Three months. That was how long it had been since Spencer last held you, last heard your laughter, last felt like himself. Prison had stripped away so much, but not his hope of seeing you again. He clung to the thought of you during the darkest nights, replaying every memory like a lifeline.

When his name was cleared, and he finally walked free, the first thing he asked Garcia was where you were. She’d smiled through her tears, promising that you were waiting.

Outside the precinct, Spencer spotted you immediately. You stood next to Garcia, your head down, kicking at the pavement. He stopped in his tracks, his breath catching as his chest tightened. You’d grown in the months he’d been gone—just a little taller, your shoulders set with a kind of maturity that broke his heart.

As if sensing his presence, you looked up. For a moment, neither of you moved, the distance between you stretching unbearably. Then, without a word, you darted forward, closing the space in seconds.

Spencer dropped his bag, sinking to one knee as you crashed into him. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his face pressing into your hair as he whispered, “I’ve missed you so much.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. You were here. You were real.

You clung to him fiercely, silent except for the sharp breaths against his shoulder. He held you like you were the most precious thing in the world—because you were. And in that moment, everything he’d endured was worth it. You were his home, and now, he was finally home, too.