Emily POV

Emily didn't sleep so well that night either.

She was usually a good sleeper. A great one, even. Ever since A had left her life (or rather, she'd left A's life), she'd found herself being able to sleep easy, without fear of perpetual nightmares. Occasionally she'd get the odd dream as she ventured into blissful slumber, but these would be nonsensical and meaningless.

And for that, she was relieved.

But she didn't sleep. And this was odd for her.

She was lying with her head straight on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, her arms flexed and tucked behind her head, her duvet draped over her stomach.

She was too busy thinking to be consumed by the hazy delirium of mind that sleep offered.

It was mainly about that telephone call.

Poe had answered the call briskly, abruptly, with a sentence Emily knew had been practiced many times with a smooth tongue. But Emily hadn't even listened to her greeting to know this.

She'd been so nervous she'd gabbled "Hi, it's Emily." and coughed, and gone from there.

But something about what Poe had said, despite not hearing it properly, had unnerved her.

She didn't know what it was- oh, the trouble of her stupid, naïve, ears!

Yet sitting here, thinking, breathing deeply in almost a meditative state, had determined one thing for her.

Poe hadn't answered the call with "Hello, Poe Hastings."

She'd answered the call with something else-

Another name-

The journalist had lied to her.

Emily pursed her lips, reviewing this information. Her duvet rose and fell with the rhythm of her breath. She was unsurprised.

And that surprised her.

To lie, you must have something to hide. So, therefore, Poe Hastings had something to hide from her.

She wasn't sure if she should call her Poe anymore. Or Hastings. Either of those two names could be made up.

But if they both were, they were made up solely for Emily. Otherwise, she wouldn't have answered the phone with her real name, if she was hiding the name from more than one person.

She tried to think as to why she'd hide her name, her identity, from her.

It wasn't as if Emily presented any harm, to anyone, did she?

Was it a joke? A prank to play on the new kid?

If so, she wasn't exactly seeing the funny side.

But she still felt like she was trying to catch birds with her bare hands, exploring through the cavernous depths of her mind.

Every now and then she'd get a whisper in her ears, a trickle of a memory, a puff of reasoning, and she'd lunge for it. But, it would always veer away in the nick of time, leaving her empty, with nothing to think of or go on.

It was immensely frustrating. As this happened for what felt like the hundredth time that night, she turned onto her stomach and punched her pillow, swearing under her breath.

All she had to go on were thin wisps of thoughts that were ever elusive. And she had no way to reel them into a proper, sane conclusion.

But, there was always someone to talk to on a night like this, with realizations just beyond her.

She picked up her phone, and hovered over a contact, before pushing the dial button.

On the fourth ring, they picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

Their words came out thick with sleep, but it was hard to mask the enthusiasm behind them. "Oh, Em! Hi!"

A pause. "You do realize it's 1 a.m."

"Ah. Um, yeah." Emily said, picking up her digital clock from her bedside table, and frowning at it. "I have something that's kind of urgent."

The voice didn't sound remotely irritated, but simply sleepy. "Shoot. Go. Vamos."

She sat up in her bed, curling her duvet around her. "You're usually the kind of person who knows their own mind, better than anyone."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Aria replied.

"Do. Because I need help with my mind."

Aria laughed breathily, stifling a yawn. "What's the matter?"

"It's just... I met someone at work today."

"Someone?" Her voice was now curious, interested.

"Yeah. And I thought I knew their real name, and they seemed, really cool, and nice, I guess, and I kinda liked them. So I called them. Today."

"A work call, or a something-else call?"

"A work call." Emily said quickly, hurriedly. "But they answered the phone with a different name."

"Ah-huh." Aria seemed lost by this.

"They told me their name was something, but they answered the phone as something else."

"So you're wondering..."

"If they lied to me. And if so, why, and what, what else, what else are they lying about?"

This exploded out of Emily, a sudden confession. She drummed her fingers against the bed, silent. Aria hummed to herself. "Okay. And so why do you need help with my mind?"

Emily groaned. "It's complicated."

"You have my undivided attention."

"I just..." She stood up now, and began trekking around her spacious room, slowly pondering. "I keep feeling like there's something more to this. Something which I've missed, something that will make all of this make sense, once I get it. You know?"

"I do know that feeling. Um. This is a puzzle. So we need to figure out what you've missed."

