A/N: Hello lovelies! I'm so sorry for the delay. I've received several messages from many of you, through here and on Tumblr. My summer job kicks my ass each year, and I haven't had much time to breathe.

I've also been having some trouble with developing the story. I know a few directions I'd like to go, but I'm feeling a bit stuck. Any recommendations would be highly appreciated. So many of you have given good ideas in the past :-)

I'm sorry that it's on the shorter side. I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things very soon here.

Much love to all of you! xoxo

CHAPTER 3

Spencer had hoped – prayed, even – that getting Holmes out of the house would take his mind off the situation at home. No such luck thus far – he hadn't stopped talking since they stepped off the front porch.

"I hate him," Holmes declared for the umpteenth time as he and Spencer settled into their classroom seats. "I just want to beat that smug little look right off his face."

"Caleb? Smug?" Spencer demanded, sending a sidelong glance in Holmes's direction. "I can't help but think your bias is clouding your perception of reality."

Holmes slouched in his chair and put his feet up on the seat in front of him, glowering like a child.

"I don't care. If you were in my position right now, you wouldn't be able to think straight, either."

Spencer pursed her lips. "What is it that's on your mind, in particular?" She was well-aware that Holmes's current feelings went above and beyond petty insults. He was masking his fears behind a façade of anger and machismo…and he would need to discuss them sooner or later. Before the time bomb went off.

He seemed suddenly very interested in brushing the dried mud off the bottom hem of his pants. "You're a smart girl, Spence," he said quietly. "I'm sure you've figured it out by now."

Spencer watched him in silence for a moment, wishing she could think of something more profound to say than the usual, generic words of wisdom. Nothing came to her.

"I'm sorry," she said pathetically.

"Why? Did you sleep with her, too?" Holmes demanded with half-hearted cheek, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. "Goddamn, we're in more trouble than we thought."

Spencer grinned. She couldn't help herself. His bizarre sense of humor always went right up her alley.

"I can't wait until this whole situation is resolved, so I can be rid of him once and for all," Holmes declared as his smile began to fade.

Spencer sighed sympathetically, curling a strand of hair around her index finger. Her heart thumped nervously in her chest at the prospect of the potential pain she was about to present to him.

"Holmes…I'm not sure you've considered this…but what if the outcome isn't what you're hoping for?"

Holmes averted his gaze towards the front of the room, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. It was as though he was attempting to hold his surfacing emotions back. It took a few moments for him to respond.

"I can't think like that," he admitted quietly. "Because that would mean losing Hanna forever."

The silence that settled between them was heavy and uncomfortable, inundated with nuance and fear. Spencer wasn't quite sure how to respond to his dark confession, but opted to take the optimistic route.

"That's not true," she uttered.

Holmes scoffed, expressing the abundant bitterness he felt. "No? And what would you do if you found out your hypothetical child wasn't Toby's?"

Spencer faltered for a moment before Holmes interrupted her.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. You guys would never be in this mess," he continued, his voice laced with heavy sarcasm. "This shit seems to only happen to me."

Spencer winced, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "Listen…for what it's worth…Toby and I are both rooting for you. We both want the best for you and Hanna and – well – speaking for myself, I don't like the idea of Caleb becoming part of Hanna's life again. It's not that he was bad to her, because he wasn't. But their lives have clearly taken different paths now…and I don't want Hanna to have to sacrifice anything for him. She spent far too long protecting him and looking out for him – she deserves better."

Holmes quietly returned the squeeze, but did not consent to meet her eyes again. Professor Brackshaw was parading down the middle aisle now, his dreadlocks bouncing wildly behind him.

"Good morning everyone!" he declared as he reached the podium and dropped off his briefcase. "How was everyone's Spring Break?"

Holmes laughed derisively. Spencer pretended not to notice.

"All right, then, let's get started. You all should have read Plato's Republic over vacation – although – let's not kid ourselves – I highly doubt any of you had the time while you were sunning in Cancun."

Spencer joined the class in chuckling. She quite liked Professor Brackshaw's style. His standards were high, but he was also a realist. He did not expect the impossible.

"You read it while you were in Hawaii, didn't you?" Holmes declared accusatorily, smirking in Spencer's direction. She blushed lightly.

"I may have glanced at it now and then when Toby was sleeping in."

"Well, you're all in luck, because today's agenda includes going over the reading in detail. Don't say I never gave you anything," Professor Brackshaw stated. The class once again laughed at his candor.

