Seven months later

"I'm supposed to be doing that," commented Robbie dryly as he watched his sister aim and shoot at the target a hundred feet away with a practiced ease that unsettled many of the uniformed officers surrounding them. "You're scaring my friends."

"Shut up," retorted Anthea. Despite her slight build and the hands that were clearly meant for writing and marking essays, she held a gun with a certain amount of skill. She tossed the weapon to him, and he caught it easily. "I'm done, anyway."

"You really are," agreed Robbie. He put the gun down and motioned for his sister to follow him out of the large, rather noisy room, and she hovered behind his wheelchair for a second before backing off and allowing him to wheel himself out ahead of her. "You've been here a month, Thea. You need to go home."

"I am home," she replied automatically, but it was hesitant, awkward. She wasn't home, not really. Virginia was home, and it had been home ever since she had met the super-genius, gangly FBI agent. Whether she knew it or not was a different story.

"You miss work, you miss classes, and you miss Spencer," said Robbie, working hard to keep his tone gentle. It was hard, but he had a responsibility as her brother to make her see things she didn't want to see. Their parents were over the moon to have Anthea back home – she hadn't lived with them since she had started college, and they were unwilling to let her go, just like she was unwilling to leave the comfort of their home, so she never pushed. "Have you been talking to him?"

"Spencer?" Anthea frowned, as if the question surprised her, but Robbie knew it didn't. "Yeah, of course. We talk every day."

"Wouldn't you like to see him every day?"

Anthea bit her lip. "I shouldn't –"

"Shut up," Robbie rolled his eyes and came to a halt in front of the car door. The uniformed officer leaning against the cruiser came forward without instruction and helped him hobble from the wheelchair to the backseat without a word, and Anthea climbed in beside him rather than in front. The armed police escort still hadn't let up, despite it having been a month since the 'attack'. It was one of the benefits and the disadvantages of having an ex-governor as a father.

"You think you'll be okay if I go back?" Anthea's voice was hesitant when, hours later, she was washing dishes and he was sitting at the table flicking through some paperwork from the station. The fact that she was still willing to discuss her leaving spoke volumes on its own, so Robbie decided not to tease her.

"You should go back, Thea. I'm okay."

Anthea grimaced. "But, Rachel –"

"Good riddance," was all he said, and maybe one day he'd actually mean it.

Anthea sighed and shut off the water, drying her hands on a tea-towel and dropping a kiss onto her brother's head. "I'll ask dad to get me a ticket for this weekend."

Robbie smiled. "That's my girl."

!

"You sure you don't want to come out with us, Spence?" asked JJ for the fourth time, hovering in front of his desk worriedly. "You won't be a third wheel, I promise."

Spencer shook his head, smiling up at his friend. "I know I won't be, but I'm really tired."

"Is it the headaches?"

Spencer shrugged, unwilling to disclose the real reason for his inability to sleep. JJ sighed, but offered him a small smile and told him to call her in case he changed his mind, and then the office was empty.

It wasn't a real lie, not really. He was tired, and he did have work, but that wasn't what he planned on doing this evening. A quick glance at his watch showed he still had an hour, so he packed up his messenger bag, finished his last mug of coffee in record speed and made a beeline for the parking-lot.

The drive home was uneventful, but Spencer had to work hard to concentrate. He didn't know why he was so jittery, he only knew that he really wanted to get home and eat something before she called. Despite hearing her voice every day and the odd Skype call when he had time, he hadn't realized it was possible to miss someone as much as he missed Anthea until she had left. What had started as a weekend trip had turned into a week, then two, and now it had been a month. He would be lying if he said he wasn't impatient to see her, but he understood her desire to stay with her family until she felt it was no longer necessary.

It was getting harder and harder not to tell her, though. She had barely been gone a week when he had realized it was entirely possible he was in love with her, but when she had said she would be gone for two weeks, almost crying when she told him Robbie was confined to a wheelchair for the foreseeable future and his movements were minimum, it had almost been impossible not to blurt it out then. But, it wasn't how normal couples did it, he knew that. Normal couples waited to say it in person, with a grand romantic gesture and happy tears, not when the girl's family life was a mess.

He had debated going to see her in Chicago, but his case-load had been crazy ever since she had gone, and in a way he was grateful it was, because it meant he spent less time sitting and thinking about her. Every free minute was spent either speaking to her or going to see Elizabeth, who he now knew had four dogs of her own and was keeping Zeus until Anthea returned. The dog, who initially had had a very strong dislike for Spencer, now seemed to look forward to his visits. If he ever managed to catch Anthea on Skype and Zeus at the same time, however, he would admit to himself, grudgingly, that there was no need to worry: she would come back, if not for him, then at least for her dog.

The trek up the endless flight of stairs to his apartment was taking extra-long today, and it was grating on his nerves. When he finally got to the top, he dropped his bag onto the floor and dug his palms into his eyes, willing his headache to go away so he could talk to his girlfriend and for once just be nor-

"Spencer?"

He jumped a foot in the air at the voice he hadn't heard in person in weeks, and whipped his head around to its source. Anthea was standing in front of his door, the suitcase she had taken lying at her foot with her handbag on top of it and a book in her hand – clearly, she had been leaning against his door and reading when he had come up. As soon as they locked eyes, however, the book fell from her hand and she closed the distance between them quickly, almost running in her haste. Spencer caught her in his arms reflexively and crushed her to his chest, breathing in her familiar scent and burying his face into her hair. His headache was gone, he no longer felt exhausted and, if possible, he didn't feel hungry either. Anthea was home; everything else seemed insignificant, in comparison.

