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New York at this time of year wouldn't seem so terrible if it weren't for the case the BAU is currently working on.
After all this time on the team, you can say you've seen a lot of awful things, and just when you think nothing can surprise you anymore, another psychopath shows up to prove you wrong.
This is one of those cases.
But despite the brutal setting, you trust your team and your shared commitment to working hard to catch the bad guys and make the world a little safer.
In that same spirit, you find yourself in the meeting room the NYPD set up for you two hours ago when you arrived at the precinct.
“Okay, so what do we know so far?” Emily, your unit chief asks, her eyes fixed on the board with photographs of the victims and the locations where their bodies were dumped.
“Six murders in less than two weeks,” says JJ, reading one of the files in her hands.
“The victimology isn't clear,” Spencer interjects, “there's no clear pattern of age, ethnicity, or social background.”
“Finances?” Rossi prompts, and that's when Luke pipes up.
“Nothing that places them in the same location or links them to a particular person.”
Everything seems too random, but if there's one thing you've learned after 5 years in this line of work, it's that randomness rarely prevails in these cases: there's always a connection, it's just sometimes hard to uncover.
"What about the abduction days?" you ask, having a hunch about some kind of unseen patterns.
“Monday, Wednesday, and Friday," Tara replies after checking another file open on the room table.
“What are you thinking?" Emily turns to look at you and listens to one of your possible theories.
"Nothing conclusive, but if the victimology doesn't fit, then there's something about his routine that could be interpreted as opportunity."
Spencer hums in agreement. "But even if there is an opportunity, something makes him choose them beyond being at some specific time and place."
“That’s exactly my point, Dr. Reid,” you smile at him, acknowledging the implicit sync Spencer tends to have with your train of thought.
Spencer smiles back, cheeks a bit pinker from your words.
Luke groans. “Oh, come on. If the lovebirds want to bounce theories to flirt with each other, get a room.”
JJ and Tara giggle, while Rossi looks more amused than pissed off. Emily glares at Luke with a clear message: don’t go there and focus on the case.
Hiding your smirk behind the rim of your coffee cup, you subtly wink at Spencer, who has to do everything in his power not to burst into laughter.
You and Spencer have been used to this dynamic for a while now. It wasn't long after you started at the BAU before you connected with the resident genius and became inseparable. First as colleagues, then as friends, and now as a couple.
Spencer has been your boyfriend for a year now. It was something the team said was 'meant to happen,' but neither of you was willing to admit it until denying it became ridiculous and futile.
And you couldn't have wanted it any other way. Spencer is the most attentive, loving, and caring boyfriend you've ever had. And, according to Spencer himself, you are all that and so much more to him.
One of the things you decided when you opened up about your feelings was to take things slowly, without pressure or rushing to take the next step. That's why, although you've talked about it, you haven't moved in together yet. Similarly, you both agreed not to mix your personal and professional lives. While you allow jokes and comments about yourselves from the team, personal problems and displays of affection stay outside the workplace.
And this case isn’t the exception. As soon as Emily assigns tasks to everyone, you focus on doing what you were asked to do.
Everyone was working against the clock, but the hours were passing without any clear leads. Without realizing it, you’ve been working nonstop for over a day, and although Emily had tried to ensure everyone got some rest from time to time, the exhaustion was starting to show.
-
An hour earlier, you were sent with JJ to interview witnesses at the last dumping site, but it didn't go as you'd hoped.
When you return to the station, Emily, Rossi, and Spencer are in the briefing room discussing the geographic profile.
Seeing you enter, Spencer immediately gives you a tired smile, indicating that there hasn't been much progress on this front either.
"We couldn't get much," JJ says.
"The geographic profile is also too vague," Rossi adds.
"Okay, but we can't stop there," Emily points out. "Lieutenant Ryan is already nervous about this, and the press will leak in any minute."
Emily now assigns JJ to help Tara with the medical examiner, while she and Rossi go to get more information from the victims' families. She leaves you with Spencer to continue reviewing the geographic profile.
Once you’re alone in the room, you point out the obvious. “Emily looks more frustrated than usual.” Spencer nods in agreement.
“Well, Lieutenant Ryan wasn’t much help when he came and questioned Emily for the lack of progress.”
“Asshole,” you mumbled under your breath. Spencer chuckles, knowing that’s exactly what you would say at that.
