A/N: I owed you guys a Hanna chapter; and I owed Hanna a chapter of the fic, so you must take this chap as a tribute to one of my favorite characters. It's taken me forever to write it and I couldn't come up with anything better than this!
Thanks to my wonderful beta, Maxi-Luca.
References to chapter 20 of Speeding Up, "Hanna", and to chapter 29 of this story. Also some others, I don't remember.
Also, I owe the inspiration for some ideas to these two fics: Hanna's poetry to "The Duplicate" by elmopll and Spencer's sacrifice to "The Queen Has Been Overthrown" by go-sullivan.
Summary: Emily and Spencer broke up because A is evil and this fic is tangled spaghetti, but Hanna is feeling like you (and me when writing it), so it's fine.
So Melissa Hastings was A.
However, Hanna had a concern other than Melissa Hastings aka A at the moment. The target was in sight. Golden four-inch heels tapping on the floor of the school's hallway, she advanced towards it thinking she should have worn flats; not that she would wear sneakers for this occasion, because spending the entire day in them was never going to happen, but maybe she should have wrapped the heels in cotton or some other soundless material, exactly like trained assassins did with silencers and guns. She rejoiced in the image of herself as a trained assassin, fighting for the world's liberation from… what, aliens? No, too typical, Earth had been freed from aliens too many times. People with bad taste in clothes? They didn't deserve death by assassination, so she guessed not. Serial killers? Scary. And, now that she thought about it, too close to the reality of their lives. The target was not so bad, after all. It needed a good slap in the face (not literally). It wore nice, classy clothes (most of the time) and was weird enough to resemble an alien but had never, to her knowledge, killed a person or a number of persons, although it had been close a couple of times, like that time in junior year with Mona or that other time in freshman year with Paige McCullers, or every time she actually believed she was murdering someone with her eyes. In any case, Hanna decided she should be wearing an all-black supertight outfit with red stripes along the sides to fit the image of the voluptuous blonde assassin that now glowed in her head, instead of the green wide pants she was wearing today, which made her look like a movie star but that were clearly unfit for running and hiding in corners or behind shelves, bushes and walls. So where was she? Hanna narrowed her eyes, the target already in focus.
Oh, right: silent shoes.
It was an old discussion between the target and Hanna, just like plaid and lesbian clothing in general. There was a chance to still do it, she had time, and it'd only take a visit to the infirmary to get cotton rolls, or whatever they were called, and place them around the heels – or under, she nodded in amusement to herself. Soundless shoes. Brilliant idea. Silencer soles like guns: hey, that could be considered poetry, right? Hanna Marin, poet and assassin, no wonder she'd give her name to a college. And she did have a supertight black dress at home. But – what if the target ran away in the meantime? No, she had to attack today. Forget about poetry and everything else, she was on a mission. Right now, located between the French Language and the Ancient History sections of the library, the target was arming itself on a stack of books that were being carefully selected by long, nervous fingers and then driven in wide steps to an isolated table in one of the corners of the library, where they were neatly placed in order, one on top of the other, probably following an alphabetical or a chronological strict code that the target had discovered held magical powers in terms of academic performance. Hanna rolled her eyes at the anal-retentive nature of the target. It was so focused on its pointless task that it seemed oblivious to the approaching presence. What if she was A, eh? She could be taking anonymous photos of this moment with her phone. She could have a silent phone. The target would never expect it: Hanna Marin, A. It'd beat Melissa Hastings at being A! It could be so awesome: it'd surprise the target, creating chaos and destruction in its obsessive soul. Hanna Marin, poet and A-for-anonymous stalker and murderer. The target would be so dead and… undone (poetry!). But whatever – Hanna Marin wasn't A, Melissa was A, and no matter how innocent it looked right now with its books, Hanna would never allow herself to be fooled by the target: the target was smart, coming only second best to the Queen of Bitchwood, its sister. Nevertheless – note the big word – the target was malicious and very experienced in giving Hanna and other people the slip out of a corner, almost making itself invisible – it wished, although invisibility was not one of its characteristics, regardless of how much the target enjoyed snooping around and pretending it knew everything about being a detective. Ah, yes, the target was only human – and basically a nerd. It needed a work out, not a slap in the face, a heart-to-heart talk from friend to friend, and probably some make-up too, if the ever darkening rings under the eyes that Hanna had kept noticing during the last two days were an indication of something awful that was happening to the target's morning habits. Hanna let the air sink into her lungs to inspire courage. She was not scared of the nerd. No way. This was the Nerd – look at her. What was she going to do, start shooting with her book machine gun? Right. It was true the Nerd was on a complicated estate of mind, though, and books could be kind of heavy. But Hanna knew the Nerd since they were twelve. She felt no fear in the face of the Nerd. The Nerd should be scared of her, not the other way around. She was a trained assassin. She looked like a super cool diva. She could be A. A step in advance, Hanna silenced her thoughts, the target moved and a book fell to the floor…
"What do you want, Hanna?"
