Emily lay awake in her bed, staring straight at the ceiling as her thoughts raced. Well, raced was too organised a word for what her thoughts were doing. It implied that they were neatly ensconced on a course with a destination in mind. No, her thoughts were bouncing around all over the place, ricocheting into places they logically shouldn't be able to. Like a pinball machine though she hadn't managed to land a ball in a hole yet. It made them hard to ignore no matter how hard she tried. She scrunched her eyes closed for a long few second before opening them again. Nothing had changed above her. Still just the ceiling. It wasn't even a particularly interesting ceiling, just your standard white-painted one. Though there was a strange jagged cracking in the far corner. They should probably get that looked at. Nothing to distract her from those ricocheting thoughts. At all.

The steady breathing of her boyfriend next to her was soothing, as was watching his chest rhythmically rise and fall. At least one of them was restful. Urgh, this was the downside of their job; jumbling thoughts that just won't shut up. Of course, the job wasn't the entire reason she couldn't sleep tonight. Or it was. Sort of. Either way, that's what she was blaming her sleeplessness on. Urgh, back to the confusion and looming decisions. She absent-mindedly smoothed the duvet between her hands. The wrinkles just reappeared. Great. She couldn't even do that right.

Could she do it? Right now? Professionally, she could. She was capable. Emotionally? Emily wasn't sure. She didn't think she was ready, didn't want to be ready.

And she was back to staring at the ceiling. Maybe, she could talk to Spencer about putting some of those glow-in-the-dark stars up there. That would break up the monotony, give her something to look at as she brooded. He'd probably want to put them up in the actual configuration of constellations but she could live with that, as long as he didn't get the measuring tape out. It would be kind of nice, staring up at the gentle glow. Comforting, even. It would give her something to look at except the minute cracks on the ceiling. She could map them with her eyes closed at this point. That couldn't be healthy and probably spoke more of her mental state than any psychologist appointment ever could.

What would happen if she did do it? What did she have to gain? More importantly, what did she have to lose? She didn't like questions like that, they made her think about this she didn't want to think about. Things to lose... She wasn't used to having things to lose. She wasn't sure she liked it. Too many emotions, too many things out of her control. And one thing Emily Prentiss needed was control. But was that really a bad thing? She knew in her heart the answer was no, didn't mean she had to like it.

Unable to stick the silence of her overactive thoughts anymore, Emily gave the body next to her a poke.

"I know you're awake, Spencer," she informed him in an irritated tone.

The bed covers rustled as a tousled head emerged from beneath them. It would be absolutely adorable and kissable (and probably maulable) if she wasn't so worked up.

"Wasn't pretending to be asleep," he replied matter-of-factly, turning to face her.

"Really?"

She didn't believe that for a second. It was the best avoidance technique in the book. Plausible deniability for both parties. They both knew this. Far too well.

"Yes."

An exasperated noise escaped her. She really wanted to shake him sometimes.

"Is there a reason that you just lay there in silence?" Emily asked through gritted teeth.

"You looked like you needed to think."

She shot him a dark look but didn't disagree with him. He probably would have just been snapped at if he tried to talk to her. That was the sort of mood she'd been in tonight. Most of the day, if she was being completely honest. She didn't exactly have the best coping mechanisms for dealing with stressful decisions. There. She could admit that to herself.

His large brown eyes gave her an expectant look. A knot twisted in her stomach as she didn't answer his unasked question. She didn't want to answer it. But she didn't want to not answer it as well, if that made any sense. She wanted to share things with him. And also, didn't. See what she meant about coping mechanisms?

"So, have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Finished thinking."

She didn't answer that either. Oh, she just didn't know. Emily started playing with a scrunched-up bit of the sheet between them. Honestly, she didn't know why they ever bothered fixing their sheet, the way Spencer unintentionally moved about in his sleep always scrunched them up beyond measure anyway. A neat duvet would cover it all, hide it from view. Would make making the bed a far quicker task as well. When she had suggested that to Spencer, his eye had twitched and he'd taken the sheet off her to fix it himself. It was annoying that given his height and spidery arms that he didn't struggle with that like she did when she tried to do it alone. It deprived her of watching him clumsily struggle and maybe get tangled in the sheets. It wasn't fair.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Spencer reached across and grabbed her hand making her straighten out her fingers. Oh. She hadn't realised she'd been picking at the skin around her nails again. There was some dried blood around the nail of her thumb. She hadn't felt that.

