A/N: Thank you, dear Guest, for your feedback on the last chapter. I have more fluffiness planned for this story until the next story arc, which should be here in a couple more chapters. Thank you everyone for still reading this!

"The only way to have eternal love is to never let your heart forget what it's like to live without it"

- Sherrilyn Kenyon

The first thing he did on getting off the jet was call George. It was past midnight in Virginia, and his body was reeling from a four-hour flight. But he had to know.
"Hey man", George answered the call.
"Sorry for calling so late. I just wanted to check in on her"
"It's no problem. I'm nocturnal"
"Is she asleep?"
"I think so? She seemed asleep for like an hour. But then I tried to take her phone to snoop and she opened her eyes. She told me she'd cut my hand off if I touched her phone. It was creepy as hell"
"Monica's a light sleeper. What did she have for dinner?"
"Four bigass bowls of soup, and most of my salad. And the two slices of pie, one of which was mine"
"It's a good thing she is eating well. No more nausea?"
"Not from the looks of it"
"Okay. Is she... everything's fine, right?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"
Spencer sighed.
"I don't know"
"You have separation anxiety. I get it. But she's doing well, Spencer. Dr. Lopez told you so. And Monica is pretty tough, health-wise. When we were kids, every time we went to the doctor's, she always had excess nutrients in her body. Our paediatrician wrote a research paper on her. Don't worry about Monica, all right? She's going to be fine"
"Thank you. When she wakes up, could you tell her I called?"
"Sure"
"Thanks, George. Good night"
"Night"
He had been away from her for almost twelve hours. A bit relieved that her condition hadn't worsened since, Spencer joined his team.

A few days later -

Now that her neck brace was gone, Monica seemed more cheerful.
Spencer told her again,
"If you start to feel dizzy, you have to tell me immediately"
"Sir, yes sir"
"I'm serious"
"No kidding"
He observed the expression on her face as she read. She still had to lean against the bed and the pillows when sitting up. But losing one of her "ornaments", as she called them, had a remarkable effect on her mood.
"Are you going to sit there staring at me all day?", Monica said, without looking away from her book, "You know, for a guy who claims to hate hospitals, you have pretty much set up camp here, Doc"
"I just want to make sure you're comfortable"
George came in then. He picked up his book from the nightstand and said to her,
"I'm heading home. You need anything when I come back?"
"No, thank you"
He yawned.
"You thought about my idea?"
Monica exclaimed,
"I said no!"
Spencer looked from one to another.
"What's going on?", he asked.
Monica glared at her brother before looking at her boyfriend.
"George has this 'genius' idea in mind. He wants to bring in a stripper here to cheer me up because apparently, I am grumpy"
George defended his idea.
"I saw it in an Indian movie! The guy had cancer and his friends brought in this stripper slash dancer to..."
"Did her lap dance cure his cancer?"
"Of course not. It just..."
"Then shut up!"
Spencer was trying to detect the rational logic behind George's proposed scheme, but it evaded him.
"Fine. Be Grumpy Gertrude. I don't care. I'm going to bring my headphones when I come back tonight. That way I won't have to listen to your rants about plastic pollution"
"No one's asking you to come back. Fuck off"
"You fuck off. Oh wait. You can't, Lieutenant Dan"
Feeling awkward as hell, Spencer considered intervening. But George and Monica kept calling each other names.
"...it's like babysitting the demon from the Exorcist"
George pulled on his jacket and kissed his sister's forehead. She handed him his phone, which he seemed to have forgotten.
"Try not getting hit by a bus on your way back"
"It would be less painful than watching you skype with your dog. Bye"
"Bubbly's better company than you are. Don't drive like an idiot. Watch the speed limit!"
He waved at her over his shoulder before walking out of their sight.

