A jump back in time, to Emily's college days, and when she first met Tom Kohler - the man she trusted to protect Declan. I admit, this one was fun to write.

Happy reading =)

"Sometimes in life, you meet people when you need then, and there is an immediate connection." – Alison G. Bailey, Present Perfect

I absently wander the aisles of books, not really looking for anything in particular, and instead reveling in the feeling of being surrounded by non-academic books. I hadn't intended to visit the used bookstore, but on my way back from getting coffee from my favourite cafe I'd spotted the sign and felt an inexplicable urge to go in.

Save for the two staff members, there's only one other person in the store - a woman about my age, who is intently studying titles in the science fiction section. I pause my wandering for a moment to watch her for a moment, finding myself very intrigued by her.

It takes me all of 5 seconds to decide I have to talk to her, so I make my way over and pluck a well-worn copy of Mother Night from the shelf. "Have you read this one?" I ask casually, holding it up as I turn to face her.

She looks up from the book in her hands and looks at me curiously for a second before responding. "Yes."

"And…" I prompt.

"And...I assume you haven't?" she finishes, her eyebrow rising as she scrutinizes me.

"You assume correctly. I was hoping to get an opinion on whether I should bother to read it or not."

"That depends," she answers cryptically.

"On what?" I ask with a frown, my brows furrowing.

"On whether or not you just picked up that book to strike up a conversation with me," she says, her expression a cross between amusement and curiosity.

I flash her a smile. "I don't see how that's a significant factor in you giving me your opinion on the book."

"I don't like people who are fake, so the fact that you just sauntered over here and seemed to pick the first title you saw isn't really looking good for you."

"Now that's very presumptuous. I could be a die hard Vonnegut fan."

"A die hard Vonnegut fan who hasn't read Mother Night?" she says doubtfully.

"Okay, so maybe die hard was a poor choice of words. I do, however, happen to have read some Vonnegut."

"Is that so?" she says doubtfully. I can't help the smile from spreading – the back and forth banter is entertaining, and only increasing my desire to get to know her better.

"Yep."

"Which ones?"

"Cat's Cradle, and Slaughterhouse-Five," I answer simply, not missing her quick glance at the bookshelf - presumably to check and see if those titles were within my reading range. I decide to call her on it. "I can give you a plot summary of each of them, if you'd like. Or perhaps you have some skill-testing questions for me to answer?"

She looks just a touch embarrassed at my words, and I can't help but grin. "Emily Prentiss," she says finally, holding out her hand.

"Tom Kohler," I say, grabbing her hand and giving it a firm shake while shooting her a smile.

I'm pleased to see her return the sentiment, and find myself definitely wanting to get to know her better. She has this mysterious aura about her that just seems to draw me in.

"You should buy that," she says, gesturing to the copy of Mother Night I'm still holding.

"Yeah?"

She nods. "You can't call yourself a Vonnegut fan if you haven't read Mother Night."

"Well if you say so, Emily Prentiss." She smiles shyly, and turns back to the shelf, plucking three books from it in quick succession. "Those aren't more science fiction books for me, are they?"

"No, these are for me," she answers with a chuckle. "I just decided I needed something other than psychological theory to read."

"Ah, so you're a psycho."

"I'm sorry?" she says, her eyes widening just a little bit.

"Oh, sorry. That's what my roommate calls psych students."

"Psychos? How original," she says with a roll of her eyes.

I shrug. "I didn't make it up."

"No, you just choose to perpetuate your roommate's stupidity," she says, as she begins to walk toward the front of the store.

I scramble to keep up. "Strong words, Emily. You've never even met him, how do you know he's stupid? He does go to Yale…"

"Intelligence is not always a good measure of a person's level of stupidity, I've found," she replies pointedly, before she hands over some cash to the clerk to pay for her books.

"Sounds like you have just a little bit of experience with stupid people."

"Don't we all?" she answers simply. I notice happily that she's hanging around even after she's finished purchasing her books.

I decide to go for broke. "You want to grab a cup of coffee with me? I know this little place not far from here. Best coffee I've ever had, and it's never too busy in there."

She tilts her head as she considers the offer. "Sure."

"You're gonna love this place, the coffee is out of this world."

"I look forward to it. The stuff on campus has been terrible lately."

"Tom! Back so soon? You can't possibly need another coffee already!" Maggie, the cafe's owner, teases when we walk in. I feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment. I'd forgotten Maggie was working all day today.

I chance a brief glance at Emily and find her looking at me with an amused expression, but thankfully she doesn't say anything.