"You're nervous," he stated calmly, not sounding surprised or even vaguely disgusted like he usually was when she started to gnaw or pick at her cuticles.

It what she got when she went out with a germaphobe.

Emily didn't answer him. She didn't need to. A lie would be called out and he knew the truth. She didn't have to tell him anything. Didn't she? He didn't ask her anything, anyway. It was a statement, not a question.

"I'm not nervous," she felt the need to point out anyway.

She wasn't. It was far too mild a word. She hadn't stopped staring at the ceiling but she couldn't feel his gaze on her. She wasn't entirely sure if she wanted it.

"Would you rather 'frightened'?"

No. No she would not. Emily Prentiss didn't do frightened. It meant you'd lost control of the situation and heaven forbid that Emily Prentiss lost control. Her mouth stayed stubbornly shut.

"Thought not."

Did he even know how frustratingly infuriating he was? She risked a quick glance at him, rolling to face him before rolling away again with a huff. Yep, he did know. Which was even more infuriating. Now, she definitely didn't want to talk to him. Emily's arms folded and shoulders were raised defensively, everything about her posture screaming that she wanted to be left alone. He did just that, for several minutes at least. At least, left her alone as much as he could without leaving the bed. Not saying anything, even to himself in a muttered undertone. She was grateful that he didn't leave her physically alone. She didn't really want him completely gone. Just wanted some time and mental space to gather her thoughts together. Something she wasn't very good at today.

With a growl, Emily rubbed her head and gave into her frustration. She was getting nowhere with this and she could feel Spencer's stare on her back, he was obviously itching to say something now that it was obvious that she wasn't going to. Not voluntarily anyway.

Still wanting to ignore him for a bit longer, Emily started fiddling with the bit of duvet she'd been clutching. It had left an imprint on her skin; Emily hadn't realised how tight she had been holding it. Of course, she should have known that Spencer wouldn't let himself be ignored for very long.

"I heard you talking in your sleep the other night," Spencer said quietly to her.

Emily froze but didn't look up, knowing what night he was talking about. She didn't want to look into those emotionally charged eyes of his. He wasn't good at hiding his emotions, from her anyway. She didn't know what she'd she in those brown orbs. Sadness? Anger? Disappointment? Emily didn't want to deal with any of those.

"Emily," he said gently but pressing.

She knew that he knew she was listening to him. That he wasn't being ignored no matter how much she wanted to. Confusing? Yes, but that's what the two of them were all about, wasn't it? Neither of them knew exactly how to be normal. Especially with each other.

"Do you want me to tell you what I heard you say?"

Not particularly, anything she said in her dreams was something buried deep in her subconscious. Which really should give her the courtesy of them staying there. Her subconscious wasn't exactly a pleasant place. Lots of things buried there that she pointedly ignored. Even those things she really shouldn't. She didn't really want Spencer to voice any of them. She couldn't exactly say that, could she?

"You're going to tell me anyway, aren't you?" she asked instead, tone biting in a pitiful attempt to discourage him.

"Not if you don't want me to."

"You'd listen?"

He ignored the scoffing tone in her voice, knowing that it was a defensive move. Something to push him away and block him out. It was annoying that that didn't work on him anymore. Not that it had for a long time. Years ago, in fact.

"You need to talk to me, Emily."

No, she didn't. She didn't need to talk to anyone. Especially Spencer. She was fine. Just fine. She huffed at her boyfriend and rolled on her side, trying to forget about ten faint plea in his voice. Hopefully, he'd get the hint.

Instead of him doing that and falling back to sleep, she felt the bed dip slightly as he rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up by his elbows. There was a slight rustling noise as he brushed hair away from his face, he really did get the most spectacular bed head. She still wasn't going to look at him.

