A/N: So...is everyone alive? Is everyone okay? No? Good. Never eat key lime pie again.

This two-shot was conceived when I was sitting in bed late at night after the PLL 100th and I just reallywanted to write for last week's episode and the 100th, even if it was just a drabble, because I just thought the sexual tension between Aria and Ezra was great and it was even greater that they were slowly building up their relationship but then BAM sexual tension can only build for so long and that became the most surprising scene to ever appear on ABC Family television. So I'm here to illustrate it all.

The first part of this starts off with a different Ezria plot than 5x04, and that is if Aria really did stay at Ezra's instead of scaring herself off. Though a lot of people were upset by that, I was fine with it because I can only imagine how confused Aria is on what the heck she's supposed to think and feel about Ezra. That's a main part of this two-shot: mostly Aria's, but also Ezra's, emotions in the past two episodes. And, you know, what could have happened in 5x04 if she had stayed.

Part two will be posted as soon as I have it finished, which should be tomorrow. Hint hint: Let's just say there's some post naughty scene stuff going on, and the morning after.

I hope you enjoy! And take a deep breath, Ezria shippers, because I know you're all still in cardiac arrest.

Every Breath You Take

Part 1

Summary: What if Aria had stayed over at Ezra's in 5x04?

"Actually, would you mind if I stayed here?"

The question had spurted out of Aria's mouth so fast, she'd been unable to swallow it back. Instead her voice had permeated the air around them, and a shocked Ezra glanced up at her, unsure whether he had been hearing things correctly or not.

"On the couch," Aria had elaborated. And that's where she was now.

On the leathery cushions she laid on her back, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, her fingers toying with the hem of the battered Hollis shirt that was her favorite from Ezra's collection. The yellow tee only came up to her mid-thighs, but she had stolen a pair of shorts she had unsurprisingly left here when Ezra was in the shower, though typically before she wouldn't have worn shorts underneath.

But this wasn't before anymore. This was now, and before had been destroyed.

Inhaling quietly, Aria shifted her head to the left and stared at the TV, the screen an inky black. The moonlight streaming through the balcony windows slightly illuminated the entire room with a beautiful, pale light, and Aria twisted her head and was able to see the moon peeking out from a gray cloud.

The breath hitched in her throat. The sound of sheets rustling picked up on her ears, and her lungs halted. Ezra had been shifting around all night, and Aria wasn't sure if he was sleeping or not. She sure as heck wasn't. The tension between them was so thick and compacted it would take a diamond to cut through it.

Meanwhile, Ezra was definitely awake. The medicine had made him drowsy, but for some reason he had perked right up again. He stared up at his ceiling, his finger running over the jagged wound that still stung a bit when he touched it. The surgeon had told him he would always have some shattered bullet debris imbedded in his flesh, something they couldn't remove safely, and because of that the pain would take longer to fade.

Aria wasn't sure what she was thinking, but her lips parted and her voice echoed in the dim room. "Ezra?"

As soon as he heard Aria say his name, Ezra's body stiffened. He disliked the awkward relationship they had going on, yet he felt lucky he was seeing Aria at all. He would understand if she never wanted to speak to or see him again. Yet she was back in his life, the life he had almost given up on after slipping into a comatose state. While he had fallen unconscious, he didn't see much, but when he did he saw her and her friends. She had trusted him; they had all trusted him. He had told himself he would find A so that they could go on with their lives. Instead he'd almost ended up dead, and he assumed that was why Aria was hanging around despite the wall she had put up between them since their relationship, the one they had fought so hard for, had exploded—because the shooting had shaken her and she'd realized she hadn't meant it when she'd said she never wanted to see him again.

There was only silence in the room, and Aria gave up, certain Ezra was asleep as the seconds ticked on. But then he spoke, and her heart skipped a beat. "Yes?"

Gulping, Aria picked up the blanket she had thrown on the ground next to the couch and bundled it up in her hands, trying to distract her conflicted mind. "Are you…," she trailed off, uncertain whether to ask what she wanted to. "Are you sure Shana was A?"

In all honesty, Ezra wanted to say no, but he also wanted to protect her. She already felt horrible; why did he have to add on another layer that said she had killed someone who wasn't the master of it all? However, he decided not to directly answer the question. "Nothing's happened since New York."

"Yeah," Aria whispered, feeling only slightly better. "Unless that's A's master plan."

Ezra didn't know what to say, so instead he said nothing. After a minute of utter silence, Aria said, "Goodnight, Ezra." But sleep Ezra did not.

