AN: Okay, I'm not totally sure this isn't filled with ten million and one spelling and punctuation errors or that my own editing notes are still there but I was supposed to be asleep twenty minutes ago and I promised to get this out tonight. Which is totally my own fault for procrastinating the editing process until 2 A.M. But that's like my life, so what can you do? Anyway, this chapter might suck and I might retract it and re-edit it later, but for now, read and enjoy!
What's funny is the next chapter is done too but that'll probably take me a million hours to edit too.
Okay, I'm done, bye!
Muwah!
The next morning, Spencer woke up to familiar lips pressing themselves to her cheek, then her forehead, her mouth, chin dimple and then the shell of her ear, over and over again.
"Toby," she mumbled, smiling before her eyes even opened. "Mmm, keep doing that."
He laughed against her face. "Wake up, babe. They're letting you out of jail."
"Finally, my sentence is complete. I'm a free agent."
"Actually, you're more likely going to be on patrol."
"I'm suddenly hating this jail analogy."
He laughed again, sitting up. "How are you?" He inquired, his tone turning serious, running his hand down her arm, raising goose bumps in their wake. "How's your head?"
She'd had a splitting migraine when she fell asleep the night before. She'd complained about it nonstop, as he ran his fingertips across her forehead until she fell asleep.
She grimaced. "Still there."
He offered her a sympathetic half-smile, before pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth, cupping her face with one hand. "Do you want to eat here before we go or pick something up on the way home?"
"You have to ask?"
"Hospital food hasn't grown on you, even a little?"
"Does your own feces grow on you if you eat it enough?"
"That was a disgusting analogy."
"It felt appropriate." Spencer shut her eyes, pressing her fingers to each socket before sitting up and massaging her temples.
Toby's hand began to rub the back of her neck. "It's not getting better, is it?"
She shook her head but put on her brave face. "It's fine."
"Will you please let me get you something from the doc-"
"Stop," she commanded, hushing him. "I'm not going to give my parents one more reason to fight my release."
He sighed, giving her a look. "Fine," he conceded. "But I'm going to pick up some Tylenol and ibuprofen on the way to the motel."
"Well thank you, my love."
"Toby?" A nurse in her mid-forties popped her head into the room. "You need to come fill out some paperwork at the front desk and Dr. Barnes also wants to go over a few things with you."
"Thanks," he nodded as she exited as abruptly as she entered. He turned back to his girlfriend and smoothed the covers over her lap. "He probably just wants to go over some precautions with me in case-"
"In case I snap and try to drill my eyes out with your power tools?"
He stared at her for a beat, but didn't look overly taken aback by her colorful imagery. "You have such a way with words, Spence."
Her smirk returned. "It's an art."
He rolled his eyes, but there was affection in his gaze. "Stay here until I come back, alright? You still have some heavy pain killers in your system and I don't want you to crack your head open before we get to the motel."
"Gotta save something for later," she agreed as he walked out.
"Goodbye, Spencer," he called over his shoulder, same as their first morning together, in the Edgewood MotorCourt parking lot.
About twenty seconds after he left, it occurred the Spencer just how bored she was without him. There was no TV program that could hold her interest. Anything that wasn't G-rated had been blocked on the television in her room, a transparent attempt to stop her from watching the news, in case she herself guest starred. She didn't even have a phone to distract herself with which she, for some reason, hadn't even realized until last night.
She wasn't ever the type to bury her head in technology. Her Facebook feed was pretty dry and Twitter was just a way for people to brag in one hundred and forty characters or less about how wonderful their lives were. Being tagged in photos on Instagram frightened her and actually posting a photo of herself, that anyone in the world could see, sent a chill up her spine.
But, even for her, not having a phone left her feeling weirdly disconnected, like there was another world going on that she was no longer privy too.
She had no idea where her phone even was. It could be at the police station, as the girls had said they had attempted to show the cops the now vanished texts from -A. It could be in her mom's desk drawer. It could be in the garbage can. Either way, it seemed like a cheap effort to stop her from Googling 'Rosewood Massacre'.
She wondered why they bothered so much, why they put so much energy in stopping her from looking up the tragedy? She couldn't even bear to think about what was locked inside her own head. Why would she search it out?
Maybe because in any other case, she would have. She drove herself to the brink of insanity and the doors of a rehab facility, just to find missing pieces of the puzzle.