Spencer shrugs. “He is frustrated. Everyone is at this point.”
You hum in agreement, glancing at the whiteboard where the photos of the new victims are displayed. Spencer knows you're trying to focus, even though you look just as exhausted as he does.
"Hey," he calls your name. "How about a coffee and some fresh air before we continue?"
You turn to him, and your face lights up. That's exactly what you need before you keep going.
"I knew you were more than just a pretty face," you joke, and Spencer grins.
"Good thing we’re clear on that now. Let's go to the coffee shop on the corner; I don’t think I can stand another one from the vending machine here."
The trip is quick but lets you get some fresh air. Spencer, being the attentive boyfriend he always is, knows exactly which coffee you need. Meanwhile, you complain about the weather and how cold the police station is.
As you wait for your order, Spencer explains how old the buildings in downtown New York are and how their insulation systems work.
“Upgrading the system with the appropriate materials would take a long time and be quite expensive. And well, given the NYPD's infrastructure budget, it's not feasible in the short- or medium-term,” Spencer says.
“Or at all. And I get it. I don't want to be flippant and say it's a priority compared to other things, but I think about all the people working there all day, and, yeah, I feel like the damn privileged federal agent that I actually am. No wonder why they look at us with disdain,” you point out, grabbing the two coffees from the counter and handing one to Spencer.
“They don’t look at us that way,” he starts to argue, taking a sip of his beverage. “I mean, they sure are equally frustrated as we are due to this case.”
And probably he’s right, but you know the glances the local forces tend to give you everywhere you go across the country. The feds aren’t welcomed in most places, and you understand why.
“Well, more reason why we need to catch this bastard soon,” you add as you both walk out of the coffee shop. Spencer nods in agreement, following you on the sidewalk.
“And we will. We just need to refocus and-”
“Spencer? Is it you?”
His speech is suddenly interrupted by a voice calling his name from behind.
“Who’s-” Spencer begins to ask, but he stops himself once he turns and realizes who is the person calling his name. You do the same, only to find a smiling woman approaching. You don’t think you know her, but apparently, she knows Spencer, and judging by the way Spencer’s eyes widen, he knows her.
“Maeve? Wow.”
Two things immediately catch your attention. The first is that you're sure you've heard that name before. The second is that since you met Spencer Reid, you can count on one hand the number of times you've seen him speechless. This is one of those times.
“What a coincidence to find you here!” the brunette chirps. She looks very pleased with this encounter. And Spencer looks... starstruck?
That’s when it hits you. No. It can’t be, you think at first. But you can’t be mistaken, she is Maeve Donovan, Spencer’s ex.
“Yeah. I - I’m working on a case here in New York,” Spencer clarifies, fumbling with his coffee cup, and taking a step forward so he can talk easily to the woman. You stay frozen in place, watching as the interaction unfolds.
“Of course, I should have imagined something like that,” the woman chuckles. “It’s been a while, uh?”
“Six years, three months, and four days.”
Are-You-Fucking-Kidding-Me? You’re sure your brain short-circuits when you hear Spencer. Of course, everyone keeps track of how long it's been since they last saw their exes. You begin to feel discomfort in your stomach. You rationalize the fact that Spencer has an eidetic memory, but that's not enough to justify why the count came from his mouth.
“I’m not one bit surprised you know that,” Maeve concedes. “How have you been?”
Even though you never met Maeve, you do know the story. Spencer himself told you this even before you two started dating. And to say it left you speechless and incredibly frustrated by how badly Spencer got hurt is an understatement.
Spencer told you how he started suffering from severe migraines and how that led him to consult a prominent geneticist, Maeve Donovan. You also know how their conversations became increasingly frequent, leading to a relationship even though they had never met face-to-face.
You remember how he recounted that Maeve had a stalker and refused the BAU's help. Until it was too late, and she was kidnapped. Spencer's heart nearly broke at the thought that he would never be able to see her in person.
The BAU worked tirelessly until they located her. But upon entering the abandoned garage, they found Maeve being held at gunpoint. And if it weren't for Spencer, she would have died along with her stalker, who ultimately took her own life.
It was obvious that after that experience, Maeve and Spencer would take their relationship to the next level. And they did. Spencer accompanied every detail of Maeve's healing process after her near-death experience. And for her part, Maeve gave Spencer the love he so desperately craved.
