By six o'clock that night, Spencer's ruse of being sick had become so effective that she'd actually made herself sick. Her head ached, and her thoughts felt thick, her heartbeat lethargically pushing through them as she laid sprawled out on her cool sheets, covers tossed aside in a fit of fever. Her stomach lurched occasionally, but it was the only thing that let her know she was still alive, and not dead, or some sort of zombie. (Aria had made her watch too many zombie movies, and she was now inescapably paranoid.) And, while for awhile, she was sure that it was just the biological fallout from her earlier exposure to Hanna, it became increasingly apparent that her affliction was indeed much more than that.

"We thought you were dying." Emily said, as Aria folded her fingers around a cup of her favorite Starbucks order – not that it much mattered, her taste buds were shot. "I mean…you missed a physics test. You told me once you'd rather have A run you off the road and over cliff before you missed a day of Mr. Denton's physics class."

"Hey, hey, hey, let's not give the bitch any ideas." Aria said warily, sipping at her own coffee. "I mean, clearly whoever it is is listening in on us and – "

"Can we not talk about this right now." Spencer groaned, her head aching at the very thought of their still unmasked tormentor, taking her mind off of thoughts of Hanna for a brief but blessed second. But they returned, a doubly so, and her entire body's ache intensified as she pulled her pillow over her head, trying and failing to ignore the scent of Hanna's perfume that lingered so heavily on the fabric…

"Um…honeydew?" Spencer's tone was lightly uncertain as she traced along the strip of skin that was exposed by Hanna's too-short shirt, fingers deftly drifting along the curve where her spine met her tailbone, concealing her smirk as she noticed the goosebumps rising on her skin.

"Wrong." Hanna said, and the urge to smirk went away. The blonde's blue eyes remained on her magazine. Spencer was fascinated with the way that Hanna read magazines. It was like a rhythm, she never missed the beat, swiftly and skillfully turning the pages, never slipping, never fumbling, eyes quickly scanning the image – she hardly ever paused to read the articles – before decisively flipping past it. It was a strange thing to fixate on, Spencer knew that, but it was the one thing about Hanna that was ordered, and well placed, and in that, out of place. "God, you are so bad at this."

"Well, forgive me for not knowing the intricacies of the perfume industry." Spencer said softly, sliding her touch further up Hanna's back, a small laugh bubbling in the back of her throat as she felt Hanna's back arch slightly under her touch.

"Mmm, don't stop." Hanna whispered, hands shaking a little, causing a pause in the rhythmic page turning. Spencer considered this a victory.

"Anyway, Spencer, we were worried." Emily was saying, as Spencer regained consciousness from what felt like a concussion of a flashback. "This…isn't like you."

I don't even know what's like me anymore, Spencer thought to herself, as she shifted the pillow off her face, bundling herself in her sheets as a chill set in – probably from that realization alone. She really didn't, and perhaps this fact was the one that was making her sick. She didn't have a plan, she didn't know where she was going, she had been surprised by Hanna and surprised by herself, and now her system was paralyzed as it tried to fight off the shock that had flooded it over the past several weeks. This sort of chance might not have been a problem for anyone else, but she was Spencer Hastings and anything that pushed her off the path she had taken was nothing less than a germ or a pathogen, unwanted, unwelcome, and entirely unfamiliar.

"Yeah, you really haven't been yourself lately – " Aria paused midsentence, and while Spencer wasn't looking at her, she could hear the keys on her phone clicking. "Hanna can't make it…"

"Of course." Spencer used every ounce of willpower to keep from speaking the snide remark, but it was not enough, her voice biting and rough. The rest remained a silent scream. She was the one who made me like this! She's the only one who can fix it and she's not coming!

She could feel Emily's quizzical look even without looking at her. "…did you and Hanna have a fight or something, Spence?"

"…or something." Was all she could manage to say, closing her eyes again.

"I can do you one better." Spencer whispered, turning Hanna over in her arms and kissing her. This was not a gesture she would have inherently appreciated herself – she hated most surprises, or at least losing the position of control – but one she knew Hanna loved, by the way her lips parted instantly, and they way her fingers curled into the front of her shirt, and the soft, surprised, but content noise she made as she kissed back. And, while she knew Hanna loved the surprise kisses, she always ended up loving them more.

She felt Hanna's hand shift up between them, working through her buttons quickly – something she'd managed to perfect through her magazine flipping, no doubt. Her manicured nails dipped beneath the folds of the fabric, biting slightly into her skin as she began to push the shirt off. Spencer inhaled sharply, her mouth still on Hanna's, her trembling fingers tracing pathways through her hair as she pulled the blonde closer to her, needing to be next to her, needing to feel her move against her. it was frightening, really, how power Hanna had over her, how much she'd come to need her in her life.