But this was different. This was harrowing just to think about. She, for once in her life, didn't want to know all the answers as much as she wanted to make it go away.
A part of her, deep down, knew there was something about this whole entire thing that didn't add up. Something that wasn't right. And that something left her trembling and terrified and forced her to break out in a cold sweat.
She attempted to take a deep breath, trying to focus on feeling grateful that she was going home with Toby and only Toby. Putting some distance between her and parents would do them-or at least, her-some good.
When ten minutes passed and the sandy brunette cop hadn't returned, she decided, against her boyfriend's plea, to try and get ready to go.
Dressing was easy. Okay, not easy, but it was simple.
He was right. She was dizzy and incredibly so. But it didn't take much skill to hold the wall for support and tug on a pair of jeans and a sweater.
Part of her instability had to do with the lack of substance in her stomach. In her time in the hospital, she'd refused whatever food she could, the distress in her mind consuming everything inside of her. Including her appetite.
Suddenly, the idea that she was about step out of the hospital that had been her constant since her kidnapping, the idea that she was leaving with the boy she'd lost three years ago and never expected to get back, the idea that from this moment on, she was going to be back out in the big, bright, harsh, unforgiving world, was enough to shake her balance, even in her most solid moment.
She felt her stomach rumble, as if on cue, and though she rarely preferred stale, processed food from a bag, she would choose that over hospital cuisine any day of the week.
Leaning on the wall for balance, Spencer used it as a guide out of the room and into the hallway.
To which, she realized, she'd never been. She hadn't exited her room once. The thought left her feeling even more uneasy, but before she could even begin to ponder why, she was distracted by the sound of sobs coming from down the hall.
A female figure sat in a chair, three inches from the vending machine. Her face was buried in her arm and her back shook with sobs, every so often using her hand to swipe the tears off her face.
And then Spencer squinted and the figure easily distorted into her mother.
Instantly, like being shot or punched, her entire body filled with dread and remorse. She knew without having to mull over it for a second exactly what had her mother so obviously and uncharacteristically distraught.
Her.
I'm killing her, a voice in her head whispered. I'm killing my mother.
Never in her entire twenty-three years had she ever seen her mom so upset. Not even when she consumed so many pills that it sporadically turned her into a violent stranger that left her family in quaking. Not even when she was committed to Radley Sanitarium, the outdated hospital haunted by the secrets of everyone in this town. Not even when her mom took her home after Charlotte Dilaurentis' dollhouse, was Veronica so hysterical.
And she knew then, that her mom was so beside herself because she saw only two alternatives for her daughter.
Jail or a mental hospital.
Veronica was breaking down because she believed her child was literally going insane. She was breaking down because she thought Spencer played a part in this horrendous game.
She should have been angry that her mom would believe such a thing of her. But she wasn't. Because she could see now, that the stress this put on Veronica was literally tearing her apart, from the inside out, much like it was Spencer.
Toby hadn't been lying when he told her the senator was sick with anguish. She looked physically ill, not knowing if her youngest was going to lose it completely or if she'd be found guilty of the crime committed.
She wondered, watching the elder woman attempting to pull herself together, if her parents hadn't pushed to keep her here partially because they thought it was garner public and police sympathy.
For all that seemed wrong about that statement, she couldn't deny that it may have had her best interests at heart. She couldn't deny the fact that her mom-and even her dad-had been there, physically present, for the vast majority of her hospital stay.
And truth be told, she really didn't anticipate that. It was more than she expected out of the distant, detached people who'd raised her.
Unlike before, regret crept up inside her, slowly but steadily and she felt her eyes begin to water, realizing that she was too harsh on her mom. She was problematic and abrasive and difficult, just like they'd always said. Maybe they weren't the greatest parents, maybe they had more flaws than she could count on two hands, but maybe she didn't realize that she was an unbearable daughter. Maybe that was why Melissa was always their favorite. Because truth be told, maybe her parents really, truly did not like her, and maybe she completely deserved it.
After all, everything that had happened to their lives, the chaos that had replaced their normal routines with a living hell, was her doing. They had to go through this whole nightmare too, because of her.
Maybe they weren't wrong to resent her.
Maybe she was really the villain in her own story.
It only took a moment standing there, staring at her mother's fractured state, for her to bolt, the air abruptly too thick, hitting her and weighing her down.
Like a magnetic pull, she went into autopilot and gravitated without even thinking, towards the blue-eyed police officer.