Eventually Aria's eyelids grew heavy and she shut them. In front of her eyes was Shana, pointing the gun at her friends as the theater surrounding them poked out from the darkness. Aria's hands shook as she approached the scene, her left eye twitching while she picked up the gun. No one tries to kill my friends, she thought as the fire roiled in her stomach. And no one is allowed to hurt him. Her jaw clenched, her hands firmly held the gun, and it happened so fast. Shana whipped around, cocked the gun at her, but an instinctual feeling took over Aria and she jerked the prop up. The bullet that was meant for her bashed the light, and Aria just…shoved. There was the echo of bone snapping, louder than it should be, and the sound almost ruptured her ears. Trembling, Aria looked at her friends with wide eyes, at their pale, horrified faces. Alison went whiter than the rest of them. "Oh my God," she uttered, and Aria's vision blurred. She shut her eyes and dropped the gun, tears overflowing down her cheeks. The faint coppery smell of blood built up until it was an unbearable, pungent odor, and when she finally opened her eyes, her friends were gone, Shana's body was bent and twisted on the ground in front of her, the police were running towards her, and her hands and clothes were covered in Shana's blood.

Aria woke up with a start and sat up hastily, a bead of sweat forming at her hairline. She tried to breathe but found it nearly impossible, and her eyes watered in fear as she attempted to get control of her lungs. It was like someone was choking her, some supernatural being she couldn't control. Now, Aria didn't believe in ghosts, but she wouldn't be surprised if Shana's came and strangled her in her sleep. Aria covered her eyes with her hands and tried to calm down. I'm sorry, her dream-self echoed in her head. It was a mistake. I didn't mean to kill you. I'm sorry.

It was like something had pumped air into Aria's lungs, because she found herself able to breathe normally again. Her heart was ready to jump out of her chest, and she didn't want to remove her hands in fear that they'd be covered in Shana's blood just like in her dream—or that Shana's ghost was standing over her with crazy eyes, ready to finish her off.

A minute passed and Aria was able to convince herself that her fingers wouldn't be dripping in red fluid and that everything was a part of her overactive imagination. Shakily she ran her hands down her face, her eyes peeking out into the darkness. As her pupils adjusted to the lack of light, she moved her hands to her chest and placed them over her palpitating heart. When was this going to blow over, if ever?

Again she found herself needing to repeat herself like she had been lately with the Shana thing. "It's all my fault," "It was an accident," "I should be the one who's sorry," she wanted to reiterate it all. It was becoming a habit in order to bring herself some comfort and peace of mind, but the only time she hadn't been restless about it was last night when Ezra distracted her with board and card games.

Ezra. His method seemed to be working. Looking over her shoulder, Aria glanced at the bed, Ezra's supposedly peacefully sleeping frame covered by the covers. Gulping, she stared at him for a long time, just thinking. Thinking about how patient he's been with her about Shana, how much he was willing and wanted to help her, how much she missed him. It was enough to drive her crazy and…forgive him.

She wanted to forgive him, but that stubborn part of her that latched on to her past told her that she still couldn't trust him. How was one supposed to feel when someone they'd trusted for over a year had kept secrets for so long? How was Aria supposed to handle the fact that what she had believed to be fate was just a writer's intuition to collect inside information? Even if he had been a bit helpful with the A thing, becoming obsessed with stalking down the killer, how could she forget that he'd originally wanted to use that information to make millions and end up on the New York Times list?

But since she had seen that wound in his side, had hardly been able to see through her tears, had felt the blood ooze through her fingers as she desperately tried to make it stop bleeding, had almost thrown herself over him uttering "I'm sorry" over and over but had instead given up the fight and fallen into Spencer's comforting arms, broken and shaken as they drove him away, his fate unknown, she was conflicted over how she was supposed to feel about him. She was still so angry, so unforgiving, yet a part of her would always belong to Ezra, like all soulmates, and maybe that part was more powerful than she'd originally thought. Maybe current sacrifices and truths did trump the dirty past lies.

Biting her lip, she scooted off the couch quietly and padded over to the bed. She was about ready to turn around, pounce on the couch, and bury herself under the blanket in embarrassment. But she managed to push through that barrier and daringly sat down next to him, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder—

"Aria?" Ezra mumbled while groggily opening his eyes. Aria's hand jerked back and her skin paled, glowing from the moonlight. Though Ezra had been pretending to sleep, Aria didn't know that, and he continued his charade to avoid an awkward conversation. "Why are you up?"

"I can't sleep," Aria whispered, then, more hesitantly, "I…I need to talk."

Ezra sat up and rubbed his eyes, though they were wide awake. "Sure, of course."

Aria felt like she couldn't breathe, otherwise the room would collapse or something equally horrible would happen. She tugged gently at the covers. "Can I…?"

Ezra scooted over to the left and made room for her, and she snuggled comfortably into the covers, the corners of her lips turning up in a short bit of happiness. But then she snapped out of it and remembered her nightmare. "I had a dream about Shana."

From Ezra's angle the profile of Aria's face was lit up so that it appeared that she was glowing, like an angel. He wished he could take a picture of it if she didn't look so unhappy and haunted—and if they were still together, which they weren't. "What happened in this dream?"