Spencer obediently opened her copy of Plato's works, instantly flipping to the dog-eared page of her latest assignment. She pretended not to pay attention to Holmes's discontent, afraid to cause him any more anxiety. However, as the lesson continued on, she caught him staring off into the distance several times, all focus evading him. It wasn't like him – he was quite fond of Professor Brackshaw as well, and was often very engaged by his colorful lectures.

That was the last straw. She was having a very long, very stern talk with Hanna the moment she returned home.

The talk with Hanna didn't happen. Spencer had come barreling into the house, leaving Holmes to discuss an assignment extension with Professor Brackshaw, fully intent on tracking Hanna down like a bloodhound. The more she thought about it, the more furious she became. Hanna may have been frightened, yes – but she was being unforgivably selfish in her procrastinations.

Instead, Spencer found Toby sitting at the dining room table with a cup of coffee, scanning through the newspaper. The midday sun was dancing through the open blinds, casting a shimmery glow across his skin. He looked as if he had begun to get dressed and gotten distracted – his button-down shirt still lay open, revealing the perfect plane that was his chest and abs.

She stopped in her tracks, vaguely aware of the fact that her mouth had suddenly gone dry. Toby seemed to notice her then, glancing up from the paper to offer her a warm smile.

"Welcome home," he declared. "How was Philosophy?"

"It was – it was good," she stuttered. Had it really been that long since they had been intimate? She felt like it was her wedding night all over again.

He smirked knowingly, beckoning her to join his side. "I've been looking at the listings all morning," he began, looping an arm around her waist as she came to stand next to him.

Spencer peered down at the ads he was perusing, a knot settling in her stomach. "Listings for what?"

"Apartments," he replied, as though it were the obvious answer. He seemed oblivious to her ambivalent expression as he continued to read down the page, occasionally marking or circling with a blue felt-tip pen.

"You mean…you want to move out?" Spencer asked quietly. Toby turned to face her, perplexed.

"You don't?" He took her waist in both hands, guiding her to sit on his lap. She stared mindlessly at the periodical before them, fighting to think of the words to explain her position.

"That's not – I mean…we can't," she sputtered at last.

She could feel Toby stiffen defensively beneath her. "Why can't we?" he demanded quietly. Spencer could hear the fear in his voice as he spoke. She impatiently pushed a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Toby, Hanna needs me right now. It's not the time to pick up and go…"

Toby growled in frustration, gently removing Spencer from his lap. He stood too, as if prepping for an unwanted argument.

"Spencer," he began slowly, "What's going on with Hanna and Holmes and Caleb is not your responsibility."

"No, it's not," Spencer agreed, crossing her arms over her chest. "But being there for my best friend in a time of crisis is."

Toby's jaw was twitching irritably as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Listen, Spencer," he started. Though Toby rarely got angry with her, the sternness in his voice was growing with every moment. "This entire mess has been tearing us apart. I'm not about to let it keep happening. I'm sorry – but there's a time and place to be selfish. And I think you need to let yourself have a turn. We need to get out of here."

This short diatribe was enough to send up several red flags. Spencer could feel Toby growing more and more frustrated every second of every day. "It's just for a little while," she promised. "Until Hanna figures out who the father is…"

"Face it, Spencer. She doesn't want to know," Toby declared brashly. Spencer's nostrils flared involuntarily. She couldn't fault him for the thought – she had been thinking the very same thing all morning. But it was one thing for her to say it – and something different entirely when he did.

He knew instantly that he had said the wrong thing when Spencer turned abruptly on her heel and began storming up the stairs. He sighed and attempted to follow.

"Baby, I'm sorry," he offered. He could practically feel his anger dialing down notch by notch. "Spencer…"

"Fuck off," she retaliated as she rounded the corner at the top of the stairs. He heard her slam the door behind herself.

Toby clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, unable to steady the barrage of thoughts that were racing through his mind. He returned to the dining table and studied the listings he had taken note of. They weren't far – walking distance, even. He wanted to remain close as much as Spencer did…his best friend lived here, too.

With a defeated grunt, he swept the newspaper off the table with one arm. He heard the pen clatter somewhere into the kitchen.

"The news always gets me down, too."

Toby looked up, finding Holmes standing before him. He looked considerably less upset than he had before leaving this morning, but there was a dark discouragement in his eyes nonetheless.

"What's the matter?" Holmes asked after Toby did not so much as smile at his joke.

"Nothing," Toby muttered, standing hurriedly and retrieving his coat. "You up for a beer at Charley's?"

Holmes pushed past him to race him to the door. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to ask me that."