Alex met Emily long before anything had ever happened between them. Long before she ever could've imagined she'd one day love her with every fibre of her being.

They'd met at a staff mixer the university threw before each academic year. Alex hadn't wanted to go, hadn't wanted to leave Ethan, but James had insisted that she needed a night away, that he'd look after Ethan...and ultimately, she'd relented.

She'd been bored out of her skull, of course, as those sorts of parties tended to be dull in the extreme even when her mind wasn't a million miles away, worrying about her son. At least, until a woman sidled up to her with a mischievous smirk and two glasses of wine.

She'd seen the woman around campus before, but had never spoken to her. For one thing, she taught French literature and there had never been any particular reason to converse. Partly because she was extremely attractive and whenever Alex saw her, she tended to get a little tongue-tied, so it was easier to just keep her distance.

The woman passed her a glass of wine and Alex took it hesitantly, eventually taking a sip with a small smile of thanks.

"This so-called party sure is a snooze, hmm?"

Alex raised a brow, surprised, as she'd heard from others that the woman only spoke fractured English.

Apparently understanding her curiosity perfectly, the woman said conspiratorially, "It's all for show... This way I don't get dragged into boring conversations." She winked.

"What makes you think I'm not boring?" Alex replied, unsure why she was feeling playful, but indulging the feeling anyway.

She shrugged, smiling. "I've got a good feeling about you. I'm Emily, by the way."

Alex shook her hand, trying to bite down on the smile that threatened to emerge. "Alex."

Emily glanced over her shoulder at the dull festivities as if trying to decide whether they would be missed. A small smirk played about her lips as she whispered, "Want to get out of here? I can't stand another second of this fucking small talk..."

Alex thought on it for a moment, then nodded, letting Emily lead her away.

Alex found herself in Emily's office, scanning her bookshelf – she'd found you could tell an awful lot about someone based on their choices in literature. "I see French, obviously. But also Italian and Spanish, besides English," she remarked.

Emily laughed softly. "I keep the Russian and Arabic ones at home."

Alex was silent for a moment, as if anticipating the rest of the joke. "Oh...you're serious?"

"I'm conversational in a few more," she added, "But those are the main ones."

"Why French, then?" Alex asked, curious.

She shrugged. "Least amount of bad memories associated with it," she said mysteriously. "Why linguistics?"

It was Alex's turn to shrug. "In truth, I always wanted to be a dancer, but that was impractical, according to my father. Books were always an escape for me, so I guess it was a natural transition..."

Emily nodded. "Little House on the Prairie."

"Hmm?"

"That's what I used to read when I wanted to escape," she explained.

Alex smiled softly. "Me too."

A beat. Then, in the silence, Emily passed her a bottle of whisky she'd pulled from its hiding place in one of her desk drawers. At Alex's raised brow, she said, "I teach French lit, it's practically a job requirement." She winked.

She laughed softly, accepted the proffered bottle and took a sip. "My son never really got into Little House," she said before she knew she was going to speak.

Emily hummed a note of interest. "You have a son?"

"He's six," she said softly, suddenly shy. "He's really into C.S. Lewis right now."

"An intellect, like his mother," Emily murmured.

Alex was silent for a long moment, then without knowing why she was opening up to a woman she barely knew, she said, "His vision is starting to go, so I got him the books on CD. He listens to them every night."

Emily was silent for a moment.

Alex looked up, meeting her gaze and finding only quiet sympathy and curiosity. She sighed softly. "It's... It's the first symptom. He's got Batten Disease. The seizures have just started. It will be a few years before he's bedridden."

"I'm sorry," Emily whispered.

She attempted a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She took another sip of the whisky. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was about Emily that made her want to bare her soul, but there was no stopping the verbal tide now that it had started. "I can feel my husband slipping away from me the sicker Ethan gets. He'll leave me eventually – I already know it."

She was startled when Emily's hand closed around hers, squeezing gently. When she caught Emily's gaze this time, there was so much genuine compassion there – like she hadn't seen in anyone's eyes for a very long time – that her heart nearly broke clean in two.

"Alex..."

But before she could finish, Alex closed the distance between them and captured her lips in a tender kiss.

Emily knew she should stop the kiss, but knowing it and acting on it were two very different things.

When Alex eventually pulled back, her cheeks immediately flushed bright red. For several moments, she stammered, searching for an excuse.

Emily just shook her head. "You don't have to say anything," she said quietly. "It stays between us."

Alex just smiled her silent thanks.

When she turned to leave, Emily called out, "Wait."

Turning back, question in her eyes, she watched as Emily selected a novel off her shelf, passed it to her wordlessly. At Alex's curious expression, she shrugged. "In case your son needs more reading material."

Glancing down, she found an obviously well-loved copy of The Little Prince.

"What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well," she quoted with a little significant glance.

Those words would stay with Alex for years to come, but it wouldn't truly hit her until much later that Emily had become that well...