a/n: i'm supposed to be working on new chapters for things, but i'm not because i SUCK ! but this came into my head, and I HAD to write it. I posted it on tumblr. And it was a big hit there, so I was like... w/e I'll post it here too! Anyways, after posting it on tumblr, I realized it doesn't quite make sense because Toby should be in a wheel chair? So, yeah, the time scheme is messed up, but PLL wombs tend to heal like extraordinarily quickly anyways, so... let's just pretend it makes sense.

Chained To You

His knuckles rap at the door before entering. Once he sees Spencer, he turns the knob and goes in. He usually doesn't wait for Spencer to get the door. Hardly does she ever have to invite him in for him to know that he is invited. It's been this way for a long time. He's always been comfortable with it. She has always made him feel comfortable enough to just walk inside.

He nearly jogs over to her, wrapping his arms around her a tight embrace. Her arms are wrapped around him before he can even take notice. The side of her face presses against his chest, inches above his heart. She needs to feel the vibrations; they give her strength; they give her the power to go on.

He wishes with everything he has that he could fix this for her. He, more than anyone, knows how impeccably dreadful it is to be a prisoner of your own abode. Your house is supposed to provide you security and safety. It's not supposed to hold as your own personal jail cell.

But he supposes this is the best of the two evils. It is much better for her to be here, than at the Rosewood police station. Toby had only been cooped up for about a week there, but it may as well have been an eternity. Now he is on the other side of the jail cell… how ironic.

She doesn't speak for a while. She just keeps her arms locked around him, having no intention to let go. Toby is sure that if he tries to move away, Spencer will only tighten her grip around him. Not that he wants to move away. He will stay in this embrace all day and night if that's really what Spencer wants.

Eventually she speaks. "Thanks for coming," she mumbles.

Thanks for coming. As if he had any choice in the matter. His heart practically dragged him here, the pull she has on him nearly chocking and breaking him along the way. His whole entire being begs to be close to her—needs to be next to her; like how the sky clings to the falling stars.

"Spencer, of course…" he responds.

She moves away gradually and gracefully, her head bowing down. "I—I thought this would be over by now."

He grabs her hand in his, needing to feel the curve of her fingers between his. Spencer had been locked up in that jail cell for three days, and in those three days, Toby had never felt more desperate for her touch. For her warmth. To feel her and be with her, and feel the canvas of her skin underneath his.

"I know," he murmurs. "But it will be okay. You didn't do this. Your parents aren't going to let them push the blame on you."

She nods, looking at their interlocked hands. She grabs his other, squeezing it.

A pause.

"Have you figured out what you are going to do with Melissa's video yet?" Toby prompts.

Spencer swallows, letting go of his fingers. "I don't know," she lets out shakily. "If I hand that video in…" her voice trails off. "Melissa was trying to protect me…"

"You don't have to protect her, Spencer," Toby states in a whisper. "I know you want to, but… you need to take care of yourself too."

"If I turn that video in, I could be held accountable too, Toby," Spencer exhales deeply. "It's not that easy."

"I know," he quickly agrees, grabbing her hand once again. "I know it's not. I just… I can't stand to see you like this," he confesses. Her auburn eyes mist over with melancholy. "I would do anything to change this," he decrees hoarsely.

Her frown grows increases in intensity as her lips dive into his.

He encircles his hands around her, gripping to her back and shoulders, pulling her into him with all his might. He wants to give her strength and courage and perseverance. He wants to swallow her pain and suffering and make it his own. He is so opposed to her feeling anything but love and joy. All he wants is for her to feel safe and happy. Why can she never feel that way?

He pulls her up, hoisting her around his waist. She makes a small gasping, moan in his mouth. At first he is worried that it is a cry or whimper. He peels his lips away from her for a moment, eyeing her with concern.

She plays with his hair, gulping. Her eyes never leave his. "For right now, you can just do this…" she whispers before brushing her lips against his. "My parents aren't going to be back til tonight."

He leans his forehead against hers, "anything you want."

"How did you do this alone?" Spencer questions after a long silence.

The question catches him off guard. They rarely discuss what happened last fall. Mostly because it's always been a rough and awkward subject between them. Spencer believed he killed Alison. If she had been on the jury, she would have pronounced him guilty.