Finding him wasn't hard. But the crowd he was in caught her off-guard.
Surrounding him was Caleb and Ezra and Emily. And her half-brother.
Three of which never saw her in the hospital, and yet they chose to be here on the day she was released.
"Hey," Emily said as soon as she noticed the brunette standing a few feet out of their circle. "Spence?"
Instantly, four pairs of eyes fall on her tremulous form and watery mocha irises.
"Spencer."
"Hey, are you . . . ?''
"Spence?"
All their greetings went clear over her head as her tearful eyes met Toby's.
"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, rightfully concerned, as upon his departure, she'd been spewing witty comebacks.
Without waiting for a response, he stepped towards her at the same time she flew into his arms, burying her face into his neck.
She squeezed her eyes shut as she let out a loud sob, completely oblivious now to her audience. "Spencer?" he breathed, growing more and more alarmed by the second. When she didn't say anything, he was forced to draw his own conclusions. "Did you remember something else?" She was already shaking her head before he could get the words out.
"No," she whispered raspily into his skin, turning her head to lay her cheek against his shoulder. "I just saw my mom crying in the hallway."
All four of their onlookers exchanged a perplexed glance, none of them quite grasping why this caused such an upset inside her.
But Toby understood. He always understood. Sometimes she wondered if they didn't have a supernatural connection, the way neither of them had to offer any explanation to the other, ever.
"Spence," he sighed, rubbing her back now, his arms tightening around her.
"I'm killing her," she admitted hoarsely. "This is killing her and it's all on me."
"No, it isn't!"
"Spencer, you can't think that."
"No, you're not!"
Ignoring the comments from the peanut gallery, she shut her eyes again, holding onto her boyfriend for dear life. "I just want this to be over."
The cop didn't respond, didn't try to smooth it over with pleasantries and, albeit well-intended but overall, useless words. Instead his arms rocked her back and forth silently, for as long as she needed to be held.
When the time came, that she was all cried out and her face was no longer a stream of saltwater, she pulled back, moving her arms to wrap around his neck and wiped her face on the shoulder of her shirt.
Toby moved one arm from around her waist and used his thumb to wipe away her leftover tears. The eyes of their friends were still glued to the couple, but his only stayed on her. His baby blues had moisture in them now too and he had to swallow a lump down in his throat, hating the way Spencer was visibly being ripped apart, nearly every second of every day.
Aria, Hanna and Alison had all joined them now, standing with the others, forming a circle around the couple.
No strangers surrounding them thought anything of the girl crying. Tears was the most common occurrence inside a hospital. All anyone assumed was that someone died.
And someone had died. A lot of someones. It just so happened that she scarcely knew any of them.
Spencer didn't understand why that felt untrue.
Everyone, down to Caleb and Ezra, wanted to console her, hug her, try to make her feel better.
She didn't let any of them.
Instead, she refused eye contact and roughly scrubbed the back of her hand across her red, splotchy skin, trying to force any evidence of tears away.
Her friends understood. They knew she was the backbone of their group, the nurturer, the one who found the lifejackets when the rest of them were lost at sea. She was the one who held it together and broke down privately. Letting her guard down, even with those she loved most, was a challenge for her and always would be.
A part of them, she thought, probably was relieved too. Spencer being the one who needed consoling was a novelty. She was the strong one. When the strong one cracked, the entire dynamic was thrown off and everyone struggled to comprehend what to do.
Jason though, who'd been primarily silent since his little sister appeared, looked like he desperately wanted to say something.
She turned her head, as subtly as she was capable of at the moment, and looked towards the other direction, in hopes that he wouldn't bother.
It didn't work. "Spencer," her brother started.
Instantly her head was shaking, her still uneven breaths growing louder as she attempted to simultaneously relax and force her migraine away.
He tried again as she rubbed her forehead furiously. "Spencer, is-"
"Please stop," she begged, squeezing the bridge of her nose between two fingers, hoping it'd numb the pain in her head, if only slightly.
Jason sighed softly but didn't look discouraged. Before he could say anything else though, Toby rewrapped his arms around her, drawing her back to his chest. He pressed his mouth to her forehead then her hairline. With his lips still attached, he asked so quietly she was the only one to hear it, "Do you want to step outside for a minute?"
She nodded indolently, slowly leaning out of his embrace, still avoiding eye contact.
When he took her hand delicately to walk out, she stopped dead in her tracks. "Babe, can I just-" She struggled, still sniffling. "Can I have a minute alone? Please?"
