So, I spent hours and hours debating on whether to turn this multi-chapter, or keep it as a one-shot—in the end, with the Jaria in me getting the better of me, I decided to turn this multi-chapter, because if Marlene won't let us see them together, I will =) This is about Jason and Aria's relationship between the time jump, and we're erasing the whole Ashley situation from our minds, okay? It never happened because that would make things just weird and awkward and cringey. There's also near to no Ezra-bashing, because I don't want Ezria fans trying to kill me, and also because I'm trying to keep this as canon and realistic as possible.

voids of inevitability

they say it's what you make
i say it's up to fate
it's woven in my soul
i need to let you go
—Imagine Dragons

There is that feeling, when whatever's been crawling under your skin is finally itched away, packed up, gone, and you no longer feel as if you are constantly being suffocated—when you finally feel safe in the world.

It's called freedom.

And it's something Aria Montgomery hasn't felt since her teenage years.

In a few short minutes, she can put the rest of her teenage stupidity away, for in a few short minutes, she will be turning twenty—the good old two zero. Considering the events, she never expected to make it this far, so as milestones went, this was a pretty huge one.

It's been two years—to whole years. Two whole years of no A constantly looming in not just hers but everyone's midst, two whole years free of constant paranoia, and guilt, and blood dripping from her fingertips. Above all—no lying.

Just freedom.

"Sooo… how'd the special birthday girl feeling?"

Aria pointedly rolls her eyes at her roommate, Jasmine, fellow artist slash photographer, ticking the box uber annoying.

"I'm feeling great," Aria deadpans. "And I wouldn't call myself 'special'. And it isn't even my birthday yet."

"Don't be such a killjoy!" exclaims Jasmine, already pumping up huge helium balloons with 20 unmistakably written on them. "The big twenty is a very big deal—you could at least try to act excited, 'Ria."

"I am excited," protests Aria, but Jasmine cuts her off.

"Could've fooled me," Jasmine crosses her arms, eyeing Aria with a look that seemed to singe through her skin—it was something she got used to over time, though. Jasmine Regal was famous for reading you like some book. "You look as excited as a five-year-old being given toenail-flavoured ice-cream."

Aria grimaces. "Image."

At that, the door busts open, and herds of people rush in like some lunatic barbarians, some sporting party hats and bobble hats, some sporting (much to Aria's disgust) absolutely zilch.

This time, Jasmine grimaces. "Image."

Aria's face turns a little pale—she decides that this isn't the way she'd like to celebrate her birthday. And it isn't just because of unwelcomed guests and bad moods. She isn't quite sure she wants to celebrate… at all.

"I'm going for a walk," declares Aria, and she rushes past Jasmine, the teenagers and non-teenagers, making a hasty retreat to the door, ignoring everyone, everything. She runs past the lift, and almost past the stairs, because of her clouded eyes. It's only after she feels a sudden wetness in her cheeks does she realise that she's crying.

She's turning twenty and she's crying.

She's crying.

Why on earth is she crying?

She whips out her phone as she steps down onto the stairs—her eyes search for any messages that could possibly stop her tears from flowing and flowing and flowing for really not much reason at all.

Happy birthday, Aria! Still finding it terribly unfair that you turn twenty before me… You're still tiny though. I'm really missing you, but New York's amazing! You need to come visit sometime. Oh, and Caleb also wishes you a happy birthday! Love you, little midge.
—Hanna

Hey, Ar, happy birthday! I'm really sorry I haven't been able to keep in touch as much as I hoped to, been pretty busy, you see. But anyway, happy twentieth and I love you!
—Em

Aria: My baby is growing up so fast! Happy twentieth, Ar! I miss you so much, and I would have kept in touch more, but I've been working my ass off for the past year. Missing you :)
—Spencer

Seeing her friends' words only make her cry more. Reading them aloud makes her sob. She hears their voices in her head, and it subconsciously brings her back to a time when they were all young and reckless, without a single care in the world… Then suddenly, the scene shifts, and this time brings her back to a time when they were still all young and reckless, but certainly not as innocent. Or honest.

