A/N: Thank you all for the reviews/favorites/follows and just reading in general!
For the anon who asked if I'd consider writing Spoby pre-triplets again: never say never, but I don't see it happening in the near future. I'm not sure I remember how, to be honest. I get them mixed up with Spoby on the show, and it sadly just sucks all the energy out of me. Sorry. :(
Here's part two of three. Just a heads up for my new readers (if I have any): you probably need to read A Fortunate Stroke Of Serendipity to fully appreciate one segment in this chapter. I get embarrassed at the idea of shamelessly promoting my own work, but to avoid confusion I just wanted to let you guys know.
As a mother, Spencer had those moments where it was as if she saw everything go wrong in slow motion. In reality it was no more than a few seconds, but to her perception it seemed like time slowed everything down so she could see things shatter in excruciating detail and somehow still be helpless to stop it.
The last time she'd felt this happen was a year ago, when Cleo fell down the ladder to the tree house Toby had built them in the back yard. She'd watched her child hit just about every step before finally hitting the grass, her arm underneath her and a low wail escaping her lips. She'd been in a cast for weeks, and for at least as long Spencer had seen her fall over and over again when she closed her eyes.
This time, the circumstances were far less sensational. No one was bleeding or banged up. They were all enjoying a nice summer afternoon with her parents, and so far there had been refreshingly little drama. Yet, when she saw her father's arm reach out, newspaper in hand, ready to squash the little black spider that scampered across the picnic table in front of young, sensitive blue eyes, her world stopped cold.
She opened her mouth to cry out but the word got stuck in her throat. There was a time when her father's actions easily could have been her own, but that was before she'd seen that kind of thing first unsettle her husband and then absolutely agonize one of her kids.
Even before the paper hit the table, her ears filled with Eloise's shrill scream.
"No!"
Everyone froze, and Spencer's hands covered her mouth in horror. It was a sound that would have been chilling out of any child but especially out of this quiet, sweet-tempered one who usually preferred to stay under the radar.
For a second or two, Spencer thought she could hear a pin drop. Eloise looked at her grandfather with shock and betrayal and sorrow etched across her face before a deep, deafening sob escaped her throat.
"Grandpa, why, why, why," she wept. "What did he ever do to you?"
Spencer only realized her feet were moving when she numbly noticed the distance between herself and Eloise closing. Her children had passed the age where she could comfortably lift them off the ground – not that there was much need for it anymore, under usual circumstances – but now she scooped her seven-year-old up in her arms without breaking a sweat. Eloise collapsed into her neck, and Spencer crumbled at the unclothed grief in her tears – grief not only for the tiny, eight-legged creature that was no more, but also for the incomprehension that someone she knew and loved could be so heartless as to kill it without even the slightest consideration for its life.
Spencer's eyes locked with her father's as she gently patted her devastated daughter's back in a helpless attempt to calm her. He looked rattled, for sure, and… guilty? Spencer swore she saw a hint of guilt before her undoubtedly accusatory expression threw him on the defensive. He shrugged at her, and Spencer wanted to throttle him.
A strong hand connected with her back and a familiar body radiated heat from behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt Toby's presence, drawing more strength from his touch than he would ever know. Lawrence and Cleo gathered around her too, rallying around their sister who had cried herself out and rested lifelessly in Spencer's arms now.
She turned her head to meet Toby's eyes, and they had one of those quick, wordless conversations that the logical part of her brain couldn't grasp were even possible. Then she brushed her lips against her daughter's blonde head. "Go with Daddy, honey."
The transition happened easily as Eloise allowed Toby to take her, latching onto him the same way she had with Spencer before. Spencer's eyes fixated on her father, and her gaze didn't waver as she added, "Lawrence, Cleo? Go with Daddy, please."
They sensed the tension in her voice and didn't object, picking up their pace to follow Toby. She waited till he disappeared into the house with all three kids to open her mouth. Unfortunately, her father beat her to it.
"She's going to need to grow a thicker skin if she's going to function in this world."
"Stop it," she warned him. "She's happy and healthy and doesn't have to change anything about who she is, especially not to please you."
Despite her convincing words, she faltered. Her father had unintentionally poked at one of her most touchy subjects, and all her insecurities about parenting Eloise came to the surface of her consciousness. Were they doing the right thing by encouraging her gentleness? By protecting her in ways they knew Lawrence and Cleo would probably never need?