The target spoke, turning around in defiance, and Hanna glared indignantly, all her efforts gone to waste.
"Do you have a third eye or something?" Waiting for the witty remark, Hanna decided she was really annoyed when it didn't come. In her personal vocabulary, annoyed equaled worried, and she was feeling annoyed as hell. "It's a third eye, right? The eye on your neck."
Spencer raised one of her brows – the left one.
"I don't think it's on the neck."
"Yours is."
Two brows now. In response, Hanna crossed her arms.
"Third eye's actually called ears", came the witty remark at last. "So what do you want?"
The mission – it wasn't an assassination. It was common life drama, sprinkled here and there with murderous-like (like, actually murderous) sisters and other situations. Two days ago they had found out Melissa was A. Two days ago, just before that, Spencer had murdered Emily's heart on Emily's birthday. Well done, Hastings girls, well done.
Hanna leaned against the table, closely examining Spencer's wary and alert expression. Make-up was decidedly needed.
"Spence, I'm not here to break your legs or anything, okay?", she clarified, remembering her trained-assassin skills and the threats she'd thrown at Spencer long ago. "Let's make that clear from the start."
Amazingly, relief appeared on Spencer's face. The Nerd was scared of her!
"So you bark but you don't bite?"
Hanna did an eye-roll in what was always a perfect harmonic dance with her own brilliance.
"That's you."
Spencer caught the dog-reference. "Right", she acknowledged, nodding. "The dog."
"Peeing around your territory."
"Don't push it."
"Anyway, I knew you'd get it."
"Sure", Spencer shrugged. "So you just happen to threaten people because…?"
The question – sarcastic in Hastings fashion – was left to remain hanging in the air.
"That was ages ago, and I'm here to fix your eyes", Hanna informed, reaching for her purse to get the make-up bag she carried everywhere, "and to talk", she continued, not buying the sarcasm of her friend, "you know, talk-talk, girl-talk, that kinda thing."
"Talk", the target drawled out slowly. "Isn't that what Aria tried yesterday?"
Aria was too nice, she didn't break legs.
"I'm not Aria", Hanna smiled sweetly, preparing to jump at the throat, "so consider it a special gift from me, cause I'm so much better at the friend listening thing." She bit her tongue before just ask Emily came out to destroy her awesome friendship work reparations.
Spencer sighed as she sat on the chair and opened a book.
"I've got nothing to talk about", she finally said, in a sort of friendly way, "so…" She gave it some thought, pensive and sad, then looked at her straight in the eye. "But nice try, Hanna."
"Spence", Hanna begged, "c'mon."
"I have a test tomorrow", Spencer closed the topic, this time with a dry, efficient shot, "and we're at the library."
"So let's go outside."
"You should talk to her instead", Spencer terminated, "she really needs it more."
"Spencer…"
"Not now."
The freaking target could get on anyone's nerves.
"Fine", Hanna conceded the truce, "but I'm your friend too."
"I know."
She wasn't even looking at her anymore.
Plan B: slap her face.
No, actually Plan B consisted in sneaking into the car. It wouldn't be the first time. And if that didn't work, violence would be needed along make-up. Hanna made her way back outside, then into the central building of the school, scowling and glaring at her own incompetence whenever it was reflected in mirrors, which only happened twice, one in the restroom she decided to go in order to re-apply make-up for the afternoon and another one in front of the crystal windows that covered the entrance to the conference room, which she crossed absentmindedly as she texted Aria with the news. Aria sent a hug. And, to be honest, she needed it. They both needed it. The four of them needed it. Emily more than anyone. That was why Hanna was on a mission.
"Freaking alien nerd", she muttered to an imaginary Spencer once she made it to the restroom, "if you don't listen you're not coming out of this one alive."
Her hand stopped brushing a cheek as her mind took a moment to think about the words.
"Or straight."
She smiled at the image smiling back at her.
Beaming in re-gained confidence and beauty, she walked to the cafeteria, where the vending machine provided her with chocolate bars for the wait. One hour later she was trembling in the parking lot, wearing only her splendid outfit and a thin jacket that matched both her eyes and the pants. She had now approximately 340 more calories to burn, the pants were starting to feel too tight, and it was all Spencer's fault. The things she had to do for her friends. If she had to be owned for every sacrifice…
There it was: the target, the nerd.
It – she – appeared in the distance, talking to a stranger. Hanna narrowed her eyes: the stranger was no stranger to her, it was another nerd who went by the name of Andrew and who had happened to develop abs and a powerful chest (shoulders too) over the summer when Spencer gayed herself up. Forbidden territory, Male Nerd, Super Red Lesbian Flag. He was kind of similar to Toby, minus the martyr-on-a-motorcycle looks plus the cute nerdy glasses. Rage started to take over, because if Emily saw this or even knew about this…
She stepped into the way to the SVU with her most innocent expression.
