A/N: -insert obligatory apology for the long wait here-

-insert generic explanation of school eating free time and personal issues here-

okay now things to remember:

-this is a FLASHBACK CHAPTER. This entire thing is a flashback to ten years ago.

-since this is written in spencer's p.o.v it's going to seem a little biased towards spencer. but hang in there.

-I'm really, really, really, really, really sorry.


"This is Spencer Hastings, I'm sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message or send me a text, and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!"

Spencer, it's your mother. I know things didn't go so well the last time we spoke, but I need to talk with you, I'll be coming over today around four or so, I'll see you then.


A series of quick kisses, like soft and tiny sips of something sweet and cherry flavored, danced across Spencer's lips as she laid in the blissful in-between of sleep and wakefulness. They felt like sparks, the good kind, not the painful kind, and the crackling electricity made her eyes flutter open. "Hey…" Her voice was soft, muzzy with sleep and warm contentment, and it was the only word Spencer could get out before Hanna kissed her fully. She closed her eyes again, and Hanna's kiss was better than sonar.

"Hey there." Hanna's grin reminded her of sunshine, and her eyes lit up like Christmas as she leaned in slowly, kissing her again, finding her hand underneath the covers, tangling their fingers together. Spencer held on like she never wanted to let go, and honestly, if her world was forever limited to the bed, warmed from sleep, and Hanna looking at her like she was the only perfect thing in the whole universe, she would never want to.

"You're up early." Spencer sighed, pushing herself up on her elbows, the sheets shifting off of her, exposing her bare legs to the slightly chilly morning air. "This isn't like you…you weren't trying to sneak out on me, were you?"

Hanna laughed as Spencer moved to the edge of the bed, sliding her hands along her shoulders. "Well, that's exactly what I was doing." She said, climbing up into her lap, wrapping her arms around her neck, fingertips curling into her hair, curly and formless. "I don't want Jason to catch me."

"Jason doesn't care." Spencer replied. "We could probably do it in front of him, and he'd just tell us to keep it down…and you're not very good at that, now are you? Let's test it…" She leaned forward, drawing her lips across the column of her neck, drinking her in, her scent, her dewy skin, letting it all pour over her. Now that she knew what it was like to be kept from her, from someone she needed so viscerally, she noticed and savored everything. The stiff corduroy of her skirt against her thighs, the way her fingers flexed and gave as they held onto her hair, the deep sighs and little sounds. Everything was magnified and illuminated, and she was starting to wonder if she should be thankful for the ordeal they had gone through.

"Jason's your big, scary older brother and I'm defiling his baby sister, it's like the laws of manhood that he has to sit on the porch with a shotgun and wait for me to come and pick you up." Hanna got out after a minute, pushing her away, her reluctance evident in the gentle tone of the gesture. She slipped off her lap, and into her heels. "And besides, my mom's doing tastings today, and I am not going to pass up a chance at free wedding cake."

Spencer chuckled. "I wouldn't ask you to. But at least let me walk you to the door." She stood, pulling at the hem of her oversized t-shirt, letting her arm hang low around her waist as she guided her out of the small bedroom on the first floor and into the living room. It was surreal, to be living in Ali's old house, but she'd mostly gotten over that. It was only at night when it bothered her anymore, when every sound could have been Ali's ghost wandering the halls, and every closet could be holding another ticking timebomb of a memory. It was better than her parents' house, where around every corner was another opportunity for disappointment, and a chance to be ignored, or devalued, or erased entirely.

They paused at the back door, Spencer's hands resting just above the waistband of her skirt, Hanna's fingertips playing at the collar of her t-shirt. "And you're sure you can't come with me today?" Hanna asked. "Not that I'm needy or anything, my mom keeps asking me to bring you, since you're going to be my date to the wedding. Not to mention that you're responsible for my better grades and clean room, I mean, the woman practically worships you."

"That might be a problem, since she's marrying Pastor Ted." Spencer sighed, with a smile. "But no, I'm sorry…I have to study. The AP Government is next week, and I need to brush up on all of the Supreme court decisions, and how they – "

"And this is where I go before I fall asleep and start drooling all over you." Hanna cut her off with a playful smile. "Good luck with that." She reached out, and squeezed her hand. "I'll come by later and we'll get dinner okay?" She said as she turned away.

"What, no goodbye kiss?" Spencer asked, but before she could take the step towards her, Hanna turned suddenly, taking her by surprise as she kissed her full on, hands fisting into the t-shirt as she dragged her close. Spencer could feel her wavering on her heels, putting her hands on her waist to steady her. There had never used to be anything steady about them – they were wild and wavering and secretive and passionate and always on the edge, and she used to think that being that way was the only way for them, but now that she had her, now that she had goodbye kisses and dinner plans, she knew she had been so very wrong.

"Hanna." She called out softly, when the kiss had broken and Hanna was halfway down the walk. The blonde looked over her shoulder, framed by the pale morning sunlight, and Spencer's breath caught in her chest for a moment. "I love you."

Hanna's smile was as warm as summer. "I love you too, Spencer."

"Overnight visitor?" Spencer jumped, scraping her arm against the wooden frame of the door, cursing her splinters as she turned to see Jason, in all of his just-rolled-out-of-bed glory. (Thankfully, this time he'd had the peace of mind to pull on a t-shirt.)

"I…she just…dropped by this morning, since…you don't believe a word of this, do you?" Spencer asked, giving up the charade quickly as she moved over to the couch, perching on the top of it, carefully inspecting her arm. "Do you mind?"

Jason made a noncommittal noise, shrugging as he moved over to the kitchen, stooping over and leaning into the fridge. "She's better than that Toby kid, and she can't get you pregnant, so I guess I really don't have any license to mind." He pulled out milk, drinking it straight from the carton, ever the dirty bachelor. (Beyond her disgust, his behavior was sometimes a little endearing. Especially now, when she was in such a good mood.) "Was this a special visit? You ask her to prom yet?"

"No." Spencer sighed, picking at one of the loose threads on the couch. She'd wanted to – that had been the purpose of inviting her to spend the night, the reason why she'd bought a bunch of Hanna's favorite pink sangria candles and run them a bath, and made sure Jason actually washed the sheets this time. She wanted it to be special, but each time she tried, the words all dried up and left her as useless as an empty pitcher to a thirsty person.

"Well, she's your girlfriend, isn't that, like…an automatic invitation?" Jason asked, finally straightening up, pulling a box of frozen waffles from the freezer and spinning them around in his hands.

"Well, technically, yes, we have an understanding, and we've already picked what colors we're wearing, but Emily told me that Hanna told her that she wanted something special, so now I don't know what to do – but I guess I probably shouldn't be taking your advice." She playfully knocked his shoulder, before taking the frozen waffles from his hand and sticking them in the toaster, instead of the toaster oven, where he was attempting to put them. "You were one of those assholes that drank in the parking lot all night, right? Left some poor girl high and dry?"

Jason's only response to that was a half-smile that let her know all-too-certainly that she was right. "So, ask one of your friends, or Melissa or something, they know what girls like."

"Please." Spencer scoffed, pulling the strawberry jam from the cupboard. "Aria's too busy lamenting about how she and Ezra can't go to prom, and Emily would never be able to keep a secret from Hanna. And I haven't heard from Melissa in a while." She shrugged, catching a waffle as it popped up. "I'll figure something out, I always do."

"Right…do I have any parental type things I need to lecture you about today, or are you good?" Jason asked, spreading peanut butter on his waffle with marked determination.

"If you see me slacking off on my AP studying, you should probably set me straight, but otherwise, I think I'll be fine." Spencer was halfway out the kitchen entry, taking a bite out of her waffle with jam, her mind running ahead of her, all the way over to the bedroom with the flashcards and the books and the painstakingly taken notes. (Her thoughts also went to Kyle, the teacher who had left so suddenly, but they were off her just as suddenly as they were on her.)

"Hey, Spence?" She turned on her heel, the chill from the tile floor sending tremors up her legs as she looked at her brother, who, for once, was wearing a genuine expression, even if it wasn't quite a smile. "It's good to see you happy." He said, after a long moment. Spencer felt her own mouth curving into a sort of smile, and she gave the same noncommittal shrug he was famous for.

