The mindless hum of the elevator and the consistent breath of it's other occupier were all Toby Cavanaugh tried to focus on. It wasn't working. All he could hear was his heart pounding in his ears.

The lift stopped on the third level and the business attire occupant exited to join the rest of those at Wilmer and Sons Paper Company, rushing from place to place.

The doors shut and Toby was utterly alone.

He glanced to his side, Spencer was suppose to be there. They had made plans to meet outside of the office building at 2. When Spencer would be finished with school and Toby was on his lunch break. But as time ticked by and 2 turned to 2:30, Toby decided he had to move now before his limited time was up. Besides, he had said he would arrive before the end of the day when he had called a few days prior.

He nervously wrung his hands. This was unlike Spencer to be late like this. Not when they had made plans to meet there. Not when she know how important it was to him.

That was an additive to his already unnerved stomach. As the time flew by Toby became more panicked. Knots formed in his stomach, something felt wrong, and with a girlfriend like Spencer, more things were likely to go wrong than for most. How many times had the girl almost died again?

He kicked himself for thinking such a thing and instinctively grabbed his truck keys. The meeting would have to wait. Meetings could be rescheduled, emergencies could not.

He was about to start the ignition to his old pick-up when his phone buzzed. His heart leapt, hoping it was a response to his many frantic messages, the latest being I'm coming to get you.

I'm so sorry. Go up without me. I'll explain later. -Spence

He took a deep breathe, but his guard wasn't quite down yet, this could easily be a fake text, done by a certain one letter alias. But something about it was telling him it wasn't.

He sighed. The text was very general and very un-descriptive for her not having shown up and only just sending him a text half an hour later. I'll explain later. it said. He trusted her and he knew she would, he know she wouldn't have ditched him unless it was something that demanded her immediate attention. Especially not with something like this. But just because he understood didn't mean he wasn't the least bit upset about it.

There was a moment where he almost considered going to her anyway. If it was that important, he wanted to be there for her. But the generality of the text made him hesitate, perhaps she wasn't in the position to text. Those were carefully chosen words, picked on limited time. Go in without me and although he rather wouldn't have, he knew he must. He knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep at night unless he did. And she must have known that too.

So he rode the elevator up to the seventh floor of the building off the Philly interstate parkway. 387 West Elm street. Clutching an old Manila folder in his hands so he might just be able to get some sleep that night.

The lift stopped yet again, but the level read six, another occupant got on and Toby glanced at his watch. He only had another 20 minutes for his lunch break and he wasn't sure if that was enough time to get all the answers he needed.

Finally the elevator opened onto the sevenths floor and Toby stepped out, waiting to hear the lift doors close behind him. He stepped forward and was greeted by a tall oversized desk with a small petite women standing behind it, scribbling things on a large stack of notepads. Addison's Therapy Office the sign read behind her.

The women glanced up at Toby, looked back down to finish whatever she was scribbling and returned her gaze upward with a warm, standing-on-glass smile. It was almost as though she could feel Toby's anxiousness. "Can I help you with something?"

Toby cleared his throat. "I'm looking for Dr. Palmer, my names Toby Cavanaugh. He told me I could come in and see him."

"Do you have an appointment?" The receptionist asked.

"Um - no I'm not coming in to - I just needed to see - to discuss -" see this is why Spencer was suppose to come with him.

But the women just smiled sympathetically. "I'll phone into his office."

As the women dialed numbers Toby took in more of his surroundings. The walls there painted a soothing light blue and there was nature music - waterfalls, bird chirping, etc. - being played over the loudspeaker. To his left and to his right there were long hallways filled with two of three rooms on each side until the walls turned a corner. Breaking into two more hallways.

"He'll be right out, he has a patient right now, you can sit and wait if you please." She lifted her arm towards an area behind him, he turned his head to find a large white sofa and floral patterned chairs surrounding a wooden oak table with hairpin legs.

"Thank you" Toby sputtered, still not over his meaningless babble from before.

He was about to sit on the sofa when he looked down at his clothes. He still had dirt and sawdust all over himself from work, it seems he was too preoccupied in the parking lot to dust himself off. And the cleanliness of the office told him it wouldn't be appropriate if he did so now. Just as well, he was too frazzled to sit anyway. He proceeded to pace back an forth in the waiting room like he was waiting for a loved one to get out of surgery. This awarded him many cautious glances from the receptionist.

It seemed he was too focused on being nervous he hadn't noticed the two people that had entered the lobby. One older man made a b-line for the elevator while another talked to the women at the desk. Toby froze and stared at the pair, but tried to look nonchalant when the women nodded towards him. The bespectacled, graying man was in front of him only a moment later.

"Toby Cavanaugh? I'm Dr. Palmer." He held out his hand for Toby to shake, and he did. "Would you like to come into my office?"

"Um, sure" he replied, tightly holding the folder in his hand before following the man to the left and through a door at the end of the hall.