"Hi, Andrew."
The boy looked back shyly and gave a polite nod.
It was the first time they said hello to each other, at least that she remembered. She should introduce him to Mona. Mona was single now. And he was cute.
"Hanna, what do you want again?", Spencer snapped. "I'm going home, seriously I'm pretty sure this can be considered stalking."
Stalking?
"No, that'd be your sister's thing", Hanna shot back, not caring about Andrew's presence, "this can be considered friendship, and you're not going home until you talk to me."
"Hanna…"
Hanna paid no attention, directing her eyes to the male big-chested nerd.
"Andrew, the girl here's mine, sorry." As Emily's replacement, she thought. The following sentence was going to be see you around, and have you heard about Mona Vanderwaal because she's cute and very recently single. "Plus, you know, the girl-on-girl-action thing, I'm sure you've heard about that too." Emily's wicked and dominant replacement had taken control, and the information about Mona got lost on the way to her tongue.
Andrew looked at her with a blank expression.
"She's gay right now", Hanna summed up, "and taken, so bye."
His eyes widened the diameter of the Earth before he actually mumbled "sure" and "see you" to the air between their bodies and left.
Spencer scowled at the scene, but seemed helpless to stop it.
"Are you happy about that?"
"Guy has to know."
"I'm only walking next to him!"
"I don't care!"
"Who's the one peeing right now?"
They both had yelled at each other, but after they stopped Spencer sighed a long sigh, sincere, frustrated and sad, and Hanna felt like bursting into nervous laughter, because who was the dog peeing right now? Spencer was right. But she was on a mission.
"Is this about Melissa?"
Well, that was a nice deflection. Hanna had seen plenty of TV shows at home with her mom to be sure of it.
"Melissa's A", Hanna replied sharply, "so I guess the answer's yes and no."
"Yeah, and that's clarifying."
"Sarcasm looks good on you", Hanna retorted, "but that burgundy vest doesn't."
Spencer put the electronic key back on her satchel, a move that could be easily mistaken for defeat.
"Any other thing you wanna say?"
"Plenty."
"Game on."
So game on, let it come.
Yet, Hanna found herself speechless: playing verbal tennis with Spencer was somehow less complicated than facing the matter at hand. Melissa and Emily. No, Emily and Melissa. Emily always went first. Emily would always go first. That was the point. Hanna opened her mouth, and the name didn't totally make it through.
"I…"
"I thought we agreed I had a few days to talk to Melissa about whatever Caleb saw."
"Caleb didn't see it alone", Hanna was quick to interrupt, "you saw it too, remember?"
Caleb had shown them the video he'd recovered from A's phone that proved Melissa was in Alison's room with Garrett and Jenna the night Alison died. Melissa had killed Alison. The bitch. She was A. She was probably the person Emily chased in the forest. But Spencer swore they needed more evidence, the video proved nothing at all, and asked for more time. Aria was willing to give it to her. And Emily, when she found out, agreed on it once she managed to stop crying and speak. Hanna herself had only seen the video later. Ironically – note the big word – this had been the first time they had a meeting about A in two separate moments and places. But someone had to take care of Emily. And that had been Hanna. The things she did for her friends. The things she said to them.
Spencer looked resilient. She was a fighter – but sometimes she fought for the wrong side.
"You told me I had time to talk to her."
"No, I told you to take her to the police, Spencer", Hanna replied, unable to shut up about Melissa, "and then Aria was nice and told you we'd wait for you to talk to her."
"Melissa's not A, okay?", Spencer fired-cracked. "She's not, she can't be."
"Why, because you can't take so much in one hour?"
She regretted it after saying it. Hanna knew it was all too much for Spencer and Spencer couldn't take it. Breaking up with Emily five minutes before finding out her own sister was A – or close anyway – qualified as too much. But Emily… This couldn't continue like this.
"We'll see about that."
Spencer walked towards the car, jaw and fists clenched.
"Spencer", Hanna called, "I'm sorry."
Spencer offered a slight nod of acknowledgment after turning around. "I'd say the same to you if I were in your position." They exchanged a gaze of understanding. "You know that."
"You'd say worse things", Hanna tried to make it sound light-hearted, "you know that."
"I'd do worse things", Spencer said darkly. "Remember the Black Widow moment? Stab you in the back and ice you out and so on."
They had fought, they had made peace.
"I remember the bitch with the flute", Hanna offered along with a smile, feeling terrible about having called Spencer a black widow and an angel of death, among other things. "You're the boss, so I need you back on board too. Remember that?"
Spencer did remember, because along with a spark came a little knowing smile.
"You said you weren't my little monkey."
"I changed my mind", Hanna shrugged it off, as if it had happened only a second ago. "So can we talk now?"