She heard Aria click a pen on, and the sound of scribbling. "So. She's lied to you, this person, and you're trying to figure out why."

"Yep."

"What was the name she gave you?"

Emily's lip curled a little, embarassed for so blindly believing the name. "Poe Hastings."

Aria's pen froze. There was no sound emitted down the phone, apart from a shallow intake of breath. Emily frowned. "Aria?"

Still nothing. Aria remained quiet. Unknown to Emily, colour had all but fled from the girl's already pale face, and her limbs were unmoving. Her eyes were wide with shock, horror.

She was hunched over the side of her bed, leaning towards her bedside table, her chest brushing against her knees, feeling suddenly nauseous.

Her world had suddenly plunged in an utterly unexpected way, teetered beyond her control.

"Aria." Emily's voice came tinnily out of her phone.

Puzzle pieces were clicking together for her. Synapses making vital connections. Aria let out a long sigh, utterly overwhelmed by her realization. "Oh, fuuuuuuck." She managed.

It wasn't like Aria to swear. Which was the reason Emily now became more concerned than ever. "What, what is it?"

"Hastings." Aria said miserably, shaking her head. "Aw, no. I should have known. You go off to work in Chicago for a newspaper. It was obvious. Aw, no."

Emily was utterly confused. "Wait... Do you know who Poe is?"

"Yeah. And I'm pretty sure you do, too. Unless you've forgotten."

Silence dominated the call. Emily stared into space, her tongue heavy in her mouth. Her heart thumped ominously in her chest, like the drumbeat for impending doom.

"I'm not going to like what you're going to say next, am I?" She whispered hoarsely.

"No."

She remained silent. Aria took in a breath, and remarked, "I wouldn't blame you for forgetting. It's been six years since you last saw her."

Spencer POV

She was waiting by the doors of the police station, punctual as ever, right on the dot of ten. Her breath made fog in the bitter chill of the morning, her black boots encrusted with shards of snow. She stamped her feet to get rid of the cold, delving her hands within deep pockets.

She was nervous. Her palms were disgustingly clammy, her breath irregular. She couldn't meet the eye of any of the cops trotting in and out of the station, some giving friendly nods to her. She was utterly consumed by the ramblings of her mind.

So when someone yelled, "Spencer!" across the street, she missed it at first.

But the yell came again. And this time she noticed it. Her head jerked upwards, she turned and stared into the street, a mystified smile gracing her face.

Which quickly disappeared, once she realized who was yelling at her.

Emily POV

She stood on a snow covered pavement, her arms crossed, staring hopelessly at her old best friend with dark, soft eyes.

"Spencer." She said again. Only, she didn't yell this time, merely say it. Everything else seemed to die in her throat.

Spencer stared back at her for approximately 3 seconds. Then, she dropped her head, and sighed, sticking her hands into her pockets.

It was almost like she appeared resigned to her fate.

Which, Emily thought, as she walked towards her, was not very Spencer Hastings of her.

Cause the Spencer she knew? Well, she'd fight her way out of anything, anywhere, that didn't suit her exact needs, until everything was perfect for her.

Is that the Spencer you know? Or the Spencer you remember?

Six years. People change.

"Hey, Em." She muttered, her shoulders slumping.

There was a little bench tucked within the side of the police building's stone patio, and it was this Spencer decided to throw herself down upon, as Emily scraped the snow off her shoes and sat next to her. There was an awkward silence for a few minutes.

Emily shrugged the bag off her shoulder, peering concernedly within it, before producing a flask and handing it to the sullen girl beside her. "I don't know if that's the stuff you like, still." She said quietly. "But I remember that you used to get me to make it, time after time, when I worked in the cafe."

A flash. Spencer with her head down on the coffee bar, long hair flopping over the red surface. "Uuuuurghhh." She groaned.

"You can't sleep there." Emily informed her, even as she levered a batch of brownies out of the oven. "I have customers to serve."

Spencer suggested the customers could "do something anatomically impossible with themselves."

Emily rolled her eyes, peeling her oven mitts off. She rapped the bench. "Come on. You can sleep on the couch until I get off work."

Spencer blearily pulled her head off the bench and scowled. "If I told you," she mumbled, "That I'm convinced Melissa's poisoned me, would you think that I was strange?"

"No, I'd ask you to come round and look after my small children."