"Well…it's good to finally be happy." She said, holding eye contact with him for a moment, before turning again, taking a bite out of her waffle as she mentally flipped through her flashcards. She did spare a second for the sentiment though, wondering why it had taken her this long to finally be happy enough for people to notice.

But that little thing flitted away as she sank own onto the bed with her textbook and Hanna's scent still lingering heavily in the air. For once, the little specifics, the minute points in the universe that had once caused her worry had no meaning for her anymore. She was happy – what use were details?


Griswold v. Connecticut was the case that established that the right to privacy was guaranteed by the 9th amendement to the Constitution, and therefore paved the road for - "Spencer! Can you get the door?! I'm covered in paint!" Spencer had been so engrossed in her in her flashcards that she hadn't even heard the door. But dutifully, she lifted herself from bed and shimmied into a pair of shorts before crossing the living room to the now insistent and repetitive sound of the doorbell.

"I'm coming!" She called, sighing heavily, glancing at the clock as she passed by. 4:00. Hanna would be done any minute, and be there soon after that. She hoped against hope for a Jehovah's Witness or political activist that she could turn away quickly in the interest of getting ready. But the instant her hand closed on the cold metal of the doorknob, a thick sense of uneasiness settled over her, sitting like a leaden weight in her stomach, and as the door swung open to reveal her mother, she wished she'd heeded it. "Mom…"

"Spencer." She was holding a long, flat box in her arms that she used to muscle her way in, before Spencer could even think of stepping aside. "Glad you're here…you look like you've been hard at work."

Spencer slicked down her messy ponytail, taking a moment to marvel at just how easy it was for her mother, simply by showing up and saying no more than a dozen words, to make her fall so hard so fast. She had whiplash – she had been so high lately, particularly that morning, drunk off freedom and the lack of responsibility, to her parents, to her history, to their status. And now all of that had come crashing down around her again, scattered at her feet, shattered and broken and all because of her. She was the five year old being interrogated by her father about why she hadn't been taken into the gifted and talented program. She was the twelve year old sitting off to the side and watching her sister scoop up class president, prom queen and valedictorian all in one fell swoop. She was the seventeen year old watching her parents and realizing that loving a girl wasn't in their agenda for her, and deviating from that path at all was some sort of ultimate dealbreaker. "Yeah, I have been, what do you want?" She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the closed door.

"I wanted to give you something." Bribery. This was the tactic they had always resorted to, when things didn't go as planned. She had received so many gifts for shady reasons, and not for just because. "Melissa told me you were wearing metallics to the prom, but hadn't found a dress yet." More like Melissa was badgered and badgered until Melissa just couldn't stand it anymore and told Veronica anyway. (Spencer didn't blame her.) "So I took a little trip up to New York, and I found this." She opened the box, smoothing away the tissue paper. "It's just your size."

Spencer had to admit, as she pulled the dress out of the box, she was momentarily struck speechless. It was everything she'd been looking for. It was shimmering gold silk, floor length with a slim skirt, overlain with black tulle. She could see herself in it perfectly – with her hair down and loose around her shoulders, a simple black clutch with a crystal closure. And even if her mother was one of her least favorite people, she had to admit that she had impeccable taste. "I…it's perfect." She glanced up at her, wary of her intentions, her stomach now straight up churning. The last things her mother had said to her were less than ideal, and she was never one to conceded or apologize out of selflessness, especially when she was so self-assured in her thinking. "What's the catch?"

Veronica shrugged in a way that let Spencer know it wasn't casual at all. "I just wanted to buy my daughter a prom dress." She turned, facing her as she folded the dress over her arm. "Although…"

"Here we go." Spencer rolled her eyes, moving away from the door, closer to her mother. "I don't want to hear it, mother, you can leave, and take the dress with you. I don't want it."

"Just hear me out, Spencer." Veronica said, grabbing her arm to stop her as she went by. "Alex is back in town, I ran into him at the club and he – "

"Alex?! Are you kidding me?"

" – said he really wanted to hear from you, and I'm sure he'd be willing to take you to the Prom, and we could even get the club to host it, if you could just – "

"Stop!" Spencer snapped, throwing her hands in the air violently, so tense she was sure she would break in half. "Just stop, Mom. Stop talking. Do you have any idea what you're saying right now? What you're asking me to do?" She turned away, blinking back tears, before she stared at her mother with a steely expression. "I have a girlfriend, mom. I have a girlfriend that I love and who loves me back, and I buy her flowers, and she leaves notes in lipstick on my bathroom mirror every time she's over, and she makes me happy." Spencer pulled her hands to her chest, now aching. "And I want nothing more than to go to prom with her, and watch her win her crown, and dance with her in front of God and everyone. Why does that matter so much to you? Why can't you just let me be happy?"

"I do want you to be happy, Spencer, that's all I want." Veronica said, after a long moment. "That's all I've ever wanted. But this isn't the way to be happy, Spencer, I – "

"Who are you to define what makes me happy?" Spencer wasn't holding back any more – she couldn't. She hadn't gotten her chance before, she'd left before it could even begin to boil over, but she was done. She was done hiding from them, and how they felt about her, and how eager they were to sweep that and her under the rug. It was time to shed light on it, and even though she shook from nervousness, she had never felt more powerful in her whole life. "I don't care about how people will see me, or you. I'm done, mom. Let's not pretend that this is about my future. It's about yours. And how people will react when they find out about me. I know you're itching to kick me out of your life, but you're worried about how that will look." Spencer took a step forward, hands balled into fists, staring her mother down. "Let me make it simple for you. I don't want to be your daughter anymore." Spencer lashed out, flinging the dress box to the ground. "There you go. Now you can tell them all that it was my choice."

The door slammed before either of them could say any more. Spencer had never seen her mother move so fast before, but she managed to catch a glimpse of her expression, and it told her all she needed to know – that she was right, and that she had won. And even though it hurt, she realized, as she picked the dress and the box up off the floor, she had been preparing herself for it for as long as she could remember. But never had she imagined she'd be strong enough to handle it. And while most of it had come from her, form her years of pent up resentment and frustration, she knew she couldn't take total responsibility.

"Jason, I'm going out!" She called, pausing a moment to check and make sure her mother was gone before she pulled on shoes and sprinted down the sidewalk to Hanna's house, faster than she really should have. She bent over at the waist to catch her breath as she stood on her front step, glancing up just in time to see Hanna pull into the driveway.

"Spencer?" She asked, slamming the car door shut, jogging up to her as best as she could in her heels. "Are you okay?"

"I'm perfect." She said softly, pulling her into a kiss by the front of her dress, catching the blonde by surprise. But she melted in her arms as always, and twisted her fingertips in her hair, her pulse almost a match to hers as she pressed against her. Six months ago, this would have been inconceivable, kissing her on her front steps in front of everyone, but now that she was doing it, now that she had her for the world to see, she wasn't sure how she'd ever lived and survived in secret, how she had kept it inside of her for so long without letting it spill from her, without screaming it from the rooftops that someone cared about her, that someone thought she was worth it. Now that everyone knew, maybe, just maybe, she'd be worth it for other people too. "Go to prom with me, babe?"

"I…of course." Hanna's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, face turning slightly against her touch as Spencer brushed her thumb over her cheek. "But I thought…"

"I know you wanted something special. I tried last night, I was just…too nervous." Spencer laughed a little, bringing up her other hand to hold her face. "I still could, you know…do something cool, and romantic and crazy, if you want but…you know how much you mean to me, right?" She sighed, her stomach and head spinning with how desperately affectionate she felt, spurred on by her mother's dismissal. "I don't need anything else but you and I. That's it. I've always…hidden behind other things, behind myself and my reputation…but I feel like I don't have to anymore, and that's all because of you. I know this isn't the special thing you wanted…but this is us, and just us, and I think that's better."

Hanna gazed at her, and her eyes looked like stars, or diamonds, or something else that shimmered beyond belief and was worth more than any part of her combined. "…it is better." She said softly, pulling Spencer's hands away from her face and holding them between the two of them, resting them against her chest. "It's so much better."