Spencer's resistance – it was cracking at the memory of their fight, but not entirely. She hesitated.
"Let me talk to Melissa first."
"Are you gonna talk to her tonight?"
"I texted her yesterday and she won't be here until Friday."
Hanna rolled her eyes – it was like an automatic gun, she couldn't help it. "Friday?" Melissa had time to run away to Canada until Friday. Was Canada far enough?
"Well, if you want I can go to Philly and confront her…"
"Not alone", Hanna knew Spencer was bluffing and buying time to process the drama, "unless you wanna get killed."
"Melissa's not A."
Denial. What stage of grief was that? Because if it was the first they were screwed.
Hanna looked straight into Spencer's eyes. "Listen to me", she calmly stated, because it was time to say the real thing and she'd practiced to say it calmly, although she was really, really annoyed with this, super annoyed, annoyed enough to smash Spencer's bones with the hug she knew Spencer also needed, "she's sick, she's in bed, she doesn't have a fever anymore, thought you'd like to know that, right?" Still she couldn't pronounce the name.
Spencer looked down to her feet and mumbled something inaudible.
"You can count on me to take care of this, but…"
"You're on your own now."
Maybe Spencer did need the slap in the face. Annoyed was not enough of a word to express how infuriating this was for Hanna.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Has she told you?", Spencer cut in, eyes on fire. "Cause that's the important thing, Hanna, has she told you what's going on? Sooner or later she's gonna tell someone and it'll be you."
So that was Spencer's plan? Hanna huffed. No, Emily hadn't told her anything yet.
"She's still processing. She says…"
"What does she say?"
"She didn't think you'd do it", Hanna tried to make sense of the disconnected confessions Emily had muttered before falling into silent tears again, "she says you promised you wouldn't do this kind of thing, but I know she's blaming herself."
Emily was blaming herself: Hanna could tell with her eyes closed, although she wished it were the ears that were closed, because Emily kept playing the same creepy songs over and over, as if they could provide some kind of clue as to why it all had happened. Melissa's guilt made it worse: although at first she'd freaked out, Emily had later channeled her inner Spencer, repeating Spencer's mantra almost word by word, it can't be Melissa, Melissa's not A, Melissa can't be A, which Hanna understood as a way of stating Spencer couldn't take Melissa being A on top of all. But Melissa was A; they'd better get it sooner than later. They couldn't afford to lose two players of the team right now, one of them the flute-boss. When Aria arrived, Emily had specifically insisted on the fact that they couldn't throw Melissa over the bus before making sure of everything, before Spencer made sure of everything. When Emily had mentioned Spencer's name, it had torn her apart again and she'd kept crying.
Spencer's eyes shone. "Of course she is."
"You are too."
The eyes hardened. "I'm blaming A."
Melissa.
"You have to talk to her."
Still no name.
"I already tried, that's why we broke…", there was a pause to rephrase, "why this happened."
"You broke up on her birthday and now you don't wanna talk to her?"
The mention of Emily's birthday caused a slight riot in Spencer's insides, apparently, because she blinked several times before managing to say anything else. "It's just a break", she explained weakly after a moment, "it's for a while, and it's… we can't talk right now."
"So you just do your thing, you shut everybody down and go on solving things your own way."
"That's more like her thing."
"Stop that."
Hanna meant the subtle resentment, the bitchiness. But she knew enough about romance and heartbreak to realize Spencer was hurting because she felt helpless to help.
"Sorry", Spencer apologized anyway, "I didn't mean to…"
Mom and dad – they had broken up, but not really.
"It's fine, Spencer, it's…"
"Just…", Spencer struggled with the words, "I think I need to talk to Melissa first."
Hanna wasn't going to be fooled by the Melissa deflection.
"And Emily?"
Finally invoking the name, Hanna held her breath. Spencer's eyes filled with unshed tears.
"You're taking care of her."
It came out weak, but firm.
"You still have to talk", Hanna insisted, "she should get a chance to explain…"
"Does she wanna talk to me?", Spencer asked, somewhat shyly, "I mean for real."
"I think she'd like to see you."
"You think?"
Shoot – Hanna was not made to solve mysteries or the wrong kind of heartbreak.
"She hasn't said anything", she tried to explain, although Emily had said she had to talk to Spencer before changing her mind again, "but, I mean, you…"
"That's not what I'm asking."
"I said she's processing everything."
"It's been two days and she's still not talking."
"Well, can you blame her?" Hanna decided to lead a ruthless attack on her friend, because what the hell had Spencer been thinking? What did she have in her nerd-head? And on a birthday? That was like the most terrible thing you could ever do to a person. Like, it was probably registered as a violation of basic human rights or something. "Did you think breaking up with her was going to magically open her up? Like she's some…", she struggled with the images in her mind, "like she's a can of tomato sauce, so you just break her open so you can pour her on your plate full of spaghetti?"