Everything seemed to be going well between them—a happy couple after such adverse circumstances. But as the months passed, Maeve began to resent Spencer's constant work trips and questioned his devotion to the BAU, arguing that he could do better in academia.
Spencer wasn't sure if Maeve ever cheated on him while they were together, but the emotional and physical distance between them became increasingly evident. One day, after returning from a case, Spencer arrived at their shared apartment to find Maeve waiting with her suitcase already packed. Saying she couldn't take it anymore, she broke up with him and left without further explanation. And two weeks later, Spencer finds out she started a relationship with her ex-fiancé, Bobby.
It took Spencer months to recover from that. While he didn't give you details about that period, you know from JJ and Penelope that Spencer suffered from a major depression, which almost led him back to the addiction he had overcome years before.
When you joined the team, all of that was supposedly behind him, but it wasn't unusual for you to see Spencer be more withdrawn at times. After learning his story, you understood why he acted that way back then.
That’s something you’ll never forgive Maeve for. And it's itching your skin to see how polite Spencer is behaving with her right now.
“Good. Pretty good, actually. I didn't know you left DC?”
In addition to the grudge you held towards Maeve for what she did to Spencer, you now have the feeling of being totally forgotten by your boyfriend. Well, you suppose once the pleasantries end, he will introduce you as he should.
“Remember when I told you I wanted to apply for funding to do a neuroscience lab? Well, I got it two years ago and moved to New York. Now I have a whole team working with me.”
“Wow! That’s great. Really, really great.”
As the seconds and minutes tick by, you grow more impatient. Their conversation continues, and neither of them seems to notice you're there. Maeve is all smiles, and you're almost certain Spencer is blushing, his voice betraying his obvious nervousness.
Should you say something to stop her blatant flirting? It's completely inappropriate, considering the place and the situation. Sure, maybe if she knew who you were, she'd be less obvious. But your boyfriend is doing little to nothing to let her know.
You've never considered yourself a jealous woman. In your past relationships, you've always built them on trust. And with Spencer, it's been no exception. But right now? You're not sure you're immune to that feeling.
Perhaps you should make your presence known by introducing yourself. But two reasons hold you back: first, that would be unprofessional, and second, it's not your job to do so.
“Yeah. It is. And we've made some really significant progress in research, with several articles published. I'm sure you'd be interested in reading them.”
Rolling your eyes, you think the only thing missing is for her to tell Spencer she's already won the Nobel Prize in neuroscience.
“Oh, I definitely would.”
What’s wrong with Spencer? Is he feigning interest in the conversation, or is he genuinely absorbed in what she has to say? Either way, it feels bizarre to have to witness this rom-com-like reunion where your character seems to be nonexistent.
“And how has your life been these past few years? For what you said, I assume you're still working with the BAU.”
Okay, now's the time, you think. Come on, Spencer, tell her you've gotten over all the bad things she did to you, how much you've grown, and how your life is better than the one she gave you.
“Good. You know, work. Catching serial killers hasn’t changed much.”
You can't believe that's all he's going to say. It's practically saying that everything's the same, that his life isn't any different than it was when he was with her. You wonder if he really feels that way, and if he does, it makes you feel insignificant.
“So, isn't there a Ms. Reid waiting at home?”
At the question, your heart starts to beat faster. It's direct, and although inappropriate for a casual conversation between exes, it's the ultimate test of whether Spencer considers his relationship with you worth exposing.
“If I’m married? No, I’m not. Are you?”
You don't think you've felt such a profound disappointment in years. And while it's true you two aren't married, it was time to acknowledge that you, at least, existed. Now it's clear you don't even meet the ‘Maeve standard' to be shown off.
Maeve smiles flirtatiously. “No, I'm not married. Don't you think that's a nice coincidence?”
That's enough. You can't stay and listen to another word. You're not going to be the one crying in this sidewalk because your boyfriend doesn't even acknowledge you. You're better than that.
“I'll leave you two to catch up. I'm heading back to the station; Emily is asking where we are. See you there, Reid.”
Reid. For Spencer, it’s like a switch is flipped, and some kind of revelation hits him. For the first time since the whole encounter, he turns to look at you. To really look at you. You don’t ever call him Reid, and the tone? That’s enough to pop any bubble he was in.