Or were they setting her up for unimaginable heartbreak when she realized most of the world wasn't as intrinsically good-natured as she was?
"Look," Peter interrupted her turmoil. "She's my granddaughter and I love her to death. You know that. But she needs to toughen up a little. You don't see Lawrence or Cleo freaking out over a dead bug, do you?"
"Yeah, God forbid she doesn't fit into your cookie-cutter Hastings ideas of what's acceptable and what isn't," Spencer replied in a hard voice, the hair in the back of her neck rising at her father's need to compare her children.
As quickly as her doubts had appeared, they vanished into thin air. She could try to make her father see that traits like sensitivity, introversion and shyness weren't actually personality flaws – Toby was proof of that, because he was all three and the most perfect human being she'd ever come across in her life – but she had a feeling it would fall on deaf ears.
Instead, she cut to the chase. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to apologize. You're going to tell her you don't know what you were thinking. You're going to bury that spider with her, and you're going to do your best to make its death meaningful. And most importantly, you're never going to do anything like that in front of her again."
Peter Hastings was not a man who was used to being told what to do. He looked momentarily flustered, but then – somewhat to her surprise – relented resignedly. "Fine. She's your kid. Not mine."
He turned away from her, missing the final words she muttered under her breath. "Thank God for that."
When Lawrence first announced he'd like a turtle for his tenth birthday, Toby and Spencer shared a brief ain't he cute look across the dinner table. In contrary to Cleo or even Eloise, their son didn't tend to get fixated on things. He loved soccer one day and basketball the next, rarely went for the same ice cream flavor twice and only attached himself to few of his possessions. He often desired the most outrageous things that he promptly forgot about the next day.
But, as they soon learned, this was different.
For weeks, a turtle was all he would talk about. He pestered anyone who would listen with ridiculous overflows of information that he got from library books, drew pictures that he hung up on walls and even crafted something that looked suspiciously like a turtle out of a toilet paper roll. They were not used to this level of obsession for their son, and Toby could tell his wife was in the most extreme form of denial.
"What are we going to do about this turtle situation?" he asked her one night after the kids had gone to bed, and Spencer gave him a funny look.
"What do you mean?"
"He really wants a turtle, Spencer," he stated the obvious. "Shouldn't we at least talk about it?"
She seemed baffled now. "Do you honestly think can handle that? He can't even keep his room clean – how are we supposed to trust him with a real, living, breathing creature?"
She was right, of course. Still, he protested feebly, "I've never seen him so passionate about anything in his life."
"Not the point, Toby," she sighed. "A pet requires a lot of work, and I just don't think he's ready. And you know what would happen? Cleo would take over, because she thrives on responsibility. Or Eloise because she doesn't want him to get in trouble."
Again, she was right – but for some reason he couldn't let go. He brought it up again as they slid in bed hours later, after having given it some more thought. "What if we use this to teach him responsibility and consequences?"
When Spencer looked doubtful, he continued. "If he keeps his room clean for a month, puts his shoes away, gets his homework done before dinner… would you consider it?"
She didn't answer right away. "I'd be damn impressed if he kept that up for a month. So yes. Maybe."
Then she suddenly pressed herself closer to him, smiling as her hands brushed up against his chest and her lips connected with the corner of his mouth. "You're such a softie," she murmured, and he smiled back because there was adoration and approval in her voice more than anything else.
They were going to tell him together, but the next day as Toby got so excited as he drove Lawrence to baseball practice that he spilled the beans then and there. The young boy was ecstatic, unbuckled himself to hug his father despite Toby's warnings not to, and must have expressed his gratitude close to a million times. His joyous mood lasted throughout the evening as he went to hug Spencer too when he arrived home. Toby could tell his enthusiasm was starting to wear off on his mother, but he also knew that if his son didn't hold up his end of the bargain it would remain out of the question. He hoped he'd made that part clear enough.
As it turned out, Lawrence pulled the rug from underneath them all. Of course he needed a reminder here and there, but overall his parents could see a will to get himself organized that wasn't there before. Toby felt immense pride as he watched his child get a hold on habits that didn't come naturally to him, and effectively work towards something he desired. Even Spencer was inspired, and admitted to Toby, "Sometimes your kids surprise you."
