A/N: Somewhere between JT's death and when Liberty and Toby start dating. Please note, I sort of made up his back story. In one of the earlier seasons, I'm pretty sure the first, his mom is mentioned, but we know he lives with his grandmother. So I figured this is what could have happened, and maybe his dad died when he was younger or something.

"Toby, are you sure about this?"

He looked at her, hairy fingers pushing his glasses up his nose. "Yeah." He heaved a deep sigh. "I'm sure." His pace quickened; he was walking ahead of her now.

Liberty did her best to keep up, but she was getting cold and it made running harder. Why did he have to pick the windiest day of the year to do this? Even as her chest ached, her eyes focusing on the cement so they wouldn't see what was ahead, she knew that he wasn't trying to hurt her. He wasn't doing this resurface her pain, he was only trying to quell his own. And she understood it, she did. Despite it all, he was her friend and she knew he couldn't do this without her.

"Toby." He stopped. "Wait." He turned, and she moved her hand as if to touch his shoulder, but then dropped it. Ever since that kiss between them, things had been awkward physically. They could talk almost as easily as they once had – as long as the subjects stayed light – but they could barely do anything.

"Are you coming?" he asked her, touching a hand to the gate. Their bespectacled eyes stayed locked, equally challenging one another. Not to be stupid, not to be impulsive.

She nodded, just a tiny bit. "Yeah."

Together, they turned the extra 180 and faced the cemetery. JT's grave was in the back, but they both knew the way by heart. One time. One time visiting, that was all it took. They'd memorized it.

"Here," Toby said. He wasn't really talking about anything; he'd just wanted to make sure his voice still worked. Liberty gave another nod.

"Oh my god…." He saw the woman before she did, and Liberty glanced at him with confusion.

"What? What is it?"

"Look."

He held up a hand to stop her from walking any further, and she stared where he was pointing. "Who – who is that?" But a part of her, even the part that had never met the woman, knew exactly who she was.

"JT's mom," Toby said. He said it with so much venom, it was hard to believe he was the mild, nerdy boy who Liberty was sure could never hurt a fly. "I hate her."

Liberty's eyes flickered towards him, almost scared by his vehemence. He was staring at the woman with absolute loathing.

"Hey," he said, loudly enough for the woman to hear her. He was glaring at her, striding forward.

"Toby…" Liberty said, cautioning him. But the woman looked up, startled. She gave a little gasp, and Liberty saw the tears clumsily falling down her cheeks Obviously, she had come here to mourn.

"Mrs. Yorke?" He still looked furious, so distorted from the Toby that Liberty usually saw, but he had stopped walking. "What are you doing here?" A trickle of spittle flew from his mouth, moistening his shirt.

There was a moment, and then the woman's eyes widened. "Toby." She remembered him. "My son…" she retorted, but her anger was dulled by the breaking in her voice.

"Toby, maybe we should go. Come back later." Liberty kept her eyes right on him, refusing to look at the headstone or at the woman.

Toby stayed where he was, his breath coming in shallow gulps. "No." He lowered his voice, talking right in Liberty's ear. "She used to scare the crap out of JT. Me too." He paused, inhaling as steadily as he could. "She wasn't – she wasn't bad or anything, but she made him… use humor the way he did. He had to." Another pause. "Then she left him with his grandma."

Liberty stopped, thinking. She knew most of that. JT had told her, when he was in one of his more serious moods. But she'd never known the connection between the leaving and beforehand, and she somehow guessed that Toby didn't either.

"Toby…" she said again, but he walked past her.

He was shaking, convulsing. He looked more furious than she'd ever thought he could be. His eyes weren't blank they way they'd been for so long; they looked alive, and very bright.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, each word biting. "You – you didn't care about him." Suddenly, his words sounded more pained than angry.

"Of course I did." She had the same crooked frame as her deceased son, but the resemblance wasn't automatic. It didn't hurt to look at her, in other words. "Of course I did," she repeated. "You – you don't know how much it hurts to learn – to learn about your son's death…" She broke off, head going to her trembling hands. The words "three weeks later" were muffled.

Liberty was torn. She was not the comforting type. She did not know this woman, and the concept of her being JT's mother felt unreal. Toby looked as if he were unspooling as well, but Liberty didn't know how to help him.

"My mother," she gasped, "My mother did a better job with him than I ever good have."

At this, this direct allusion to his friend, Toby nearly softened. He sagged, the fight leaving his stout form. "He was a great friend," he said quietly.

JT's mother rose, sniffling. "I'll leave you two alone." She looked at them once, twice, and then hurried away. From the back, she looked less like her son than ever. At least, to Liberty. She could barely fathom the fact that they were related at all. But she knew it was different for Toby, and she watched helplessly as he shrunk to the ground.

"Toby," she whispered.

Tears were on his cheeks now, freezing in the icy weather. He was shaking worse than ever.

She sat beside him, timid and silent. Then, she did the most affectionate thing she could think of. She removed his glasses, brushing a tear or two as she took them from his face.

"It's okay," she said, her own voice wobbling. But she had grieved already, and now she felt her chest as numb as ice. It was his turn. Her arms went out, the way JT's had to her sometimes. To both of them.

"Liberty," he began, shaking his head. He couldn't get out the rest, and he gave into her embrace.

Maybe JT wasn't here. Maybe his mother was a bitch who'd never appreciated him. But they had, and that's what counted. And as he cried himself to pieces, Liberty's arms anchoring him to the earth, he couldn't help but think how screwed up the world most be. Especially for him. For them. Though in the snow, pressed together for comfort, he also felt a little bit grateful. At least they still had each other.

A/N: It's not really intended TobyLiberty, more just friendship. But you're free to look at it that way if you so choose. Reviews are much appreciated.