Chapter Ten: Ignoring the Obvious

She watches him carefully, the squint in her eyes narrowing into confusion. Flip. Mark. Stack. Lick. Grab. Flip. Mark. Stack. "Aren't you going to ask me what happened?" Emily relents as she voices the curiosity within her.

"It's not any of my business. What happened between you and Morgan is between you and Morgan." Spencer flips over a page of a file, marking the back with a red dot and stacking it to his right. He takes another sheet and does the same, only this time marking it with blue, stacking it into a separate pile.

"Yes, it is." She replies. His rhythm changes and he works faster, like her words are his fuel to persist through the afternoon. She'd spent nearly an hour in the car with Derek, and when she came back, Spencer's coat had been shed and papers were sprawled over the bed.

"No," He marks a sheet with more force than necessary, "it's not." He flips it over to his left and pulls the cap off the bottom of the pen, covering the tip.

She's been clocking how long he's held this up, and with her impatience bursting at its seams, she can't let another minute ride on the hundred and twenty. "Spencer," She rises from the poorly cushioned sofa, "tell me." She slowly pries the pen from his tight grip, taking the release as permission to continue. Emily seats herself in front of him, letting her knees brush against his.

"If we're going to do this you can't just be selective of what my business is and what isn't." His fingers dance nervously on his knees.

"This?" She repeats it for two reasons, the first being a confirmation for her insecurities and the second for his response.

"This." He repeats, his fingers crossing over the space of comfort and into hers. The drumming stops when that part of his body connects them, and the stillness of his touch allows her to hear the uncertainty in his breath. Spencer breathes uneven paces. "I'm—I understand if you're not ready, Emily. I'll wait—I've waited, and I will continue to." She feels his touch retracting, and she stops it, laying the tips of her fingers over his.

"I'm not ready. I wasn't when I left, and I'm not now that I'm back. It's—" She gives herself a moment to breathe out the endless frustration. "We are always getting ready to live but never living."

The slightest smile ghosts his lips and it's in that moment Emily knows it's worked. She invites him into the world he's certain of—the world of words. "Emerson." He mumbles. His touch begins to liven under hers, feeling the faintest tremble in his fingers. "What are we, Emily? In six years we've endured more than any one should ever have to and… and it's strange, this feeling that's grown in your absence. There's so much to consider about you and I, because regardless we'll never be one. We'll just be Spencer and Emily."

"And what's wrong with that?" She watches him closely, the silence being his answer. "You were my first visit when I was undercover."

"You don't have to—"

"I can never stay away from the job, even if I almost died from it. Interpol created some fake records for my new identity in Paris. JJ gave me three, and Carrie was the one I used often. I hated moving, so I dug myself into a hole inside the crater I was already in. I did light cases, mainly ones where I'd go undercover as just about anything for the people I worked for. I was hired to find out things for them." Emily closes her eyes for a brief moment, only to be pulled from her inner solitude by Spencer's touch. "I was a nanny who had to seduce but not really seduce my client's husband. She always wondered why the women they hired seemed to be out the door in less than a week, and the advances her husband tried to make on me was her answer. Then I was a gardener, an assistant, a maid—I was everything everyone wanted me to be, and I was tired of that. I've been doing that all my life, and I promised myself I would stop." She rolls her neck around to rid of the kinks, taking a breath when it hangs down in shame. "I hadn't been called for weeks, and I was barely paying rent. I turned down so many jobs that I took the first one I could, and it happened to be… that. I was supposed to be—I've been so many people in the past year that being Emily is a good thing."

She squeezes his hand, and in turn, he does the same, offering the support she seeks. "She's all I want to be, Spencer, and you're all I need you to be. Does that make sense?" She doesn't remember the last time she's begged for him to understand.

"I understand." He nods faintly. Spencer begins to pull away, eyes already set on the stack of papers beside them.

"No, you don't." She holds onto him with both hands. "I've let you in." The surprise and confusion Emily sees flick across his face allow her to sag in relief, but fill with sadness. "There's not much left inside."

"You've given too much of yourself." He says, the realization in his words ringing loudly in her ears. "May I?" Spencer's fingers fidget under her touch, and regardless of the uncertainty consuming her mind, she nods.

All he does is grab her hands, tighter than he ever has before. He brushes his thumb over every knuckle and traces every vein he can see. He studies her hands, the rapid flicks in his eyes making up for the stillness his head continues to hold. Spencer never pries his eyes away from her hands—the physical carrier of everything she's ever given away, and he fills the emptiness it holds with his touch.

That's when Emily knows she's allowed him to do what she's never allowed anybody else to ever do—take care of her.

To Be Continued
Well, this settles a tiny part of the complications they'll be having and will continue to have. Although Emily's let Spencer take care of her, it hasn't happened vice versa. Will it ever? Who knows. You'll just have to stick around for the answer and big reveal to the team. Your reviews make this sick/stressful week so much better, so thank you thank you thank you. Hopefully I'll be sparked to update sooner. I hope to see some reviews, I heard it's the best medicine for a writer to get better ;)