"What in the love of God is that?" Emily asked, deadpan, as she watched Ian pull a Porsche 911 into the driveway.

He pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and stared at her over their rim. "What's it look like?" he retorted, then whipped off his sunglasses like he was the star of CSI: Miami.

She shot him a pointed look. "It looks like you just blew our life savings on an extremely impractical car," she said dryly. Without waiting for him to reply, she turned and stalked back into the house, forcing him to follow her if he wished to continue the argument, seeing as she had little interest in being a spectacle for the entire neighbourhood.

He narrowly avoided having the door slam in his face, edging past the closing door into the foyer where she stood, apparently waiting for his justification. "You don't buy a Porsche for its practicality..." he said – a rather lame justification, but the one he came up with off the cuff all the same...

"No, you buy it because you want people to look at you," she said, "Which is rather counterproductive for someone in Witness Protection." The look she gave him seemed to dare him to disagree with her, which he (perhaps wisely) didn't do.

What he did do, however, was roll his eyes and scoff. "So-rry," he said, "I didn't realize that meant we couldn't have nice things."

"First of all, you didn't buy it for us, you bought it for you," she said, "And second, a nice thing would be a car that's practical for a growing family, not a penis extender." She watched as his face grew red as he sputtered and struggled to come up with a reply that wouldn't make him sound like a child, and ultimately failing.

Rather than reply with words, he simply turned on his heels and stomped off.

(It meant she'd won the battle, though she had a feeling, not the war.)

"I cannot believe him," Emily muttered, glancing at the latest text message to light up her phone screen, huffing in irritation as she tossed it back on the conference room table.

JJ looked up sharply from where she was pouring over case details – just the two of them remained, the others having already turned in for the night. "Everything okay?" she asked, knowing that Emily rarely felt safe divulging information about her personal life and also knowing that, if she was opening up, it was because she really needed to vent.

"No." A beat. "Well...maybe I'm just overreacting, but..." She trailed off with a shrug. When JJ offered her an encouraging smile, she continued, "Kieran's obviously having a midlife crisis."

She seemed surprised to hear that, though she didn't say as much. What she did say was, "What did he do?"

"He bought a fucking Porsche..."

Barking out a laugh, JJ said, "Oh, yeah, that does kind of scream 'unable to deal with mortality', doesn't it?"

Emily nodded. "It only seats two people! And this is the same man who wants to have a whole soccer team of children..."

"So what are you going to do?" JJ asked.

She shrugged. "No clue. I can't just tell him to get rid of it, that will only make him double down. He has to come to the conclusion on his own." She heaved a weary sigh. "Any suggestions?"

"I wish I had advice for you," she said contritely. "When my dad went through his midlife crisis, he went out and found a younger woman and had a whole do-over family, so..." She gestured helplessly.

Emily gave a snort of amusement. "I suppose things could be worse," she admitted, though it was clear that JJ had only placed a new fear altogether in her head.

"Do you still find me attractive?" Emily blurted out as Ian climbed into bed that night.

He froze mid-motion, clearly caught off-guard by the question. "Of course, I do."

She didn't seem entirely convinced, though, judging by the way she continued to worry her lip with her teeth. "So, you're not getting tired of me?" she asked.

"Tired of you?" he echoed incredulously. "Why on Earth would you think that?"

She shrugged, even though there was no doubt in her mind as to why she was thinking it. "I don't know," she said, "Maybe you want someone...younger? More attractive?"

"Em..." he started in a tone that seemed to suggest he thought she was losing her mind.

"Don't," she snapped, "Don't act like it's a completely crazy suggestion because you and I both know for a fact that you like your women younger."

"Emily," he started a second time, "Do you really think after everything I've already sacrificed for us that I'd leave you because of your appearance?"

When he put it like that, even she had to admit it sounded a little crazy...not that she said so aloud. "Maybe?" she mumbled, shoulders up near her ears. A beat. Then, "So, your midlife crisis is purely vehicular?"

He laughed his deep rumbling laugh, the one that never failed to make her smile with its infectiousness. "I think you were the midlife crisis...this is more like a three-quarter life crisis."