His oceanic orbs widened instantly, dropping her hand without a second thought. "Of course! No, of course, you can be alone, I'm sorry!"
She didn't react like she should have, the way she would have ordinarily. She didn't tell him it was fine, that he was doing everything right, that she couldn't thank him enough for all he'd done for her, that he was the most understanding and devoted person she'd ever known and that she didn't understand how she got so lucky with him. She didn't understand how even now, even after all that had happened, he could still make everything alright, even if just for a second.
Instead she merely offered him a small, lifeless smile and headed towards the hospital exit.
"Wait!" He called after a beat, causing her to turn around automatically, her brow furrowed. He was already tugging off his jacket. "Here, take my coat," he insisted, wrapping it around her. "I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your dad to get yours and it's really cold-"
"Thank you, babe," she mumbled, cutting off his unnecessary apology.
He nodded as she turned to leave, still massaging her temples in hopes of eliminating her killer headache.
She stepped over the threshold to what she'd considered her prison, for the first time in over a week, and felt the air hit her like a semi-truck.
It was wonderful and awful and bizarre all at once. She didn't realize how strange it would be, to feel the icy breeze sting the skin on her face, to feel the overly potent, bone chilling wind blow Toby's jacket against her harshly.
But it didn't soothe her as much as she'd hoped. It didn't bring her solace or rid her of the tightness in her chest or the raging pain in her skull.
But it was away from the audience and that was all she'd really desired. She loved them, each and every one of them-except Ezra, that is-but she didn't want them to see this. She didn't want them to watch her struggle and fall apart like this.
She hadn't quite realized it before, but it was absolutely humiliating to not be in control of your own mind, to not be able to reign in your emotions or to be constantly on edge, one wrong look away from biting someone's head off. It wasn't something she planned on sharing with everyone, and she didn't want to be rude, but she didn't exactly welcome their presence at the moment.
Keeping people, people who want to help you, at arm's length, was nothing short of detrimental and selfish, she knew. But she also knew that when she felt like this, when anyone was under the duress she was, any person in her line of fire could easily turn into her target and she didn't care how selfish she was, she just wanted to be left alone.
Her solitude came to an unexpected end as another presence casually joined her.
"What are you doing here, Jason?" She asked, deadpan, not even looking at him. She kept her eyes trained on the scenery in front of her, the ominous hospital parking lot, while her brother's eyes bore straight into the side of her head.
"Toby went to fill up your prescription," he informed, dodging her query.
"Good," she nodded, before stating, "but you still didn't answer my question."
The blonde looked down at the ground for a long moment, contemplating. "I wanted to make sure you were okay," he finally said.
"I don't mean why'd you follow me out here," she corrected, crossing her arms across her chest. "I mean, why are you here at all?"
"I just said it, Spence. I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Why?" She pressed, her head finally whirling towards him, the fire inside her building once more. "Why today?"
He seemingly struggled to find the words all over again. "I came once, while you were asleep," he admitted, his eyes looking for an understanding, to which Spencer couldn't begin to grasp.
She didn't understand why he cared so much, now, of all times. All the times she'd begged and begged for him to even give her the time of day, to want her as either a sister or a friend and he chose now to make an effort?
A small part of her didn't want to believe that he cared more suddenly, because everyone knew she was in deep trouble. He cared more because he knew if he didn't build some sort of relationship with her now, he'd never get the chance again.
"I sat by your bed and I watched you sleep," he continued. "Toby even left for a couple minutes so I could talk to you."
She let her guard down slightly at his honest words. "Why didn't you come back?"
"Timing was never right," he offered, desperately hoping she would understand. But it wasn't a good enough reason to her.
She remembered Toby explaining that Jason didn't want to be there, trapped in the same room as Veronica and Peter. She remembered sympathizing at the time.
She wasn't in a very sympathetic mood, at the moment.
Her defenses snapped back up again. "You know, if you really care at all about me, you probably should just get over my mom and dad. Or sorry, my mom and our dad."
"I know it's not me you're really mad at," he stated, evenly. "I know it's a combination of things."
"A combination of what?" She flared, not in the mood for his preamble.
"Of your guilt for what this is doing to Veronica and your irritation for even having to be in this hospital to begin with. You're pissy because everyone and their brother is lying to you and treating you like an animal with rabies and you're probably overwhelmed with your memory loss and the night in question and honestly, I know you're just taking it out on me because I'm in your line of fire."