"You and me." Spencer whispered again, this time against her lips, letting go of her dress and letting her arms fall down around her waist, less than subtly pulling her up so that the space between their bodies dissipated, and there was nothing but blessed friction and arching backs and hips slotted perfectly against each other.

"You and I." Spencer dropped the kiss at Hanna's quiet exhalation, pulling away slightly in question, running her thumb along her jawline. "It's…it's 'you and I,' Spence." Hanna said, a small smile at the corners of her mouth. "Not 'you and me.'"

"I…I knew that."

"Sure you did." Spencer kissed Hanna hard, banishing the smug expression from her features, cupping her face in her hands. The door fell open behind them, and Spencer cupped the backs of Hanna's thighs as she pushed her against the wall, Hanna's legs wrapping around her waist. They stumbled up the stairs in awkward but impassioned synchronicity, tripping over each other in their haste.

"You are so in for it." Spencer whispered against her mouth, pulling Hanna's hair hard before shoving her down onto the bed, climbing over her.

"Wow…" Hanna said, face flushed, biting on her lower lip as she snaked her hands down to the hem of Spencer's shirt, starting to pull it off of her. "You're really hot when you have something to prove."

"I have – " Spencer started working on the buttons along the front of Hanna's dress, kissing her skin as she revealed it. " – nothing – " Her head dipped in the valley of her breasts and lower on her porcelain skin, peeling away the barrier of her dress. " – to prove."

And, for once in her life, she didn't.


"This is Spencer Hastings, I'm sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message or send me a text, and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!"

Spencer, it's your father. You've upset your mother and you've upset me, and we need to talk about this as soon as possible. Call me back immediately, I am very disappointed in you.


"Of course she's going to win." Emily said, leaning back against Paige's chest, her dark blue dress matching the brunette's waistcoat. "You guys made out in front of the entire football team."

"It's not our fault they got in from practice fifteen minutes early." Spencer sighed, brushing a curl out of her face, shifting uncomfortably in her dress. With the help of Ashley and Regina Marin, she had picked out another one, but that had fallen through in the last minute. (The last minute being a glass of wine, a clumsy dinner guest, and an unfortunate choice to steam and hang the dress in the living room.) So she was in the black and gold bribe her mother had brought her, and it was like a weight on her shoulders. Still, she rolled her shoulders and straightened her neck, giving Hanna a reassuring smile when she looked her way. "We thought the locker room was empty. Besides, she doesn't need accidental exhibitionism to win anyway."

"Exactly." Aria patted her arm, looping it with hers. "Nearly getting burned alive does a lot to remove stigma from a girl."

Spencer cast a shadowy look at her, but in essence, she was right. After nearly dying during the veritable shitstorm that Mona had unleashed on them, (apparently out of her own volition, as she was unceremoniously turned into the police several weeks later, abandoned by whoever had been running the puppet show,) Hanna's it girl status had been restored. Girls came out of the woodwork to coo over her burned hands and reminisce about that one time that they had exchanged three words about how dumb a teacher was, like that made them inseparable. Boys would come around and put their arms around her waist, and lean far too close for Spencer's liking – luckily a sharp look from her and a not-so-gentle chest push from Hanna would send them packing. Spencer had taken the brunt of the backlash – after all, most of it came from her circles, not Hanna's, and since girls like Emily, Maya and Paige had already paved the way, they received much more acceptance and little resistance after the first few shockwaves had passed. "It's not a sympathy vote, and it's not because people think she's a commodity. People love Hanna, they always have. She's the perfect Prom Queen."

"You're so whipped." Aria said, sighing.

"No, Spencer's right." Paige said, wrapping one arm around Emily's waist. "Even if this whole system is rooted in the patriarchy, I've never met anyone who's more prom queen material than Hanna."

"You're both whipped." Aria teased. "And the patriarchy? You're spending way too much time on tumblr, Paige."

"You're just bitter that your date couldn't pass the age check." Spencer said, raising a brow.

Aria winced. "Ouch, much?"

"Sorry." Spencer pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, taking a deep breath. "I didn't mean that, I'm just nervous. If Hanna doesn't win, she's going to be devastated."

"I thought you said you were sure she was going to win." Aria replied.
"Well, on the off-chance she doesn't, I mean."

"Oh my God, shut up, or you're going to miss the announcement." Emily said, effectively shutting the two of them down and making Spencer look at the stage again. Hanna stood in the middle of a line of four other girls, none of which Spencer knew well at all or even particularly cared for. She watched the principal, every nerve and every doubt shining in her clear blue eyes. Spencer hated seeing her look like that, seeing her insecure and doubting herself. She could tell exactly what was running through her mind, and while she had tried to get through to her that prom queen had no bearing on her worth as person or her reputation, she knew Hanna couldn't shake the importance it had to her overnight. And she was allowed to find it important – after all, what else would do a better job of restoring them to true normalcy and setting them on a new and calm path than achieving the ultimate of teen girl fantasies?

Spencer caught Hanna's eye, her wide, twinkling eyes looking like she was about to bolt off into the forest like a deer. She was waving the proverbial white flag of surrender, and the steadily fading color in her cheeks, beneath the make-up, let Spencer know that she was probably about to pass out. This wasn't the Hanna from two years ago, who went into the contest for Homecoming Queen with only a small bundle of nerves and an assurance about her victory. Maybe it was the aftereffects of their omniscient team of cyberstalkers that had worn her down. Or maybe she'd just gotten worse at hiding her true levels of anxiety.

Or maybe she knew her so much better now than she had then.

Either way, before Spencer knew it, she found herself pulling out of Aria's grasp and stepping up onto the stage next to her girlfriend. (It wasn't too unusual, one of the other girls had their boyfriend holding them from behind.) The mild wave of induced chatter settled down with a stern look from the principal, who went on announcing the names and a short profile of each contestant. (Completely unnecessary, they knew who all of the girls were.) Spencer took Hanna's gloved hand in hers, rubbing the back of it. "You got this babe." She whispered once he was done talking about Hanna and had moved on.

"No, I don't, I'm gonna lose." Hanna whispered mournfully, gripping Spencer's hand so tightly, she feared it was going to fall off. "This is all I've ever wanted, Spencer, and I'm going to lose."

"No, you're not." Spencer assured her, moving her hands to her shoulders. "You're wonderful and everyone loves you, and they'd be stupid not to vote for you. And even if you don't win, Hanna, you have nothing to prove. Not to me or anyone else. I love you, no matter if you're Prom Queen or the lowest ranked on the GPA scale. Okay?"

Hanna relaxed by about a millimeter, but as she looked back at Spencer, the fight or flight in her eyes was gone, and was instead replaced with a watery sort of calm. "Okay."

"And the Prom Queen for the Rosewood Day class of 2012 is – " There was some comical fumbling with the envelope that no one found particularly funny. " – Miss Hanna Marin!"

Hanna yelped a little, stepping back into Spencer's arms, glancing back at her as if to see if that was real. "You did it, baby, now go." Spencer said, kissing the side of her head, beaming as she shoved her forward a little to get her moving towards the microphone, stepping back and watching, with a prideful, swelling feeling in her chest, as the tiara was delicately placed on Hanna's head, her blonde hair cascading down the back of her neck in waves and curls. She turned back to look at Spencer, beaming even more than she had been, and even with the stricken film of shock lain over her features, she looked radiant, angelic, every bit the princess any little girl would dream of being. Spencer's heart ached with how proud she was, and with how much she loved to see her so happy.

There was a smattering of applause before the lights dimmed, and the spotlight was lit on the floor. A song with dulcet notes began to float through the room, and as she stepped off the stage, she held out her hand. "May I have this dance?"


The sun had gone down completely, leaving them with only the glittering stringed lights hanging above their heads. The excitement in the room had settled down, and the rowdiest people had left to pregame before the after prom party, leaving only those that were couples, or just seriously abstinent, at the party. The low and sultry voice of Norah Jones oozed out of the speakers, a slow song to sway to, and that's exactly what Spencer did – sway, with Hanna tucked up against her chest.

"I waited 'til I saw the sun. I don't know why I didn't come."