Aria shook her head. "It…it was just a repeat of what happened, only with more blood and…sound." The deafening snap of the bone cracking echoed in her ears, and she closed her eyes in disgust that she had been the one to push Shana off that stage and into the orchestra pit. So she had been the one to break her bones.

No, Aria scolded herself. If her "therapy" sessions with Ezra had taught her anything, it was that she had to stop blaming herself for every single last thing. She hadn't been the one to break Shana's bones; the fall had. The fall…which she had caused. Aria swore under her breath, loathing the vicious cycle and wishing she could conjure Emily because Emily, unlike Aria, had actually forgiven herself.

Then Aria was reminded of what Ezra had said: "You're just going to have to find some way to forgive yourself." He had backed up his advice with "And that's not something that's going to come easily or come overnight. But we'll get there." Aria had looked away at his slip-up. "You will get there," he corrected himself in a lowered voice, glancing at the floor like the both of them have been lately to avoid their tension-filled stares.

Now Aria turned to Ezra and asked, "Can I just explain what happened again?"

Ezra looked into her hazel eyes, glowing a murky brown in the dimness. He nodded his head encouragingly.

Clearing her throat, Aria turned back to her legs, which were the short lumps under the covers. "I was just trying to throw her off the edge to knock her out, but the way she fell... I guess her neck just hit the music stand and snapped, and..." She trailed off and shivered from the memory. "I shouldn't feel bad for an accident in self-defense, right? But I do. We could have gotten her help. She could have gotten better. She could have gone on and done something with her life. And for me to take that away from her, even though she was being psychotic and threatening…" Aria looked up at Ezra with her huge, round eyes ready to spill tears. When one escaped and trickled down her cheek, Ezra instinctually brushed it away with his thumb, forgetting—in the moment—that they weren't together anymore. She didn't jerk away from him, she didn't tell him to stop; it had been a simple, natural, caring gesture on his part. Besides, even if he did apologize for that swift action, he wouldn't genuinely be sorry. So instead they slipped into their awkward staring-off-into-space expressions until the moment passed.

Sniffling, Aria no longer had the urge to talk like before, her head too airy from that touch. She guessed even through grudges and conflicted thoughts a touch still had the same effect from the same person, no matter what she felt towards them.

Aria pushed aside her racing, heightened mind and glanced at Ezra, who was still staring at the sheets in front of him. "Can I stay here, with you, tonight?" she whispered. "I don't want to sleep alone, and…" She paused, reluctant whether to finish her sentence, but she did anyway. "You're the only friend I have right now."

You're the only friend I have right now. Her words repeated in Ezra's mind like a broken record. Friend. The word created a warm, intoxicating sensation, and Ezra smiled softly. As Aria curled up next to him, her head relaxing on his chest, Ezra kept thinking about how they weren't strangers. He wasn't her therapist and she his patient. They were friends, close friends, platonic friends.

And after everything that'd happened, after he was certain the shrapnel was too broken and scattered to even attempt piecing back together, Ezra was more than happy with that.

…

The next week, Aria was up late pondering her sleepover at Ezra's, aching—or was it more lusting?—for that comfort he was providing. She wanted, needed, more of it. She was still so terrified that she had ran from a murder scene, one that had been an accident out of self-defense but still a crime, and that she would be outed and handcuffed any minute. She would be charged with murder and her friends as accomplices in murder. Yet, the sensible part of her held her back, berating her for involving herself in a relationship that had been built on a lie. So what if it was a lie? the romantic part of Aria contradicted. You still love him.

Screw your first love, the reasonable side scoffed.

He isn't a bad guy, fought the romantic side.

It's toxic.

Think about it, he's left you alone, not even reaching out to you, only interacting with you because you reached out to him. He hasn't been begging for forgiveness…

He lied for a long time. He's kept so many secrets.

He hasn't pushed you once since you found out. He would have left Rosewood if Shana hadn't gotten in the way, just like you asked him to.

I can't deal with this right now, Aria thought to herself as she shook her head of its arguments. She picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts, wondering who to call. Spencer was busy with recent family issues, and though she was Aria's best friend, Aria couldn't burden Spencer with her persisting Shana problems anymore. Next Aria thought of Emily, but Alison's return was really shaking her up and confusing her, and the last thing Aria wanted to do was remind Emily of Nate…again. She could go to Hanna and Alison, but to Aria, they didn't seem as understanding as Spencer or Emily. So of course Aria was longing for the comfort only Ezra had seemed to provide, his words actually trying to rip apart the demon that had lodged inside Aria instead of just trying to convince her that she had killed A and that A was gone, so the case was closed and she didn't have to worry. He genuinely wanted to aid her in diminishing her guilt and worry.

"Hey, Ezra," Aria said as soon as he picked up, saying her name a bit skeptically. "I want to see you. Can we go on a walk?"