Author's Note: From now to Sunday, there will be a daily update of this story. It's a part of my Fic of the Week system and I hope you guys don't mind the spam in your inboxes.

I've been keeping up with the show faithfully and I like what they're doing with the personal plot lines. I loved how they got a little more in depth about Morgan's bond with his dad, the realistic aftermath of Garcia and Lynch (and even though, Morgan/Garcia is my OTP for her, I'm starting to get a case of the feels for her and Rossi…), and most of all, Reid and his mystery woman, who is not such a mystery, anymore.

Even though Emily will always be the one for him in my fangirl heart, I think if done correctly, he and Phone Booth can have something adorably special. That is, if their respective stalkers don't kill them first, of course. I'm starting to think they're one and the same and if I'm right, then that's gonna be a hoot. And I'm not ashamed to say that when he asked during that great scene with Blake, "What if she doesn't like me?" I replied in an utterly serious tone, "Then I'll gladly have you, Sugar: every day of the week and twice on Sundays."

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

Reid had started going to the gym down the street from his apartment four times a week. It was mostly an exercise bike and slow laps in the pool but still, he was going to the gym. It was part of his 'sobriety regimen', providing another healthy outlet for stress and if it so happened to add a little bit of coats to his coat rack frame then so much the better. Garcia had gleefully helped him pick out a Mac laptop and an iPod from Wal-Mart and installed all sorts of software. He only knew how to get to his email, Nat Geo and iTunes so far but he did enjoy the GarageBand program, putting some of his original mixes onto his large black iPod.

The iPod was full of classical pieces as well as artists like Bob Dylan and more than a few novels. Currently, he was listening to Julius Caesar, the scene where Brutus gets recruited into the treachery against his friend. Honestly, he had little patience for Shakespeare, preferring Wells and Poe but his mother enjoyed the famous poet, particularly Romeo and Juliet. She said it was a perfect cautionary tale for those seeking companionship. One could and should have those sorts of connections but one should be careful with their actions, especially if one isn't sure of the person of their affection's motives.

He wasn't sure of Emily's motives.

Frankly, he was afraid to find out exactly where he stood with her. Of course, he was no stranger to rejection but somehow, the possibility being rejected by Emily was more painful than the others. Perhaps it was the fact that they were closer platonically than he had gotten to the others or maybe the doubts stemmed from the circumstances of their increased intimacy.

If he hadn't gotten strung out in the first place, she wouldn't have fought as hard as she did to get through to him and now that he was coming up on 4 months clean, he was waiting for her to start to withdraw. But, she still came over after shifts. She still cooked for him and he cooked for her now. He was no Wolfgang Puck but he could put together a few simple hearty dishes. They still watched Hitchcock together and there had even been another dance session, lasting 2 hours and 15 minutes.

And she still slept over in his guest room at least once a week.

She would be gone before he woke up but he could see the neatly made bed and smell the faint scent of her when he straightened the already precise pillows. Cinnamon, honey, and something else, a musky tang that only belonged to her, Emily-scent his brain had dubbed it. Said brain then provided images of him burying his face in her hair and slender neck, inhaling her at the source, tasting her to see if her supple looking flesh was delicious as it smelled…

Consciously, he thought of the smell and look of a decomposing body to calm the growing heat in his loins. The last thing he needed was to get an erection in such a public place, especially since he was still looked at with derision by much of the male populace. He was used to that, too. Compared to them, he was a pipe cleaner with eyes, skinny and pale from lack of sun and social life. Why Emily still wanted to be near him, why he could see the flashes of raw emotion on her face that Lila had before kissing him when she could easily obtain the affections of s standard man was another source of confusion and insecurity.

She could do much better than him. Sad but true.

He didn't want her to do better than him, though. He wanted her to want him and only him but in order for that to happen, he'd have to put himself out there again.

While Reid was no stranger to rejection and heartbreak, he had never gone through it post an opiate addiction before. Would he relapse? He was frightened to the core of relapsing. He had so much to lose. Mental illness manifested more easily in addicts, especially with individuals with genetic predispositions. He had barely been able to do his job and when he did pull it off, he did so harshly and coolly, alienating his teammates and others he had come into contact with. The Needle made him into someone that scared him and he really did not want to get back in that dark hole. Emily rejecting him could prove to be a very potent stressor.

But, what if she doesn't reject you? Have you even considered that possibility for more than a 'pie in the sky' moment? Maybe she sees something in you that the others didn't and that you don't now…

Against his will, hope bloomed in his chest at the idea.