Hanna sighed against Spencer's chest. "This is a sad song." She turned her head up to look at her, arms wrapped around her neck. The tiara was starting to sink in her hair, a little bit uneven, but it was still glittering, and even though Hanna was clearly tired and completely spent, she still looked radiant and elated, like straight sunshine had been injected into her veins. "They shouldn't be playing it."

"My heart is drenched in wine, but you'll be on my mind, forever."

"I don't know, I like this song." Spencer said, dropping her hands lower on Hanna's hips, sighing deeply in contentment. "It's tragic, but…romantic. I mean…yeah, they aren't together, and that's awful…but in the end, she's always going to be thinking of him."

"Well…" Hanna pursed her lips slightly, looking up at her. "If she loved him so much, then why didn't she go to meet him?"

"Because she couldn't handle it." Spencer shrugged a little, bringing her hands back up to cup the small of her back. "She loved him so much that it consumed her. It had too much power over her. She had to stop and remember how to breathe on her own. So, even though he's it for her, even though he's the one, she couldn't go to him. And no matter how much she drinks or tries to forget, he'll always be there…just in her head."

Hanna blinked. "And you don't think that's sad?"

"I think…it's beautiful." She finally said, leaning down and kissing Hanna's nose. (Hanna had kicked off her heels some time ago.) "If we leave now, we'll have time to get out of our dresses before after prom…and then some."

Hanna grinned. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

"That's because I need your mouth for other things."


"I've learned a lot during my time at Rosewood Day." Spencer felt the tremor rising in her voice, and swallowed hard, keeping her hands on the podium to keep them from shaking. It wasn't often that she got nervous like that, not when she was giving a speech on the merit of her academic talents, but she swore she had just spied her parents somewhere in the crowd, and found herself unsettled. She had suspected that they might try to work their way in, but she didn't follow that thought through to conclusion, the true implications of it, and now she was paying for it. "I…" She trailed off for a second, glancing down and searching the white page with the swimming words to fin the ones she had left off on.

At the two clicks of snapping fingers out in the audience, she looked up and almost immediately locked eyes with Hanna, who was a few rows back on the left side of the lines of white robed students, all caught between a mixture of self-satisfaction, boredom, and anxiety. She was sure the actual exchange was only a few seconds, gone relatively unnoticed, but it felt like much longer to her. 'You got this.' Hanna mouthed to her, making the shape of her heart with her hands. She looked angelic in her white robe, pulling a smile from Spencer just with the way she looked, and she glanced back at her speech to find the words back in straight lines, no longer swimming.

"I think the most important lessons – although it's hard to choose, I mean, those algebra lectures were pretty legendary – were the ones learned outside the classroom. Those are the ones that are really going to carry us through our lives. Now, I'm not saying that the Pythagorean theorem is useless, but I'm not going to use it as much as, say, knowing how to make the best friends imaginable, or knowing how work through some really difficult things. I guess the most crucial thing I and probably the rest of you learned at all was how to tell who you could trust…and how to trust them. Over the past four years, we've all loved and lost people, and we found out who was really there for us along the way." Emboldened by her words, she glanced up, searching out her parents in the crowd with a hard stare. "We've learned to cut away the people that are only there to hurt us, or drag us down. I think that's the most important skill – to be strong enough to get rid of the toxic people in our lives, and be wise enough to figure out who's who."

There was a thick feeling in her chest as she finished her speech, one of pride, one of one of bitter victory, but also one of loss, of melancholy. She took her place between Alina Harrison and Kaylen Hayes, and waited patiently for her name to be called. It was rewarding, really, to finally cut her parents off from her, from the energy they'd been sucking from her for her entire life. But the fact that it was necessary was a deep, dark feeling that settled right down against her bones.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur, and it wasn't until the heavy paper diploma was in her hands, and everyone was clapping and it was raining mortarboards that it hit her – that part of her life was over. She was more than her experiences, more than her trauma, more than her reputation, because she had made it through them, finally. The thought brought a smile to her face, but the feeling of heaviness didn't flee from her body until Hanna's arms closed around her, her beaming smile like a shot of concentrated stardust straight into her system. "God, you were so good, baby." She sighed, pulling her hands up to her mouth, kissing her still trembling fingertips. "Even if you did get a little lost there, what happened?"

"…my parents are here somewhere." Spencer admitted, continuing before Hanna's perturbed expression turned into an even worse verbal tirade. "It's okay, it's okay, let's just…go find your mom and Jason, okay? I'm done with them, I'm not gonna worry…it's all over now."

"Come here, little darlins." Before Spencer could react or respond, she was enclosed in a bone crushing hug by Hanna's grandmother. Regina had taken to visiting Rosewood more and more, spending longer periods of time there now that Ashley was getting remarried, and moreover, had wholeheartedly taken to Spencer as Hanna's significant other. She found excuses to come visit her when she knew she was alone, and always brought an abundance of food with her, and made sure to include her, and even in her slightly overwhelmed and confused state, Spencer found herself hugging Regina back. "Gosh, I'm so proud of the both of you. And honey, that speech?" Regina released her, patting her shoulders. "If you ran for office, I'd vote for you in a heartbeat."

Spencer found herself turning slightly pink. "Well thank you…I worked really hard on it."
"I'm sure you did, honey, now if you'll excuse me…." As Regina turned to Hanna, who was awkwardly trying to navigate her mother, Ted and her father already, Jason stepped up to take her place, looking clean cut – proud made him look good. Still, as he hugged her, it lasted a few seconds more than normal, and she knew he was thinking of Ali. (Particularly by the way he nearly ripped her arm off when she pulled away from him, he had been holding onto her that tightly.)

"Good job, Spencer." He said sincerely, squeezing her shoulder. "With everything."

"Thanks Jason." She said, with a smile just as sincere – there would be more to talk about later, when everyone had left, and it was just the two of them once again. Jason had never been one to express himself in front of a crowd, at least not positively, and she knew that. There was more than enough love in the room to make up for it anyway. She glanced over his shoulder after going in for a second hug. "Oh my God – "

"You really thought I would miss my baby sister's graduation?" Melissa folded her in the tightest hug of the night, and Spencer couldn't help but beam as her sister's arms folded around her. "I got the last flight out before the rain hit. God bless Southwestern Airlines."

"Remind me to send them a thank you card." Spencer said, looking up at her. "…I really am glad you're here. Did you manage to get here in time?"

"I had to sneak in after it started." Melissa admitted. "But I made it in time for your speech, and it was excellent. I'm glad you didn't use my rewrite, it really paid off."

"Thank you." Spencer smiled. "I – "

"Spencer!" For once, hearing her parent's voices didn't instantly drop a dead weight on her good mood, or make her stomach sink to the floor. Instead, with Melissa at her side, and a lifetime's worth of effort and striving and straining behind her, with the promise of a new and better life, she merely looked at them as flies, as buzzing little annoyances, as nothing. If it showed, they didn't notice, and they approached her beaming, with programs clutched in their hands and all of their selfish desires glowing in the strained expressions. "Spencer, that was wonderful." Her mother assured her, a clinically saccharine tone dripping from her words.

"Always knew you had it in you." Peter raised his hand as though he intended to pat her reassuringly on the shoulder. At the last second, Spencer stepped away defensively to Melissa's side, leaving him waving his hand uselessly in midair.

"I think we should all go out to dinner." Ashley interjected, and as Spencer turned towards her, she saw the same disdainful look in her eyes as she glanced over the Hastings. "Melissa, you're welcome to come too, the more the merrier." She parted the crowd, giving a very final and pointed look at Peter and Veronica before folding an arm around Spencer's shoulder, decisively leading her away from the elder Hastings. "I think you did lovely, dear."

"Thank you, Mrs. M – I mean, Ashley." Spencer said, glancing over her shoulder to see her parents' hollow expressions, and feeling, for once, no remorse or pity or sadness. No, it was a singular moment where she felt nothing for people that meant nothing. She faced forward, found her girlfriend's hand in the small mass of people, and left the arena with her family, finally realizing that that distinction didn't necessarily include her parents.


"This is Spencer Hastings, I'm sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message or send me a text, and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!"