Spencer didn't even utter a no or a yes, didn't even raise an eyebrow. She only shook her head in confusion.
"Spaghetti?"
"It's an image."
An eyebrow rose in admiration and surprise.
"A metaphor."
"Whatever."
"It's the same thing."
"I don't care", Hanna repeated in exasperation, "it can be a horse for all I care."
"A horse eating spaghetti."
Hanna grunted, dismayed at the process she'd set in motion in Spencer's mind. "And you're the bitch with the flute riding the horse that's eating the spaghetti."
"But I need the tomato sauce."
Yes!
"Totally."
"That does not make sense at all."
"Em's the tomato sauce", Hanna ventured, "so you need her to… you know, feed the horse, or you, or whatever."
"And where's A in this animal picture you're creating?"
Sadly, a blank blur spread around Hanna's mind. She knew she couldn't do poetry. But who cared where A was? Oh, right, but she knew where the bitch was.
"In Philadelphia."
"Right."
"So you ride the horse there and find out what to do."
"Yeah, right."
"You need to solve this one way or another."
Spencer let out a joyless laugh. "Isn't that what I'm trying to do?"
"Well, it's not gonna work this way."
"And can you tell me what way it's gonna work?, Spencer asked, voice cracking again, "because I've tried everything and nothing ever seems to go as it should."
"So you're giving A what she wants?"
Spencer nodded, accepting it. "Temporarily."
Oh, Hanna couldn't believe her eyes! Or was it the ears?
"And that's why you did it?"
"You know something's up with her", Spencer assured, "and you can't even try to deny it."
"But how can you be so sure?"
"You're not?"
No, Hanna was sure too. Emily was acting really weird – also with her. But she wasn't going to let Spencer get away with this, not after the decision she'd made, not with this.
"What if it's something stupid, Spencer?"
Spencer moved, impatient, and leaned against the door of the car. "You're not serious."
"Didn't you follow her around?"
Paling away, Spencer coughed but kept the composure. "So she told you that."
"She says she went swimming to Aquinas", Hanna countered, "and you followed her there, nothing else."
"Yeah, I'm the jealous bitch, huh?"
"I'm not saying you don't have your reasons, but…"
"Hanna, I'm not making this up, okay?"
Just a little push, just one more.
"How do you know?"
"Cause I know her."
They looked at each other, both of them aware of the truth about Emily. Emily was hiding something. Hanna had to admit it too in order for the talk to keep going.
"Okay, maybe it is something, but…"
"But what?, Spencer growled, impatience gaining the hand. "Everything I'm hearing is but, but and but, don't you think I've said that too?"
It wasn't a real question: Hanna opened her mouth to respond and closed it again. Finally a name came through, or a name that sort of brought about a protest.
"Caleb didn't break up with me."
The Caleb Card. True Love. Emily was not Toby, Emily was different. Caleb was different too. They all hid stuff constantly – from one another, from everybody.
"Well, Caleb's Caleb", Spencer confirmed Caleb's uniqueness, "and he's… It's not like he knows everything about A, right?"
He did know a lot of things, things Hanna hadn't even told Spencer or Emily.
"And you know everything about it? You're not God, Spencer, okay? You don't know everything."
"Hanna, that's not even…"
"All I'm saying is give her a chance to explain!"
"But I gave it to her!", Spencer yelled before lowering her voice again. "You know whatever the shit A's pulling on her, it must be so fucking big to basically stop talking to anybody who cares about her including you and me, so tell me, is she gonna talk to you or not?"
It was Hanna's moment to be weak.
"I don't know."
To be honest, Hanna had no idea how to reach out to Emily. Spencer sunk her hands in the pockets of the coat, a move that could be easily mistaken for defeat. Apparently she was counting on this one. Breaking up and getting Hanna to do the dirty job.
"So you don't know."
An abyss opened before them. They didn't know. They didn't know what to do.
"Is that your condition?", Hanna checked for confirmation. "That she tells me about it." She left Aria out because it was clear this was going to happen between the three of them.
"My condition?"
"To fix it."
"It's worse than that."
"What do you mean?"
Spencer blinked, far too many times to be the normal blinking person. Oh, the freaking nerd and her freaking emotions and the freaking control she had to exercise over everything and everyone. Hanna wanted to punch her in the face right now. The A problem was going to be solved if they worked together – against Melissa. Easy as that, piece of cake, calories to be burned: Hanna just needed Spencer to choke down the Melissa cake. That was all.
"It's my condition but it's worse than that."
"Can you not speak in codes, Spencer?"
Spencer rolled her eyes. "Yes, I need her to say whatever's going on with A", this was the condition for them to get back together, Hanna wrote down in her mental notebook, prepared to run home and figure out a plan, "so we can sort this out, but maybe I just…"
Spencer looked away and crossed her arms, and that was how Hanna knew something bad – badder – was coming.