"Emily."

Oh, that tone. Emily hated that tone. It was the 'I-really-care-about-you-you're-not-alone' tone. She didn't know how to cope with that; someone caring enough not to leave her alone. People didn't tend to get close enough to do that. But this team had and Spencer had practically buried and tangled himself up in there and stubbornly refused to leave. See? Annoying.

She chuckled at the mental image that gave her, making Spencer frown. Whoops, he didn't know that she was imagining a cartoon Spencer literally getting tangled up in heart strings. Her heart strings.

"Emily."

"I'm not listening to you."

Childish? Yes. But obviously subtle wasn't working on him tonight. He sighed heavily. That sounded like it was bordering on disappointment. Her heart clenched despite her trying to quench it, she didn't cope well with disappointing Spencer.

"Yes, you are," he said simply.

Emily still said nothing. Again. Like the rights went; everything you said could and would be used against you. Not exactly in a court of law in this case but being pressed by your significant other (no matter how gently) was still stressful.

"Not," she finally muttered petulantly, not wanting him to have the last word.

Now it was Spencer's turn to make an exasperated noise. His was to release a really loud breath. Not quite a sigh, more like a noisy exhale. This one actually sent him coughing, Emily could help but a feel a small measure of satisfaction. Mean? Yes, but he was annoying her and this seems like payback, of a kind.

"Why are you behaving like a child?" he demanded, an irritated tone finally seeping into his voice.

Yes! She wasn't the only one feeling unbalanced now.

"I'm not the person going on and on about something that's none of my of business," Emily retorted, giving up on her poor pretence at ignoring him. She wasn't really anyway.

Spencer didn't answer for several moments. She could almost see him closing his eyes to try and think of something to reply.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," he apologised sincerely before his tone hardened ever so slightly. "But I disagree that this is none of my business."

Emily made a huffing noise instead of making the obvious retort. She didn't want to lie to him. Of course, it was his business, it was going to affect him and he should be left out in the dark. Didn't make her want to explain herself any faster though.

Spencer sighed heavily and pushed himself up so he was sitting, looking over her.

"I want you to listen to me."

"And if I don't want to?" she interrupted quickly.

He frowned at her and amended his statement, "You're going to listen to me."

Oh, that tone. That tone always sent a shiver down her spine. It was a confidant tone, he knew what he was doing, what he wanted and was taking charge. Normally, it was attractive, sexy even. He knew just the right things to do and say to push all her buttons the right way. Not now. It definitely wasn't appreciated. He knew she couldn't resist him when he spoke like that.

"Because I have no choice, you mean," Emily said in an attempt at a flippant tone. Her heart was beating

"You could always get out of bed," he pointed out. "I'm not making you stay."

Oh, but he was. In more ways than he knew.

"You'd just follow," she deflected.

"Hmm," he said non-committedly.

He would. He'd follow her around until he'd finished what he had to say. He was like that. Because he thought she needed to hear it. She didn't. Her back was still to him, that should have been a big enough hint.

But when had Spencer Reid ever taken social cues into account?

"I know what you're thinking and what you're afraid of," he said evenly, no mocking or sarcastic tone involved. Just stated it very matter-of-factly. "I want you to know that you don't need to be afraid. Of your decision or telling me about it or being alone while you figure things out."

Emily still stubbornly said nothing. She was grappling with the familiar feeling of being both endeared by him and annoyed by him.

"Let me help you," he continued, a slight plea entering his voice. "Or let me be there for you."

She hated the fact that she was responsible for that tone, for hurting him. Hated herself and the fact that Spencer always hit the nail on the head. So, she reacted like she normally did. By lashing out.

Emily sat up and swung her legs out of bed.

"You don't know everything, Reid," she told him in a chilling tone.

"Never said I did," he replied mildly, face carefully blank. "But I know you."