Spencer, it's your mother. I just wanted to tell you how proud your father and I are of you! The members of the club wanted me to bring you around so they can congratulate you and it would only be polite. I tentatively told them I'd bring you by Saturday, so if you could call me back, we'll discuss the finer details. Thanks, sweetie.


Shifting through paperwork while sitting in a small, windowless room in Washington DC during the hottest spring on record wouldn't seem like a vacation to most people, but for Kyle Laughlin, it was a welcome and much needed break. She had paper cuts on eight of her fingertips, and had to get a tetanus shot after a rogue staple caught in her palm. She was pretty sure she was going blind from all of the black lines on white paper she was reading. She missed teaching, missed it more than anything, but for the sake of herself, and everyone else involved, she'd fled to this tiny windowless prison, slaving away for bureaucrats who didn't even know her name.

Was it punishment? Maybe, though she hadn't done anything wrong. (She'd had plenty of opportunity for all kinds of wrong things that she now entertained. Maybe it was personal punishment for her excellent sense of restraint.) And it was only until school started in September – she'd managed to secure a position in Ravenswood, far enough away from Rosewood that she'd avoid all triggers and timebombs of memories. It was just a few months out of the entirety of her life, another transient period that would pass without leaving any permanent mark, or impact.

So why did it feel so significant?

"Hey, Laughlin." She glanced up as the door was pushed open, creaking on its hinges. Chloe leaned in, hand fisted anxiously in the hem of her dress shirt. "You up for some problem solving?"

"Yeah." Anything to keep her mind from wandering to more dangerous and painful places. "What went wrong this time?"

"One of our accepted applicants dropped out, and all of the others already accepted other internships." Chloe said, tossing a file at her. She managed to snatch it out of the air without too much difficulty. "And we need to meet our quota, so…know anyone that could fill it?"

It was, at the same time, an awful and perfect thought. She was quiet for a moment before she reached over and picked up a picture frame off her desk, wiping away some of the dust that had already settled on it. It was a picture she'd taken on her last day at Rosewood High, some months ago, a picture of her entire classroom, and all of the students caught off guard and candid, some on their phones, some running their mouths, some sleeping and staring out windows. Only one bent over her notes, engaged. Only one had the textbook open in her lap, only one was wearing a soft smile with dark ringlets framing her face and her even darker eyes.

"Yeah…" Kyle said softly, after a long moment, setting the picture down. "I do know someone."


"This is Spencer Hastings, I'm sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message or send me a text, and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible – unless you're my parents. Don't leave me a message because I won't be getting back to you. Ever. Kindly fuck off. Thanks!"

Spencer? Um, hey, it's Kyle Laughlin. If you could call me back, that would be great. I'd love to hear how you're doing, and I have something I'd like to discuss with you, if you have the time. Thanks, uh…talk to you soon. I mean, hopefully. Okay, uh, bye.


The weeks after graduation were hectic, but Spencer had expected that after seeing Melissa graduate from high school. There were parties to go to, arrangements to make, people to see, errands to be run, jobs to be worked, college plans to be finalized. Not to mention Hanna's time had been entirely monopolized by helping her mother with the wedding – between all of the graduation plans and the wedding details, they'd hardly had a chance to see each other, let alone talk. The topic of what would happen after graduation was a sore one, one that they needed to discuss, but hadn't – mostly out of fear of poisoning the short amount of time they had left before reality set in. Tentatively, Spencer had accepted enrollment at NYU, and Hanna…well, Hanna hadn't really discussed what she was doing, but one time where she'd managed to spend a few minutes with her, she'd spied applications from Hollis and a nearby community college. (And then there was the issue of the out-of-the-blue opportunity from Kyle for a summer internship down in DC, which threw a wrench in their already complicated situation.)The energy spent avoiding the topic, as well as the energy spent worrying about it, and all of the other things that Spencer had to do exhausted her emotionally and physically. So when Melissa surprised her with a three day trip to the spa on another surprise visit, she was more than willing to accept.

"Sounds like you're in a situation." Melissa said, relaxing back against the wall of the steam room, one hand firmly clamped on her towel.

"And isn't that the biggest understatement I've ever heard." Spencer sighed, settling down beside her, taking as deep a breath as she could manage. "Melissa, seriously, I don't know what to do."

"You're your own person, Spencer." Melissa said, rolling her head in Spencer's direction. "You always have been. I can't tell you what to do."

"…could you try?" Spencer asked, try to force her tone away from sheepish and failing, a small but insecure smile hanging in her expression. It wasn't that she didn't trust herself – okay, maybe it was that, at least partly. She had made so many mistakes and had bungled her relationship with Hanna more times than she could count. "I just...I can't lose her again."

Melissa opened one eye, looking at her through the steam, her curls hanging in her face. "You think I'm the expert on not losing people?" She asked. "Ian, Wren, Garrett – need I go on?"

Spencer sighed, simultaneously covering her face, the steam doing little to relax her. "Okay, so tell me what you would do if you were me, then."
"I'd take the internship and apologize later." Melissa said instantly. "It's an amazing opportunity, and if she loves you, she'll understand that, and she'll let you go."

"…you think?" Spencer could only hope. But she knew Hanna's proclivity to jump to conclusions – almost as bad as her own tendency – and the scenarios in her head all worked out to something terrible, or at least steeped in histrionics and break-up clichés.

"I know. When you're in the business of losing people, you learn a lot about what doesn't work…but you also learn a lot about what does work. How people work." Melissa said, poking Spencer's arm pointedly. "And if Hanna is the girl that I think she is, she'll be willing to let you go if it's going to benefit you. I mean…it's a great opportunity and you get to spend the summer living with your awesome big sister and your niece…rent-free, I might add." She continued, with a sly smile.

"When did we grow up?" Spencer asked, after a minute, finally closing her eyes and shifting around in her towel. "I mean…when did we mature enough to be nice to each other?"

Melissa shrugged. "We finally get it. I mean… We have the same parents –"

"The same screwed up upbringing – "

"The same insecurities because of that upbringing – "

"And those things kept us apart."

"Exactly." Melissa pointed out, reaching up to fix her hair, which had fallen because of the steam. "We were in competition because we thought we had to be, but really…we never had to be." She shrugged, letting her hands fall back into her lap.

"I always thought you were my greatest enemy." Spencer said, after a long silence that was thick from the steam and from the years of pent up aggression on a time release valve. "But it turns out…you could have been my best ally."

"The Hastings family…" Melissa mused, tweaking the hem of her towel. "And they say war is hell."

"Well, yeah." Spencer said, as the alarm sounded, signaling that they had exceeded the safe limit of time in the steam room. "What do you think being a Hastings really is?"

"Don't you d-dare stop, Spencer Hastings." Spencer smirked as Hanna gasped against her mouth, her teasing hand having slipped back down Hanna's thigh for a brief interlude. The night before had been the exhausting bachelorette party for Hanna's mom, and she had graciously allowed Spencer to crash there rather than returning home. (At that point, Spencer wasn't sure if she actually knew about their 'shenanigans,' so to speak, or had just accepted them.)

Hanna grabbed her wrist with her free hand, bringing it back up between her thighs as Spencer closed the kiss again, hissing slightly as Hanna pulled at her hair. Her system was surging with nervous energy, her body swirling with it, and it push her forward, rushed her. She shattered the kiss, mouthing along her jaw before kissing her neck, sucking on a pulse point, too unsettled to sit still – of course, Hanna couldn't tell the difference, and even if she could, it wasn't like it wasn't all for her benefit anyway. Inside her, she arched her hand, and couldn't help but smirk against her neck as Hanna couldn't manage to swallow down any of her gasps.

Hanna's hips rocked up against her hand as she buried her face in her hair. "Fuck, Spencer…" Her breath came in little puffs and gasps and she couldn't keep her hands still, moving them from her shoulders, to her arms, to her back where she left scratches, to her waist, to the back of her thighs and all over again. "Spencer, please, I'm so – "

"Hanna?" Ashley's voice was loud and followed by a short, rapid knock. Were she not preoccupied, Spencer would have noticed how frantic she sounded. But the impending nuptials notwithstanding, they were both a little preoccupied. "Hanna, Spencer went home, right? It's time to get ready!"

