Author's Note: So this is a new story because I'm horrible and couldn't update the stories I already have started. I will try to update Once Upon a Time, but no promises, sorry. This takes place after the season 4 finale, please give me feedback!
*Spencer POV*
It's 4:30 am in the hospital waiting room. Aria is sitting on a hard plastic chair, Emily to her left and Hanna to her right. She has her head buried into the blonde's shoulder, a death grip on the hand of the dark-haired girl to her left. The petite girl had quieted her sobs enough to be let into the hospital's purgatory, but I could tell she needed an outlet or she might break down again.
Aria's shoulders started to shake harder, and Hanna gave me a pleading look. I didn't know how to help my despondent friend, because I'd been in her situation and I handled it so brilliantly that I ended up in an insane asylum. All I knew was she needed a way to get her emotions out. I also knew she wouldn't leave this room until she heard news about the love of her life we call Mr. Fitz. Suddenly I had an idea. I signaled to Hanna to wait a second, then turned on my heel and strode toward the tired-looking secretary. I peered at the cluttered shelves behind her. Boxes labeled "Sign In" and "Storage", rolls of stickers, stacks of pristine towels and blankets, and a clear bin filled with composition books. Bingo.
"Can I help you?" The secretary asked irritably, pushing up her glasses as she looked up at Spencer.
"Can I please have one of those notebooks and a pen?" I requested, giving the woman a sweet smile.
"Why would you need that?"
"Look, my friend is going to have a mental breakdown if she doesn't have a way to get her emotions out."
"What does that have to do with my notebooks?"
"She's a writer. And the love of her life might be dead, so if you could please just give. me. the. book."
The woman rolled her chair backwards, swiveled around, stood up, pulled a notebook from the bin and handed it to me. I said a quick thanks and took it from her. My phone let out a chime just as I pulled a pen from the cup on her desk.
"I'll call you in a minute," I said to the caller, not bothering to check who it was.
*Third Person POV*
Spencer quickly walked over to her distraught best friend. The shorter girl had shifted her position, her right hand clenched in a fist on her knee, her left still squeezing Emily's now slightly blue hand. Hanna gently rubbed her arm. Aria sat still, staring into space, silent tears running down her cheeks. Every so often a choked sob escaped her throat. Spencer knelt down in front of a practically unresponsive Aria.
"Hey, Aria," She spoke softly, holding the small girl's still closed fist. Gently she pried the clenched fingers apart. Aria barely moved. Spencer opened the notebook and placed it in Aria's lap. She opened the pen and put it in Aria's hand. Her friend gripped it tightly. But when she pressed it to the page, the ball point tip sat idle. Spencer looked to Emily and Hanna for help. Hanna shrugged unsurely, Emily nodded towards Aria. Suddenly, in true Hastings fashion, Spencer had a brilliant idea.
"Dear Ezra…" She prompted her heartbroken friend. "It's okay," She whispered.
Aria blinked and began to write, a waterfall coming from the pen. She released Emily's hand, ducking her head and writing furiously. Spencer smiled and sat down on the floor with her back against Aria's chair. She hugged her knees to her chest and leaning her head on Hanna's leg. Whoever had begged her attention through cell phone would have to wait.
…
Twenty minutes later, Aria suddenly took a sharp breath, closed the notebook and dropped the pen, which fell to the tile. The other three girls looked at her.
"Aria?" Emily tried, "Do you want to talk about it?" Aria shook her head no. Spencer's phone rang again. Checking the caller ID, she stood up.
"I'll be right back," She assured Aria, before leaning down to whisper to Emily, "Stay with her; I'll be back in a minute." Then Spencer tapped Hanna's arm, asking her to come with. They walked out the automatic doors into the parking lot.