"Nice catch," it seemed an age before she spoke, but her voice was amused, if not a little choked. Spencer let out a breathless laugh and tried to pull back, but Anthea's arms tightened around his neck. Her shoulders were shaking.

"Hey," he managed to pry her hands loose and cradled them gently in his own – there were still bandages on her fingers, from when she had broken the plate when she had found out about Robbie. Reluctantly, she met his eyes, giving him a watery smile. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It's okay," he murmured, because he didn't know what else to say.

"It is now," she agreed.

!

"What convinced you to come back so soon?" Spencer fought to keep his tone casual, but immediately he could tell Anthea had seen right through him. They were curled up together on his sofa, a book open on his lap that had been abandoned hours ago in favour of conversation. The first thing she had demanded once they were inside being that he read to her, because she was tired and she didn't want to think. Not understanding her strange declaration but sensing that it was best to do as he was told, Spencer had complied willingly for a few chapters of a random book off his shelf, but she hadn't been listening, not really. Some coaxing had led to her confessing that she didn't really care what he read – she just wanted to hear his voice.

"I would like it better if we talked," Spencer had said in response, and Anthea had smiled slightly before agreeing. While she had updated him on her family life and the few things they hadn't talked about on the phone, he had summarized the last case he had been on, opting to leave out the depressing details. Wisely, Anthea had not asked for more information.

"Nothing had to convince me," replied Anthea, playing with his fingers absently. "Robbie's sad about Rachel, but he likes going to the shooting range, and they've still got an officer escorting everyone around. I was a glorified nurse, really. He wouldn't even wake me up in the middle of the night if he needed a glass of water."

Spencer hummed in response, completely unconvinced but understanding that there was something on her mind and she wanted time to think on it. Instead, he kissed the top of her head. "I'm glad you're back."

"When I told you to miss me, I didn't mean for it to be quite so bad," there was a smile in her voice as she spoke, even though he couldn't see her face he knew it was there. It made him smile as well. "I missed you too, by the way. I didn't say it enough, did I?"

"It doesn't matter, I know you did," Spencer shrugged. However, he knew his confidence was an act – he hadn't been sure that she missed him, since she had barely managed to call him for an hour each evening, and on the days he had told her he had cases she hadn't spoken to him even once. It had irked him, but he had reasoned himself out of his annoyance: he had just discovered that he was quite possibly in love with her, the fact that he was being overly emotional was just a side-effect.

"I'm sorry, Spencer," Anthea sighed. "You put up with so much while I was gone."

"I wanted to help."

"You did help," she turned around to face him, resting her chin on his shoulder and looking up at him, her large, dark eyes reflecting the light of the lamp next to him. "God, Spencer, I can't even imagine what it was like for you, going from case to case and checking up on my dog and my apartment and me all at once. I could barely juggle just you and my family."

"You went through something terrible, you didn't have to juggle anything," he insisted. "I would have understood even if you didn't have time for me, Anthea, you know that."

"You shouldn't have to," her lower lip quivered, and Spencer was practised enough by now to know it was a dangerous sign – she was close to crying. "You have to see horrible things every day and catch awful people, and I couldn't even give you a break from it, I just kept dumping all my problems on you and I stayed away for a month, I –"

"Stop," he interrupted her firmly, knowing exactly where this was going. He sat up and pulled her close, rubbing her back as she clung to his shirt desperately. Fortunately, she hadn't started crying, so he took advantage of her silence. "You are so understanding of everything I do, Anthea," he began quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. "You know what to say and do when I've had a bad case, you don't question the fact that I barely tell you anything about work, even just seeing you at the end of the day makes everything better. You do so much for me just by being there, of course I want to do the same thing for you. The only thing I hated about this past month was how upset you were."

He heard her sniffle. "Not fair," she muttered.

"What isn't fair?"

"You're better at romance than I am, and I teach it."

Her weak joke made him chuckle, and her shoulders shook with laughter along with him. "I learn from the best," he kissed the top of her head and reached around her for his mug of coffee. "How's your Italian going?"

Anthea shifted so she could look up at him, but stayed close. She wrinkled her nose in annoyance. "Not very good."

"You haven't been practicing?"

"I was trying," she sighed. "Its easier when you teach me instead of a book."

"You mean it's easier when I read to you instead of you having to read the book yourself," said Spencer, his lips twitching.

Anthea smiled shyly. "What girl wouldn't like having Petrarchan poetry read to her in the language it was written in?"

"Someone who would not understand the significance."

Anthea rolled her eyes. "Rhetorical question."

"Right," Spencer ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. "Sorry."

"I'll forgive you if you read me another sonnet."

"Just one?" he raised an eyebrow.

Anthea bit her lip and gazed up at him from under her eyelashes. An unfamiliar feeling made Spencer's stomach knot. She let out a small, breathy sigh, keeping her gaze fixed on him. "Maybe a few more?"

Dumbly, Spencer nodded. Anthea's expression immediately morphed back into her usual smiling one, and she climbed off the sofa to grab the book from her bedroom. Spencer exchanged a look with Zeus when she left, and the dog's look of amusement said everything that he could not vocalize – his girlfriend has just seduced him and neither of them had even realized it.