She growled at him. He was being deliberately infuriating. She wanted him to pry and poke and be annoyingly nosey. She wanted his face to be flushed with strong emotions. She wanted him to fight. She couldn't fight with him when he was being placating and helpful. She needed to fight. Be aggressive. Have something to channel all these bubbling emotions through.

"I'm not going to fight with you," he stated, sitting up straighter.

It was eerie, how well he knew what she was thinking.

"Oh, really?" she goaded, determined to get a rise out of him.

Knowing what she was trying to do, Spencer ignored her and frowned in thought.

"I know you got an offer of some sort from Clyde Easter," he said into the darkness.

That made her turn around to face him, blankets nearly being thrown off in her haste. His face was emotionless. How did he know that? She definitely hadn't told him and she hadn't spoken of it to anyone else.

"It was for a job at Interpol, wasn't it?" he continued. "Overseas, I assume considering your level of ongoing anxiety."

Now, that was creepy even by profiler expectations. Was there such a thing as being too good at their jobs?

"I also know that you've been battling yourself ever been since you came back," he finished. "Wondering if you were right to do so."

That was less of a shock. She had, shockingly, discussed all her fears and hopes with him this past year. No more secrets, the promise had been. Surprisingly, the world hadn't ended. And she'd kept that promise faithfully, until now. Old habits died hard. Not an excuse but it was true.

She licked her suddenly parched lips. It didn't help.

"So?"

"What?"

Emily growled, wanting him to ask questions so she didn't have to spill her guts and possibly say more than she wanted to. She wasn't ready for that, not yet. That was allowed. The 'no secrets' came with a 'give me a chance to process things' caveat that they both respected. Only when one of them was in danger of over thinking something, harming themselves, was the other allowed to intervene. Which was apparently tonight. Stupid Spencer and his ability to read her.

His hand curled around hers, touching her but not restraining it in any way. "Those two things are creating a perfect storm, aren't they?"

She swallowed hard and blinked rapidly. Why did he have to talk like that? Why did his voice have to have so much emotion, so much understanding in it? She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve him. She hadn't been honest or trusted him with this. That was wrong. He shouldn't -

"Stop that."

His hand was on her cheek, wiping away her tears. When had they got there?

"Stop what?" Emily tried to ask harshly but it came out choked.

"Stop beating yourself up."

"Not the boss of me," she muttered weakly.

She could hardly stop doing that, could she? It wasn't like she liked it, no matter how guilty she felt.

"No one could be." There was a trace of humour in his voice. Emily let the corners of her lip quirk briefly upwards before returning to their frown.

"Do you want to say what's on your mind?" he gently pressed, reminding her of their agreement.

She shook her head, still not feeling like she could. She couldn't make them coherent in her own head, never mind actually talking about them.

"How about how you are feeling?"

An even more vigorous head shake was her response. That was even worse. Emotions were not good. Not good at all. Talking about them was definitely a no. A very big no.

"Do you want me to?"

That immediately made her feel wary. How on earth could he know all of what she was thinking about or what she was feeling? He couldn't. He wasn't the one thinking or feeling them.

She gave him a suspicious look and apparently that was all the affirmation he needed to launch into a speech.

"You've been feeling awkward and guilty since you came back. The visual impact of the consequences of you leaving hasn't been something you've been able to cope with easily."

Ouch, that hurt. It was true but it still hurt. Emily had returned expecting broken relationships and mistrust but she never realised that people could miss her so much, that she could affect people like that. It was eye opening and incomprehensible at the same time. What had she done to be embraced like this?

"It's also brought back all your insecurities about feeling out of place and not belonging," he continued, ignoring her uncomfortable shifting. "Life's gone on with you not being there and you feel like you don't quite know how to slip back into place."

Correction, she didn't know if she even had a place to slip back into. It was something that lurked in the back of her subconscious, not at the front to always feel but just tantalisingly out of reach, ready to poke her when she got too comfortable.

"But you have slipped back into place, Emily," he told her earnestly, eyes wide and honest. "Maybe not the same place but still your place."

Nope, she wasn't convinced of that. There was no way she could belong again so easily. Things didn't work like that, did they?"

