving, wrote of his mothers' decent into schizophrenia, and all that came with that pain and heart ache, and most of all, confusion. The sentences became longer, quicker to be etched onto paper.

The teasing he suffered all through school, the physical bullying he had endured. The way people looked at him when he tried to explain a relatively simple concept in a round about way. Derek had looked at him like that, once. Derek had looked at Spencer like everyone else did, everyone who wasn't Gideon or Hotch. Spencer had feared that he had ruined any chance at a partnership before it had even had the chance to begun, but Spencer was wrong.

He learned this rather slowly.

Derek teased him, constantly. Spencer thought he was just like everyone else, but then he realized that Derek's teasing was a sign of affection and not distaste. Derek would yell at him, be short with him, but it came when there was imminent danger facing them. Then, they began to talk. They began to talk a lot, especially after Spencer had had those series of nightmares, and had learned that Derek had had the same issue. They found something they could relate to, and ran with it as far as they could, for as long as they could.

It was an issue they would never be able to stop discussing.

Spencer had been frightened to introduce Derek to his mother, but Derek was the perfect gentleman, and his mother liked him instantly. She had wrote that she had liked them all, but something about Derek really resided with her. Spencer had still felt somewhat uneasy, and having almost been blown away, incredibly tired, but Derek had sat him down, hands grasping Spencer's shoulders as they made eye contact. This was a very difficult time for them all, but Spencer had no one to turn to except for Derek. But as Spencer would learn, the same was true for the elder agent as well.

"What were you thinking, Kid?"

"I...wasn't thinking, not really. I feel...with Elle, I feel like all of this was my fault—"

"Kid, stop."

"Derek," and it was the first time it had happened. They were never on a first name basis, but it knocked lose from Spencer's lips, nonetheless. "I wrote those letters to my mom."

"Because you love her."

"Because I can't even pick up a phone to call her. I just, I never wanted anyone to know about...well, her. I didn't want to be that guy."

"Spencer," Derek spoke seriously, letting his hands fall down Spencer's arms. "Everyone, and I mean everyone, has secrets. Sometimes those secrets emerge, but I'm not going to judge you for them. I can't, you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I have my own."

And he did.

Derek, it seemed, had a lot of secrets. A lot of secrets that pained Spencer to even recall, but he had to. To move along with his heart, he had to venture back to when they first worked a case in Chicago. When they worked Derek's case. When Derek's secrets slipped through the net.

Spencer couldn't believe it, how could they possibly suspect Derek of murdering someone? Why was the team going along with all of this? Making them interview Derek's distraught family, it was his mothers' birthday. Mama Morgan looked utterly pained, she held her daughter's hands for a small comfort, studying the ones who asked such haunting questions. Spencer had a slice of cake, gratefully eating the sugary treat as Mama Morgan forced him to take at least a bite because, as she said, he looked starved.

When Derek's sister informed Spencer that her brother talked about him frequently, Spencer had to fight not to blush, but his astonishment was abundantly clear. The smile he wore would not fade away, even with such a heavy cloud hovering high above their heads. Derek was eventually cleared, but what most didn't see was what followed. When Derek was in his presence, Spencer knew Derek did not wish to speak about his past pain, was now just able to begin accepting it, and this was something Spencer understood all too well, so he hugged him. Spencer was not a huger, he hardly knew what to do when hugging a person, but hugging Derek, as unmanly as it may have seemed, came naturally to him. The hug was brief, but the contact was lasting.

Spencer set his pen down, taking a deep, shuddering breath. A flood gate was threatening to give way at any moment, and Spencer knew where it would lead him. The question was no longer what troubled him, the question was: Was he ready to face what he truly felt? With his eyes squeezed shut, Spencer could feel his heart racing, counting the abnormal beats. This was it. This was a now or never moment, and Spencer decided that he would face his newest battle head on, and honestly.

There was nothing worse then experiencing what most victims suffered explicitly. There was no preparing for being tortured till you just wanted to call it quits; die. There was no physical pain that could ever touch the mental destruction and devastation that Spencer had experienced at the hands of Tobias Hankel. No. That wasn't true. The torture he experienced was not by Tobias, Tobias was a sweet, caring, highly dysfunctional man who was thrown around by his fathers' steel grip. Charles Hankel was a monster.

There was no one to blame but himself for getting into that situation. JJ didn't know any better, he should have. Spencer should have waited, but he didn't, and he paid a hefty price. The needle, the medicine; the poison took everything away, and gave pleasure and sickness in return. The feeling of nothingness; the conscious death, brought the feeling of glory.