She let out a sigh, her breath visible in the cold air. "Toby isn't lying to me," she corrected after a beat of silence. "And he doesn't make me feel like an animal with rabies."
Jason bypassed her statement. "Usually you're the one who is making all the effort in our relationship," he pointed out, a small smile on his face.
"And you're usually the one who wants me to go away."
His face fell slightly. "That's not true, Spencer." Guilt flashed across his face as he processed her words.
She ignored his statement now. "It's really hard to build a sibling relationship with someone who doesn't want you."
"That isn't true," he refuted again, grabbing her arm as she turned her head away, scoffing at his denial. He took a deep breath before continuing, his voice quieter now and somber. "You know it's hard for me to open up to any sort of family. My family's kind of always been crappy, for as long as I can remember. It doesn't make it easy to accept new relationships with open arms."
She gave him a look and he knew he wasn't getting any empathy here. Not from her, not today. "I wasn't exactly raised with the Brady Bunch. Which was exactly why I always wanted to be close to you. I always wanted to know you."
The blonde nodded, looking down again, contrition creeping up inside of him. His eyes filled with pain and Spencer wondered why that made her feel a little better. Satisfied. Validated.
Maybe she was a monster.
"We just coped differently to being the black sheep of our families," he noted.
All the response he got was an eye roll. When she didn't say anything else for minutes on end, he thought she was completely finished with this conversation.
She surprised him, as he contemplated heading back inside. "It would have been nice, you know," she started, her voice lower. Her tone now carried a somber edge. A wistfulness, for what could have been but didn't pan out. "To have you in my life. I don't know if I could have benefited yours at all but. . . between us both being addicts, to us being outcasted by our families, even to both of us not remembering the night Ali disappeared, I don't know. . . I guess, it just would have been nice to have someone else to talk to. That understood what it was like."
Jason gave her a guilty look, a plea in his eyes for forgiveness. A plea that she'd been wishing he'd offer for years. "But you had Toby, right?" He checked, his tone hopeful. "I mean, he was there for you? You had him to talk to? Man, that kid loves you a lot. . ."
"I love him," Spencer replied simply. "I love him, I love him, I love him," she said, more to herself than to him, a smile crossing her face, the image of the boy she loved with everything inside her now in the forefront of her brain. She shook her head, her tone changing. "But I pile too much on him. I shove all my issues on him. And I have a lot of issues." The blonde looked down, unsure what to say in response. "Me and him broke up though," she added, crossing her arms and looking back at the parking lot, avoiding his gaze again.
Jason's head snapped up in surprise. "What?"
"We broke up three years ago," she informed nonchalantly. "Didn't get back together until last week."
It felt strange, she found, to have a conversation on her relationship status. Everything for so much of her life had been consumed by missing memories and murders and deceit and potential arrests. She scarcely had the opportunity to ever have a conversation on something like her romantic life.
Jason sighed, still feeling guilty for her demeanor towards him. "I'm sorry that we didn't keep in touch when you moved away. Ali, actually, used to keep me updated about big things in your life."
She nodded, curtly. "Same."
They fell silent once more but before he could head back inside, Spencer verbalized something that had eaten away at her for the last five years. "You and Charlotte had a good relationship, didn't you?"
Her brother stared at her for a long moment, taken aback by the inquiry. "Yeah, we did," he finally confirmed.
"Did you spend a lot of time with her?"
The resentment in her voice was hard to miss. "I visited her nearly every day. Until I left Rosewood. Did Aria tell you-"
The brunette cut him off, already knowing about his and Aria's affair. "You drove every day to a mental hospital to see Charlotte for years?"
He nodded, unsure where she was going with this. "Yeah?" She didn't know why but the thought made her eyes fill up all over again. She held them at bay this time, refusing to cry all over again. Seeing her reaction, Jason reached out and touched her arm again. "Spence, what's wrong?"
"It's just ironic," she attempted to remain nonchalant, ignoring that her voice breaking gave her away. "You can build a relationship with my tormentor but not with me."
The statement was selfish and narrow-minded and entirely inconsiderate. Jason's side wasn't hard to see. He knew Cece Drake. He knew Charles. He had been brainwashed by his corrupt and deceiving parents for the vast majority of his life. And Charlotte had been wronged by their parents too, in an unforgivable way. It wasn't difficult to emphasis with Jason, for wanting to know Charlotte, for wanting to help her.
