"Emily?"

She didn't move. She was burrowed so far into the covers that all he could see were a few locks of hair.

"You in there?" he said, leaning closer and giving a quick shake to a lump of covers that might have been her shoulder. She made a grumpy-sounding noise. He smiled. "It's almost noon."

"Hmph?" she said. The vaguely woman-shaped pile of bedclothes shifted and her face emerged. "Noon?"

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Yeah. I would have let you sleep more but – well, there's stuff going on."

She sat up, blinking and looking confused. "You wanted to let me sleep more than seventeen hours?"

"You needed the rest."

She rubbed at her eyes with two fists, looking like a little girl. It made him want to tickle her and muss her hair up even more. "What stuff's going on?"

"I've got a massage therapist coming to the house to work on you, I thought it would help your legs and back."

"Oh, that sounds great," she groaned, shifting in the bed. "I still feel half tied in knots. When?"

"About an hour. I thought you'd want to shower first."

"Bath, I think. I want to steep for awhile."

He nodded. "I'll start the water."

She put out a hand and stopped him. "I'll do it, Spencer."

"It's no problem."

"I know it isn't. It's a problem for me for you to wait on me."

"If there's a time to let me wait on you, I think it's now."

"I'm not an invalid, I'm not injured, just – sore." She looked up at him, more waking awareness in her eyes. "I know what you're trying to do, but the best thing you can do for me right now is let me handle myself as much as I can, okay?"

He knew she was right, but he couldn't help wanting to do everything for her. "Can I at least get you lunch?"

She smiled and sat up. "Now that, I'll let you do."

Reid bustled about the house while Emily was in her bath, making busywork for himself. He dusted the living room, cleaned the already-sparkling kitchen countertops and went through the fridge, tossing anything even one day past its expiration. He was wondering what this massage therapist would be like. JJ had recommended him, so he trusted that, but he couldn't help but wonder about a man who'd very soon be laying some fairly intimate touch on his wife.

She was out of the bath and bundled into her fuzziest robe when the doorbell rang. He opened it to find a baby-faced, strapping young man standing there with a folding massage table. "Dr. Reid?" he said, smiling and looking completely harmless.

"Yes," Reid said, shaking his extended hand.

"I'm Stephen."

"Come in." He led the young man into the den, the warmest room in the house and one of the only ones with a door, so it could be closed off for privacy.

Emily stood up. "Hi, I'm Emily," she said, shaking Stephen's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Emily. Your husband told me you've been injured recently?"

"In a way."

"I work on a lot of law enforcement officers coming off on-the-job physical issues," he said. "I'm sure I can help you feel better."

"I hope so," she said, visibly relaxing at Stephen's confident, nonthreatening manner.

"I'll be in the living room," Reid said, meeting Emily's eyes. She nodded, watching as Stephen set up his table. Reid left, shutting the door behind him.

He went back to his busywork. The baseboards were dusty, and there was still laundry from the trip to do, after all.

When the doorbell rang again half an hour later, he was momentarily caught off guard. Who the heck could that be? He put down the Murphy's Oil Soap and went to answer it, figuring it was Morgan or Garcia or JJ, come by to check in on them.

But when he opened the door, it wasn't one of his friends he found standing there. It was his mother-in-law.

"Spencer," she said, keeping her achingly correct posture while her face looked haggard. "I know we talked about me coming tomorrow, but I couldn't wait. I had to see my daughter." Incredibly, her chin was quavering a little bit.

Reid's heart suddenly went out to her. At least he'd been able to be active in helping Emily, he'd been able to see her and know what was going on. Elizabeth had been powerless, remote, and out of the loop. He couldn't imagine being in that position. "Of course," he said, then surprised himself by reaching out to hug her. The surprises kept coming as she hugged him back, hard.

"I'm sorry to just show up like this," she said.

"Don't worry about it. Come in." He pulled her into the house. "I had a massage therapist come in to work on her, she's in with him now, but they'll be done in half an hour or so. Come on, I'll get you some coffee."