The exchange left a bewildered Spencer staring at his girlfriend. Monica shrugged at his look.
"He's my brother. That's how we talk"
"I didn't say anything"
"You think we're odd"
He admitted,
"Somewhat"
She made use of her bookmark.
"This is nothing. We fought like crazy when we were kids. It was probably because we were the closest in age. Wore each other's clothes, played with each other's toys. But then he joined the Peace Corps when he was 21", Monica smiled, "That was the most difficult year of my entire life. I had never imagined I would ever miss George so badly. It was part of the reason why I went to England. The house was too quiet without him in it"
Spencer said,
"I thought George was unemployed"
"He lives on allowances from the different organisations he works with. He is the only one in our family who didn't go to college. He asked Mom and Dad if he could use his college fund to support his volunteer work instead", Monica said, "Everyone thinks Audrey, Catherine, Max, me - we are the successful ones. But we all envy George. He was the only one of us brave enough to give up everything, so he could try and make the world a better place. It's why I love him the most. He loves me too"
"That's not so obvious sometimes"
She gave a little laugh at that. Spencer watched her mirthful expression.
"I like seeing you around your family", he observed.
"Quite the circus-folk, right?"
"No. I think it's nice you have a family that cares about you so much"
"If I'm being honest, I didn't think so for the first year after I came back home. My life in the UK was the opposite of what I have here. Mom and Dad's constant coddling used to bother me so much I made an escape plan. I was going to put it in motion once I had enough money"
"What plan?"
"I was going to go live in the mountains. A small cabin or cottage, solitude and my books. I was going to be Walden, to be precise. But then I got used to the constant visits, and phone calls, and invitations to lunch. I got the job at the university. And I slowly realised that I couldn't live without my folks anymore. Not after having been away for so long", Monica said, "So the hermit thing became my retirement plan"
Something told him he shouldn't ask her. But they were a couple. He deserved to know.
"You're going to retire into the woods?"
"Was"
That was a relief.
"What changed?", Spencer asked.
"I met you"
Monica's smile knocked the mental imagery out of his mind.
"What do you mean?"
"It means you screwed up pretty much all the plans I had for being the crazy hermit lady"
"If it's something you really want, you know I won't stand in your way"
"But it's no longer what I want", Monica told him, "Now what I want is a porch swing"
Unable to make sense of it, Spencer repeated,
"A porch swing?"
Monica nodded.
"Me, as a grey-haired but dignified grandmother, sitting on that swing with a content smile on my face. And as I am listening to the birds singing in the garden, this tall, handsome old gentleman walks out of my door and sits next to me"
He was smiling before she could even finish narrating her fantasy.
"...and he goes", she mimicked his manner of speaking, but in a tired, raspy voice, "Monica, did you come out without your walker again? I don't see why you have to be embarrassed about it. You know, over 7 million people in the US use walkers and crutches to help with their mobility..."
"Those statistics are incorrect", he grinned.
"Oh they will be correct by the time we get old. And by the way, you're not allowed to call me Monica once we become senior citizens. You're going to have to come up with some sweet nickname"
"What, and you will still call me Dr. Reid?"
"Have you ever seen an old man being called Spencer? That's a young-guy name"
"If I have to call you by a nickname, you have to do the same for me"
"I have tried, believe me", she grinned, "Every time I try to call you something sweet, I also end up telling you I love you. I can't help it. I get all gooey and mushy in my subconscious when I call you by anything that's not your last name. It's almost involuntary. And stupid"
That was not what he thought at all.
"But I promise - by the time we are old, I will come up with an endearing nickname for you. What do you think about honeysuckle? Or sugar-wein?", she started laughing, "Imagine... imagine the grandkids asking me why I call their Grandpa sugar-wein"
He was too touched to join her in the laughter. Something warm hugged his insides. In his seventh month of dating Monica, he had interpreted it to be love. It was a poetic marvel that love had stayed so long.
Spencer asked sweetly, almost not believing it,
"You want to grow old with me?"
"It beats fighting off mosquitoes in the woods"
He was elated. Him and Monica - growing old together. The prospect of grand-fathering kids with her was as exciting as them having their own. Spencer pushed that thought out of his mind for the forty-seventh time.
He asked instead,
"What is the porch swing made off?"
"I don't know. Iron?"
"And the house?"
"I painted it white and pearl with my own hands, did all the landscaping too. I think one of our favourite authors lived in it once"
"Ooh, which one?"
"A Mr. Edgar Allan Poe"
"No way", he said, almost childlike in his absorption of the fantasy, "Really?"
"Uh-huh"
"What else?"
"Well, we have our own private library, of course"
"Next to our room?"
"Yes"
"Does it have all my books?"
"It sure does"
"What about yours?"
"Mine too"
"That's a big library"
"Yep"
He laid his forearms on the bed and lay his head on them, face turned towards Monica.
"Tell me more", he said.
Indulging him with a smile, she did.