The room was large and comforting, exactly what you'd want your therapists office to be like. Toby still remembered the number of therapists offices he'd been in over the years. Between the ones he'd seen while his mom was in Radley and the ones he'd seen after her death, to the ones he'd seen in Juevie and the ones he'd seen in reform school, Toby had seen more comfortable sofas and doctors with clip board than he would have liked. He use to find the sessions helpful, a place where he could talk about his feelings over his mothers condition and have someone tell him 'it's not your fault' but later he found them turn into a place of judgement, 'why did you feel you needed to harm your sister' 'how long have you been having these sycophantic thoughts?'. It torn at him; each session he wanted to come clean more and more, but he kept hearing Alison's voice in his head, "I'll tell everyone you've been doing it with your sister!". And who would believe him anyway? Toby who blinded his sister, Toby, with the mentally unstable mother, Toby the suspected murderer…

"Toby?"

Toby left his thoughts, "Yes? Sorry."

"That's quite alright" there was an awkward beat, "Would you like to sit?" he said, motioning to a chair.

The sight of the fluffy chair made him sick but he figured the conversation would be hard enough without having to worry about standing up on his own two feet. He took the offer and took the seat directly across from him. If he pulls out a clip board I swear he thought.

The doctor opened his mouth slightly, hesitated, then closed it, as though thinking better of speaking. Toby looked at him earnestly.

"I can see a lot of your mother in you - the eyes particularly."

"So you remember her?"

"Yes… slightly, it's been a few years -"

"Six"

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. "Yes well…" He regained his composure "What was it exactly you wanted to see me for? You had said on the phone about some papers -"

"I found these," Toby said, suddenly growing more confident, placing the file he held onto the table between the two chairs, "they're from the day my mother - when she killed herself".

Toby opened the file to a particular page, then spun it around to face . "It said that you talked to her - that you talked to her only a few hours before she did it."

Dr. Palmer perched his glasses atop his head and examines the page.

He coughed "Yes, I spoke to her before going home for the day." He flipped the page over and examines it lightly, "I don't understand what you want from me here, you have my entire report, I don't know what extra information you think I can supply -"

"I just want to know why my mother would say what she said to you - why she would say she wants to go home and 'plan for the future' and then jump out a window a few hours later." He demanded.

"I'll admit, I was - I was surprised. Her pleas to make up for lost time - to be back with you - all seemed very genuine." He hesitated, "She really did love you, that was never a question while I saw her, she would talk about you, a lot."

Toby's rebuttal caught in his throat. "Do you have - do you have any of the transcripts from any of your other sessions with her?"

"Yes, I keep a record of all my sessions with all my patients." He got up from his seat and moved over towards the filing cabinets in the back of his room. "Hers' may not be here though, I moved a lot of my former patients papers when I changed offices -"

Tobys nerves jolted, "Where do you keep them?"

"Oh we have a storage block in town" he replied, still rummaging through the cabinet. "Ah - yes that's where it must be. If you'd like I could call you when I get over there and find them. I will need some further identification before I can release them too you though…. how did you get to those anyway?" He said, motioning towards the stack of papers on the table.

Toby gulped, god he hated lying to people. "They were released to my father, after her death."

"Ah, yes I must have had to leave them for the coroner." The nonchalant way in which he said that made it seem as though he forgot who he was talking to. When he came to, he apologized. "I'm sorry I -" he sat back down in his chair across from Toby, brow furrowed. "I realize how hard this all must have been for you, going through something like this. One never really get's over loosing their mother, especially not in such a way -"

"Thank you ," Toby was really not in the mood for someone to needle and pick at his 'feelings'. He came here for answers, not for a phyc evaluation. With great relief he stood up out of the death chair. "but I really need to get back to work, my lunch break's nearly over." At least that wasn't a lie. "Thank you for taking the time to talk to me and I'd really appreciate if you would call me once you find that file."

stood up quickly, surprised at the sudden shift in Toby's behavior. "Sure - yes - I'll call the number you left with us."

"That's fine, thank you" Toby quickly closed the file on the table and set his sights on the exit. He was nearly there when he heard a voice behind him.

"Toby," he said gently, like Toby was a delicate flower, an inch away from breaking. God he hated being talked to like that. That's how people use to talk to his mother. "If you'd ever like to talk about it you could schedule -"

"I'm sorry Dr. Palmer, really, I'm going to be late if I don't leave now."

The doctor closed his mouth in defeat, and nodded his head understandingly as though he deals with this kind of suppressed emotion all the time.

Toby didn't know how he got down to the parking lot so fast but he was beyond glad. He quickly shoved his folder into his glove compartment, started the engine of his truck and got on the highway before he had time to reassess his little meeting.


There may not be much Spencer/Toby action in this chapter but I promise there is more to come! This story isn't just a fluff filled mess, it really focused on the problems that both Spencer and Toby are facing this season. BUT that's not to say you wont get a fair amount of awwww moments too!