What was even more frightening, however, was Spencer's mother's sharp knock on her door about half a minute later, interrupting what had dissolved into Spencer's hand under Hanna's bra clip and every button on her own person undone. Spencer wasn't as deft as Hanna, but when her secrets were threatened, she swore she could do anything, including buttoning up her plaid shirt and jeans in about thirty seconds.

There was another knock just as Spencer finished. "Yeah, mom?" She called back, her voice wavering just slightly, as Veronica stuck her head in the door. Spencer spared a glance over at Hanna to make sure she was decent, and she was, although, as Spencer continued to glance at her during the conversation, it was looking less and less like she'd just ended a heavy make-out session and more like she'd swallowed a tray of ice cubes.

Spencer's mother left without any serious inquiry, but she barely had a time to breathe sigh of relief before Hanna began noisily gathering up her magazines, moving about in that tense way, each movement sharp and deliberate, letting Spencer know that she was angry, or at least frustrated. And it only took Spencer a second to figure out what it was, reaffirmed as Hanna began to speak again. "Should I just start coming and going through the window so your family doesn't see me?"

"Hanna…" Although Spencer knew the secrecy had been hard on Hanna, she had never seen her so angry over it. "Don't you think you're overreacting just a little? I mean, we talked about this – "

"No, Spencer." Hanna cut her off, looking up with her, and in that moment, Spencer swore she'd never be on the receiving end of one of Hanna's hurt expressions ever again if she could help it. It was too heartbreaking. "You talked. I listened. And I am done just listening, Spencer. Done. I want to be your girlfriend. Not just the chick you make out with when your parents aren't home." Spencer just stared, because that had been the first time the word 'girlfriend' had been mentioned at all over the course of their relationship, or whatever it was considered.

"Hanna, I – "

"Save it, Spencer." Hanna cut her off again, putting her jacket on so viciously that Spencer was sure the sleeves would rip. "You'll just give me an excuse bout how your parents would hate you even more, and then put your hands up my skirt and make me forgive you, and I'm sorry, I just can't do that right now." She turned to the door, pausing. "I'll just…see you at school." There was a heavy shy, a flouncy shake of the head, and Hanna was gone, leaving Spencer to wonder what the hell had just happened, and how – or even if – she could fix it.

"What happened?" Emily's worry was so evident on her face that Spencer could practically hear her expression. "Why would you and Hanna fight?"

"Are you kidding, Emily?" Aria asked, just as Spencer finally opened her eyes again. "Spencer and Hanna are complete opposites, of course they're going to fight…it wasn't a bad one, though, was it Spence?"

Spencer gave a noncommittal shrug, pushing herself into a sitting position, riding out the resulting head rush by gripping at the sheets to keep herself steady. "I guess." Was the only answer she could feasibly give – to tell them it was one of the worst fights they'd ever had would not only be somewhat untrue, since it wasn't exactly a fight, but it would require explanation, something she still wasn't ready to do. "I don't know." She added on, as an afterthought, because she honestly didn't know what had taken place. It had come out of nowhere, hitting her like a freight train at midnight. So, even if she could talk about it, she wouldn't have had the slightest idea of where to start or what to say.

"Do you want me to talk to her?" Now, there was confusion mixed with Emily's worry. "She did seem a bit…weird when I saw her earlier, if there's something I can do to help.

Spencer shook her head. "No…if it's going to be fixed, I have to be the one to do it, Em…but thanks for the offer." She sighed, willingly squeezing Emily's hand as it was offered, easing some of the ache in her empty hands, but not completely, the comfort hollow without the familiar shape and feel of Hanna's hands in hers.

Spencer contemplated her hand, pulling it back from Emily's as she thought, tracing her fingers lightly over the divets and swells of her palm. Could she go without holding Hanna's hands for the rest of her life, or at least for the foreseeable future? Could she ever find a way to move past this sudden shock, this event that had somehow turned her well-ordered world upside down? Could she?

After a minute of staring at her hand, (and a minute of her friends questioning her sanity, no doubt,) Spencer knew the answer.

And it was no.

"I have to go." She said suddenly, practically launching herself out of bed, ignoring her dizziness, pushing past her weakness. She needed to go, now, before it was too late, before something got in her way, before the situation, so badly broken, became unfixable.

