We can never flee the misery that is within us. - Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha

Morning came too soon, as it always did when I was exhausted. My alarm clock was blasting a cheerful tune at me obnoxiously. Miller growled low in his throat as I rolled over and slammed my hand onto the off switch. I rolled onto my back and sighed, staring at the ceiling.

"How much trouble would I be in, if I called in sick?" I wondered. Miller snorted and reached up to lick my face. I chuckled softly and stroked his soft head. "Thanks buddy. I guess I'll get up, on the bright side, this is my last shift at either job for three more days." Swinging my legs out of bed, I sat up and stretched my arms high above my head, cracking my spine. Wandering slowly to the bathroom, I wondered about the strange, awkward man I had met last night. Was Spence always like that? Was he really a genius that had finished high school when he was twelve or was he exaggerating? What section of the FBI was he a part of, and considering that, was it really the best idea for me, and illegal immigrant technically, to start getting involved with him?

I quickly hopped in and out of the shower in record time and was just finishing applying my makeup when a knock came at the door. Miller barrelled down the hallway, barking and snarling, while I hurried after him, cursing. I grabbed at his collar and yanked the door open, forgetting in my haste to check through the peephole first, only to see Spence standing before me, a blush gracing his cheeks as his eyes roved over my body then sharpley looked at his feet. I clutched my towel a little tighter to my body and shooed Miller back into the apartment.

"Spence? What are you doing here? It's, like, 6:30 in the morning," I questioned, incredulous. Spence stared at Miller who was standing a few feet behind me, hackles up and watching the man carefully. I looked over the thin, frazzled looking man before me. Spence glanced up into my eyes, tactfully avoiding looking at my towel clad body and held up a cardboard tray with two coffee cups and a small bag on it.

"Um, well I remembered that you said you had to work really early and I was wondering if you'd like to have a quick breakfast with me? I mean if you wouldn't like to then that's completely fine, I just figured you wouldn't have had time and thought it might be nice since the bakery down the road makes the greatest bagels. And I didn't know how you liked your coffee so I just got it black, you have mil-"

"Why don't you come in Spence?" I cut him off, taking the tray from him and smiling. I was beginning to realize that if he wasn't interrupted, sometimes the man could just go off on a never

ending tangent. I headed into the kitchen and laid the tray on the table, grabbing milk from the fridge and the sugar bowl, I placed them beside the delicious smelling surprise. After a moment I heard the door shut.

"Should I ta-"

"Leave your shoes on Spencer, it's okay." I heard him chuckle nervously as he made his way into the kitchen to join me. Studying his face, I realized that there was a pale blush across the bridge of his nose as he kept his eyes on everything except for me, and I internally chuckled, pleased to know that I was causing a primal reaction in this distant alleged genius. Clearing my throat I moved towards the hallway. "I'm just going to go get changed, I'll be right back, make yourself comfortable, and don't mind Miller. He won't attack you."

"Sure." His voice cracked slightly and the man cleared his throat. "Um, would you like me to toast a bagel for you?" I smiled softly and nodded, before turning and heading quickly to my bedroom. I pulled on my burgundy polo shirt and black pants. The diner uniform was such a strange contrast to the bar one. I was still unsure about which I found more comfortable. I quickly threw my long red hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head and slipped on my shoes, before leaving my bedroom and heading back out to the kitchen.

Spence was sitting at the table, discretely feeding Miller bits of cheese off his bagel. The second one was on a plate, perfectly toasted and awaiting me. Spence glanced up at me and smiled, seemingly relieved to find me finally clothed. I inwardly cringed, I seemed to make the worst impressions on people. The first time we met I accused him of trying to solicit a night with me. The second time I only wore a towel.

'If this keeps up he really is going to think I'm a hooker,' I thought to myself, and sat at the table across from him, pouring a bit of milk into my coffee and buttering my bagel quietly.

"I'm sure you're girlfriend wouldn't be too pleased if she found out that you were basically stalking me," I teased him, a serious expression on my face. Spence jerked his head up from Miller sharply and looked at me horrified.

"No you, I mean, I don't have a girlfriend," he sputtered, hurriedly occupying his mouth with a quick sip of coffee. I smirked at you.

"What, a genius FBI stud like you doesn't have a missus at home?" I smirked at him and he visibly relaxed, realizing I was teasing him.

"Well Morgan is the stud of the team actually. I'm more the awkward geeky younger brother that can't get a date to save his life." I laughed outright at this admission and Spence smiled at me.

"Your team? What exactly do you do?" I asked, holding my breath slightly. This would be where he admits that he deals with 'illegal aliens' and was actually here to deport my ass back to Toronto.

"Behavioural Analysis Unit. We, um, we chase down serial killers basically," he explained. I looked at him shocked.

"Wait, so you're whole job is to run after psychopaths?" I looked over him again, noticing a bit more about the lanky man now that I knew him better. I could see the lean muscles beneath his dress shirt and vest that came from intensive training. There was a gun on his hip that I hadn't noticed before. His body was alert, and he kept casually glancing at all the windows and doors, as if preparing himself incase the worst happened. He really was an agent. Spence chuckled.

"Well, I do more of the 'think like a criminal' type of thing. Morgan is more of the 'run after psychopaths' type. I work more with geographical profiles, reading journals the killers may have, stuff like that," he explained to me. I nodded, understanding a bit more. The way Spence referred to Morgan, I could tell that he meant a lot to this man.

"But, have you ever been, you know, shot?" I looked at him incredulously. I still couldn't believe that the awkward, lanky, sweet man before me could chase down killers, let alone possibly shoot one and kill a man.

"Well... Yes, I mean, it kind of comes with the territory, you know what I mean? I've had my fair share of run ins with danger. Kidnapped, shot, stabbed. Not that I'm bragging or anything, it's just kind of my job hazard." He looked into my eyes, nervously. "Is that too intense? I mean, a lot of people can't really handle that. The average duration of relationships with a person working in the bureau is really short actually. Only two out of the team of seven are in a relationship right now. The rest of us have been divorced or broken up or in my case never really had a relationship to start."

"It's not too intense Spence. I mean, it's not like I'm marrying you. We're just having coffee." I eyed him carefully. I couldn't have a real relationship, but not for the reasons he thinks. A door down the hallway opened and Spence's hand went to his gun, eyeing the hall carefully and inwardly I sighed. This was the reason I can't.

"Mommy?"