There were no memories, and no broken promises. There was no confusion. There was no broken bones or bruised skin. There was simply nothing, and it was the most excellent feeling, but it wasn't real, and Spencer knew it. The drug; his executioner, was all a lie. Derek, with his worried expression and aggressiveness towards him, made Spencer realize that something was not right, that he wasn't the same, and that Derek was worried.

They all were. They all knew. The shame was almost too great.

When Spencer lashed out, Derek took on a new approach. Derek spoke with a softness Spencer was unfamiliar with. Derek was open, exposing himself in hopes that Spencer would some day do the same. Derek made it clear that, no matter what, he would be there for him, wanted him back. Derek was fighting for a individual that Spencer couldn't stand the sight of, but his shell, what he had become, was no better.

You couldn't repair a hallow waste of skin.

Spencer learned this the hard way when he hit rock bottom. Naked, and alone, he lay on his bathroom floor, unable to move. His legs were not his own, and his arms were unfamiliar. The newest vile laid untouched as Reid counted the tiles on the floor directly in front of him. Spencer wanted the drug, wanted to forget, but all he saw was Derek's gloomy, sad face, and it stopped him cold. The thought of hurting him, his only friend it seemed, made something inside of him die and another part of him spring back to life.

There came a change.

Spencer, of course, needed a helping hand, and that was exactly what the meetings provided. It gave Spencer the opportunity to express himself while remaining faceless. Spencer never said out loud that he was in recovery, but Derek knew. Spencer could tell by the way he smiled at him, and the praise he showed when Spencer did excellent work, which to Derek, was all the time. Out of no where, Derek hugged him one day, hard and with much feeling.

The touch has never left Spencer's body completely.

The answer was clear, while writing his thoughts, as disarray as they might have been, Derek seemed to be the main subject. The person whom Spencer's entire world revolved around. Derek was the Sun, and Spencer was the Earth achingly trying to reach, to merely touch the allusive star that kept him in orbit. Spencer was in love with Derek, and the realization was profoundly the hardest, most terrifying conclusion Spencer had ever reached. The time was now well past midnight, and so Spencer backed away, reclined into a standing position, limbs lose and wobbly.

Why was love so terrible, and yet so fleetingly beautiful?

Spencer wasn't sure if he could truly say he was in love. He had never been, had he? How would he know? Surely, this was a mistake to have written in such a distressed state. Surely, this was something merely in his head. The doorbell rung, and Spencer knew immediately who it was. He knew when things were right and wrong with Derek, he knew his scent, both natural and dosed with cologne, he knew...well, he knew Derek.

The tightness in his chest grew and grew as his mother looked at him expectantly. There was no running away, but she wasn't making this easy. In fact, she was making the uncertainty and fear worse with that look. That look that told him that she knew and understood and, most of all, accepted. Derek figured he should be grateful to have such a loving mother.

It made his anxiety worse.

Reality was sinking in, and he knew that at any moment he would speak out loud what he had kept inside for a very long time. A feeling that grew and grew, and threatened to explode if not released within a reasonable amount of time. The mere thought of telling her, of admitting it to someone, to himself, made him want to sink into the wood flooring beneath him. Sympathetic green eyes embraced him from a distance as they sought for something to say, anything at all to make this easier on her son.

"You know, when I met your father, I instantly knew I loved him, but I knew the repercussions of loving your father at that time. I knew my parents' would never accept it, I knew my friends' would no longer associate with me, but that didn't stop me. I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, I knew I wanted to have children with him, and watch them grow."

"Mama..."

"I gave up everything because...oh, how do I explain this? When he wasn't around, I felt like I couldn't breathe, Derek. Like the air tasted bitter, and burned my lungs. When he was around, I was happy; content. I always grew worried when he went to work. I understood the risk, as I do now, but it never stopped the fear that I felt when he went away and I didn't know whether or not he was coming back."

"I was scared."

"You were scared of what, Derek?"

"That Julia had killed Spencer, and I had let her because I couldn't think properly when I needed to."

"You felt afraid, you made a mistake because you were concerned for Spencer. You didn't let him get stabbed, Derek. You never meant it to happen that way, so why do you feel so bad?"

"I feel like I betrayed him."

"Why?"

"Because I love him, Ma! I...I thought about never seeing him, and all of these horrible images came to my head, and I couldn't stop them from coming...I couldn't get them to go away."

"You love him."

"I love him."

"Feels good to finally admit it, huh?"

"I feel like I just buried myself head first."

"That will fade once you talk to him."

"Promise?"

"Baby, Mama would never lie to you, now would I?" Mama Morgan questioned, a tilt to her head as she looked endearingly at her son.