You can’t tell if his eyes scream guilt, regret, confusion, fear, or all of them. But you’re enough pissed off to stay there to find out. That’s why, before he can open his mouth, you walk away, fishing your phone to text Emily you’re on your way. You don’t even dare to look back, walking as faster as you can.
You hear Spencer calling your name, asking you to wait for him, but you let it fade into the sound of New York traffic.
-
When you enter the station, your chest feels tight. You don't know if it's partly from walking fast, from the cold burning your lungs, from the disappointment in your heart, or from the anger coursing through your veins. Whatever it is, you have neither the time nor the space to worry about it.
You head straight to the briefing room, where you see the whole team has already returned from their respective assignments.
Rossi frowns when he sees you. "Everything alright, bella?" You swallow hard to regain your composure.
"Yeah, just cold outside."
"And Spence?" JJ asks. And you act as if nothing that happened minutes ago actually happened. "He should be here any minute, I assume."
Emily frowns, but instead of saying something to you, she talks to all. “Okay, let’s get started. We have news.”
Five minutes later, Spencer rushes into the room, only to find the whole team - you included - listening to Emily talking, who stops when she sees him.
Great, he’s the last one arriving, and everybody notices.
“Ah, Reid. Good thing you’re here. We have enough for the profile now.”
Thanks to Luke and JJ's last findings and the new information Rossi got from the families, the pieces are finally falling into place. Emily continues her briefing, pointing out the key information they have and how it builds on what they had before. Once she’s done, the instructions come: "Okay, let's get everyone to deliver the profile.” The team already knows what to do.
Spencer's gaze travels directly to you, exiled in a corner, folder in hand, with an expression impossible to read.
As people are vacating the room, Spencer cautiously walks toward you. You’re organizing folders from the table and preparing to leave as well.
He clears his throat before speaking softly. “Can we talk about what happened?”
You don’t even look at him, like he didn’t say anything at all. At the lack of response, he calls your name.
You’re still focused on the files. “We have nothing to talk about.” Your tone is flat, trying to sound detached, but you’re burning inside. Spencer purses his lips. He knows what you are doing.
“Please, don’t do this.”
What the hell? You're literally trying to avoid a conflict in the middle of a police station, during an active case, and Spencer wants to chastise you for it?
“Excuse me? Don’t do what? Behaving professionally at work?”
Spencer sighs. You’re right, you shouldn’t be talking about this in the middle of the case, but he needs to say something. Anything. He can’t pretend to not acknowledge what he did, even if he doesn't know why or how to address it, for that matter.
Although starting with an ‘I’m sorry’ would have been an honest go, his mouth betrays him. “You know what I mean.” It’s a meek approach, Spencer knows it, but he can’t get the words out when he’s still assimilating the last hour.
Whatever the case may be, you’re not in the mood to make his life easier. “Actually, I don’t. And you know what? I don’t want to understand. You can go back and catch up with Maeve. I’ll keep doing my job.”
Before Spencer can even think of replying, you're already in the corridor, catching up with Luke to warn the rest of the police station about what's coming.
To say the next few hours are tense would be an understatement. You don't even bother to look at Spencer, while he looks like a kicked puppy. Of course, the team notices. Emily, at least, has had the decency not to put you two together on tasks.
You don't know if that makes things better or worse. Not talking to him has only made your insecurities fester. You don't understand if there's any logical explanation for what happened outside the coffee shop. Surely there is, but just because it makes sense doesn't mean it's good for your relationship. Maybe the idea that Spencer is over Maeve isn't true; maybe he's never stopped loving her, and that makes you feel like a replacement. And a bad one, at that.
How could you compete with someone as brilliant as her? With her beauty and the confidence of a woman who knows what she wants and who was such an important part of Spencer's life. No, you don't measure up to that.
-
The case hasn't given you a moment's rest. So much so that you've barely had time to go to the bathroom. Just as you manage to slip away for that, you see JJ waiting for you on the way out. Her face is the one you know so well: maternal, worried, and conciliatory.
You frown. “What? Did something happen with the case?”
She shakes her head. "Not yet, but I wanted to ask you something."
You pinch the bridge of your nose, knowing exactly where the question is headed.
"JJ, I don't think this is the time or the place," you say, gesturing to the bathroom door. JJ nods.