"I…I'm a little….busy at the moment!" Hanna's tone hitched, and although she knew she would pay for it later, Spencer couldn't resist. She smirked against her neck, curling her fingers inside her, giggling against her skin to muffle the sound of her self-satisfaction. The hard yank Hanna executed on her hair as she couldn't hold back a small yelp was more than worth it.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, mom, just…" Hanna coughed a little to catch her breath, digging her nails into Spencer's shoulder. "…burned myself with the curling iron." Her fingertips curled in her hair, pressing against her head as she jerked towards Spencer's hand. "I'll be there to help you…in a minute…okay?"

"Are you alright, Hanna?" The fight to conceal her glee was a difficult one, but Spencer managed as she pushed Hanna on her back, cupping the back of her neck to kiss her, hard and brief, nudging her thighs to part further. "You're not getting sick, are you?"

"Just…busy!" Hanna's voice leapt up an octave, though stilled from its previous shaking. "I can't talk and do my hair at the same time!" Her words, however, were lost on Spencer, too entranced by her, enmeshed in her to worry. She curved her hand again, in just the right way, knowing exactly what she needed, wanted, and with her mother outside the room, separated by only a wooden door, she pushed her over the edge and out of control.

"Alright…" Ashley said, as Hanna gasped, burying her face in Spencer's hair, in the side of her neck, swearing against her skin, the motion of her mouth like a prayer, something she could worship. As Ashley walked away, Hanna rolled more fully against her side, her heaving chest fitting perfectly against her. Their limbs were still tangled in the sheets, leaving them in a mess, a swathed nest of cotton that smelled of fabric softener and Hanna's perfume, the early morning sun bearing down on them gently, not like the beating of a hot summer day. Everything, Spencer reflected, as Hanna pulled her face out of her neck and their hands closed together through layers of sheets, the tender touch of her fingertips still resonating through the threads, was exactly as it should have been.

Did she still have to break that equilibrium, and soon? Yes. But a few more moments of serenity surely wouldn't harm either of them.

"I guess this means I need to go…" Spencer sighed, eyes wandering over Hanna's face, taking in her features, still natural from sleep, like a landscape. She reached out, tracing along the line of her cheek, taking in the velvety feeling of her skin beneath her fingertips. Still, that could not calm her internalized urgency. "Hey, later, when you have time, I need to…talk to you about something."

If the phrase made Hanna nervous, she had put up a perfect façade. "Okay, Spence." Her voice was slightly weak and winded, but the corners of her mouth still turned up in an impish smile. "And yeah, you do need to go get hot for later…but not too hot, because I'm a bridesmaid, and I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to outshine me."

"Is that in the wedding handbook?" Spencer couldn't help but laugh.

"It should be."

Spencer pressed her forehead to Hanna's, exhaling quietly, closing her eyes for a moment. "You're lucky I love you." She said, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, an odd feeling spiraling through her chest – really, she was lucky that Hanna loved her.

"Say that again." Hanna let go of Spencer's hand finally, bringing her arms to wrap around the brunette's neck.

"You're lucky I love you."

"No, the last part."

"I love you." The words formed so easily, so natural to her now, so much more and yet so much less than they'd used to mean. Before they had been big and something frightening, something she had unknowingly lived in fear of. But they had since shrunk in size, simultaneously becoming the biggest thing she'd ever been a part of.

"I never get tired of hearing that." Hanna leaned forward, kissing her briefly, a burst of light and faint cherry flavor. "Now get the hell out of here." She sat up as Spencer slipped out of bed, pulling her shoes on. "A girlfriend should never see the bridesmaid before the wedding."

"Okay." Spencer said, pausing as she perched on the lattice outside the window. "Now I know you made that up."

"Doesn't matter." Hanna's grin was wicked and wild and Spencer's hope for the future had never been higher. She knew she'd do whatever she had to, to keep Hanna in her life. It wasn't a choice – it was an inevitability. "My mom's getting married, I have poetic license."

"I think you mean artistic license."

"Whatever."


"You're cutting it kind of close, aren't you?" Emily asked, as Spencer sank down against the pew next to her. "They're supposed to start in five minutes."

"Yeah, well…Hanna got a late start." Spencer swept her hair back over her shoulder, having kept it simple by pulling it to one side, her own late start intruding on her appearance – although not in a bad way, necessarily. "So I figure we have at least fifteen more minutes before the processional starts."

"Is there ever an opportunity where the two of you decide to keep your hands off of each other?" Emily asked, unable to conceal a slight smirk as she glanced at her sideways.

"Someone's just jealous that her girlfriend's out of state for the next month." Spencer replied, glancing away from her. Having someone in the same situation as herself and Hanna didn't help as much as she hopes it would, when she realized – in fact, it only made it worse, especially when Paige and Emily were faring so well.

"Speaking of which, have you told Hanna yet?"

Spencer sighed, sliding down in the church pew. "I didn't really want to mess her up this morning, out of all mornings, and I wasn't too keen on becoming a bachelorette at last night's bachelorette party." Her stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought. "I like irony, but that's an overdose."

"You just have to be honest with her, Spencer. That's all." Emily assured her, taking one of her hands. "It won't be nearly as bad as you're thinking it's going to be if you're just honest with her. Which, I might add, you're running out of time for."

"Don't remind me." Spencer said, closing her eyes for a minute, thinking of the week she had left. "I'll tell her tomorrow. Her mom will be gone on her honeymoon, and it will just be her and me, and we can talk and…and it will all work out. It has to." She sat up more, squaring her shoulders against the stiff back of the church pew. If she believed herself hard enough, maybe the fantasy would come true, and she really could have it all. Hope had proven to be one of her greatest downfalls time and time again, but not all things were hopeless.

As if on cue, as if occurring only to give her hope, the music started playing, the dulcet tones and smooth, playful notes dancing in the air that was heavy with the scent of flowers. Everything would be alright, she told herself, smiling genuinely as she watch Hanna glide down the aisle, looking every bit the Grecian goddess with a crown of silver leaves in her perfectly set hair and a white and blue dress, flowing at the ankles. She met her gaze, and a warm smile slowly smoothed over her pink lips – how could anything go wrong?


"This is Spencer Hastings, I'm sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message or send me a text, and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!"

Um, hi Spencer. It's Kyle again, I really need to hear back from you if you're going to be here next week or not. I understand, I mean, it's short notice and it's a lot to ask, but…you know, it's a really great opportunity, and, honestly, I wouldn't mind catching up with you – not that that should influence your decision or anything, I'm just…saying. Anyway, uh, call me back. I'll be waiting to hear from you. Okay…bye.


The anxiety of her pending revelation made the wedding cake sour in her mouth, and she'd pushed it weakly away with even a weaker excuse, but other than that, Spencer was mildly content, sitting at the reception of Ashley and Ted's wedding. Emily had taken a phone call from Paige nearly a half hour before, and Hanna was busy at the head table, greeting everyone, making sure her mother – who only had eyes for Ted, admittedly – was taken care of. It was the first time in the past month or so that, even though she was sitting in a crowded reception hall, that she was alone, with herself, with her thoughts, with her options. It was dizzying, but it was much needed, and she closed her eyes to the ambient sounds of the room and leaned back in her chair. The noise was so much that she was able to lose herself in it, the snatches of inappropriate conversations, the music playing over by the dance floor, the clattering of silverware, clashing with the cacophony of footsteps –

"Honeybunch, I know you ain't sleeping."

Spencer almost fell off of her chair, gripping the sides of it to regain control, whipping her head to the side violently as Regina Marin took the seat next to her. "Jesus! I mean…sorry." Spencer took a deep breath. "I was just thinking."

"Oh, I know." There was a drink in her hand but she didn't seem the least bit diminished. In fact, she seemed even sharper, if that were possible. "Thinkin' awful hard. This is a wedding, go grab Hanna and pull her out to the dance floor, and just have some fun." She reached out, patting her hand.

