(a f) she looks like you

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it was late.

especially late for a little girl to be out and about, but after working two jobs during the day this was the only time of day you could manage to go to the grocery store.

you were still in your tiny skirt.

the uniform from the bar and restaurant where you waitressed at night, and you could tell that the other people shopping were judging you.

they weren't trying to stare but you could feel it.

maybe it was the fact that you looked so young and had a small child, or maybe it was the skirt.

either way, you just pushed the cart quickly up and down the aisles, desperate to get home and get to bed.

only to do the same thing tomorrow.

life was monotonous and cold.

even though you had your daughter, your greatest love, your Emma. you couldn't shake the sadness from your soul.

you were still young.

god, shouldn't you be out? doing something?

maybe it wouldn't have had to be this way if you hadn't gotten pregnant so young and so reckless in university.

"you had so much potential"

was that all you were to everyone around you? wasted potential?

"it was such a good university"

it was good. good enough to meet the most intelligent man you've met still.

"you've never been one to screw around before"

that one made you the angriest. it wasn't just screwing around to you, and you knew it wasn't to him either.

it was love that brought and kept you together.

then it was love that let you let him go.

emma stirred in the cart as you made a hasty turn down the coffee aisle.

"mama," you heard her whine and you looked down to see her little hands trying to shove the brown curls away from her eyes.

you gently tucked the small tufts behind her ears and let her hold your hand while you searched for the coffee you wanted. you couldn't see it anywhere so you pushed the cart up the aisle without looking ahead of you and stopped when you felt a small crash.

"oh my god," you huffed and immediately started to apologize to the man before you looked up and noticed who it was.

"y/n," he breathed and you made direct contact with the same pair of warm brown eyes that you knew you could never forget.

"spencer," your eyes close for a moment, trying to quickly process everything.

"i haven't," he clears his throat, "i haven't seen you in a long time."

you can barely hear him over the beeping of the checkout stands. your mind tries to focus on the background noise, desperately trying to protect itself from the floodgates opening. trying to stop all the memories you pushed away to come running back and stop your body from instinctively heading towards his.

"yeah," is all you can manage to say.

"you live in DC now?" he asks. everything about the way he's talking to you feels fragile.

"yeah, and i'm assuming you do too," you sigh.

"still at the FBI," you can tell how proud he is of himself. he's trying to stop himself from beaming when he says FBI.

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