"You just what?"
This wasn't only about Spencer and Emily, Former Power Couple, this was about A, the enemy, Hanna thought, Melissa, and both Spencer and Hanna had lost track of Emily's steps or inner workings somewhere, they had both failed, which meant the only solutions to the problem consisted in either Emily or Melissa opening up to spill the truth and pour down the tomato. Now, Hanna was in favor of Melissa spilling first, but what about Spencer? Piece of cake aside, it couldn't be easy for her because, after all, Melissa was her sister. Regarding Emily, yes, she had made plenty of mistakes, Emily was a fool and Hanna wanted to beat the shit out of her too, except she couldn't really think about beating Emily at all, it was Emily, for God's sake, and Emily was the best person one could ever ask for, it was Emily, she'd probably gotten so entangled in the web of saving Spencer and the rest of them that later she couldn't get out or explain what she'd done. Emily was Spencer's sauce. They needed each other, regardless of whatever uncertainty Spencer was experiencing about this.
Bracing herself for Spencer's stab in the back and black-widow, bitch-with-the-flute move, Hanna already had a reply, which was going to come down to Melissa anyway, when Spencer shook her head in hesitation.
Hesitation was the worst sign of defeat for a person like Spencer. It scared Hanna to death.
"Nothing."
"No, tell me."
Hanna saw more hesitation. It wasn't even infuriating.
"I've been thinking", Spencer finally said, tentatively, "that maybe we've been trying too hard, that everything might get better if she just leaves for Texas."
The word Texas punched Hanna back in the face. She was not prepared for Texas.
"No way."
Melissa, Melissa, Melissa, not Texas.
Philadelphia.
"I don't know", Spencer tried, "I mean, look at her, Hanna, this is not her."
"It is her under extreme pressure", Hanna fought, thinking this was not Spencer either, Spencer and defeat didn't go in the same sentence, "the pressure Melissa's putting on her."
Wincing, Spencer resisted the attack.
"Melissa's not A."
"Emily doesn't want to leave."
Spencer bit her lip again. "She's gonna get better if she's far away."
"Far away from us?"
"Far away from A."
"Bullshit, far away from you", Hanna shot the bullet without really thinking, no silencer, "that's what you mean."
Stone-faced, Spencer maintained eye-contact. Was this a plan? Or was this defeat? And who was the person in front of her, if she was accepting defeat just like that? It couldn't be Spencer Hastings, the nerd-head who didn't take no for an answer.
"I mean A, Hanna."
It was a stupid idea – it was dangerous too.
"What if A kills her or kills someone else because she goes away?", Hanna argued with all of her resources. A hadn't allowed anyone to just walk out free, why would Emily be different all of a sudden? "Do you think she'll survive that, I mean, if she's not the one who gets killed? Do you think you'll survive that?"
No one would survive it.
"Too many what-ifs", Spencer concluded hesitantly, playing with the electronic key that was still between her fingers. The car clicked open, clicked closed. Like a can of tomato sauce. "You know, it's… Nothing's gonna happen to her as long as she's with her dad."
"Her dad?"
Hanna couldn't believe her eyes!
"Her parents."
"Our parents are here", well, so to speak, because her dad was absent and Spencer's dad was a shadow with fast cash and expectations that could never be met, "and we're not safe."
Another nod.
"This is Rosewood."
"And Texas is going to be different?"
"Maybe it will."
Hanna shook her head. There was something missing in Spencer's argument. Spencer would never send Emily away with a maybe in her hands.
"It's not gonna work."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Cause we have to do this together."
"That's what I used to think."
"Well, keep thinking."
They stared at each other, and Spencer finally opened her mouth to add the missing piece.
"A wants this."
"Duh, I know." Wait, A wanted Emily in Texas now? "You mean breaking up?"
"A'll leave her alone."
What?
"Did you get a text?"
Spencer tried to cut her open with a steely gaze that wasn't what it used to be. Too many repressed tears, Hanna thought, to keep the steel in it. No edge. No tomato sauce.
"Obviously, Hanna, that's what A does."
"So what does it say?"
There was hope in her voice because maybe this meant Spencer did have a plan.
"She's out, you're in", Spencer recited in a monotone, trying to conceal the despair she felt by glancing down to the key. The grimacing pout and the ever escaping eyes gave her away, though. "That was the first one, I got it a couple of hours after it happened."
"It?"
Hanna knew what it was: the break up.
"You know", Spencer swallowed and took a moment to say it, "Emily."
Emily.
"Any other texts?"
"Last night I got another one that said I've been awarded with the special prize for an outstanding altruistic behavior, pretty amazing for a Hastings, right?"
"Alt-what?"
So Melissa Hastings had to be A. Nerd-to-nerd. Too many long words to understand.
"Like humanistic."
