Alex sat in front of her laptop, staring intensely at the screen, watching the cursor blink almost mockingly at her as she continued to not type. When she'd sat down with the intent of composing this email, she hadn't realized just how challenging it would be.
Not that there was anything particularly difficult about it... There was just something blocking her all the same.
She'd typed out the first sentence and then deleted it at least six different times. It was a strange experience as a linguist...to not have the right words.
In fact, only once in her life could she remember having this much difficulty putting her thoughts into words. (Granted, she hadn't been a linguist at the time, but still...)
After James had proposed to her, there had been a moment in time where she'd panicked that it was too soon, that she couldn't go through with it, and had seriously debated running away to Rome in search of her mysterious pen pal.
The panic had been short-lived, though, followed closely by the realization that she would have to break the news that she was engaged and therefore couldn't continue with the nebulous pseudo-romantic relationship she was carrying on with the unknown girl on the other end of the letters.
It had been the most difficult thing she'd ever had to write – even her doctoral dissertation had seemed small in comparison to telling the only person she'd ever truly felt for that someone else had laid claim to her heart...and she'd willingly given it.
She'd been trying not to examine why composing a simple email to Emily was evoking similar feelings... Feelings of putting her heart on her sleeve. Feelings she really shouldn't have for a woman she barely knew.
Dear Emily;
She deleted, then retyped, the dear feeling too familiar, too tender.
Emily;
Not sure if you remember me.
It's been a long time since we've spoken.
Penelope gave me your email address and suggested I reach out, but at the time I was worried you might want space from the BAU and the people in it. But JJ recently reminded me that you're in London and, considering that I've just recently moved from across the pond and don't know anyone here, that perhaps you might want to get coffee sometime.
- Alex Miller
It wasn't nearly as well-written as she would have hoped and she seriously debated deleting the whole thing and starting over, but wasn't entirely sure that if she did that she could trust herself to put herself out there a second time.
She did, however, spend the greater part of an hour staring at the words and warring internally with herself to press the send button.
If she were honest with herself, there was a part of her that thought maybe it was better if she just didn't try, didn't put herself out there again... Afterall, she didn't have the best history with relationships: between her marriage ending in shambles and her long lost true love being, well, lost...she didn't exactly have a lot to show for it.
She pressed send anyway. Not that that stopped a tiny traitorous part of her from hoping that maybe Emily wouldn't read it and she could pretend she'd never let herself be vulnerable at all...
As Alex sat out front of the little coffee shop, two steaming mugs of tea sitting in front of her as she awaited Emily's attendance, she tried not to let it show just how anxious she felt in that moment...though, she had a feeling she might have given herself away in the way in which she'd torn her napkin to shreds.
She felt like she was sixteen all over again, trying to navigate the strange and foreign world of dating and relationships and figuring out who exactly she was. Part of her wanted to believe that the spark she felt with Emily was a figment of her imagination, a creation of her lonely mind; that when she saw her again it wouldn't be there and she could return to denying that part of herself she'd spent so long trying to ignore. On the other hand...well...she'd spent so long hiding already.
When Emily finally arrived, sliding into the seat across from her with a smile that looked like it was taking everything in her to maintain the expression, she was rather surprised to see that Emily wasn't alone – a large dog settled primly at Emily's feet, gaze never leaving Alex as if it were trying to decide whether she posed some sort of threat.
"Sorry I'm late," Emily said quietly. "I just got back from Germany last night." It was clear in her face that she was exhausted right to the bone.
Alex raised a curious brow. "Germany? For work, I presume?"
She nodded, but didn't explain further. Changing the subject, she asked, "What are you doing in London?"
Clearing her throat, Alex explained, "Well, when my soon-to-be ex-husband served me with divorce papers, I thought it was time for a change." Her expression was grim for a brief moment before she reminded herself that, really, things were better this way. "I'll be teaching at Oxford in the fall."
"That's nice," Emily commented, then winced. "I mean, the Oxford part. Not the divorce. Sorry, I hope that didn't sound flip..."
Alex waved away her concern over the conversational faux pas. Finally, she could stand the curiosity no longer. "Who's your friend?" she asked, nodding to the dog.
Glancing down as if only just remembering the dog were there, Emily said, "This is Nyx – she's a retired war dog. I kind of adopted her... It's a long story."
"I imagine it's been lonely here," Alex said with a nod of understanding.
Emily gave a hollow little laugh because even if she did have Clyde, sometimes that felt worse than having no one at all. "You have no idea." A pause. "Well, probably you understand better than anyone..."
A moment of silence passed between them.
Reaching across the table, Alex rested a hand on top of Emily's, squeezed it gently. She offered a smile, but said nothing. Because no matter how badly she wanted to say it, it was clear that she needed to keep her feelings to herself, at least for a little while longer.