"It's hardly been twenty four hours, and I already feel like unraveling…and I have you, and my friends," she continues. "And you didn't have anyone…"

He stares off into space for a moment, recalling the endless nights of insomnia and utter hatred of life. He came pretty close to just giving up, but then…

"You really want to know?"

"You don't have to tell me," she suddenly seems ashamed. Her copper eyes flicker away, focusing on nothing, but everything but him.

"Why do you say that?" he ponders.

"Because…" she sucks in a breath. "The only part I had in your life back then was when I was helping to make it a living hell," she blurts out bluntly.

A pause.

"I'm sorry," she confesses fussily, "I just dragged an old elephant into the room," her eyes meet his in a glance.

"Spencer," he beckons her name, putting a finger on her chin. He tilts it upward, prompting her to look at him.

She does reluctantly.

"You are the reason I got through it."

"What are you talking about?" she asks in accusatory tone, her eyes narrowing slightly.

He swallows a little, "I was really close to breaking…" he confesses. "It's not like my house was some magical, safe haven before—all that was ruined by Jenna—but it was still my house. It was wear I grew up, and had a lot of good memories…" he recounts. "When I was put on house arrest, every good thing that was left there was suddenly tarnished," he continues. "Not that I wanted it to be burned down or anything, but…" he adds almost an afterthought. "It never was the same."

Something in her expression softens. She becomes more relaxed now, but still looks somewhat puzzled. "How does that have to do with me though?" she prompts after a minute.

"I was at the point of giving up," he begins again. "My dad and step mom looked at me like…"

"Like you killed someone," she fills in easily, her eyes flickering away for a half second.

"Yeah," he sucks in a breath. "I knew they wanted to believe me. But I could just see them…evaluating things…questioning me," he swallows.

"I know," Spencer grabs his hand in hers, squeezing it. She says this because she does know. Her parents have done the same.

He nods. "Yeah, anyway. Jenna was constantly around me… watching me. I know she didn't believe it, but…" he winces. "I almost wish she did. Then maybe she would have just avoided me."

Spencer's frown turns more sour.

"It was okay," he reassures her noticing the slightest change in her expression. "I made it clear to her by then that she had no control over me."

"Just the thought of… being cooped up there with only Jenna as your supporter," Spencer winces, closing her eyes briefly. "Toby, I'm… sorry."

He gulps. "If I believed Emily, that wouldn't be the case," he frowns. "She told me she didn't tell you guys where I was the night I got arrested, but I didn't believe her."

"She didn't tell us where you were," Spencer offers lamely. "If that matters at all now."

"I know. Later I found out it was Jenna," he grits through his teeth. "Something about wanting to keep me close to home."

Spencer shakes her head, "Toby…"

"Spencer, the point is, you coming to my doorstep that day gave me hope," he finally blurts out. "I've never told that because, well, we don't really talk about it, but I finally had someone on my side." He decrees. "Even if you were just an ally, I had you."

She swallows, her mocha eyes gaping slightly. "I—I didn't know that," she stammers out.

"You're how I got through it, Spencer. I had someone on the other side, looking out for me—who believed I was being framed. Then, I was out. Suddenly everything started getting so much better because I had you," he traces her jawline.

She looks down after presenting a somber smile. "I've made your life a lot harder than it should be," she mumbles bitterly.

"That's not true," he quickly reprehends, leaning his forehead against her head. "You are such a huge part of my joy, Spencer," he whispers. "I just want to help give that back."

She looks at him, smiling, but crying too. "You do," she exhales. "You do."

Their lips meet in a tender kiss.

"I will come every single day until this is sorted out," he promises. "That's a promise."

She nods, "good because… I can't do this without you," she confesses.

"You won't have to," he kisses her hairline. "I promise you won't have to."

They both just gaze at each other for a moment.

"Now, what do you say we put some clothes on, and play a game of scrabble? I think your parents wouldn't want to catch me naked in bed with you… Your father seeing me in just a towel was horrible enough. For both of us."

"Yeah, and don't forget about what I was wearing. Your boxers and shirt. I'm sure he still sees that image every time he closes his eyes."

Toby chuckles slightly at this. "Mmm," he hums. "Most likely."

"So, yeah, as much as I would love to stay this way, I think you're right."

He meets her lips for a chaste kiss.

"It's going to be okay," he promises her. "I'm not going to let you do this alone."