Their hands are laced together, locked tight.

It's not anything romantic. It never has been. It's simply a means of comfort, a lifeline they both need right now.

Toby's tried several times to get Emily to explain. It doesn't resonate; she hasn't heard him. He's not sure whether it's from her panic or if he's speaking too soft for her to hear. Maybe he's only talking in his head.

After what seems like days, they finally get to her room. Emily pushes open the door and Toby smothers a gasp. He accidentally stumbles back a few steps, hand breaking contact with Emily's. He chokes out a small "sorry" and tries to compose himself.

No matter. Emily's not listening. She's sitting in the chair by Spencer's bed, head clutched in her hands. He hears a sob rip out of her, an agonizing sound, as if she's in pain. He guesses she is. He tries to go to her, to move, but he can't. It seems he's frozen to his spot. He doesn't know what to do.

"It's over," Emily whispers. It echoes. "It's finally over. She got him – A. She got him. I don't know how, but she did." She lifts her head and grabs Spencer's hand fiercely with both of hers.

"She saved us all." She trembles out. "Me, Hanna, Aria… All of us. But was it worth it? Was it worth it if this is the result?"

"What did the doctor say?"

Emily clenches her eyes shut. "The wound on her face will heal, but the scar will never fade completely. Neither will the burn scars on her hands –" her voice cracks and she rubs her thumb against Spencer's pulse point. She clears her throat. "But the other marks, the fingernail scratches and stuff, those will go away."

His stomach churns and he feels sick. This wasn't supposed to happen – it wasn't supposed to be like this. Spencer was never supposed to get hurt – not ever.

Emily's phone chirps and she curses. "Damn it, I have to go. My train leaves in thirty minutes." She stands and sniffs, wiping her cheeks dry. She bends over and kisses Spencer on the forehead. Then she turns towards him. He wants her yell, scream – say something, anything, because it's too quiet in this room and it'll only get quieter when she leaves.

Instead, she walks up to him and wraps her arms around his neck and god, he wants to do something, but he's still rooted to his spot. There's wetness on his neck and he realizes Emily's crying. She steps back and pats his chest.

"Take care of her, Tobes."

-;

The corner of the hospital room is warm.

Everywhere else he stands or sits is too cold and he freezes. So Toby just takes the chair from Spencer's bed and – really, who is he kidding? The only reason he's in the corner is because he's a coward.

He doesn't want to sit next to her. He doesn't want to touch her.

It's not as if he doesn't love her, or want her, or feel pain because of how things ended between them.

It's just – what was once a fiery burn has now dimmed to dull ache.

But, now that he's here, seeing her like this, it's all too much. It's starting to eat away at him, the armor he put up for himself, the constant ring of you don't miss her, it's okay, you don't miss her, is breaking and he wants to wrap himself into a corner and sob. And hell, he's already got the corner part down, what will a few tears hurt?

So he cries.

Toby cries for Alison DiLaurentis, the girl who died too young. He cries for Hanna and for Aria and for Emily, the girls who were haunted by her years after her passing. He cries for himself, the boy who got caught up in things that were out of his control. But, mostly, he cries for Spencer, the girl who fought, and the girl who won, and the girl who is currently sitting in a hospital bed with bandages covering her face and hands.

Will she even want to see him when she wakes up?

Instead of answering himself, he draws the blanket tighter around his body and cries himself to sleep.

-;

"Toby, please! Help me! Please, just help me! Please! Toby!"

-;

The first thing he feels when he wakes up is pain.

His head is pounding. He fell out of the chair when he was sleeping. He's craving coffee – the nightmare still too fresh in his mind – but he couldn't leave this room even if his life depended on it.

Toby settles back in his chair and sighs. He wishes she would just wake up already. Before he didn't want her too, thought she'd kick him out, but even that would be better than the silence.

Because, really, silence isn't silent. Not even close. Silence is deafening – it screams and it echoes and it pushes and pushes and pushes until you finally push back. And right now, Toby Cavanaugh is pretty damn close to pushing back.

Even if she woke and said she hated him, he'd be content. He'd know she was alive, she was well, and that she was still Spencer. This, though, this could drive any person mad. Especially someone with shaky mental stability already.

He can't even hear her breathe, which is disturbing. Sure, he can see her chest moving up and down, but he wants to hear it with his own two ears.

Tiring himself out with his own damn thoughts, he pulls the blanket back around him.

-;

The doctor said she would be waking up anytime soon.

And since his thoughts are extremely bipolar, Toby's dreading it. He doesn't know how she will react to him being there. Hell, he doesn't know how he's going to react when she wakes up. It's been a crazy week, but he's sure wherever she is or was, it's wilder than his.

Yeah, he's nervous.

So when her eyelashes start fluttering and her fingers start wiggling, he shoots up from where he was sitting, almost losing his balance.

Her eyes open and fix straight on him. "Toby?"

He's frozen.

"Toby?" she asks, hopeful. Hopeful for what, he isn't sure.

"Toby, come here," she pleads. The words snap him out of his haze, and he walks until he's a foot away from her bed. He doesn't move, doesn't even flinch, when she holds her arms out.