Her phone buzzes again, and not-so-nostalgic feels rattle through her body, her mind, her conscience, her breath shortening, her pace quickening—she feels tightened, and suffocated, and so… scared.

This can't be happening again.

Punk Princess is turning twenty! I wish you the best here from Rosewood, and I really, really miss having you around! Love you, Aria.
—Ali

It's only Ali.

But the word Rosewood triggers little unwanted warnings all over her body, and a split second later, she's on the step, panting heavily, clutching onto herself for dear life. With every might, she grabs onto the banister for some sort of stability, and regains her posture.

She had a panic attack.

She hasn't had one for a while.

Her phone is lying right down at the bottom of the staircase, and she follows down, half-running. As she picks it up, she is surprised to see it is still in perfect condition, without a single crack in sight. But then again, it is too dark, and she can't see properly—the lights are off, and outside, although it is not pitch black, it is dark for a mid-July summer night. Her phone buzzes again, and she reads the message, this time without the panicking, for the pounding of her heart if long gone, and she breathes in the freedom again.

Big sis: Missing you—the house is rather quiet without you. Although I am finally leaving this dump in a few weeks. I don't love you, and I certainly don't miss you—jokes.
—Mike

A small chuckle reaches Aria's face.

In three long strides left, and five more right, she's out of the block of apartments, and once again, she breathes in, and out—freedom.

In the dimmed light, she examines her phone again, and this time she does spot a crack, right through the centre of the screen—she sighs, for iPhones are expensive, and on top if everything, she still has two more years of college to complete. Still sighing, she runs her finger down it for some unknown reason, only to jerk it back at the sudden shot of pain.

Her finger's bleeding.

It is only minutes after her first realisation of her bleeding finger does she then realise that she is in great need of a plaster—the bleeding won't cease, and tears manage to wind their way into her eyes again.

It doesn't even hurt. If she'd survived almost getting thrown of a box on a moving train, or almost been cut into pieces in some saw mill, then she will get through such "pain".

She sees a sign flashing in the far-off distance: Mindy's Hardware Store: Open 24/7.

She can't believe she's doing this. The apartment is only seconds away, whereas Mindy's is a good ten-minute walk.

She's really stupid, although she's figured that out already.

But something—something—is tugging at her sleeve, chanting in her mind, telling her over and over again: Mindy's, Mindy's, Mindy's.

So she goes to this stupid hardware store to buy a stupid plaster to cover up her stupid bleeding finger she cut on her stupid and now cracked phone which she stupidly dropped because of her stupid panic attack which she got from reading stupid messages wishing her a happy birthday because it is her stupid, stupid twentieth.

She can go on forever.

But she doesn't because her friends aren't stupid, and neither are the messages.

She's only got herself to blame—crazily sappily and emotion in all.

She walks into the store post six hundred seconds, the door creaking magnificently. A middle-aged woman wearing a hairdo fashionable for an 80's party stands behind the counter, repeatedly slamming a hammer on a plate. Aria walks swiftly past her, deciding it would be the better and safer option to not disturb her.

Her mind goes walk-abouts as she mindlessly wanders past the shelves of nuts and drills and bolts and screwdrivers and tape and…

And right into a man holding a basket, which Aria also manages to bash into. She doubles over, her eyes scrunching up.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry!" The man drops the basket with a clunk and proceeds to helping her up.

"No! I'm the one who's sorry! It's just… really late—I mean… early, I guess? It's just… I… I'm not exactly myself tonight—I mean, to… this morning?" Aria chuckles nervously, running her hands through her tangled-up hair. "I was rambling, wasn't I?"

The man just chuckles himself. "No, not at all. You know, you remind me of a girl I used to know…" His eyes drop down to meet Aria's and his mouth goes into a large O shape. "A-Aria?"