Spencer laughed a little. "I'd love to, but she looks a little busy." She glanced over to the head table, where one of the ushers, whom had been introduced to her as Graham, the son of Ted's best man, was hanging over Hanna, trying to show her something on his phone. "And I don't think it would be appropriate to punch a member of the wedding party." The only thing that had kept her from doing so thus far was that Hanna couldn't look more disinterested.

"It's harmless, honey, but…here." She discreetly passed her drink to her, and Spencer gratefully took a sip. "Now what's got you so worried – and don't even pretend that you aren't, because it's written all over your pretty little face."

Spencer could lie to a lot of people – to her parents, to her siblings, to her friends. But there was something about the Marin family, Hanna, Ashley and Regina, that just pulled the truth right out of her like it was nothing. "I got an internship. With the Senator's office down in DC. I didn't even have to apply, they offered it to me, and if I got experience right before I went to college, I'd be ahead of the game, but if I take it, I have to leave I a week and spend the whole summer down there, and then I'd have to go right to school and – "

"Breathe, honeybunch." Spencer hadn't even realized she had been speaking so fast until Regina interrupted her. "First of all, take a second to be proud of yourself, because that's a big accomplishment. I'm proud of you, honey. Second, what is it that's making you so upset? Hanna? Because she'll be just as proud of you as I am. And she'll be there for you when you get back."

"It's not that simple." Spencer shook her head. Despite her proclivity to hope in spite of everything, she was conditioned to see the worst happening. And why wouldn't it?

"You'd be surprised." Regina glanced up at the head table, as did Spencer, and caught Hanna's eye, who waved at her grandmother before beaming back at Spencer, with a smaller, more intimate wave of her fingertips, held close to her chest. "Look at her. I have never seen that girl so happy as I've seen her with you. And you." She turned her eagle eye back to Spencer. "I remember you when you were little, and you were always so closed off, like one of them little dogs that can't stop shaking. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I saw you smile before the two of you were together. Trust her, trust yourself, and trust me." She squeezed her hand. "You've got a good thing going. And I know you don't know what that feels like, but trust it."

Spencer didn't speak at first, trying to comprehend it. She supposed she was right – after all, Regina usually was. If anything was going to tear them apart, it was the anxieties and mistakes of the past. It was relying too much on what could go wrong, which, unfortunately, was a hallmark of both of them. "You're right." She finally said, with a small smile. "You're absolutely right…thank you."

"I'm not saying it won't be hard." Regina said. "Or that it will all be smooth sailing. It never is. Me and Hanna's grandfather fought like cats and dogs for twenty years before we finally ran out of things to fight about – turns out we just liked yellin'. But the point is, even though it was hard, Honeybunch, it never stopped working." Regina stood after another hand squeeze, taking her drink back. "Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to cut a rug on the dance floor – and I suggest you and Hanna do the same." She added, with a pointed look, before departing.

Spencer watched her go, her anxiety no less pervasive, but feeling better nonetheless. She snatched some champagne off a passing waiter's tray before he could notice and downed it, before setting the glass aside and moving over to the head table. "Excuse me." She leaned between Graham and Hanna, kicking his arm aside not so subtly. "I'd like to dance with my girlfriend now, maybe you could find someone else to amuse with your hilarious memes. I think there's a group of twelve year olds out in the hallway." She punctuated the sentence with a sweet smile, before taking Hanna's hand and pulling her away from the table.

"If I had to see another rage comic, I would have turned into one." Hanna said, leaning against Spencer's shoulder, arms wrapped around her waist. "I was hoping you'd come rescue me."

Spencer smiled a little, turning her face against Hanna's head, inhaling and closing her eyes, memorizing for when things would inevitably begin to get hard. "You never needed me to come and rescue you…you can do it all by yourself."

"I guess." Hanna stepped off her heels, resting her head on Spencer's chest. "But it's still nice to have someone else do it for a change."

"…I know what you mean."


The cherry flavor was faint on her mouth, but it still sparked across her tongue, subtle and sweet, especially as Hanna twisted her fingertips in Spencer's fallen tresses. Her legs and feet ached from so much standing, and in heels, but she barely felt it, wrapping her pain up in the warmth that trickled down across her body. Her hands rested on Hanna's waist, guiding her back against the wall of the entryway to the reception hall, trembling slightly as she broke the kiss. "You know I'll be over tomorrow, right?"

"Mmm, yeah." Hanna sighed, running her hands down along Spencer's chest, a lazy and contented look on her features, simultaneously comforting her, and driving her anxiety levels up considerably – how could she shatter this? "This is going to be the best two weeks ever, just you and me, and not having to climb out of a window in the morning."

"Yeah, I – " It was right there. On the tip of her tongue. It was the perfect opportunity to mention it. Just do it, Spencer, just get it over with, just tell her already. " – yeah. It will be." Her smile wavered but stuck, and she chased away the leaden feeling of guilt by kissing her again. One hand splayed against the small of her back, holding her in place, the ease of Hanna's hands threading their way through her hair soothing her nerves most effectively.

"Spencer Hastings?" The voice echoed in the chamber almost immediately after the kiss broke.

"Yes?" Spencer said, after a sharp inhale, trying to compose herself. The dark haired, well put together woman didn't look familiar to her. "Can I help you?"

"No, I was just wondering…I'm Chloe, Chloe Dawning? Ted's my cousin, I came up for the wedding, but I work with the placement program. This is so weird!" She reached out, taking Spencer's hand and shaking it, watching Spencer's confused reaction. "Oh, right, I never spoke to you directly, but Kyle told me so much about you."

She could practically hear her stomach crash against the ground, the only louder sound that of Hanna's contentment shattering. "…she did?"

"Oh, yeah, and if you're anything even close to what she said about you, I am looking forward to seeing what you can do down in DC. Six more days." Never in her life had she wanted someone to stop talking so much. She'd take having to send the incriminating email about her sexuality to her parents over and over again instead of this. She'd rather let A torture her for the rest of her life. Anything else but this. It was like watching a car wreck. She couldn't deny it, she couldn't look away, she couldn't leave. She could only lift up her head, smile, nod, and say "Yes. I am."

"About what?" Later, she wouldn't remember how Chloe had excused herself. All she could focus on was Hanna's tone of voice, the way she shoved past her to look at her. She was tense and restrained, but somehow hollow, in the way she spoke and the way she moved. "What's happening in six days, Spencer? In DC, she said?"

Spencer had never felt smaller in her life. No…no, this wasn't happening again. "I was going to tell you tomorrow, after the wedding was over, I – "

"Tell me what?" To her credit, Hanna was trying really hard. She could see it in her restraint, hear it in her tone. She was trying so hard to not jump to conclusions and derail everything like it had happened before. But Spencer could feel the familiar feeling of dread creeping up on her, crawling along the back of her neck like an unwanted insect that she couldn't reach to swat away. It was happening again. She knew it. And she could only sit back and watch. "I'm waiting, Spencer."

"I got offered a three month internship with the Senator's office down in DC." Spencer explained slowly, though she knew it would do her no good. "It's an amazing opportunity, I'd be ahead of everyone before I even started college. I didn't even have to apply, they just offered it to me. So I took it, and I'm – "

"You took it without even asking me?!" Anger? It was there for sure, heavy in her expression, but there was also something far more devastating too, in the way her jaw dropped lamely open and she brought her hand up to her face – in the way she wasn't crying. "How could you even – you can't just make decisions like this without asking me! You can't just expect me to go along with whatever you want, that's not how this is supposed to work!" Hanna covered her face with both hands, turning away before turning back, shaking her head, her chest heaving. Spencer could only watch her spiral – there was no taking it back or undoing it. "We're supposed to be adults, you know? And…and consult about this stuff, and make plans, and figure it out together! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Hanna, I'm sorry!" Spencer gasped. And she was. Every part of her was aflame with apologies, burning everything else away. Her pride, her excitement, and even her hope, though that was no stranger to the flames of self-induced destruction. "I just…I thought you'd be angry, that you'd freak out, I – "

"I cannot believe you, Spencer Hastings." Hanna shoved her clutch purse at Spencer's chest with such a force that it would later leave a bruise. That did not, however, stop her own hands from covering Hanna's. "How could you think that I wouldn't be proud of you? Am I that awful? Yeah, maybe I would have been a little ticked off that I couldn't spend my whole summer with you, but…but you're right. It's an amazing opportunity and I want the best for you, I always have…how could you ever think anything else?"