But it hurt, nonetheless. It hurt to know that someone could do to her and her friends what Charlotte had, that someone could cause permanent damage to her psyche that she may never be completely recovered from, that someone could bring such extraordinary pain to her and yet, they were given group therapy to talk about their feelings, they could be shown unconditional forgiveness and understanding, they could be rewarded with compassion and praise.
She did what she did, because she was mentally ill?
Well now, so am I. So are my friends.
Being mentally ill didn't justify the damage she did. It didn't erase anything, to hear her story and feel sorry for her. And it didn't stop the crippling nightmares or the panic attacks or the rage and nostalgia at the adolescence she never had.
"You know, she only hurt you because she herself was hurting?" Jason asked hesitantly, his sympathy for his deceased sister's ordeal palpable. "What my parents did-"
"Was awful," Spencer finished. "It was. I cannot fathom why anyone would do that to their own child." The words were as blank as they came. "Doesn't really change anything for me, though."
"Spence, please," the blonde pled. "She was in pain. She wasn't in her right mind. You heard her story."
"I heard it. I'll never forget, trust me. It was somewhere between my prom and me disabling a bomb before it could blow us all to pieces."
He continued, fighting for his sister, "You weren't even her real target. You girls weren't who she really wanted to hurt. You were just a path to get to Ali." Spencer scoffed now, shaking her head. "What?"
"It was. . . harrowing, what me and my friends went through. It was the most awful time in my life, up until about a week ago. I never thought I'd ever be able to fully recover-I still don't know if I will," she paused and took a deep breath, half wondering why she was even bothering to tell this to him. "But what makes it worse, is the fact that we were nothing more than collateral damage. In the end, what we went through was background noise to everything else surrounding Charlotte and Ali and your mother. And I don't really care what you or anyone else says, it really sucks to be the footnote in someone else's tragedy."
Jason shut his eyes again, realizing that when she was like this, he wasn't going to win. Not today, not right now. She had too much-justifiable-anger against him and, for now, it was a lost cause.
Still, when Spencer opened the door to re-enter the hospital, he couldn't help but blurt out, "I'm sorry."
She froze, taking the words in. They were such a diminutive thing, but they were a rarity to hear in her life.
He continued. "You're right. You're right and I'm sorry that I haven't been there for you in the past. But I want to change that. No matter what you did or didn't do, I'm here."
Because it was all she'd ever wanted to hear, from so many people, the words pierced her thick, stubborn skull, and they got to her.
But she didn't say anything. She ignored the tears in her eyes and started to head back through the doors again.
"Spencer," Jason tried one more time, halting her in her footsteps. "You asked me why I came here. I came here because you're my sister and I wanted to be here for you."
There was a long stretch of silence after he went silent. A long bout where you could hear a pen drop, while Jason waited for her response.
She wanted to believe his words. She wanted to have a semi-normal relationship with a family member. She'd wanted that for so long.
But she wasn't ready. Not now, not today.
"I'm not your sister, Jason," she finally rasped out. "I never was."
She headed straight back to her room, not even stopping to see her friends. She took the shortcut through a different hallway and slipped back into the hospital room while it was still her's.
She wondered how long it'd take to fill up a prescription, how many bottles were they prescribing, how many drugs was Toby even needing for her?
Spencer didn't realize until then that it was rather strange that they were even still prescribing her serious medications. For what? Her bruises? Her scrapes and cuts? Her surface injuries?
And then, remembering one of many conversations between Toby and Dr. Barnes, she wondered if they weren't giving him anti-anxieties for her. Or worse, anti-psychotics.
She swallowed the thought down, knowing that if that were the case, all she'd have to do is ask. Toby didn't lie to her. He was the most honest person she knew. There wasn't a fat chance in hell he'd keep something like that from her.
It was amazing, how implicitly she trusted him. She and Jason had both grown up in dysfunctional families-although the Dilaurentis' did have the Hastings beat-and yet, they reacted so differently.
She was barely more than a baby when she met Toby. Sixteen years old and bitter as dark chocolate, but, though still pessimistic, she didn't turn into Jason. She didn't become a guarded, loner that trusted no one not to betray her. She didn't reject all familial connection, like a plague.
