Emma had said once that couples in love smiled when they said one another's names. Now that he knew how he felt, Alex wondered if the same thing held true for him. Did he smile when he said her name?

He avoided saying it all day at work, but when he got home that night he immediately ran to his bathroom and watched himself say it in the mirror. "Emma. Emma. Emma." It was like some teenage girl's bizarre game and he half-wondered if Emma herself would show up in the mirror, a defiant scowl on her face as she said his own name back to him. A frowning, "Alex." A pouting, "Mr. Knightley."

Well, pouting wasn't exactly where he wanted to go with this. Though Emma's typical puppy dog pout was annoying, the thought of her lips…

But his face was straight while he said her name, his eyes not even hinting at a grin. "Emma. Emma. Emma." He didn't smirk, he didn't laugh. Nothing.

In bed that night, Alex stared at the ceiling and supposed that maybe Emma had been wrong. She often was, even if she was loathe to admit it. He knew he loved her, though, and because of that he would go into work tomorrow terrified to say her name. Because what if his eyes really did light up whenever he thought about her? What if his own cynicism was preventing him from seeing that?

Alex rolled onto his side and drifted off eventually, but in the middle of the night woke with a start. He groggily searched for his cell phone to check the time and glared at it in the dark. The automatic dim was so frustrating during waking hours. He had been known to say it was too damn dark. But now, at three in the morning, even with the dim his phone was too bright. He glared at the time on the screen. The witching hour. Perhaps the perfect time to go the mirror and conjure up Bloody Emma.

In only his boxers, he stalked into the bathroom once more, his face reflecting in the mirror with the help of the nearby nightlight. He thought of Emma, Emma who he loved so much.

"Emma," he said with a frustrated sigh. He could see his dark reflection clearly. He was frowning, thinking of Emma being selfish, of Emma being headstrong, of Emma believing that she was right in spite of all her mistakes. She was foolish and stubborn and just so, so annoyingly wonderful. "Emma," he said again, and his eyes were on fire – he could see it now. Not smiling, no, but burning. Hopeful. Aggravated. Proud. Proud that yes, sometimes she was humbled. Sometimes she did apologize.

"Emma," he said for the third time, but she did not appear in the mirror. These were just Alex's own eyes staring back at him, alight as he smirked, thinking of all the times she had made him laugh, of all the things she had done to him and to those around them out of what she had believed to be their best interest. That was a smile, yes, but it wasn't the sort of lovey dovey stuff Emma had spoken of once.

"Emma," Alex said again, and he knew now, as he grinned back at himself, that he didn't love Emma the way those couples that smiled at one another's names loved. No, this was a different sort of love. A love that was probably doomed, now that he thought about it as he trudged back to bed, because Emma was really annoying and really stubborn and definitely not in love with him too. But it was a good love, a real love, a better love – a love that Emma deserved. He loved the woman behind the flaws, the woman who hated to be wrong and just now was learning to strive to be right instead of to convince others that she was. A woman who knew what she wanted, who sure, was manipulative and stubborn and annoying… But a woman – the woman – he had grown to love after all these years. Who had grown and into this person he not only called his partner, but who he was humbled to call his friend.

He said her name as soon as he saw her at work that next morning, and he felt the smile light up his face. He felt it reach his eyes and his fingers and his toes. "Emma." And he wondered, when Emma replied to him without turning around, "Yes, Alex?" if she was smiling too.