"You don't think that's possible because you haven't processed everything yet. Not your 'death', not your hiding, not Ian Doyle and definitely not your return. You're feeling all these emotions and you don't know what to do with them."

Again, completely terrified at how well he knew her, how well he could voice her thoughts when even she couldn't.

"So, the offer from Clyde Easter came at the right time. You could leave again and get the opportunity to shove all those emotions away. Perfect, right?"

She had thought so. At first, anyway.

"But you feel guilty about even contemplating on leaving again, knowing that you'd willingly cause people you care about pain and confusion. Then you feel you have to because you don't think you're good enough for them. For us."

He grabbed at her hands, holding them tightly like he thought she would disappear right now. His voice took on a more desperate tone. "I want you to know that you are good enough for this team, Emily Prentiss. You always have been and you always will. We are always going to be there for you no matter what. You can't lose us."

He stares straight into her eyes for several long seconds before dropping her hands. He was panting slightly, face flushed, due to that unexpected speech.

There were so many ways she could respond to that outpouring of emotion (So many emotions), from shouting, to seething, to crying. None of them really appealed to her 's she just huffed at him, hoping it reflected all her displeasure.

"Was I wrong?" he demanded softly; eyebrow raised.

Another huff.

"Didn't think do. I know you, Emily."

"If you know so much about what I'm thinking why don't you explain those thoughts you just said I was thinking?" she said bitingly, goading him. "I dare you," her tone said.

He stated at her, disconcertingly not saying anything. He should be saying something, he had plenty to say - didn't he?

She was about to say something, something more goading to push him into losing a little bit of his insufferable control. But he spoke before she could even think what to say.

"Belonging scares you," he said simply. "You're so used to being alone, doing everything yourself, that you've convinced yourself that that's how it should be. You don't need anyone else. Yourself is enough. Except, it isn't Emily and you know it."

"Stop profiling me," that came out ad a growl. Not exactly intended but maybe it would scare him off.

It didn't. Of course, it didn't.

"Stop being so easy to read," he retorted.

Ouch. Point to Doctor Reid.

That also scared her, something else she would never admit to herself, Spencer being able to read her. No one, no one, had ever been able to read her so well until him. Hell, barely anyone could read her at all, barring this team-family she seemed to have been absorbed into. She wasn't sure she liked it. She took pride in being impossible to read, an expert in wearing a mask.

"I'm not scared."

The statement seemed loud, almost defiant in the darkness. Why hadn't either of them turned on a light?

"You are," he replied, remarkably firmly.

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"You don't know how I feel even with all your profiling."

Yes, she was being deliberately childish and annoying. Anything to throw him off the frustratingly true set of thoughts. She didn't want truths right now.

"I do because I've felt the same."

"What?"

That made her stare at him, not really understanding.

"I got scared when I suddenly realised that I belonged on the team," he said calmly, but she could see that it's was difficult for him to share. It didn't make her stop him. "I had never really belonged anywhere before," he continued, looking at a point behind her shoulder. "Never in school, in the neighbourhood I grew up in or in college. Definitely not in FLETC. I didn't expect to fit in in the BAU either."

"But you did," she interrupted.

Spencer nodded at her in agreement. "I did. It took a while before I realised it. But I did."

She knew what he meant; she had gone through the same thing. She had felt like she was always going to be on the outside to this closely knit team, always running beside them instead of with them until she suddenly wasn't. Suddenly she was right in there with them with all the in-jokes and the good feelings and the belonging. It was amazing how she just clicked into place.

"It scared me," he said in an almost-whisper. Her heart ached at the vulnerability she heard. "I didn't know what to do, how to act."

"So, what made that change? For you not to be scared?" she pressed.

"Garcia," he replied, exhaling in a chuckle.

Emily was surprised, she expected him to say Morgan or JJ, or even Gideon.

He actually chuckled at her expression. She poked him warningly.

"Yeah, I know, but she's very intuitive."

Now it was Emily's turn to snort. She knew that.

"She figured out what I was feeling and when I was in her office to retrieve some information, she trapped me."

