You love your whole team with all your heart, but if you absolutely had to pick who your best friend on the team is, it'd be Spencer, and he'd say the same. You like the way he gets excited about small things he's passionate about, and he likes the way you listen without interrupting or getting bored, something he can't say about the rest of the team. You wonder every now and then if your undeniable secret love for him has anything to do with why he's your favorite, but you try not to think about it. Friends is enough for you. Hell, even if he just frequented your grocery store, that'd be enough for you.

But of course, life has to get in the way, doesn't it?

Seven months ago, you had to tell the rest of the team that Emily had died of injuries from Ian Doyle, even though you knew the truth; she hadn't died, she had undertaken a new identity and fled to Paris, but the team couldn't know that, not for her safety and their own. You felt overwhelmingly guilty about this, but what are you supposed to do?

That night in the hospital waiting room, you held Spencer as he cried. For ten weeks after that, you held him as he cried. And the whole time you had a nagging pit in your stomach, itching to tell him and the others the truth, but you never did.

But now, Emily's back. And Spencer has been giving you the cold shoulder ever since she returned to the team. Offhanded comments, lingering glares, the whole nine yards. Today, you grab his arm after the briefing as he heads toward the conference room.

"Spence, can we talk-"

"No, we can't talk about this, because I trusted you," he says, voice harsh as he pulls his arm out of your grip and gives you a sharp look. "I came to your house for ten weeks in a row, crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth." You go quiet at his words, trying desperately to think of something to say, but he doesn't give you the time of day, turning and walking out of the station without another look in your direction. You have to fix this, bad.