She's shedding a few tears and he can't help but think she has caused him to shed much more. It's cruel and it's spiteful, but true. It's not the reason why he's not moving, though. He's not even sure about that one.

"Toby, please," she whimpers and suddenly his mind flashes to the nightmare he had a few days ago, Spencer burning and screaming out his name while all he could do was sit and watch like it was HD television. He clenches his eyes shut and tries not to vomit. When he opens his eyes, she's just starting to lower her arms, a broken expression on her face. Before they're by her side, he wraps his arms around her waist, her arms coming to rest around his neck.

And, really, when has he been able to say no to her?

This is the moment where he gives up. He gives up telling himself he doesn't need her, gives up being a coward, but most importantly, he gives up missing her because she's right here.

They're both crying now and it's a huge, angsty mess but he knows things will get better. He has Spencer in his arms, and if she'll have him, he'll stay forever.

-;

It's been three months and thing have gotten better – a little.

He knows that Spencer is still scared. She doesn't say it out loud, but that's why they work so well together. He understands her and he always has. She knows that he's there and she can count on him not to ask is she's okay every five seconds. They mesh.

As soon as he realized Spencer wanted him back – which, thank god – he got an apartment. It didn't necessarily mean that he wanted her to move in, but Spencer took it that way. Not that it's a problem. He just didn't think she'd want things to move so fast.

They live together and it's nice. He works and she doesn't. She goes to college and he doesn't. The one thing that doesn't change is their love for one another. It's there and it never went away, as much as Toby tried to convince himself it did. She explained why they broke up and he explained why he left and there are no secrets left between them, they're finally free.

-;

He comes home to silence and it's a little unnerving.

Spencer hates the quiet as much as he does, now. Toby just turns on the television. She usually turns on the radio.

It's usually soft harmonies but never this quiet.

"Spencer?" he calls. He doesn't hear the shower running. He's a little ashamed to say he runs up the stairs but – you know, he worries about her.

Their door is closed. It usually isn't. He can hear softly hitched breaths that tear at his heart strings, and he pushes the door open.

Spencer's sitting at the edge of the bed, head in her hands, and elbows on her knees. Toby sighs. He's seen her do this before, but normally he's around to comfort her.

"Spencer," he says softly as her head snaps up. She gives him a look that makes him want to sob with her, but that would help absolutely no one.

Instead, he whispers, "Come here."

She eyes him warily as he holds out his hand. She lets out a cute little yelp as he tugs her to her feet and wraps his arms around her waist, his chest to her back. They awkwardly walk to the full body mirror that rests against the wall of their bathroom, forcing her to look at herself.

"Why were you crying?"

Spencer blows out a shaky breath and wipes a tear from her eye. "You know why," she murmurs.

He does. "I want to hear you say it."

She whimpers and he feels like the biggest asshole on the planet. But she needs this as much as he does.

"I'm so ugly," she sobs. Toby clenches his eyes shut because how could she even say that? She's beautiful and she always has been and this self-loathing kick is not going to continue any longer.

"Look at yourself in that mirror. Are you looking?"

"Yes,"

"Good. You want to know what I see? I see Spencer Hastings, my girlfriend. She saved the lives of her three best friends and these," he rubs her hands and kisses her eyelid. "Are her battle scars. She's gorgeous in every sense of the word. She's kind, she's loving, and she makes mistakes. And I love her with all I have."

"Toby…" Spencer whimpers again.

He whips her around so she's facing him. "Do you love me?"

"Of course,"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, you know I do. Toby -"

"Then believe me when I say, there's nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all. You're perfect to me."

He leans down then, kissing her red cheeks. He pecks her lips and then the center of her forehead. He hears her give a happy little sigh that encourages him to keep going. He veers a little to the right, where her scar starts and kisses all the way to where it ends. That seems to be what breaks her, though, because in a flash she's roughly pushing his face to hers and crushing their lips together. They're kissing and they're kissing and he thinks he blacks out for a little bit because all of a sudden they're on the bed, both naked, and she's sweating and moaning and writhing under him.

"Please, Toby, love you," she's panting and he thinks maybe he's finally fixed her.

-;

"I never would've had this if not for you. Thank you."

For a second Toby thinks Spencer's gone insane again. Why would she thank him? He stays because she is his everything and they're two puzzle pieces that have finally found their match. Not out of obligation.

They're both twenty-nine and sitting on lawn chairs in their backyard. Their fingers are intertwined lazily and his eyes are kind of starting to droop, but he's awake because they are.

"Mommy, come play!" Miranda yells. Her sister, Robin, chimes in with a yeah! and Spencer chuckles. Toby never gets tired of seeing that smile on her face. She gives him a quick kiss and goes to play with their little girls.

At first, Spencer had wanted to name their first child Alison. He said no. They'd gotten into countless fights over it. Finally, she relented, admitting that while Ali was her friend, she really wasn't all that nice. He doesn't know how they came up with Miranda – or Robin, after that – but they did.

Miranda is just like her mom – big brown eyes and determination and intelligence – while Robin is more like him, blue eyes and soft spoken.

Watching them now – the three factors the make up his life…

He really couldn't have asked for a better life if he tried.