"Does that mean you're on board with this turtle thing?" he asked casually, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Why do I get the feeling you want this almost as badly as he does?"
Toby felt put on the spot and briefly considered denying it, but then he mumbled, "I always wanted a pet when I was a kid and my dad never let me have one."
A slight smirk formed on her lips at the confirmation of her instincts, but it was void of any real mirth. Any mention of his father tended to soften her up, and she sighed. "Well. I guess that's good news for me, because if our son fails miserably at this it means you get to pick up the pieces and live out your childhood fantasy."
"He's not going to fail miserably at this," he vowed with a returning grin, "but fair enough."
He really had to give her credit for the way she laid down the law to Lawrence the next day. She was supportive and let him know they believed in him, but she didn't sugarcoat their expectations.
"This animal is going to be your responsibility till the day it dies," she informed him. "Once we take it in there's no turning back, and turtles can live for a very long time. You're going to feed it, play with it, clean out its tank and report when it's sick so we can take it to the vet. That's a really big job, bubba. Are you positive it's what you want?"
He didn't have to think about it. He looked them both straight in the eye with more gravity than they weren't used to from him and said, "Yes."
They tended to go full out for the kids' birthday, simply because they had three children and only one birthday to celebrate. They were given brand new scooters – a surprise they fully appreciated since they'd all grossly outgrown their old ones. He and Spencer both had a soft spot for books, and were very generous with them for the kids at all celebratory occasions. Cleo received a new pair of riding boots, and Eloise the set of watercolors they'd caught her eyeing at the store more than once. After school they all headed for the pet store, and Toby could tell even Spencer was skittish with anticipation. Lawrence fell in love with a tiny, green turtle that was no bigger than the palm of his hand, and they knew instantly that it was a done deal and that they were in this for the long haul.
All three kids played with it for the rest of the evening, their shiny new scooters forgotten for now, and at one point just after dinner Toby caught Spencer observing them carefully. He moved behind her, softly rubbing her shoulders and sensing some sort of internal conflict on her part.
"You still unsure about this?" he asked, quietly so the kids wouldn't overhear.
She snorted. "I have a reptile living in my house, Toby. I'm always going to be unsure about this." But then she nodded at their son and shook her head in amused disbelief and affection. "But look at him. He's so happy."
Toby chuckled, letting his hands slide down her body to encircle her waist. "Now who's the softie," he mocked, hiding his smile by kissing her cheek.
"Stop before I make both of us cry by reflecting on the insane fact that they've been with us for ten years. Ten freaking years of Lawrence, Cleo and Eloise."
"Ouch. Touché," Toby agreed.
They postponed bringing out the birthday cake and watched their children make memories.
She was still much too thin, he thought as he watched her in the moonlight, and much too pale. She still had moments where she cried for no apparent reason, and got overwhelmed by simple tasks like getting dressed.
But she also smiled now. She snuggled with him and the kids, accepted their affection and allowed them to love her the way they'd all been so desperate to love her for months and months. He knew she feared sometimes that she wasn't getting better, but the difference to Toby was deafening and he reminded her of that whenever her world turned black. He was determined to see her through her pilgrimage to health at whatever pace she was capable of.
Insomnia still sank its claws into her from time to time, but she no longer left the bed in the middle of the night. She would turn around in his arms, pushing even closer to him so she could press a sloppy kiss against his jaw and fling a leg over both of his. He would force his droopy eyelids open just to get a glimpse of her soft brown orbs, and catch himself smiling blissfully despite the bags underneath her eyes.
Tonight, it was three-thirty in the morning and they'd been awake for over an hour. He had work in less than three, but there was no part of him that considered going back to sleep. Not when they lay together in the dark, whispering secrets like they'd only just met instead of having shared what felt like five lifetimes. So far he'd made her laugh three times, and he was contemplating how he could maybe make it four when he heard the soft creaking of their bedroom door.
He reflexively turned his head to see a small figure with long, dark hair in the doorway, and even in the shadows he could tell her posture was hesitant.
"I'm sorry, honey," he uttered apologetically. "Did we wake you?"
"No. I just couldn't sleep," she said simply, coming closer. "What are you guys doing?"
He and Spencer looked at each other for a moment, and it was she who sat up in the bed and answered. "I couldn't sleep, either. Your dad was nice enough to keep me company."