"Yeah, I ran into this lovely lady and knew I had to take her here," I explain with a smile.

"Take the corner booth then," Maggie says with a wink that makes Emily laugh, and me cringe.

We slide into the booth and I find Emily staring at me, clearly barely containing her desire to tease me mercilessly.

"Not a word from you, Emily," I warn. "You're a very beautiful woman who's interested in science fiction, and there was no way I was going to let you slip through my fingers. That's like finding a needle in a haystack."

She laughs. "And what makes you think I have the slightest interest in you, Tom?"

"Well, you did come with me…" I point out, unable to keep the cheeky grin off of my face.

She laughs again, and I realize it's a lovely sound. "A moment of madness, I assure you."

"Well, we're all a little bit crazy. Let's just think of this as embracing our inner crazy."

She smiles, and I think that maybe I've found a kindred spirit.

We sat in that cafe for hours, enjoying our coffees, and chatting about anything and everything under the sun. Books, school, the weather, where we were from, our opinions on a variety of different kinds of foods, our hatred of cliques, our mutual love of jazz and differing tastes in other music.

We agreed to meet again for coffee a week later. A week after that she brought me to a little french restaurant she'd found for lunch. A week after that we started hanging out at the library. She and I were in vastly different areas of study and weren't of any help to each other with essays, readings, or assignments but nonetheless we enjoyed each other's company.

It was just over a month after we initially met that I asked her out to dinner. She tilted her to one side and with that slightly coy and slightly shy smile that I'd grown to love, she agreed. I found an Italian place that my roommate swore was the best Italian food outside of Italy he'd ever tasted. We both loved the food, and enjoyed the coffee we ordered after. It wasn't until the end of the evening, when I was dropping her off at her dorm room that things went badly.

It was a natural progression, and kissing her made absolute sense. She was an interesting, intriguing, brilliant, and beautiful woman. I'd be crazy not to want something more with her. She seemed interested in me, and I was definitely interested in her. I walked her to her door, and then in that movie-esque moment when she turned around to tell me she'd had a good time, I leaned in and kissed her.

And it was by far the most awkward feeling I'd ever encountered. It wasn't a bad kiss - it was actually one of my better ones all things considered. But it didn't spark anything. Nothing. Not even a tiny little bit. And it just felt weird, and wrong somehow.

We pulled back, and when I saw the expression on her face was apologetic, I knew instantly that she didn't feel anything either. It was like we were made for each other, and yet we didn't click at all.

Is it possible to be someone's soulmate and not be in love with them?

"Not working for you either, hey?" I say with a rueful grin.

Her smile is sympathetic and apologetic all rolled into one. "No," she answers with a shake of her head. "Maybe it's just…I mean I'm not very good at...this."

"Emily," I say gently, intending to reassure her that it's not her fault.

"You're a great guy," she continues. "Everything a girl dreams of, actually. You're kind, and funny, and smart, and handsome in a charming kind of way. And I love spending time with you, I really do. But this just doesn't feel right to me."

"Me neither," I explain. "You're everything I could want in a woman - funny, smart, kind, that little bit mysterious, and beautiful, but...it's not clicking for me either."

"Maybe we're just overthinking things," she suggests, her expression that little bit hopeful.

"Maybe," I echo in a half-hearted sentiment. I think we both know it's not overthinking things.

"You know what?" she says after a moment of awkward silence.

"What?"

"I don't have a brother, but I think this is what kissing him would feel like," she says with a short chuckle.

It clicks as soon as the words leave her lips. Yes. It's like kissing my sister. It's not a failure on our parts. It's because she feels like my sister.

"Yes!" I say, happy to have an explanation for why things aren't working out as we'd thought they would. "Well, kissing my sister in my case, but yes! That's it!"

We break down into laughter at this realization, letting go of all that pent up confusion and frustration.

"Well, Ily," I begin, using the nickname I'd bestowed upon her that I know she detests just to get a rise out of her. I'm rewarded for my efforts instantly when she scowls. "This is the end of our great, whirlwind romance."

"Indeed, Tomkin," she replies, using the nickname she'd thrown back at me the first time I called her Ily. She'd intended for it to piss me off as much as Ily pisses her off, but it didn't have the intended effect. I pretended to hate it, but I loved it.

"Friends?" I offer.

"Friends," she confirms with a nod.

So...did you chuckle at their awkwardness? Enjoy the peek into how they met? Like the look into Emily during college? Let me know. :)