And most of that was thanks to Toby. Most of that was thanks to his never yielding love and support, his soothing demeanor and his forgiving nature. His belief that there was so much good in the world, despite only being shown the bad. His belief that there was so much goodness in her, that she could do the right thing, that she could be the person he thought she was. He never gave up on her, not even when they broke up for wanting different lives. He never gave up on her, even when everyone else did.
Almost as if she made it up in her imagination, Veronica's voice rang in her ears. She heard her mother murmuring something, the words unintelligible but her voice absolutely unmistakable.
"Mom?" Spencer called, before she even thought it through, before it registered in her brain that this woman was bawling a half hour back about all the mess the brunette had brought to their lives.
The older woman didn't respond but Spencer, to the best of her ability, steadied herself and cautiously approached, finding the senator lingering in the threshold to her room.
"Mom," she said again and she studied the splotchy nature to her mother's face. The evidence of her breakdown hadn't evaporated yet and the brunette felt a pang of guilt, all over again. It hit her just like before, speck by speck, until her entire body was consumed with shame for how far she'd ripped the lives of those she loved apart.
"Honey, were you crying?" Veronica asked, startling her daughter.
Oddly, her first thought was that this was the first time in her life she could remember that her mom noticed such a thing. Even as a small child, when she cried about disappointing her parents, losing a competition or the favoritism towards Melissa, neither Veronica or Peter had ever commented on it. Unless she was a loud, wailing mess in their direct vision-and even then sometimes-they remained oblivious to her upset, always,
"Yeah, a little," she shrugged, hoping to sound blasé.
Her mom didn't let it go. "About what?" Her eyes grew wide with concern.
And that did it. Without warning, even in her own brain, she admitted, "Because I saw you crying in the hall."
Comprehension flicked across the older woman's face. "Oh, Spencer," she sighed, looking at her daughter differently now. The embarrassment she anticipated didn't appear. Instead, she looked contrite, like she'd hurt her daughter in an unintended way.
And Spencer realized that her mom really did love her, just as much as she loved Melissa. Maybe it was different, maybe the love you have for your kids is never the same, but she knew deep down that no matter how difficult she may be, no matter how much her personality alone grated on her mother's nerves, no matter how many fights they had or how many times her mom reprimanded her with a hidden stab, the woman loved her with all her heart.
Which made it possible for her to express her feelings to her mom, in a way she'd never really felt safe before. "Mom," she swallowed hard, hoping she didn't look too pitiable. "I just wanted you to know that I appreciate everything you've done for me. Everything you gave up to be here with me, even on my worst day. I didn't really expect you to be here with me almost every hour of every day. Especially when we weren't getting along. But you were. Here. You didn't leave me, and I know that you just wanted what was best for me and I know I can be stubborn and difficult but. . . I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for being here with me no matter what." The words weren't easy to say. Her voice was quiet and she avoided eye contact throughout but, much to her utter and complete astonishment, they meant something to Veronica.
"Oh, sweetheart," the woman breathed and unexpectedly gathered her daughter into her arms, cradling her head.
Even without a warning, Spencer easily breathed in her mom's perfume and burrowed her face into her shoulder, shutting her eyes.
The two of them stood there for minutes on end, without a word, hugging.
"You're my baby," she whispered, catching her daughter off-guard once again. She pulled back slightly to look at the brunette's face. "I know I've never told you that in so many words but I want you to know that you are." She touched her hair, softly. "I love you so much, honey. I would do absolutely anything for you to be okay."
That was Spencer's final breaking point. "I'm sorry that I've been so awful," she cried.
Veronica instantly hugged her again, "No, sweetie, you haven't. I haven't been. . ." she cut herself off prematurely, but Spencer knew what she was going to say.
I haven't been the greatest mother.
The senator cradled her daughter's head again. "You're going to be okay," she promised quietly, instead of completing her last sentence. "You're going to be okay."
"You don't know that," Spencer disagreed, tears still evident in her voice.
"Yes, I do. I know Toby. I know that he'd never do anything that put you in jeopardy. If I didn't, I would never even think of letting this release happen. And more importantly, I know you, Spencer. I know you're going to be okay. I promise you."
She didn't believe her, she didn't even believe her mother believed herself, but instead of saying anything else, she shut her eyes and pretended Veronica was right. She pretended that her mom was as positive as she was pretending, that it was possible for her to know her daughter's fate just by being her mom, that everything really would turn out okay.
She tried to believe that hope wouldn't breed her eternal misery this time.
But faith wasn't her strong suit.