"That's why I wanted to suggest we go outside for a bit. And I agree that maybe talking about this isn't exactly workplace stuff, but I think it would do you good, at least, to vent a little."
Perhaps it's not a bad idea after all because you've felt choked up for all these hours. So you accept JJ's offer. You both walk toward an indoor parking lot at the precinct, where there are a few cars and very few people. It seems to be the most private place available for now.
"What happened between you and Spencer?" JJ asks immediately. Okay, straight to the point, you think. Scratching the base of your neck, you make a face.
"We went to the coffee shop around the corner, and when we came out, a woman called Spencer’s name. And guess who it was? Maeve Donovan."
JJ listens intently, though she already thinks she understands the gravity of the situation.
You let out a humorless laugh. "It was like I didn't exist. They were talking like it was the nicest thing in the world, like she'd never hurt him. He knew—and said—exactly how long it had been since they'd last seen each other! And she was blatantly flirting with him. It wasn't until I opened my mouth to say I was going back to the station that he realized I was there."
"And has he tried to talk to you about this?" JJ asks.
"Yes, when we were about to present the profile, but I can't listen to him, JJ; I'm terrified of what he's going to say," you confess, voice small and frighten.
"Why? I bet he wants to explain why he was such an idiot and apologize."
"And is it worth it? What I saw there has made me think that Spencer hasn't gotten over Maeve, and maybe he never will. That means I'm not good enough for him, and I don't want to compete for the heart of someone who will never be completely mine."
JJ shakes her head. “Don’t say that. Spencer loves you. We can all see it. I've never seen him happier in his life, not even when he was with Maeve. And yes, I understand that what he did was stupid, whatever his reason may be, but just as you need to hear his explanation, he also needs to hear how much this is affecting you. Spencer Reid may be a certified genius, but let's face it, he's a man, and he's no better than the rest of his gender exponents at reading the room.”
You let out a deep sigh. “It's hard when I can't get that image of the two of them grinning like idiots on the sidewalk out of my head. And I also don't want to make a big deal out of it when we have a serial killer to catch. It's not the professionalism we promised Emily.”
“I understand,” JJ agrees. “But if not now, you have to talk about it later. Don't let your thoughts consume you without telling him directly. He needs to know and do something about it.”
From your conversation with JJ, you can take a few things: first, it helped you vent, and second, even though JJ has been friends with Spencer since before you met him, she was honest and didn't invalidate your feelings.
When you both return to the main area of the station, you can see there's a lot of activity. Police officers are moving around, while Emily calls the team to give instructions.
"Okay, we have an identity and a location. Get ready for the take-down. Rossi, you’re with Tara, Matt, and Reid. The rest are with me. Come on, let’s go.”
Everyone rushes to put on their bulletproof vests and check that their weapons are ready in case they need to be used. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Spencer doing the same, but he doesn't take his eyes off you. And although nothing between you has been discussed, much less resolved, knowing that a risky situation is devolving and that something bad could happen to one of you makes you see things from a different perspective.
Trying to keep your anger in check, you approach Spencer, who looks at you in surprise.
Cautiously but steady, your hands take one of the straps of his Kevlar, pull it taut, and secure it to his side. Spencer looks at you with rapt attention as you murmur, "Please, don't do anything stupid. I need you back, in one piece."
Spencer swallows hard and, with the same thoroughness, repeats your action, securing your Kevlar to your body. "I won't. Please, stay safe too. I promise I'll fix this."
You nod, taking in his words, before turning around and leaving with the group you were assigned to.
-
Fortunately, the unsub’s arrest, Edgar Toller, was swift and without casualties. His latest victim was rescued with only minor injuries, which paramedics immediately treated.
Lieutenant Ryan was satisfied, and despite all the unpleasant things he'd said to Emily in past days, he thanked her profusely for the team’s help. Prentiss, ever the politically correct person, thanked the NYPD for their assistance, and Ryan left happy.
Since it was past midnight when everything was resolved, Emily decided it wasn't worth returning to Quantico and that it was better to go to the hotel and rest. You would leave New York the following morning.
Exhausted, no one wanted to argue, so you got into the SUVs and returned to the hotel.
You were the last to get out of the car, and before entering the lobby, you realize that Spencer is at the entrance, hands in his pockets, with a sheepish expression on his face, waiting for you.