Aria had her by the arm before she could take two steps out of bed. "Spence, you're sick, you need to rest." She insisted, holding on tight. For someone so tiny, she had a strong grip.

"I'm fine…I just need some air, I've been cooped up in this room all day." Spencer pleaded. "I just want to go for a drive."

Aria opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by Emily, suddenly. "Let her go, Aria." She said, rising as well, giving Spencer a poignant look. Spencer met Emily's dark gaze, and in that moment, Spencer knew Emily had realized something more than a fight had transpired between Hanna and herself. And, if it had been anyone else other than Emily that knew, she would have been frightened, but instead, she was merely filled with a quiet apprehension. "We should be going anyway."

Aria looked between the two girls, now the only one still in the dark. "…fine." She finally said, upon realizing she wasn't going to get anything out of the two of them, and moving out of the room.

Spencer turned to face Emily as a heavy silence fell over the room. There were a lot of things she could have said, a lot of things she should have said, but they all died on her tongue as Emily crossed the room, placing a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "I understand." She said softly, and with those two words, Spencer suddenly, somehow, felt that much better.

Spencer nodded once, burying herself in Emily's arms for a brief moment, her comfort no longer seeming as hollow as it had before. Emily released her, and with an answering nod, she left, leaving Spencer to grab her jacket and climb down the trellis outside her window, so her mother wouldn't see, laughing into the empty air as she gripped the cold, rickety wood.

Hanna would have appreciated the irony.

Spencer drummed her fingers along the steering wheel as she sat in front of Hanna's house, the beat in contrast to the sound of the windshield wipers, but Spencer loved cacophony. She enveloped herself in it, especially when things were so out of whack – it made her feel more ordered, and less like she was falling apart. She didn't know how long she had been sitting in front of Hanna's house in her car, in the rain, and she didn't know what she was going to say or do. So she closed her eyes, listened to the rain, and drummed along.

So, when the door was suddenly wrenched open, cold air spilling in, the noise of the rain suddenly loud and in her face, Spencer almost screamed. Almost being the operative word, as the hand that clamped over her mouth as the door slammed shut effectively cut her off. "My mom is trying to sleep, would you relax?" Hanna said roughly, pulling her sweatshirt tighter around her as she removed her hand from Spencer's mouth.

"Hanna? What the hell?" Spencer collapsed back in her seat, hand to her chest. "Jesus, you scared me. Do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?" Hanna shot back, still clearly upset from earlier. "You were creeping in front of my house, what else was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure scaring me half to death isn't on that list." Spencer snapped back, feeding off of her energy and instantly regretting it from the way Hanna shut down, sinking deeper into the chair. Spencer faced forward after a minute, hating it when Hanna was upset.

"Why are you here?" Hanna's voice was a lot less sharp, and quieter when she spoke again, what had to be at least ten minutes later. "I…I said I'd call."

"You didn't." Spencer didn't turn to look at Hanna – she couldn't. "And I needed to talk to you, so…here I am."

"So talk." Hanna shrugged, shifting in her seat. "Say what you need to, but make it quick, I've got homework." She muttered. Spencer swallowed hard as she took this in. The distance between them was so thick and palpable she could taste it, and it made her want to throw up. She had been kissing her only a few hours beforehand, and now she could barely stand to look at her. If anything was nauseating, it was this, the situation she'd managed to put them in, with the hurt rolling off of Hanna in waves. The idea that she could have hurt her this badly…well, in all honesty, Spencer knew she would rather die than ever hurt Hanna like this again.

"I wanted to apologize." Spencer finally said, her eyes locked on the steering wheel, heart clenching at the thought of what Hanna must look like, silent tears rolling down her cheeks, arms wrapped around herself as she pretended not to listen, but was actually hanging on every word. "You know, in an application where I couldn't just talk you out of your skirt. I mean…really apologize. You know the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you."

"Yeah, well, you do a fine job of showing that." Spencer had to resist the urge to physically wince at the sting of Hanna's words.

"I guess you don't have to believe me." Spencer started again, leaning back against her chair, eyes trained on the window, and the raindrops sticking to the glass, illuminated by a distant streetlight. "There's really no excuse for how I…what I've done to you. You're too special to keep hidden. And yeah, my parents are…a big, big part of it, but…mostly I'm scared that…you're too special for me. I try so hard all of the time, and nothing is ever good enough for anyone, and you just…you don't have to try, and everyone loves you." Spencer didn't realized how close to crying she was until her voice broke. "And you're the one perfect thing I have in my life, and I'm afraid that once it sees the light, it will go to hell like everything else."