Spencer smirked weakly. "But I know she has. They'll find proof when they cut open my body in the autopsy. Unless an antidote is found within twenty-four hours..."

"The antidote's coffee, isn't it."

"No. Yes. Maybe. Aw, please, Em, I'm dying."

Emily sighed, and shook her head at her best friend. "Coming right up."

But as she handed Spencer the coffee, five minutes later, she'd waved away the note she'd offered.

Like she always did.

Because the truth was she'd make as many coffees as she damn well needed, if it made Spencer happy, if it made her stick around for as long as she possibly could.

Oh, and then she'd left.

Emily winced, and looked up, blinking the sudden hurt out of her eyes.

Spencer took the flask, and held it tight in her numb hands, shooting Emily a look of pleasant surprise. "Yeah..."

"Yeah?"

"I still like that."

"I'm glad." Emily said simply. "I'm glad."

There was a silence, again. Spencer stared at the peace offering, chewing her lip. "I knew you were going to confront me, sooner or later." She blurted.

"But were you going to keep lying until then?" Emily snapped.

Spencer practically flinched. Emily blinked at her.

It's not like Spencer Hastings to flinch at what anyone says. Let alone me.

Then, "Yeah." she said thickly, nodding.

Emily's mouth flickered downwards. She decided to change the subject. "Poe, huh?"

"It is, actually, my nickname here."

"Because of the entire poet thing, or because you remind someone of the Tellietubbies?"

"Poet. Apparently I'm moody and depressed but clever."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "Accurate."

A flash.

An over enthusiastic church going kid, thrusting a flyer into Emily's face. "Hi!" She squeaked. "Come join our youth group! We assemble on Thursday lunchtimes in the cafeteria."

Emily smiled weakly yet politely, and picked up the flyer. "Thanks." She murmured, and turned to go.

The kid wouldn't leave her alone though, dragging on her arm. "Oh, please come! We discuss all kinds of things, it's really a lot of good old fun. Are you already a follower of Jesus? Have you been baptised?"

Emily shrugged, and tried to tear herself away, but without success, trying to explain she had to go. "Oh, do you take communion regularly? What's your favourite Biblical story? We'd love to hear it, honestly. I think that God-"

Emily, frowning, tried to pull away again, until she felt another pair of hands grab her.

"What's happening?" Spencer asked behind her, curious.

"Ah, nothing, Spence, we gotta get to class-"

But there was no stopping Church Kid now. "Oh, hello! Would you like to join our youth group too?"

A flyer was forced with equal strength into Spencer's hands. She looked at it distastefully. "Hm."

"Thursdays, cafeteria at lunch time. I promise you'll get a lot more than you-"

"Religion," Spencer interruped icily, "my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry."

Church Kid fell eerily silent. Spencer cocked an eyebrow. "Thanks, but no thanks. C'mon Em."

She walked off, her hands nonchalantly in her pockets. Emily jogged after her. "Did you make that up on the spot?" She asked, wondrously.

"You give me too much credit. No, it's a quote from Poe."

Emily's blank face was suffice for Spencer to continue. "Edgar Allen Poe. If you like, I could lend you some of his works, he was truly a great-"

"Thanks." Emily said, with a final note, "But no thanks."

There was no mistaking the fond nature of Spencer's smile.

But the smile wasn't fond enough to stick around.

Emily swallowed down the hurt, once again.

"But yeah." Spencer said clearly, taking a sip of the coffee. "I knew you were going to find out soon enough. So I made a plan."

"A plan?"

This is much more the Spencer I know.

"Yeah. Once I realized I'd answered the phone with Spencer Hastings, I realized that you'd know. So. A plan was made."

"And what was it?"

Spencer turned her face to her, the shockingly familiar hazel eyes beneath the alien spiky fringe. "To do pretty much what we're doing now. To sit, and talk... about things. And here, face to face. Not over a phone call."

Emily nodded, and Spencer continued. "The problem is with phone calls that you can't see the other person's face."

A flash.

A desperate phone call.

Emily was sitting on her bed on a bright summer's day, shaking.

Her deft hands tapped over the keys, raising the phone to her ear, wishing, hoping, praying...

"Come on, come on..." She begged to no one.

And to her surprise, the phone rang.

The buzz in her ear startled her. She held her breath.