Elizabeth nodded, sniffing a little and following him into the kitchen. "A massage therapist?" she asked, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island.

"I thought it would help with her stiffness." He set a cup of coffee in front of her, knowing that she took it black.

She looked up at him with a thoughtful expression. "You really take care of her, don't you?"

"On the rare occasions that she lets me," he said, smiling.

She cast her eyes down at her coffee cup, fiddling with it. "I've been unfair to you, Spencer."

"You've been fine."

"No. I've been polite but I've judged you in my heart. I've had uncharitable thoughts and I've wished things were different."

Reid leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "Okay," he said, wondering where she was going with this.

"I've spoken to Aaron Hotchner. He told me what you did."

He shifted, his hands going into his pockets. He could hear Emily telling him that hands-in-pockets was one of his tells. "What I did?"

"You saved her. You figured out where she was."

"I figured out where she was, but Emily saved herself, Elizabeth. She overpowered Harmon and secured him. If we hadn't gotten there, she would have been able to take his keys and drive herself to safety."

"I know all that. I also know – what kind of condition she was in at the time you found her. I know what she'd been made to believe." Elizabeth's eyes bore more sympathy than he'd ever seen there. "I told you just a few days ago that if anything happened to you, it would kill her. I don't think you believed me. Do you believe me now?" He didn't answer. He didn't have an answer. "Emily's just come face to face with how she'd feel if you died. That's going to stay with her for a long time. I don't think she realized how that would affect her. I don't have to tell you how she values her independence and her ability to handle her emotions."

"No, you don't."

"She's just learned that there are feelings that can't be controlled, not even by her."

He sighed. "You're saying these things like you think they're news to me, Elizabeth. I'm ready for it."

"For what?"

"For her to push me away to prove to herself that she can."

Elizabeth nodded, giving him an empathetic smile. "It'll only be temporary."

"I know."

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes back on her coffee. "It's not easy to realize that you're not the most important person to your child anymore. That someone knows her better than I do, because they know sides of her that I don't see, and shouldn't." She took a deep breath and smiled brightly. "But I didn't come here to tell you things you already know about Emily," she said, her tone decisive as she set down her coffee cup. "Aaron told me that he gave you two weeks off. I want to offer you the summer house up in the Poconos. It's beautiful, it's peaceful. Just what the two of you need."

"We talked about going away someplace secluded, but…I don't think your summer house is what she had in mind."

Elizabeth smirked. "You mean, she won't want to take anything I offer."

"I was trying to be diplomatic."

"I'm sure you can talk her into it."

"What makes you think I want to accept?"

"You do. You're practical at heart, Spencer, and this won't cost you a cent, not to mention it'll be much nicer than wherever you were thinking of going. And you understand why I'm offering."

He nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Then we're agreed."

He shook his head, chuckling. "Emily's going to think we're ganging up on her."

"We are."

Emily had thought she was making a strike for her and Spencer's independence when she'd refused to let her mother charter a plane to fly them to the summer house, only to turn around and discover that JJ was going to fly them there on the BAU jet. "But…JJ…what if you guys need the jet?"

"Then we'll take it and you can fly commercial."

The logic of this answer momentarily cut off Emily's objections. "But…I…it's a misappropriation of government resources!" she spluttered.

"Oh, no. You are not playing Good Girl Emily with me, are you? Or was it not you who not-so-subtly suggested that we bring this same jet out to Las Vegas for your wedding?"

She had her there. And no case came up to make the jet unavailable, so the next morning she and Spencer boarded the jet, Emily nervously looking around as if a Bureau comptroller was going to pop out and say "J'accuse!" Captain Armagnac, one of their usual pilots, was grinning ear to ear. "Hey, Agent Prentiss!" he said, poking his head out of the cockpit. "Dr. Reid! Off on a little vacation?"

"It's job-related recuperation time," Emily said, feeling odd about Captain Armagnac thinking they were using the jet to faff off on holiday.

