This is my new story! It's a sequel/prequel to my older story "Let's Go Back to the Start." You don't necessarily HAVE to read that one first, but you REALLY REALLY REALLY should. This will make sense if you read it first, but it will also spoil things that are better left as a mystery in Let's Go Back to the Start. So PLEASE read that one first.

99% of this will be from Toby's POV, but if the chapter calls for it I might sneak a little Spencer in. Enjoy this chapter, because it turns into an emotional roller coaster from here! Next chapter will be up around Monday, maybe? Please review and let me know what you're thinking, okay!?

Chapter 1

He hated being sick. He could remember being a little boy, crying in his mother's arms because he wanted nothing more than to go to school. Even at 6 years old, just laying on the couch all day was intolerable. But for the past week, maybe longer if he were honest with himself, he barely had the energy to move, let alone go to work.

When he was six all that he would miss would be the newest kindergarten drama on the playground and his choice of coloring pages to scribble on during art class. But now his laziness had consequences for both himself and Spencer. That girl, his beautiful wife, owned every part of his heart, and he refused to leave the burden of providing for them to her; especially with her entering her last year of graduate school. She had more than enough to deal with. Maybe he could pick up a couple doubles next week to make up for he was missing this week.

"Toby?"

He started as her soft, melodic voice traveled across the small apartment. He hadn't heard her come in, signifying the intensity of his thought process. The sudden movement caused his stomach to churn, but he fought to keep his face straight, not wanting to worry her. "Hey," he smiled, reaching out for her. "How was class?"

"It was fine." Her answer was distracted as she leaned in and pressed her lips to his forehead. His hands reflexively found their way to her waist in a dual purpose. He wanted to steady her, but he always wanted to be as close to her as she would allow. Nearly 10 years together and his love and his attraction for her only grew; even when he thought it wasn't possible, that he was on full, it still grew.

"Toby, you're burning up. Do you feel any better at all?" She slid down and curled up next to him on the couch. There wasn't a lot of room between her and the edge, but that was okay. He wouldn't let her fall.

The fact that he had a fever surprised him, because he was actually freezing. But having her body pressed against his was already doing more to help than any blanket could. "I feel-" he considered lying to her, but they didn't do that. It was always the truth when it came to the two of them. " No," he sighed. "I think I feel worse, if I'm being completely honest."

"Okay," she said in her business voice. The voice she used when she was going to get bossy and not take no for an answer. He was 100% sure that he was the only person in the world that found it endearing, but even still he couldn't stop a small smile. "I'm going to call the doctor and see if he can get you in tomorrow."

"Spencer-" he began, but she kept talking right over him.

"And then I'm going to run down the road and get you some soup. Chicken noodle is probably the best, but you don't really like that. Maybe some potato?" She looked down at him questioningly.

"I don't know if I'll be able to keep anything down," he admitted, absentmindedly running his fingers over the smooth skin of her forearm.

"You're going to try," she said seriously. She pulled out her phone and had a hushed conversation. The gentle pressure of her head against his chest and the soft vibration of her words comforted him more than anything had thus far. Spencer was honestly the only thing that could ever make him feel better.

She lifted her head from his chest and scooted back to sit by his feet as soon as she was off the phone. "They said that they could get you in first thing in the morning. What can I do for you now?"

He scooted up so that he was sitting up straight and reached out for her, lightly grabbing onto her arms. "Can we just lay here and watch a movie or something? At the risk of sounding like a girl, I always feel better when you're here. And I just want to relax."

She smiled softly and nodded, reaching out to brush the back of her hand across his cheek. Her smile faded as she caught sight of his arm. She pulled it out and brushed her fingers gently along his arm. "What happened?" She asked him.

"What are you-" he began, but trailed off as he saw the smattering of bruises along his arm. "I don't even know. I've done nothing but sit here all day."

She looked up at him, and the apprehension was obvious in her eyes. He hated worrying her, especially about something so stupid. He was just sick. "Hey. I'm fine, I'm totally fine."