"Hanna – "

"Don't." The blonde snapped, ripping her arm away. "Go home, Spencer. Pack. Get ready. Whatever. I don't want to see you right now."

"Hanna, please – "

"Go home." Hanna repeated, the tears finally beginning to well up in her eyes, falling onto her porcelain features like some sort of Renaissance painting, invoking images of Botticelli. "Please, Spencer, just go home." Her voice had broken from its previous harshness, losing all of its force, revealing the true pain behind her anger. Spencer's stomach twisted, her chest heavy, feeling too much to even begin to be disgusted with herself. "Please."

Spencer found herself nodding. "Okay." Her own voice was soft, curling away to nothingness, her heels sounding hollow on the concrete sidewalk. The distance didn't ease any of it – it only made it worse, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was some horrible omen of what would become of them when she left.


The plastic crinkled in her hands as she flexed her grip around the bouquet. Yellow roses with pink tips – Hanna's favorite, and the best sort of peace offering when she knew she had messed up. Spencer had lain awake for a while before getting dressed at about 3 am and waiting in front of the flower shop before it opened. Of course, that had given her ample time to realize her mistakes, yet again. The part that killed her though, the part that really killed her, was that she somehow hadn't learned.

She could traipse across the pages of a math textbook with ease, learn equations, memorize numbers. Physics? It was like muscle memory now. She didn't even have to think. French literature was like a second language. Why was this so hard to translate? Why was her relationship so difficult to retain?

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the roses. That didn't matter now, though. She had five more days to fit in an entire summer of spending time with Hanna, and she didn't have time to philosophize about it. Checking to make sure the flowers looked good, she turned up the front steps to the Marin house and rang the doorbell. (Okay…so it was six in the morning, and Hanna might not be the happiest to see her. But it was all in the interest of giving them as much time together as possible.)

She stood there, the early morning sun beating down on her exposed neck, her heart rate, admittedly higher than normal, marking the seconds that ticked by. They seemed long, her stomach churning with anticipation, and even though it had probably only been thirty seconds, it felt like an hour had passed with nothing, so she rang the bell again.

The door opened, and she was face to face with a bare muscular chest, apparently fresh from the shower, that smelled like Hanna's soap, but was most definitely not Hanna. Further inspection of the clearly not-Hanna intruder revealed a towel slung low around his hips, scruff lining his sharp jaw, and short but curly dark hair that was shiny and wet. She knew that face. She knew those arms. They had been slung so casually around Hanna's shoulders at the wedding, and the image of that made her stomach turn. The image of him now confused her – what could he possibly be doing there? "…Graham?" She asked, her skepticism leeching into her voice.

"Oh, uh…Spencer, right?" He took a step back, his eyes widening a little. "Look, I, don't get pissed, alright, she was like…really upset, you know?" The words weren't computing. Something wasn't translating right. Her wires were crossed, something. It just wasn't clicking. "And I mean, you're a chick, you know they – well, you – get when they're upset, I mean…"

"No, I don't." She knew what was going on. But it still wasn't clicking. Her stomach was dropping and her chest hurt, and there were goosebumps sweeping across her skin, but she didn't understand. She wanted it in the form of a logic proof, of an equation, of a French to English translation. Not like this. "What's going on?"

"Spencer…"

She had always known that Hanna was her key to understanding the parts of the world that she couldn't already fathom. She was her calculator, her lexicon, her cipher. She was always more than just her axis. But she wasn't prepared for how hard it hit her when Hanna came down the stairs, robe open, hair disheveled, expression haughty and yet somehow guilty at the same time. Seeing her was like finding the one word answer in an eight hundred page textbook, and it hit her in the chest like a wrecking ball.

"Here." Her voice cracked far more than she wanted it to as she thrust the flowers at Graham, the thorns cutting through the plastic and biting into her hands. "It's your lucky day." She barely noticed the sting against the solid disbelief rising in her chest, and the cold, cutting feeling of certainty – but even that wasn't colder than her sub-zero anger, freezing everything in her in a matter of seconds, her heart mid-beat, her blood solid in her veins, everything. Little bits of her shattered with every step she took down the pathway and onto the sidewalk.

"Spencer…Spencer, wait…" She could hear the sound of Hanna coming after her, of her bare feet on the sun warmed pavement. She could hear the rustle of fabric as she fought with the tie of her robe. "Spencer, I can explain…"

"I'm not an idiot, Hanna, you've made it perfectly clear." Her voice suddenly settled back into place as she glanced over her shoulder at her – she couldn't even manage a full turn to face her. Later, she wouldn't remember what she looked like, but she would remember how it felt – delightfully evil and self-loathingly painful, as she spoke. "You really are that awful."


Her senses were out of control, firing on all cylinders. The noise of the crowds in the airport was overwhelming, the scent of Melissa's perfume as she sat next to her, though pleasant, was overpowering, the rough fabric of airport chairs against her bare calves, it was all too much. She'd been rubbed raw, an exposed nerve, everything hurt, everything resonated, but she supposed she preferred that to feeling nothing.

"She's not going to come, you know."

Spencer ignored Melissa, and all the offending stimuli. Instead, her focus remained on the as-of-yet unanswered text message she'd sent to Hanna two days before her imminent departure.

I forgive you. Come to DC with me. Friday, 9 am. We'll work it out.

The lack of response was mildly disconcerting, but it was an odd request, and in the wee hours of that morning, she'd found herself hoping yet again, her eternal curse, her loathed master. How could Hanna refuse? After all, what she'd done, it was all out of anger. It was out of passion, it was out of caring. Spencer knew she still meant something to her. She had to. After everything they'd been through together, after everything they'd overcome, this…this was nothing. It was just another obstacle, like those thrown up by –A. They could do this. They'd beaten everything else. Hanna just needed to show up. "She'll be here." Spencer whispered. "I left her a ticket and an itinerary, she'll be here."

The numbers on the phone changed. 8:53. They'd been there for two hours now, and there was no sign of her. But, somehow, that only made Spencer hope more. They'd always pulled out a by-the-skin-of-their-teeth victory at the last minute, this time wasn't going to be any different.

"Is she even worth it?" Melissa asked, her tone full of acid. "If she does show up, I'm gonna smack her, I swear to God."

"Of course she's worth it." Spencer sighed, rolling her eyes in her direction. "She just made a mistake. besides, I cheated on her first – "

"You didn't cheat on her, you were on a break." Melissa cut in.

"This isn't some stupid episode of Friends, Melissa, this is my life." Spencer snapped, shrinking slightly at Melissa's reproachful look. "Sorry, I just…" She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. "…I love her, Melissa. And this is killing me, and I don't know what to do." She didn't realizes she was crying until Melissa pulled her head against her chest, and she could feel the hat tears on her face.

"Shhh…" Melissa's grip tightened as the final boarding call went over the loudspeaker. "Spencer, we can't wait any longer."

The words and the boarding call struck a chord of finality in her chest, leaving a quiet and solemn tone echoing hollowly in the space of her body. She ripped away from Melissa, stuffing her hands in her pockets, peering curiously as she could manage at the contents as she turned it out, waiting in line to board. A tube of cherry flavored lipgloss, Hanna's favorite brand. She'd called Spencer in a panic on the morning of the wedding, asking her to run and get some. It was what had made her so late – it turned out she hadn't needed it anyway, but Spencer had been happy to do it.

She closed her eyes as the plane took off, forcing herself to not look out the window forlornly, like some rom com cliché that Hanna would have liked. The seatbelt sign flashed off, and she crossed over Melissa unceremoniously, every step feeling heavy, every sound loud and clawing at her sensibilities until she made it to the tiny cubicle of a bathroom at the back of the section.

Spencer climbed up to sit on the edge of the sink, holding the lipgloss in her hands, remaining still as if in prayer for a long moment, before she finally turned to the mirror, applying the lipgloss with a surprisingly steady hand. Despite the early hour, she was painfully awake, and painfully aware, the cherry flavor anything but sweet.


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