Spencer just held Maggie listening to her breath, feeling the heat of it against his chest. He normally wasn't good at contemplating his own feelings but as Maggie relaxed against him he felt happy and peaceful. His senses were heightened and he supposed this was due to the surge of adrenaline he had just experienced. Maggie's breathing became deeper and even. He was certain she had fallen asleep. He tried not to disturb her as he slid quietly out of the bed and padded down the hall to the bathroom. Spencer returned to a baffling sight. Maggie was curled into a ball. She had her pillow pinned around her head with her arms and was sobbing loudly. He rushed to her and quickly mounted the bed and scooped her head into his arms. She jumped and tensed at first, slowly opening her eyes.

"Shhhh…Maggie, what's wrong? Talk to me please."

"Spencer?"

Maggie's breath hitched as she tried to stop the flow of her tears but they were now coming with a renewed force.

"I need you to talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. Did I do something to upset you?"

She shook her head violently but still could not stop her tears. She tried to speak between sobs with the hitching air that she could muster.

"Sorry…so sorry…didn't…believe."

"Believe? I don't understand."

"In you…thought you….left."

"Left? I-I just went to the bathroom."

Maggie's tears returned with a renewed intensity and Spencer held her even tighter.

"I'm so sorry Maggie."

Spencer was so very confused he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for or even if he needed to but it actually made him hurt to see her crying like this.

"No. Not you. Me. I'm so stupid."

"Shhhh…You know that's not true. I can think of many, many words to describe you, Maggie. Stupid is nowhere on that list. Beautiful, kind, funny, passionate…but you are NOT stupid. Now why would you think I left?"

"It wouldn't be the first time something like that happened to me."

"I love you. Why would I sneak out? If I had to leave for work, I would surely wake you and at least say good bye."

"You are not the first man to tell me he loves me. When you slipped out of bed, I just felt so angry at myself for falling for it."

"Well, you can fall for this because it's true. I'm sorry for the others that hurt you. I know what it's like when people use you for their own amusement. I could never hurt you and I'm not skilled at deception."

"You're not leaving?"

"Eventually. I have work and so do you but I had no plans to leave tonight."

Maggie was by now able to compose herself. Her face was still streaked with tears and Spencer noticed that her green eyes became almost like glittering emeralds when she cried. A beautiful effect but not one he wanted to have to see often. She smiled at him and his heart felt warm and good again.

"I know tonight was a first for you, Spencer. Not that I could tell from your technique—as if I even know that much about that anyway. But it was a couple of firsts for me too. It's the first time a man has slept with me and actually stayed to sleep with me."

"What's the other first?"

"I've had sex before but I think this is the first time I have ever made love."

She was smiling now and had the same look that often crossed her face when she spoke of the Browning's. Not understanding why entirely, Spencer felt emboldened.

"Care to go for a second time?"

"Why Spencer Reid! How very powerful and in charge of you."

"Too forward?"

"No, I think I like this side of you."

"Well, I love all of you Dr. James."

"Even the crazy bits?"

"Especially the crazy bits."

Sunday night found Spencer Reid alone in his own bed in his own apartment. It felt far emptier that it ever had before. Parting from Maggie that afternoon had been hard but he knew he had work the next day and didn't relish the thought of an early morning drive from Williamsburg to Quantico.

Laying alone; trying to sleep without Maggie's breath on his chest or her soft hair draped across his shoulder tickling his face; it seemed so foreign to him now. He marveled at how quickly that had happened. A couple of weeks ago he well, he couldn't say he was happily alone but he was at least contentedly alone. Now he felt like only half a person if he wasn't with his love. Yes, yes, she was indeed his love.

As lonely as he felt without Maggie, he knew it was probably a good thing for him to have a little space to process all of these new feelings. Well, that and to learn how to be a separate person again. He still did have responsibilities. The pair had spent almost all of their remaining time together in bed; talking, making love and even sleeping a little. Through it all, Spencer learned some very important things. So often he felt less than others emotionally because he compared his insecurities with what he saw on the exteriors of others. Talking to Maggie he had learned that everyone was wounded and insecure and scared and just muddled through as best as they could. When he met Maggie he believed her to be a confident and independent woman whose love of romantic poetry stemmed from some girlish idealism. In reality she was as insecure as he and terrified of loneliness. Her fixation on the Browning's, her dear Robert and Elizabeth, it turns out, was due to a desperate need to believe in beauty and love in a world that rarely showed those things to her. He thought of all those looking for the perfect girl or Mr. Right. He realized with a smile that it wasn't about finding perfection; it was about finding someone whose imperfections fit with your own.

At long last, Spencer was able to drift off to sleep. His dreams, for a welcome change, weren't filled with horror and monsters but with singing and love.

Monday morning Spencer was back at his desk catching up on paperwork. Until Morgan came in and sat on the edge of Spencer's desk. Spencer knew that Morgan knew, or at least thought he knew something. He sat and tried to look busy with his paperwork, hoping Morgan would just move along.

"Come on, kid, who is she?"

Author's note: The story ends here becasue this is where my other story "Baggage" begins. I thank all the dear readers who took this journey with me so far away from my comfort zone as a writer. Those who know me, know that I usually write in a script style and normally do case fiction with perhaps a subplot featuring the personal lives of our favorite team of criminal profilers. This story bounced around in my head like a super ball threatening concussion if I did not write it and it has caused me great insecurity. As I said this is very far away from a style in which I am comfortable writing. Anywho...I hope that some of you were able to enjoy this tale.

-J