When you frown at him, he hastens to speak. “I know you are tired, and maybe you only want to go upstairs to sleep, but I would really like to talk to you. But if you don’t want to, I understand. I’ll wait all the time you need.”
Spencer's voice is quiet but steady. He maintains eye contact throughout, trying to gauge your discomfort. It's clear he doesn't want to cross any boundaries you're not willing to go beyond today.
You could just skip it again and leave this conversation for when you get back to DC, because it's absolutely true that you're exhausted, but mostly scared about how it's going to turn out.
But prolonging the agony seems unnecessary, and it's not your style either. If the band-aid has to be ripped off, then it's better sooner rather than later.
You bite your lower lip in contemplation. Then decide to stop running from this. “Walk with me?” You ask. And Spencer nods immediately. He doesn't question why you don't go up to one of your rooms instead of staying out in the New York cold in the middle of the night.
This will be on your terms.
You walk for a couple of blocks in silence until you reach the entrance to a small park, where a mobile coffee stand with a couple of tables and chairs is set up. You order two hot chocolates and, once you have them in hand, you sit down at one of the tables, putting one cup in front of you and the other on the opposite side. Spencer takes his and sits in the chair in front of you.
“Okay, I’m ready to hear you,” you prompt, sipping your chocolate. Spencer nods, hands warming around the cup.
“I'd like to start by saying I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for how I behaved; I never meant to hurt you, and even though it might sound hollow now, if I could go back in time and do things differently, I would do it without a second thought.”
You can see the regret in his eyes, as if remembering what happened physically hurts him. And perhaps that's true, but it's not enough to understand, and not enough to know how to go from here.
“But why, Spencer? What was in your head at that moment?”
Spencer shrugs. “At first, I don’t know. It was kind of surreal. I never thought I would be facing Maeve after all these years.”
Crossing your arms over your chest, you lean back in the chair. “Never? I mean, never crossed your mind knowing you used to live in the same city?”
You have a point, Spencer thinks. But for him, it wasn’t a concern until today. “I know, the possibility was always there, but I always assumed that if it happened, we'd both ignore each other, play dumb, avoid the awkwardness. At least that's what I thought. But hearing her call my name, actively seeking my attention? That threw me off.”
“I can understand that, but why were you so thorough with her? After all she did? Spencer, you said the amount of time since you last saw her. It's like you were keeping count of your miserable life without her!”
Spencer sighs in defeat. He knows that specific slip hit you hard, and he can’t even phantom the extent of how deep it got you.
“I have an eidetic memory. I can’t help having a count of things. I know saying it aloud is a lot different, and this time came out wrong. I’m sorry, it wasn’t what I wanted. I was nervous, and nervous me uses my brain cabinets to fill the gaps.”
“Well, if you were nervous and didn't know what to do, why didn't you lean on me? I was right there, Spencer. Ready to jump at her throat if you wanted me to. I would have stood for you.”
Spencer nods in understanding. “I know you would have. And I will never forgive myself for not acknowledging you by my side at that moment. In my brain, I only wanted it to be over, and not give more importance to the encounter.”
You want to believe it's true, but if that were the case, why didn't he just turn around and leave? Why keep talking to her?
“Dismissing what you have accomplished, and letting her think you haven’t changed at all? I bet she thought you were still wretched without her. And honestly, I thought it too.”
Spencer's eyes widen in shock. This is not at all what he was trying to project. In an attempt to downplay the situation, he just wanted to be vague in his explanations, or at least that's what he tried to do, but it clearly wasn't understood that way. You didn't understand it that way either.
“What? No! That’s not true. I’m far from miserable without her. Come on, I have you, I’m happy with you. That’s enough to feel like I won the lottery.” Spencer's eyes soften, but he never breaks eye contact with you. If there's one thing he can't afford right now, it's for there to be any doubt that what he's saying is the whole truth, and for you not to see it.
You scoff. “Is it? I don’t know. I mean, she’s Maeve Donovan, a beautiful woman, prolific scientist, destined for a Nobel Prize. We can agree on the lottery being more close to her than me.”
You don't like that your words sound like you're pitying yourself for not being like Maeve, but it's clear that you're both different, and if Spencer had the choice, it seems more obvious to you that he'd choose her over you. And it bothers you to think that this situation is undermining your self-confidence.