Emily raised an eyebrow at his wording.

"Actually, trapped me," he insisted. "Pushed me into her chair and stood in front of her pointedly closed door. Even with all the pink and fluffy things, she'd really intimidating!"

She would not laugh; she would not laugh. It wasn't funny. A snort escaped. It was quickly for owed by a smothered giggle. No. Not funny. Reid gave her an injured look. She quickly stilled her face.

"She is!"

Emily patted him on the shoulder, mockingly even though she knew it was true.

"What did she say?" Emily asked curiously.

"She scolded me," he said simply. "Told me that belonging wasn't a scary thing, that it was a good thing and when you belonged you didn't just let go. You held on and that she was going to hold on tight enough for the both of us until I figured that out."

That made sense, actually. Penelope Garcia did not like losing anything that she considered hers and it didn't surprise Emily that even at that early point that she considered Reid to be 'hers'.

"And that helped?" she questioned.

"It did. It reassured me and helped me come to terms with it."

"You make it sound like a bad thing to get used to," Emily pointed out.

He shrugged again, "It was, at least at first. I didn't know what to do with those feelings and I don't cope well with not knowing."

That was true.

"And I know you feel the same. Even after all these years," he added, bringing the conversation back to her. "You're always waiting for the other shoe to drop and when you think it has it makes you want to run. You're good at running."

She winced at the reproach in his tone at the end. It was true. She was very good at running, she had plenty of practice. Wasn't that exactly what she had been doing recently? Or preparing for, pulling away from people.

"Doyle wasn't the other shoe dropping," he told her earnestly. "You don't have to run."

"I've wrecked things," she said wetly, where had those tears come from?

"You haven't. Everyone understands."

"They're mad."

"At Doyle," Spencer stressed. "The person who made you have to hide."

Emily just closed her eyes and let the tears seep out from under her eyelids. It relieved some of the tension, her body had wanted to do that for a while. Spencer didn't draw attention to the tears. He didn't need to. Instead, he shifted closer to her so that they were touching. Reminding her that he was there, he had her back.

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes with her pyjama sleeve. Her nose was all bunged up, she couldn't breathe through it properly.

"I'll be here, with you, no matter what decision you take," he assured her, passing her a tissue.

"Even if I take him up on his offer?" she demanded.

He'd obviously considered that outcome (this was Dr Spencer Reid they were talking about, after all) as he answered confidently, "Then I'm coming with you."

She spluttered incoherently at that answer. What?

"I'm coming with you," he repeated, no change in his tone. "I can work in London too."

"You can't work for Interpol," she told him. She doubted Clyde would let him anywhere near it. He never said but Emily knew he was intimidated by Spencer. The Englishman wasn't stupid, he knew what someone like Doctor Spencer Reid was capable of when pushed. He did not want to be the one who gave that push.

"I could," he corrected. "But even if I didn't, I can still work. You're not the only one with connections overseas, Emily."

She gaped at him, not exactly understanding what he was saying.

"My doctorates and my studies," he said impatiently. "I have standing offers from numerous universities in England to teach and research. Including the University College London."

"What?" with all the rolling thoughts she had that was the only one that made sense enough to leave her mouth, even if it did make her sound incredibly stupid.

He made an impatient noise and spoke his head, unruly hair sticking to his forehead.

"Plenty of universities in London would be happy to hire me," somehow his slow tone managed to not sound condescending or bragging but just a statement of facts.

It was a surprise to her, to be honest, she knew he got offers from plenty of universities here. She had seen them, he had shown them to her and he attended a fair few, work permitting. Emily hadn't realised that the offers were international. He'd never said.

"He hides things from you too," the intrusive thought coiled around her.

So, she repeated her last thought out loud.

"You've never said," she accused.

Delicate handling, Emily Prentiss did not do.

Spencer shrugged, looking unconcerned.

"I've never seriously considered them."

She gave him an incredulous look, "Seriously? You love learning new things and having a chance to discuss different viewpoints in your fields. Surely international universities are the best place for that."