Cleo nodded, and a very faint sense of awkwardness revealed itself in the room. He saw his daughter's inner battle and his wife's subsequent torment, and he wished, oh how he wished he had the tools to fix this.
Spencer eventually asked timidly, "Do you want to crawl in with us for a while?"
Lawrence and Eloise would have been in their bed in the blink of an eye at the invitation. A few months ago Cleo would have too, but now she only shook her head half-heartedly. "No, thanks."
Toby's heart sank.
"Well, then…" Spencer's eyes lowered, and the vulnerability in her voice dismantled him. "Do you want me to tuck you back in?"
"No," Cleo said again, not unkindly. "I want Daddy to."
Spencer nodded as if she'd expected as much, and Toby felt that now familiar tug between heartache for his wife's feelings and respect for his daughter's need for boundaries. He kissed Spencer's shoulder and gave her a hand a comforting squeeze before kicking the covers away. Resting his hand on Cleo's head, they made the brief journey back to the room she shared with her sister, and as he pulled the covers over her it struck him for the hundredth time that he was downright uncomfortable with how beautiful she was becoming. She wasn't even twelve, but she was looking more and more like Spencer every day with only subtle hints of him here and there.
"Dad?" came her voice quietly.
"Mm hmm?" he answered absentmindedly, tucking the comforter under her chin and checking quickly if their voices were disturbing Eloise on the other side of the room. Cleo faltered, and he kneeled down beside her bed when he took notice of the disquiet in her eyes.
"Don't hope too hard, okay?" she whispered, and he looked at her in concerned confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"If she goes back to being sad…" A troubled look crossed her face. "If she doesn't come out of bed like she used to, you're going to be heartbroken all over again. Lawrence and Ellie, too. And I don't want that."
She suddenly seemed so much older than eleven, almost like a full-grown adult speaking to him from a child's mouth. His whole body ached for her because between Eloise, whose sweetness was so obvious it had prompted even strangers to comment on it ever since she was a baby, and Lawrence, who had a big heart for people in general, he knew that even their closest friends and family tended to underestimate how fiercely, protectively and overpoweringly Cleo loved.
He brushed his daughter's hair back from her temple and briefly touched his forehead to hers. "It's not your job to worry about me," he spoke in a hushed tone. "Or your siblings. It's your job to be a kid and have fun and get in trouble. But not too much," he added warningly, which elicited a small smile from her.
He sighed deeply before he continued, because finally he understood that the reason she was keeping her mother at arm's length was because she was terrified of getting hurt again. "I know things have been hard around here, and I'm so, so sorry, pumpkin. But have a little faith, okay? Your mom is the strongest person I've ever met. I've known her for a really long time, and I know she can get herself out of this. We just need to be patient and supportive."
She nodded uncertainly, and he kissed her forehead. "I love you. Want me to stay for a while?"
"No, it's okay." Again, he was taken aback by the sudden maturity she embodied. It impressed the shit out of him but he also kind of hoped he had his little girl back tomorrow. "You can go back to Mom."
He nodded and pressed another kiss against her head before wishing her goodnight and quietly making his way back to his own bed. Spencer was lying on her back looking pensive when he crawled back in with her. He settled himself all the way against her body with his arm slung across her waist and his nose buried in her neck.
He waited for her to ask, and it wasn't long before she did. "Is she okay?"
"Yes," he promised. Then he sighed and gently pulled at her hip. "Come here."
She let herself be completely engulfed by him. The joy of being so physically close to her again still hadn't completely worn off, and he placed a series of lazy kisses along her brow.
They cuddled in silence for several minutes before Spencer finally spoke. "I just hope that one day she can forgive me."
He closed his eyes and brushed another kiss against her forehead, his tone nostalgic as he told her, "Have a little faith."
The irony of that fact that this phrase with still fresh in his mind was not lost on him. Spencer and Cleo were two peas in a pod, and that alone left him convinced they would find their way back to each other sooner rather than later.
She pouted slightly. "I struggle with having faith. It's not rational."
"Neither is love," he pointed out, "and you don't struggle with love at all."
"Good point," she admitted. Then she looked up at him and his heart nearly burst because oh God – she smiled. A smile that lit up her eyes and revealed her pearly white teeth and everything. "I love, love, love you."
He kissed her and the rest was history.