Aria studies the man's eyes, not quite hearing him. His eyes—they are just so… beautiful, voids of green and blue and brown and everything perfect in the world. He looks familiar, very familiar. She is certain that she's come across a man with eyes as green and as beautiful and as perfect. Realisation slowly gets to her as she savours each and every little detail of his attractive face. His eyes, as she had seen before, the same dazzling emerald. His hair, those dirty-blonde locks gently flopping over his face—could he get any more adorable? And those lips—those very kissable, tempting lips.

"Aria?"

The voice brings her out from her thoughts. That voice. That voice.

Realisation finally hits her. The man currently standing directly in front of her in a dodgy hardware store on an abandoned high street in Savannah is none other than Jason DiLaurentis.

Jason freaking DiLaurentis.

"Wow," she starts. "I mean, wow, you're here. Like, here. At one. In Mindy's. In Savannah. In Georgia. I… Hello, Jason."

A smile lifts Jason's lips. "Definitely like a girl I used to know," he pauses. "And hello to you, too, Aria. Hey… isn't today…" His voice trails off as his eyes wander over to the calendar: Buy Seventy Tools For An Exclusive Mindy Calendar! His eyes stop at the date—22nd July

Their eyes briefly meet, and Jason smiles warmly. "Happy birthday."

Aria's eyes widen. "You… remembered that it was my birthday. How did you remember?"

"Should I be offended?" Jason cheekily waggles his eyebrows at her.

"I… No! I just… I just…"

"I await the great ramble…" Jason stops himself short when Aria hits his shoulder playfully. "Ooh, a violent lady." He stares down at the droplets of blood left on his shirt, and alarmingly looks back at Aria. "With a bleeding finger! Hey, is your finger alright? What happened? How did you get hurt?"

"It's fine," Aria waves the thought off, only focusing more on Jason. "So, what are you doing in these lowly lands?"

"Well…" Jason sighs, and he looks around, as if to search for an answer to appear in thin air. "Not much. My tyre got a puncture, and I couldn't see a gas station, so I stopped here. I've had my experience and all, so I thought, eh, why not?"

Aria nods, but she is unsure if she should believe him or not. He doesn't seem at all convincing—he doesn't even seem sure of himself.

"Well, whatever you say," Aria laughs, before looking around the store again. "Um, will you help me look for that plaster? My finger hasn't stopped bleeding for, like… um… the last twenty minutes or so?"

"Ouch," Jason says, and brings her finger gently up to his face. "Aria, what on earth did you do to yourself? And why the hell are you out this late… early… on your birthday, anyway? I mean, I don't know if there's some night club out here, I guess you know the place better than I do, but still!" Concern finally fills his face—she had wondered when the Jason she knew would come around. Possessive and paranoid when he needed to be, although mostly he didn't have that "you're my little sister" aura around him.

"Jason," Aria says in a firm but kind voice. "I am fine, okay? And I'm just taking a little break. A bunch of party poopers and naked guys prancing around in my flat doesn't… well, it doesn't exactly appeal to me."

Jason raises his eyebrows, concern still evident. "Did any of them force—"

"No!" Aria exclaims, wrinkling her noise at even the thought. "Goodness, no! They're just a bunch of hippie artists who believe going in the nude is the trend—yeah, don't ask. They are nice people; they really are—just… strange."

"Interesting," Jason nods in a matter that doesn't seem like he is interested at all. He picks his basket up. "Hey, let's find you that plaster—I refuse to stand here as you insidiously lose the blood that keeps you alive."

"Jason, all blood in your body keeps you alive."

"Metaphorically speaking."

"But there is no metaphor. It's just… life."

They laugh. Despite being absolutely freezing at one in the morning, with one of them bleeding profoundly, and the other being Handy Manny, their banter is unusually high.