"Sounds good either way!" he said, jovially touching the brim of his cap before ducking back into the cockpit.

When they landed in Albany there was a car waiting for them.

"Oh, Mother," Emily sighed, shaking her head as their luggage was transferred by the driver. "This so isn't my style." They got into the back of the car and the driver headed for the cabin. "I can't believe I agreed to this," she finally said.

"I think it's a good idea," Spencer said.

"What's going on with you? You hate it when my mother tries to do stuff like this! Suddenly you're all buddy-buddy with her and I don't mind saying, it's kinda freaking me out!"

He met her eyes. "We needed to get away. In DC there'd always be something distracting us, within three days we'd both be having Garcia sneak us files out of the office. I got to carry you out of that building in the forest and hold your hand in the ambulance. Your mom needs to do something for you. This is what she does, this is what she knows how to do. So why not let her?"

Emily blinked, feeling shabby all of a sudden. "Damn," she said. "When did you get so smart about my mother?"

"She and I have had our differences, but when it comes to you, I think we're starting to understand each other."

She sighed. "I guess it doesn't do any good to keep fighting it now. We might as well relax and enjoy this place." She slid across the seat and leaned up against his side, twining her fingers with his. "It is beautiful up here. And we could use the time alone."

He nodded, then kissed her forehead. "No argument there."

She watched Reid's face as they pulled up the drive, trying see the place through his eyes. What her mother amusingly called the "summer house" was a five thousand square foot log home with five bedrooms, a wraparound porch, a three hundred sixty degree view of the Poconos, a hot tub and a private tennis court. Hiking trails passed through the property and she knew that her mother would have had the horses brought up to the stable from their boarding facility – she smiled at the image of Spencer riding a horse, although after a moment's thought the image inspired less amusement and more of something else entirely. We might just have to try that, she thought.

"Holy cow," he said. "This is the summer house?"

"My mother likes for things to sound folksy."

"I was picturing some kind of rustic cabin. This is bigger than our house! Which we live in all four seasons!" He got out of the car and stood staring. "I feel like I should be wearing something flannel."

She chuckled. "Come on, I'll show you around."

Emily wasn't surprised to find that her mother had made sure the cabin's kitchen was fully stocked, there was plenty of firewood outside, and the hot tub was full and hot. She had no doubt the linens were freshly changed.

She unpacked their clothes in the master bedroom, thinking about the next ten days and what she hoped would happen. There were things she had to work out in her own head, questions that only she could answer for herself. Her experience with Harmon had shown her some things about herself that had been unpleasant surprises. She didn't know what it meant, but she knew she had to work it out.

She just hoped he could understand that she had to have some time alone to do that.

Apart from that, she just wanted to have as much totally unstructured time with her husband as possible. She wanted to lie around reading, she wanted to go for walks and sit by the firepit and eat nothing but chocolate graham crackers and Nutella for lunch. She wanted some fresh air and long hours with no conversation at all. She wanted to listen to him read out loud to her and she wanted to get tipsy in the hot tub and laugh about it with him.

She wanted sex. They hadn't had any since her return. That first night she'd been so tired and sore, and last night he'd touched her with the beginnings of intent, but she hadn't been in that place. She couldn't.

She wasn't sure she could now, either. She wanted to. She was feeling much better; her massage and the rest had her legs feeling nearly normal. The tingling and numbness had gone, and all that remained now was a little lingering stiffness around her hips and back. Her desire for him was alive and well, too. Earlier on the jet she'd found herself staring at the strong, sharp line of his jaw as he looked out the window and contemplating his long fingers and all the ways he knew how to use them to drive her wild.

But something – something was holding her back. Part of her just wanted to curl up by herself in a big, soft bed and sleep her days away until this feeling of being out of control left her. Another part of her, a small part but big enough to frighten her, wanted to run. Far and fast, as far as she could, until she was back to that woman who hadn't needed, who hadn't been tied, who could know her own emotions and couldn't be laid low by anything. That woman who hadn't stared down the barrel of life without one person and had to face how bad it was and how weak she felt when confronted with it.