"I wouldn't have thought people in the UK think too differently to us," he said mildly, Emily snorted at that. "And work hasn't allowed it."

Emily gave her partner a look, that was a lie if she'd ever heard one. The FBI would be happy to hold Spencer's job for him if he wanted to take a leave of absence for educational purposes. He was far too valuable to lose.

"I haven't wanted to leave work for it," he corrected himself. "The team's here, work I love, you, my mom. But if you're working over there, I could actually take up the offer quite happily."

A small blossom of hope selfishly bloomed in her. Then reality hit her like a truck.

"You can't leave here," she protested

Inwardly she wondered why, if they were together then nearly all her problems and second thoughts disappeared. Not all of them, but most.

"You only get to have half of what's keeping you here, if you follow me. What about your mom or the team?"

"It's true that friendships tend to drift over the obstacle of distance," he said thoughtfully, as if he was trying to break down an academic problem. "But the team wouldn't allow that to happen and with both of making sure we don't lose touch; we will be more successful."

"And your mom?"

That made him fall silent, a flash of guilt quickly passing over his face. She hated that look.

"I don't exactly visit my mom a lot as it is," he said quietly, head now dipped towards his knee as he fiddled with his hands.

Emily reached over to cover both of them with hers.

"And if you're in England?" she asked gently.

"I'd still write letters," he said in a more confidant voice. "Just like I always do, there'd be more of a delay but it would still work. She doesn't always answer each of my letters anyway. And I'm sure we'd be back to visit; I'll see her then."

Why was he trying to persuade her to go? Why was he insisting on coming? No, she would not let him do this. He just needs some persuasion.

"No, Spencer, you belong at the BAU."

Okay, not her strongest argument but she knew how important the BAU was to him. It was the same reasons why it was important to her. The only place where they felt like they truly belonged, with people who just got them and accepted them.

"No, we belong together. No matter where we are."

He meant that. Really and truly meant that. He was so honest, so earnest. What had she done to deserve him as a partner?

"You wouldn't be happy," she countered. "You've finally found somewhere where you belong. I'm not taking that away from you."

"So, have you," he countered easily. "And I belong with you."

She couldn't argue with that. Didn't want to.

"I'm in this for the long run, Emily. I promised, remember?"

He tapped the inside of her wrist gently, where the delicate blue-purple lines of her veins swept under her skin. Their way of saying that they were always in each other's hearts. Blood vessels, see? A bit goofy and nerdy but it was them.

"It's not fair," she told him, trying to dissuade him. It was completely skewed in her favour.

"What isn't fair is either of us being without the other;" he retorted.

More guilt piled on her, as if there wasn't enough. She wasn't good for him; she had always said that. Not that he'd listen.

"You're not going to lose me, no matter what you choose," Spencer said, his voice firm and steady.

"Promise?" she couldn't help but ask in a childish tone.

She hated that tone. It made her sound vulnerable and needy. Which she wasn't (liar).

He didn't say anything but a long pinkie finger wrapped around hers. A childish gesture but it spoke of so much more. She tightened hers in response.

Two weeks later, she was flying off to London. Alone. She'd made Spencer stay stateside. After all, she was only filling in until Clyde found someone more suitable. She'd given him six months. Six months and she would be back to the BAU no matter what the Englishman did. Because she was an FBI Agent, after all. She had a job to get back to and, more importantly, a life to live. Cruz was quite happy with the arrangement, saying something about 'interagency cooperation'. Whatever, this helped out an old 'friend', she got the space she needed and at the end of the day she would return to where (and who) she belonged. Head all refreshed and ready to face life head on. Simple.

Could life really be that simple?

Apparently, it could.

She was back in four, falling back into Spencer's arms like a horrible cliché with the whole team embracing them at the airport. It was a mad scramble of laughter and limbs, elbows poking into sensitive areas. Everyone would later deny tears, happy ones they may have been. How could almost a year feel like nothing but four months feel like an eternity? She had clutched at them all the tighter, eyes squeezed shut.

It was good to be home.