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— Was I worth it?
The question comes out quietly — so quietly that it almost gets lost in the room, bouncing off the walls with the force of an old shirt being thrown on the floor.
Luke doesn’t answer right away.
He’s lying on his side, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, the other one curved around her waisr, holding her close to his chest — just as they’ve slept almost every night since they started dating. The lamp is off, but the dim light filtering through the sheer curtain outlines her blonde hair, and that’s the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes just a little.
— Worth what?
Penelope doesn’t lift her head to face him. That’s what makes his chest tighten.
The dark holds them both. He feels the exact moment her breathing changes — not slower, but sharper. The lazy circles her fingers had been tracing against his ribs stop completely. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t shift to make her look at him. Just keeps his arm anchored around her waist, a quiet promise in the stillness, because he knows the difference between rest and the kind of wakefulness that only comes when something heavy finally decides to be spoken.
She’s awake-awake — not the soft, drowsy kind where thoughts blur at the edges, but the sharp kind. The kind that lingers. The kind that waits.
She lets out a small sigh and shrugs.
— It’s stupid.
— Penelope.
Always like that. Firm, but gentle. A call to snap her out of the self-imposed isolation she often retreats into, thinking she’ll be a bother.
She closes her eyes for a second, gathering her courage.
— The wait — She says, finally, lifting her head so their eyes meet. — All of it. Me… Taking forever. Being scared. Pushing you away and then-
She exhales, the sound uneven.
— Coming back like I didn’t just… — Her voice falters, just a little. — Break something.
He shifts a little closer instead of pulling away.
— You really don't know? — He asks in a gentle murmur.
— Tell me — She begs in a whine. — Was I worth the wait?
This time, the question doesn’t echo. It settles.
Luke exhales slowly through his nose, not quite a sigh, not quite a breath. Just something in between — something that buys him a second to think.
He knows what she means.
He knows she’s not talking about a few months, or even a couple of years. She’s talking about all of it. The almosts. The missed chances. The way they circled each other for so long that it stopped feeling like tension and started feeling like gravity.
— Hey — His hand moves from her waist to her face, holding it gently, his thumb lightly brushing the curve of her cheek. — Where did that come from?
Luke watches the slow rise and fall of her shoulder beneath his arm. He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t rush to fill the silence. He knows better than that — knows her words need space to land.
— I just- — She tries to hold his gaze, but, on the verge of tears, she looks away again. — Sometimes I think about how easy it would’ve been for you to just… Walk away. Find someone simpler. Someone who didn’t make you wait.
— Hey — His voice is low, rough with sleep but grounded in something steadier. — Look at me.
She hesitates for a second. Then she obeys.
Her face is softer in the dark, but her eyes give her away — wide, searching, like she’s bracing for something she’s not sure she can take back.
— You think I stayed because I didn’t have other options or something like that?
There’s no bite in his tone. No accusation. Just… Quiet disbelief. Penelope swallows.
— I think you stayed because you’re good — She says, insecure. — And patient. And-
— And in love with you.
It lands between them, simple and unembellished.
Luke exhales softly, like he’s been holding that in even though he says it all the time — because this time, it has to mean something specific.
— I didn’t wait because I had to — He continues, calm and composed. — I waited because leaving you never made sense. Not once.
Her expression shifts — not fully convinced yet, but cracking a little.
— Our life could have been a little more… Straightforward — Penelope insists, her eyes moist and her voice trembling.
— Do you think love is a straight line? — He asks, his voice low and still hoarse from sleep and unspoken truths.
He reaches up, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.
— Yeah, it wasn’t easy sometimes — He admits. — There were days I thought maybe I should let it go. That maybe I was… Asking for something you weren’t ready to give.
He smiles, small and tired and honest.
— But even then? You were still it for me.
Penelope’s breath catches. Luke leans in closer, their foreheads nearly touching now.
— You weren’t the obstacle, Penelope. You were the point.
Her eyes close for a moment, like that hits somewhere deep with an unexpected tenderness.