"What are you talking about?"
Spencer sighed. "It's when you sacrifice yourself for someone else."
"Huh."
"Like when you give your life to save another person", Spencer continued, unsure of Hanna's comprehension, "or when you take the blame for them, or give them food, stuff like that."
"Huh."
"It's supposed to be ironic."
No way.
"Yeah, I get it." Hanna wasn't exactly sure why it was or wasn't ironic, she just wanted Spencer to finish the lecture. "But you're not saving Emily, you're screwing her over, and I don't mean sex."
She wished it meant sex. But Texas meant no tomato sex at all on Spencer's plate.
"Yeah, and that's why it's ironic."
Oh.
But.
But.
But.
"Crap, Spencer", Hanna protested, "so now what? Go on tour with A and write a book about it together?"
Spencer seemed offended by the words, and the incendiary gaze made a comeback.
"I didn't want this, okay? It's not me who wanted this."
A wanted this.
"So that's what I'm saying", Hanna insisted, "it's A and this isn't a sacrifice or altronic or whatever A says, this is about what you want, this is about not giving A what she wants."
This was about coming up with a plan.
"No, this is precisely not about what I want, Hanna, this is about keeping Emily safe for a while", Spencer insisted back, "and this is bigger than me, this is bigger than everybody."
"But…"
Caleb hadn't broken up with her. Not yet, anyway. Would Caleb be safer in California? And what did those words, bigger than everybody, mean? How could Melissa Hastings be bigger than everybody? Maybe Spencer meant the Hastings, or her parents, or… life.
"I need time to figure this out, okay?"
Time.
"You need time to talk to Melissa?"
A nod, wary eyes.
"And Emily?", Hanna repeated the question, no matter how much it hurt. "You just get her out of the way?"
"She can go back to swimming in Texas, get a scholarship there."
Hanna widened her eyes in shock. Nowaynowaynoway, overmydeadbody, itsnotfair. Everything they all had done so far would just go to waste.
"It's not fair."
Melissa should leave town, not Emily.
"Yeah, I think fair's out of the question now, Hanna."
"So you're just happy about letting A get her way?"
"Do you see me happy?"
No.
"So we just believe what A says?" Hanna tried to find another way. "Since when?"
"Since I need time."
Right.
"For Melissa."
"For everything."
"For Melissa", Hanna pressured, knowing this was the key question, "or for us?"
Spencer gazed up, lower lip trembling.
"For us."
It was the answer Hanna needed, the proof that Spencer was still rooting for them and not trying to save Melissa's ass, but she still felt bad about it. They fell silent, neither of them moving until Hanna found the stillness intolerable.
"I'm not gonna tell her to leave", she warned, furious, "so if you're counting on me to do this, I'm not gonna do it."
"I know."
"If you want her to leave, you tell her so yourself."
She was expecting a fight – the usual this and that with Spencer until they each made their points and Spencer won.
"Okay."
Oh.
"So you'll talk to her?"
Spencer said yes.
A small victory that wasn't, Hanna felt like kicking the car's door and Spencer's leg: this couldn't be happening, they needed to win, the five of them. First the break up, right when they finally had the main suspect for every crime, Emily lost and in pieces and listening to creepy music, Spencer in a strange trance and refusing to acknowledge the evidence about Melissa, and now this? Texas. Emily in Texas. Emily – in Texas – maybe safe – apart from them. Maybe was not good enough of a word when it came to Emily's life. But A, Melissa, had said she's out, you're in as if this had been what A had pursued all along. Maybe A wanted to play around before getting rid of them, one by one, and Emily had been the first one; maybe A would let them go after destroying everything they had or were counting on; or maybe A wanted Spencer in, who knew? Hanna didn't get it. She just knew they couldn't let A get her way. However, instead of kicking and screaming about it until she felt numb or until Spencer's leg got broken, and because suddenly her role in the game had increased in importance, or that was how she perceived it, what Hanna did came as a surprise even to her: she pulled Spencer into a hug and squeezed her hand so hard she knew it had hurt. Spencer was glassy-eyed when they separated, her nose reddened with the effort not to cry. The nerd: she could never let herself cry in front of others. Freaking alien nerd. Her friend. The things she did for them. The things she said. The things she couldn't say or do to them.
Ready to go, Spencer got inside the car when Hanna knocked on the window.
"Spencer."
It took a moment for the window to slide down. The engine was making a low sound and Spencer's voice merged with it in a husk.
"Yeah?"
"You're my friend."
Spencer's nose got redder.
"I know", a pause to breathe and swallow, "you too."
"I'm serious about it", Hanna said again and then tried to voice her regret, "and one more thing: you're not the Black Widow." Maybe safe didn't equal totally safe. Maybe Texas didn't equal victory. They needed complete safety and total victory, not anything less. She wouldn't take anything less. Emily wouldn't take it either. No one.