And the click and sudden silence indicated someone had picked up.

She started speaking before she'd even realized she was. "Spencer. Spence. It's me."

Silence.

"Oh my god, where are you? What are you doing? Please, just, just come back now, I-I can't believe you're doing this, Spence..."

Silence.

"You're my best friend. Please come back. I need you." Her voice nearly broke with this realization. "We can talk about the letter, we can agree upon anything you want, just please, please come back."

Silence.

"Don't do this." Emily pleaded. "You can't do this, you can't just walk out of my life because of this. We can talk about it, I promise, everything is gonna get sorted out. Just... come back."

Silence.

"Please." She said finally, a tear spilling down her cheek. "Spencer."

A deep, rattling breath echoed down the other side.

Emily fell silent, praying for the girl on the other end to say something.

And then the disconnect tone blared in her ear.

What Emily did next shocked Spencer. Shocked herself.

"You bitch." She muttered, venom scarring her mouth.

Spencer blinked, and opened her mouth, her eyebrows crumpled, but Emily interrupted her. Out of nowhere, words began spewing out of her mouth. "No. No. Don't start talking over me. You left me. You walked off without me, walked out of my life without a proper goodbye. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?!"

"Em, I-"

"You were my best friend, Spencer! I needed you! There were so many times that I needed you, and you just walked off out of my life like you couldn't care-"

"The problem wasn't that I didn't care-"

"You didn't care enough to stick around!" Emily spat, her eyes flashing. "That was the problem!"

People were staring now. But it was Spencer's turn to get started. "The problem was that I cared too much!" Her voice rose as she stared at Emily, her gaze unwavering and hard. "The problem isn't that I was selfish in leaving! The problem was that you made me feel like it was the only solution!"

"You weren't selfish?!" Emily stormed. "You never said anything about liking me, and when I got a girlfriend who made me truly happy, you ran away!"

"I did say, everything! I told you from the start of it all and you said you weren't damn interested!"

"I assumed your feelings had faded once you started dating Toby, and telling me all the time how in love with him you were! And then, for me assuming you were happy, you fucking ran away."

Spencer stood up, scowling furiously, and now spoke in a low voice which emanated danger. "So would you have preferred me to tell you how I felt? For me to be humiliated all over again as you shut me down, time after time?"

"If you told me you liked me I could have-"

"I DIDN'T LIKE YOU!" Spencer yelled, out of nowhere. "I LOVED YOU!"

Emily shut her mouth.

"Don't you remember how it feels to be in love with someone who doesn't love you back?" Spencer said bitterly.

Oh, I know what you're getting at.

Emily must have visibly blanched, because Spencer continued. "I bet you wanted to run, sometimes, right? You wanted to just get out, and get away, and forget all about her. Forget about her hurting you. Just wanted to run away..."

She was hurt now. Yes, she was. Spencer had hit a nerve and she knew it. Her hands shook.

I can't believe you just said that.

"Yeah." She said, evenly. "Yeah, I did. But I didn't. Cause, you know why? If I had run away..."

And now she stood up, keeping constant eye contact. "... I would have never become firm friends with you, Aria and Hanna after she died."

Spencer's face twisted in a cry of outrage, but Emily continued, shrugging casually when she was burning inside with misery. "And I thought that our friendships were worth so much more than whatever I felt. So. You made your decision. I made mine."

They both knew each other like a book. Their hopes, their dreams, their goals, after all these years.

They knew each other's strengths.

And each other's weaknesses.

And therefore, they were the perfect harbringers of destruction for each other.

Spencer just stared as Emily walked away with her back turned to her.

She didn't look back once.

So Emily never saw the pale, frustrated girl lean against the brick police station wall and drive her fist into it hard, swearing blue murder under her breath.

But Spencer never saw a single tear track slowly down her old best friend's cheek, before it was carelessly wiped off with a thick mitten and a loud sniff.

She's changed so much.

Footnote: Apologies to anyone who's Christian and reading this, the character of the "Church Kid" does not symbolize my views on any religion whatsoever and I don't mean to stereotype anyone!

Meanwhile, thank you so much to all those who review! You have no idea how much it makes my day reading your comments. They mean the world to me. Just wanted to say I also take any and all suggestions into consideration, and if you have any of those or any questions about this story or any I've written, feel free to PM me :) happy holidays to all!