"Never."

Spencer opened the door, a startled look in his eyes like he came to some monumental conclusion. The look made Derek's mouth dry, made him feel like he was imposing, but he was distracted when Spencer pulled him inside, holding him in his arms like he never wanted to let him go. Derek was stunned, but only briefly, he wouldn't delay react this time around. The grasp he had on Spencer was crushing, bruising, and most importantly; intoxicating. This was it, he was diving in head first, and he wasn't afraid.

They stumbled back, eyes locked as they simply stared at each with with such wonder. Spencer was the first to move, tilting his head slightly and brushing his lips against Derek just briefly, testing the waters. Derek didn't let his lips escape for long, though, and pressed against the softness of Spencer's mouth. There was much to learn, and Derek was ready to study everything that would make Spencer feel complete. There was much to do, he knew.

"Sorry. So sorry I let you down," Derek whispered as Spencer kept a firm grip at the blades of Derek's shoulders. Derek's hands were glued to the narrow of Spencer's hips, pushing and pulling them away and towards him, trying to make up his mind whether or not he was good enough for the man in front of him.

"I love you," Spencer replied, knocking the air out of him as the other man pressed his lips against his again, longer this time, yearning clearer than before.

"I love you," Derek declared, confident and happy. With an aggressive drive, Derek pressed Spencer against the wall adjacent from them. Books fell from the shelf as the wall shook, neither took much notice.

There was a frenzy as clothing was removed, the only barrier between them. The feeling of hot flesh against hot flesh made Derek shiver in anticipation. His fingers twirled in Spencer's hair as his other hand trailed down, stopping to press and caress sensitive skin. Spencer's head tilted back, hitting the wall behind him as his neck was expose, long and prominently male. His hand moved to Spencer' back, just below his ribs where skin raised in a healing, jutting scar.

"Derek," Spencer breathed heavily, whether or not it was a warning, Derek wasn't sure, but he wanted to go further, and so he did.

Leaning close to Spencer's ear, Derek whispered, "Turn around."

With a light flutter of his eyes, Spencer obeyed. He braced his hands against the wall as Derek marveled at the expanse of skin he had yet to see. The bruising expanded from the the left side of Spencer's body all the way up to the middle of his back. Purple and black set across porcelain. Then there was the actual wound, protruding, taunting him.

Derek touched it lightly, Spencer tilting his head slightly to the right. Derek only leaned forward, nipping the lobe of his ear playfully. It earned him a sensual groan that bounced around and played in his head like the most wonderful of songs. Derek moved closer, fully embracing Spencer from behind, taking his time to kiss him from the nape of his neck all the way down to the back of his ankles, by the time he was finished, Spencer was panting, a thin sheen of perspiration adorning his flawless skin. A almost primal part of Derek was thoroughly satisfied.

They moved slow, slower than anything they ever done before. This wasn't something to be rushed, this was something they needed to perfect; inspire each other with. Spencer's heart picked up then slowed, Derek's fingers were gentle, careful to not press any further then he could handle, Derek's other hand stroked him gently, all over, and Spencer knew this teasing would bring him higher than he had ever been then send him crashing. When his fingers were removed, Derek removed Spencer from the wall, tangling their limbs, mouth to mouth as they sought Spencer's bedroom. This is what they had been waiting for, the last step; last piece. The initial burn sent a tidal wave of heat ripping through Spencer's core.

The heat was almost unbearable; a physical hell, but pleasure resided with him also. Slowly, ever so slowly, they moved together, learning a dance that neither knew the steps to. The movements they made caused each to labor for a decent intake of breath. Derek's hips rocked unrelenting, and Spencer's body accepted the intrusion with a readiness that surprised even himself, like he had always waited for this exact moment to occur. The marks to his neck made him feel welcomed, accepted, apart of something that made Derek whole.

And Derek was whole.

He understood this as soon as Spencer had embraced him. The smell of him, the tingling pleasure he felt at being near. The look of love and contentment in those beautiful soft brown eyes of his. The emotional connection was what mattered most. The love was clear, and the sky bright. The mist, the deep gray haze both experienced was gone; thrown away to an abyss that neither cared for.

Spencer,

I am pleased to hear you so well,Spencer, and a phone call, too! What a man you've turned into, and love, it will treat you well if you nurture it right. I know you will not tell me in depth of all that is happening, but know that I am happy for you. Know that I, as your mother, feel the heaviness that has lifted from you. The day I held you in my arms Spencer, I only wished for you to be well and happy, and now that that is achieved,I can rest easy tonight.

Love,

your mother who travels through the streets of Paris at night. The city of love, you know.