— You weren’t the wait — His voice is soft but firm, like a truth that has already been tested in every possible way. — You were the reason waiting made sense.
Her eyes fill with tears again, but this time it’s not just doubt. It’s something lighter. Warmer.
— I was afraid — She confesses, her hand rising to touch his jawline. — That one day you’d wake up and realize the cost was too high. That we’d spent too much energy. You trying to make love work, and me running away from it. From you.
Luke smiles. It’s a small smile, but it reaches his eyes. The kind of smile that only appears after years of trust built brick by brick.
— The cost was zero — He says firmly. — Because every day with you wasn’t wasted. It was invested. I saw you arrive at the bullpen in those shirts that look like they were sewn from rainbows and coffee. I saw you laugh when Reid would spout some absurd statistic. I saw you cry over cases no one should have to carry alone. And I stayed. Not because I had to. Because I wanted to. Because you’re the only person who makes silence feel like company. The only one who makes me want to come home.
Penelope swallows hard. His fingers intertwine with hers, pulling her closer, until there’s no space left between them.
— We’re not young anymore, Luke — She murmurs, almost laughing at herself. — We have wrinkles. We have knees that crack. We have schedules that still don’t sync up right. And even so...
Luke slides his thumb under her eye, wiping away a tear before it falls.
— Even so — He finishes, finally resting his forehead against hers. — That’s exactly why it was worth it. Because we’re not here on a whim. We’re here by choice. Conscious. Deliberate. I wouldn’t trade a single second of this mess for the peace of a life without you. Not even if they offered me the whole world in exchange.
She laughs softly, broken and whole at the same time.
— That sounds very heroic of you, SSA Alvez.
— Don’t ruin it — He groans, the corner of his mouth lifting.
She smiles properly this time, and something in her is different now. Softer. Like something inside her finally unclenched.
Even so, he senses (he always senses) the doubt gnawing at her, searching for a new patch of ground where it can take root.
Luke leans in again and kisses her — slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that doesn’t ask for anything, just stays. Just remembers. Just holds.
When he pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests against hers again, his hand still warm against her cheek.
— Don’t ever think you’re something I regret waiting for — He says quietly. — You’re something I’m glad I didn’t rush. You were something I chose. Every time. So yeah — He murmurs, his voice warm against her skin when he leans in to peck her bottom lip. — You were worth it.
Penelope exhales, long and steady, like she’s letting that settle somewhere permanent.
— Okay — She whispers, having no other words but those to express her love and gratitude.
And this time, when she tucks herself back into her place between her arms, there’s no tension left in her body.
Luke’s arm returns to her waist, instinctive, familiar. Certain. Like it always knew exactly where it belonged.
— I loved you every single day — He said, each word falling like a flat stone into still water. — Even when there was no chance you’d love me back.
Penelope stopped. The air seemed to leave the room for a second. It wasn’t a dramatic declaration. It was a fact. A foundation. The final shovel of dirt covering the coffin of that doubt, which she had kept veiled for so long without ever being able to bury it.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, clutching his shirt as fresh tears streamed down her face. These weren’t tears of sadness, but of relief — tears from someone who had finally let her guard down after years of carrying a burden that should never have been there in the first place.
He pulled her even closer, kissing the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of vanilla, chamomile tea with honey, pillows, Penelope, home.
— And if you need me to — He adds softly. — I’ll remind you of that every day, until you get tired of hearing it. Or until we’re too old to remember our own names. It doesn’t matter I’ve said it before. And I’ll say it again, and again, and again, until it becomes routine. Until it becomes... I don’t know, air.
Penelope laughed, a hoarse, wet sound that vibrated against his chest.
— You’re so stubborn.
— I am — He agreed, chuckling softly. — And loving you is my favorite kind of stubbornness.
With her face buried against his warm chest, letting the warmth and security of his arms envelop her, Penelope allowed herself to relax completely. Her chest rises and falls slowly, in sync with his.
Outside, the city breathes. The world turns. New challenges will come, difficult nights as well. But there, in that room, in the stillness between midnight and dawn, everything is in its place.
It was all worth the wait.