Her dubious look told him that he needed to try harder. "Remember the first time you got drunk in front of me?" He laughed, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. It was a constant struggle whether to stay away from her so she didn't get sick or to give her the physical contact that he knew was the only thing that would comfort her.

She laughed softly, leaning further into him. "We said we'd never speak of that!"

The feeling of her skin against his did more to warm him than an infinite number of blankets. She was healthy, moderately happy, and taken care of, and that meant everything in the world to him. "Yeah, well I think about it all the time, because it was adorable."

"Cavanaugh," Caleb laughed, dragging him by his arm into the living room. "I came to check on Hanna and this is what I found. Take care of it, will you?"

He heard it before he saw it. A shrill woo filled his ears. He recognized his girlfriend's voice, but he had never heard it make a sound quite like that. "Are they drunk?" He chuckled.

"As a skunk," Caleb confirmed. "I think they broke into Spencer's dad's tequila stash."

"But why?" He had known Spencer for majority of his life, and he never knew her to be the drinking type. This had to be for a purpose.

"Hanna's not the best drunk texter, but I think it had something to do with Spencer getting into UPenn."

A surge of pride shot through his entire body at his girlfriend's accomplishments. She had worked so hard, sacrificed so much. And she did it. She was on the verge of accomplishing all of her dreams.

"Toby!" She yelled as she noticed him entering the room, much too loudly for the enclosed space that they were in. "Toby, I did it!" She charged at him and ran into his open arms.

He laughed and lifted her into the air, spinning around once or twice before being distracted by her lips passionately attacking his. "I did it," she murmured, moving her lips from his own to his neck. "I did it! I got into UPenn!"

"I heard!" He couldn't stop his smile from growing of its own accord. It stretched until it felt like if he smiled anymore his face would split in half. He was so proud of her, and maybe that's what love was. It was feeling this immense sense of joy and pride for the other's accomplishments. She deserved the world, and she was on the precipice of getting everything that she ever wanted. "I'm so, so incredibly proud of you, baby. I'm so proud of you."

She grinned at him for a second before her smile turned sour. She wriggled out of his tight embrace and stumbled onto the floor, bending at her waist and emptying the contents of her stomach right on his shoes.

She groaned, shaking her head. "That was decidedly not adorable, Toby. I puked my guts outs on your shoes."

"Bur you were so excited," he insisted. "You were so happy that it literally didn't even matter."

She rolled her eyes and leaned in to kiss him again. "You're sweet, but it's not distracting me. You're going to the doctor, okay?"

He nodded. It wasn't that he was as worried as she was, but he had been sick a few times in his 27 years. This just felt different. He felt weak, achy... just different. It would be better to be safe than sorry for sure.

"I can skip my morning class to come with you if you want," she offered hopefully. She already knew what he was going to say.

He shook his head. "No way. Your semester just started, Spence. You can't be skipping already. Besides, I'll be fine. The doctor will probably just laugh at me and tell me to go get some cough medicine at CVS."

"But the bruises," she muttered, tracing along them like they were a connect the dot game.

"Are probably purely coincidental," he finished her sentence not at all in the way that she was probably going to, but it was alright. "Everything will be fine, Spencer."

He grabbed the remote off of the couch and flipped through the channels before settling on Jeopardy. "Now get back over here and remind me how smart you are."

"This man was the fourth president of the United States."

"James Madison," Spencer answered as she crawled back across the couch and settle in his arms.

He wrapped a strong arm around her shoulder, a bit more securely than usual. "I just want you to remember one thing, Spence. If you forget everything else I've ever told you, remember this. You'll never alone. Not even for a single second." He knew that to an outside observer that his words may sound more serious than the situation called for, but those people didn't know his wife like he did. He knew that her worry over his being sick stemmed from her fear of abandonment. But he would never leave her, not for anything in the world. That was something that she never had to worry about when it came to him.

At his words she wilted into him, twisting her neck to give him another kiss.

"Who is James Monroe?"

Spencer broke away with a groan, shooting an incredulous glare at the tv. "Are you kidding? Did you skip third grade history?! It's James Madison!"

He didn't just chuckle this time. The indigent frustration on her face sent him into a full on peel of hysterical laughter. God he loved her.