"Spencer…" Hanna said her name immediately after she began talking, but fell to silence as Spencer leaned her head against the window. She closed her eyes against the tears that began to rush in, jumping slightly as Hanna began to talk again. "I don't know where you got the idea that I'm perfect, but I'm not…I'm the one that's not good enough for you. You're perfect. You're Spencer Hastings, you're the definition of perfect. I was just afraid that…that you were ashamed of me." Hanna fell to silence again, and Spencer dared to look over at her. Her silhouette was illuminated by the porch light, a single track of tears tracing down her left cheek, crystalline eyes fixed on a distant point outside the windshield. Spencer had never seen her look as heartbreakingly beautiful as she did in that moment. She leaned forward, shifting in the driver's seat, taking Hanna's chin and turning her head so that she was looking at her.

"I could never be ashamed of someone like you." Spencer whispered, taking in her expression for a moment, before closing the distance and capturing her lips with her own, dropping her hand to the back of her neck. "You are perfection." She whispered against her lips, not moving away from her.

Hanna tried to pull away slightly, trembling. "Someone could see…"

"Let them."

"What the hell are you doing here, Spencer?" Spencer jumped, a small yelp of surprise escaping from the back of her throat as she was jerked from her reverie by Hanna, as she had done before, vaulting into her car without warning. "You can't just keep sitting out here in your car like a lost puppy, hoping I'll let you in. What do you want?"

Spencer was so taken aback by Hanna's tone of voice that she couldn't find her own right away, just looking at her. She had never heard her that sharp before. "I…what is your problem?" She finally asked. "I didn't…you broke up with me. Why are you so angry? I'm the only one who has a right to be angry."

"If you're going to sit here and tell me how I should or should not feel, I'm getting out of this car." Hanna said, no less tense than before, arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes fixed away from Spencer, out of the windshield. The brunette bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling, looking away. She had never imagined, not once, that Hanna was capable of hurting her like this.

"Just tell me what I did." Spencer finally whispered, head bowed, eyes on her hands in her lap. "Please, just…just tell me what I did, so I can fix it, or take it back or apologize. I can't…I can't go on living like this, I made myself sick, I…I couldn't get out of bed today. I've never…no one has ever meant so much to me that I've gotten sick over them. And you leaving me…it hurts more than any break-up I've ever gone through, I just…" She inhaled sharply as her voice broke, wiping at her eyes. "Hanna, please…I just want to know what I did so this can end. I can't live like this, I can't live without you."

There was silence from Hanna's end, and Spencer couldn't bring herself to look at her, dissolving into silent tears. Her stomach turned with anxiety, and self loathing – what was so bad about her that Hanna couldn't stay?

"Why do you think it was something you did?" The sound of Hanna's voice made Spencer turn. Hanna was looking at her, her steely expression faltering as she saw Spencer's tears. "Why do you think it's your fault?"

"Because it has to be." Spencer gasped, feeling manic, out of control, her grip on the world slipping away into the cacophony that her life had become. "It has to be my fault, Hanna, because you're perfect, and there's nothing you could ever do that I wouldn't be absolutely enthralled with, and you're flawless, so if something's wrong, it has to be my fault!"

"It's not you, Spencer." Hanna said, shifting away from her slightly, clearly somewhat disturbed by her outburst.

"Then tell me." Spencer said, trying to regain control of her breathing. "Please…tell me, so I can stop hating myself over it."

"I can't." Hanna whispered, burying herself deeper into her jacket. "Spencer, stop, I can't tell you."

"Tell me." Spencer insisted again, gripping the steering wheel with one hand, trying to find something solid to keep hold of, to keep her grounded in the chaos she was slowly becoming.

"I can't." Hanna insisted, although her expression and her voice were steadily becoming softer, her concern overwhelming her apparent need to be stoic.

"Please." Spencer whispered, shifting over to be closer to her, needing to feel close to her somehow – that was the only way she could ever feel better, she knew that. "Hanna please, just tell me."

"I can't." Came the resultant whisper from the blonde, as she leaned in. The tension had turned to magnetism, their history, their attraction too difficult to ignore. "Spencer…please, I can't…" Hanna's breath audibly hitched, and before Spencer knew what was happening, Hanna was kissing her, fisting a hand in her dark hair, dragging her closer.

Spencer had no choice but to kiss her back, and why would she refuse? The instant it registered that Hanna was kissing her, everything felt right again. The storm, the cacophony, the chaos that she had become in her absence fell back into place. Like the hypnotic, clockwork turning of magazine pages, as long as Hanna was in her life, the rhythm was one she could follow.