Spencer leans forward to find your gaze, which instinctively shifts to the chocolate cup. “No, the way I see it is not like that. Why do you think I would ever consider that Maeve can be in my life again?”
Biting your lower lip, you huff. “You haven’t thought about the possibility? Not just once? Don’t lie to me, Spencer.”
The response comes as fast as the question is out. “Never since I met you. Not once since then. And - yeah, after today, you may not believe me. I know I froze and didn’t do what I should. There were options, and I took the worst. I’m sorry.”
You let out a deep sigh as you contemplate your next words. “I can understand that she was an important person in your life, Spencer. I'm not naive. I know the story; you told it to me yourself. And I know that kind of love doesn't just disappear. It leaves scars, and I know you have yours. And even though she made your life a living hell at the end of your relationship, you always loved her, despite that. And it's normal that you feel a second chance is possible. I don't—”
“No. Don’t. Stop right there,” Spencer cuts you off, bringing his chair closer to your side. One of his arms goes to rest on the back of your chair, and the other reaches out to place his hand on one of yours that is on the table. “Hey, look at me, please.”
You do as he says, and his gaze almost takes your breath away. It's intense, direct, pleading.
“I don't want a second chance with Maeve. I don't want anything to do with her, really. I don't need a successful scientist who broke my heart once. Not for affection, not for intellectual stimulation, not to relive past loves, not for anything. And you know why?”
You timidly shake your head. A fog drifts over your senses, and the only thing you can focus on is those hazel eyes that gaze intently at you.
“Because you're the one I want. You're the one who keeps me awake when I'm not by your side and brings me back to sleep when you're with me in my bed. You're the one who has made my heart beat with happiness again. You're the reason things make sense in this world full of senselessness. It's your love, your concern; it's the way you show that you care. It's the way you laugh when I tell a joke and the way you let me hold you when you're sad. It's the way you kiss me, taking my breath away every time.”
“Spencer—” you want to interrupt him. Not sure why, but the words are getting to you, and you don’t know what to do with them.
“Please, let me say it,” Spencer breaths. And despite the cold, your body feels warm after every word that comes out of Spencer's mouth.
“Despite the emotional barrier I tried to maintain with you when you joined the team, you managed to break it down. Not suddenly, nor with fanfare, but with time, patience, support, and love. And that love? It's something I cherish with all my heart, and I've tried to show you how much I love you, even if words fail me, even if my social awkwardness gets in the way. And I'm sorry if I've failed. I failed today, I know. But never because I don't love you. Because I doubt that will ever happen, even if I tried. I'm not asking you to forgive me right now, or tomorrow, or the day after. But I swear I'll wait patiently until you're ready. And if you're not, that won't stop me from loving you.”
You don't know when the tears started rolling down your cheek, but by the time Spencer finishes speaking, your vision blurs.
You stay quiet for a moment, fingers wrapped tight around the cup.
"Spencer." Your voice comes out steadier than you expected. "I need you to understand something. This was never just about Maeve."
He holds your gaze, listening.
"I know you didn't mean to hurt me. And I believe you when you say you don't want her back. But what broke me out there wasn't jealousy — it was that you looked right through me. I was standing beside you, and I didn't exist. And that's the part that's going to take me longer to shake off. To come back at feeling me like your person, the one you can lean on when you need it.”
Spencer exhales slowly, something in his expression shifting — not defensiveness, but recognition. The real kind. It’s about your feelings, about something he knows he can’t fix in one night.
"You're right," he says. Just that. No qualifier, no explanation. Just the weight of it.
You nod. You pick up your cup, and so does he, and for a while you just sit with that truth between you, letting the hot chocolate cool a little in your hands, recognizing that talking things through is an important starting point, but not the whole road.
When you finally stand to leave, Spencer reaches over and turns up the collar of your coat before you can do it yourself — a small, quiet thing, almost automatic. Like he's been doing it for years. Like he wants to do it for all the years to come.
You don't comment on it. You just start walking back to the hotel.
Spencer falls into step beside you, and somewhere in the second block, your hands find each other in the cold. You instinctively squeeze his, and he does the same with yours, acknowledging a silent agreement. A promise.
You don't say anything else. Neither does he.
Some things take longer than one night in New York.