But then again, it isn't really unusual—Jason always had a way to make her laugh, and vice versa, even before the whole Ali and A fiasco. He'd be drunk or high off his ass, or even both, but still he's manage to wheel a joke or two in somewhere between his slurred words and drunken haze. And sweet little innocent Aria, with her spunkiness, would make him chuckle once or twice. He'd twirl a finger around her single pink lock, and she's tick her tongue out at him whilst enjoying such movement.

Of course, once upon a time.

As if on cue, his hand reaches out and he twirls his fingers around a small light brown ombred lock, where the pink once proudly stood. He's twirled it so many times before, he's memorized the exact spot.

"You dyed your hair," Jason points out. "I just realised. It suits you."

"Thank you," Aria smiles again (what was it about him?) and they carry on through the aisles. "And I see you have grown your hair out a bit—it suits you." And it makes you look sexier. As well as making you the spitting image of your eighteen-year-old self. Also remarkably sexy.

"Thank you," Jason smiles back. "But seriously, we're old friends, must we be so polite?"

"Etiquette is the key to being a lady."

"Ah, of course, Princess Aria," Jason grins, sarcasm dripping through his words as he raises his eyebrows at her amusedly. "Your Majesty, I am so terribly sorry."

"I'm not a queen, I'm, as you said, Princess Aria."

Jason laughs. "Okay, so what am I?"

"You'd do well as a jester, don't you think?" Aria grins wickedly.

"Oh, aren't you a funny little one," Jason laughs again, and both their eyes catch onto a box of (hopefully) not dodgy plasters. He brings them down from the high shelf. "Snoopy, huh."

"Huh," Aria mumbled absentmindedly. A million and one questions circle around her head, and she realises something—"So, why exactly are you here?"

Jason opens his mouth but does not say anything. "I… I… It's not really that important, Aria. Anyway, I could ask you the same thing."

"I live here," Aria says matter-of-factly, but she knows that he knows this. "Art. I study art, The Savannah College of Art, to be exact. "

"You always had a thing for art—I'm not at all surprised," he suppresses a laugh, but seems nervous. "Anyway, I'll pay for the plasters." He takes the box from Aria's hand even before she can consider saying a "thank you", for seconds later, a box and a receipt is back in her grasp.

"I… thanks, you didn't have to," Aria says, not getting a word in edgeways. "But stop avoiding my question. I'd quite like an answer, please, and twenty-seven cents isn't going to stop me from getting one."

"Take heed," Jason says. "I don't want you hurting yourself again."

"Jason," Aria repeats in all seriousness.

"Hullo, Aria," Jason says brightly, before finally giving up as her stare stays withholding. "Okay, okay… I… Aria…" he stops. "Let's settle on this—you ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies."

"You are hopeless sometimes," Disbelievingly, she shakes her head, but knows better not to pop his bubble right here, right now. "I will wheel it out someday, just you wait and see."

"You sound like my moth…" he stops himself before he can steer himself off the cliff. "Anyway, let me walk you out, as after all, it is proper etiquette."

At the end of the road, Aria looks up into Jason's swirling green pools of emotions once more.

"Are you going to return to your birthday bash?" he asks, gesturing to the block of flats not far off.

"I don't know…" admits Aria. "I just… I just wanted some space. Away from it all, you know?"

He nods understandingly, almost sympathisingly, and places a reassuring hand on her shoulder—something about that brings back memories. And at that single touch, she really does feel reassured, even with no words, she knows she's safe with Jason.

"I understand," Jason finally says, and he takes his hand off.

Aria sighs as a coldness overwhelms her, and that is when she notices something. She notices his smile falter, his fingers twitch, she notices his uneasiness because it is written all over his face. And his eyes… she sees something that she hasn't seen before in a very long time. And she knows that he's still damaged, still broken, still hurt. But after everything—after everything —how can one not be?

She's just glad they all made it through.

Reviews please! I'd love to know if you think I should continue or not :P