I can't do that. I don't want to do that.

She abandoned the unpacking and hurried downstairs. "Spencer? Where are you?"

"Out here!" He was on the porch, gazing out at the view of the valley and the hills beyond, the intense fall colors laid out like a quilt before them. "Emily, this view is amazing!"

She didn't respond. She just walked right up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. He hugged her back immediately. She held on tight, afraid to let go. She didn't say anything, just squeezed and breathed in the smell of him, the woolly scent of his clothes and the sweet-spiciness of his skin. She hung on so he'd keep her here, body and mind, anchored to her life so she couldn't be yanked away from it – so she couldn't escape. She didn't want to escape. She didn't.

She drew back and kissed him hard, angling her jaw into his, drawing him out into her mouth, her hands pulling at him. "Take me upstairs," she murmured, reaching down to grab his ass.

He was responding eagerly to her kisses, but she sensed his hesitation. "Em…wait…" he managed to sneak in around her mouth. "Just a second."

"What?" she said, frustrated.

"We just got here, and this feels weird."

"Do I feel weird?" she purred, pulling his hand up and placing it on her breast.

"You don't have to prove anything," he said, looking straight into her eyes.

His ability to read her was, as always, a little spooky. She sighed and relaxed a little. "I don't have anything to prove," she lied.

"You don't have to want to have sex just because you think you should want it."

She shook her head. "I do want to have sex." He gave her The Eyebrow. "In theory."

"It's okay."

"I didn't want you think I didn't want you."

"I don't."

"Because I always want you."

"Emily, I get it."

She stared up into his eyes, then finally gave in. She pulled away and sat down on one of the rattan porch sofas, letting her head drop into her hands. She felt him sit next to her. "There's just some stuff going on in my head," she said. "I think I might need some time to myself."

"Okay," he said. She could tell that he was trying very hard to keep his tone neutral and not let any hurt or anxiety leak into it.

She met his eyes. "Spencer – needing time to myself isn't the same as needing time away from you."

He nodded. "I understand." And yet he still looked like a kicked puppy. Or maybe she was just transferring her guilt onto him and he looked no different than he always looked.

I'm going to drive myself nuts. "I'll finish unpacking."

"I'll get some dinner together."

She leaned over and kissed him. "I'm glad we're here."

He gave her a reassuring smile. "Me, too."

Emily woke in the most comfortable bed she'd ever slept in, the morning sun coming in the east-facing windows. She was warm and relaxed, her barnacle of a husband wrapped around her from behind, his breath riffling through the hair on her neck. He must have felt her wake because he stirred right away, his hands moving over her stomach. She snuggled back into his embrace and she felt him press a kiss to her shoulder.

Like the nights preceding it, there had been no sex in this bed the night before. They'd just gone to bed, both of them proclaiming tiredness, and gone right to sleep. Her sleep had been deep and dreamless, floating in a formless void without thought or feeling. Heaven, in other words.

She felt him sigh. "What do you want to do today?" he whispered.

"I think – I want to not plan to do anything."

He chuckled. "Sounds like a – I mean, not like a plan." He sat up, and Emily immediately felt cold without his warmth. She rolled over to her back. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. "Em…sooner or later I hope you'll talk to me," he said, the cheerfulness gone from his voice.

She watched his back, the set of his shoulders telling her of his own tiredness. "I will," she said.

He stayed there, saying nothing, for a long moment. "I'll start the coffee," he finally said, standing up. He pulled on a t-shirt and headed out to the stairs.

Emily curled on her side, hugging a pillow to her chest. How can you do this to him? You're not the only one who's been through hell with all of this. He had to watch and feel helpless when Harmon beat you and lied to you and threatened to rape you.

But he always knew I was alive. He never felt what I felt. What I can't stop feeling.

I need help to deal with this.

Emily sat up and picked up her cell phone. She stared at it for a long time before finally dialing, and when her call was answered, for a moment she couldn't speak. "I really need to talk to you," she finally said.