A weak smile that didn't reach the eyes met her.
"Yeah, let's hope so."
Spencer didn't trust herself anymore, Hanna thought in horror. That was why she wanted time.
"We don't have to be ironic about this, you know?"
"Right."
"Get what I mean?"
"Sure."
They were friends. They didn't need words to express it. Emily didn't have to go to Texas. They were going to be okay. They would find a solution together. Spencer had to stop feeling the weight of black-widow guilt. Spencer wasn't a black widow. Emily was alive.
"Emily's alive, and she needs you, we all do."
Spencer glanced away to the road far away with the commuting cars, her fingers wrapping around the steering wheel until the knuckles went pale white.
"I don't know what else to do, Hanna."
"We're gonna find a way."
"Yeah."
"You know what to do", Hanna said, and Spencer offered a nod, chin pointing south, but Hanna still saw hesitation. "You'll talk to her." And to Melissa.
"Yeah, I'll talk to her."
And to Melissa. But Hanna left that out again. She was afraid of what Spencer would say.
"Good girl."
Spencer gave another little smile, eyes shining with tears. The window started to slide up but stopped halfway, just when Hanna was starting to walk away.
"Han", Spencer called after her too, "just so you know…"
Another punch, another regret?
"What?"
"If it's Melissa", Spencer said slowly, "I'm gonna make sure she stops."
It was the first time Spencer spoke of Melissa as A. Denial. What was the next stage?
"What if you can't make her stop?"
"I'll kill her."
Anger.
That was the next stage.
Giving a nod of acquiescence, Hanna offered her approval to the threat of violence and rage; inside her, however, she had come to a decision. There was a chance to stop this, and it was Hanna's job to do. Beat the truth out of Emily. That was Hanna's job. She felt obligated to say something else, but she couldn't and the car sped up out of the parking lot.
It started to rain.
Hanna had wanted to tell Spencer not to give up, never to give up on love, no matter what A did or said. But Hanna couldn't say it. There was too much cake on her plate, and she didn't know how to say it, how to talk about love without joking about it or without using it as a weapon to get others to blush, the special moment when their deepest desires were revealed with the push of a simple, often overtly sexual pun that disclosed not only what they wanted but also the fear of wanting it too much, a fear she felt too; in that moment she could see they were made of the same flesh and bone, Spencer and Hanna, everybody else, everybody Hanna cared for or made friends with except Alison, Alison who had never blushed in front of them. Besides, making her friends blush… it was fun. Like Spencer's red ears that night in the car, the night they broke into Jason's DiLaurentis' house and A – Melissa – scared Hanna to death and called her dumb. Walking down the school hall for the millionth time today, Hanna smiled remembering Spencer's tomato-red uneasiness; it had happened months ago, and then Spencer had gotten used to the jokes, her arrogant smirks proving she was not afraid of them anymore, she was happy, happier than Hanna had ever seen her, content, satisfied, relaxed, and it had been Emily who had grown increasingly embarrassed about them. Emily, so shy, so reserved, embarrassed about the power she obviously held over Spencer Hastings. Hanna thought that, at some point, Emily had been scared of it. It had become a personal battle for Emily, one she didn't share with anyone and of which she wasn't entirely conscious, but that came up here and then, in jokes and throughout the A-war, every time Emily tried to prove herself strong, reliable, worthy of everything she had and deserved. Hanna had tried to stop it; had warned Emily; had been mad at her after the escapade into the woods; but it never worked because Hanna didn't know how to say things in words, dumbest link of all. The day had started off with a mission that had already changed into something far more complicated. Emily was the new mission. Never once had Hanna been able to threaten Emily with the same words she knew she could use with Spencer during their verbal matches. This time had to be different, though. Hanna couldn't be weak, couldn't let go and forgive too easily because it was Emily. Emily was one of them, and that meant she was part of the problem they had with A; she couldn't leave, not like this, and Hanna couldn't let Spencer do it. Besides, Hanna was convinced if Emily left for Texas Spencer would never make it on her own; if Spencer couldn't make it, they wouldn't make it either, and A would have won. Without Emily, Spencer would be lost. Emily was the tomato sauce. Without her they were sticky, tangled spaghetti that no one would swallow.
She texted Aria, and Aria came to pick her up and drive her home.
"Em's gotta spill it", she told Aria, absentmindedly, in the car, "it's the only way."
"We have to be careful about this, Han, she's…"
Aria gave a long explanation about how hard Emily had taken it in the last few days, no, in the last few months, and about how careful they had to be right now about her mental health. But Hanna did not agree. Break legs. That was the only way.
"No, she owes me."
A thought was gaining form, and Aria glanced over at her with curiosity.
Once she got home, Hanna climbed the stairs under the effect of a disastrous sense of doom, caused by Emily's music coming down in low, repetitive whispers. She opened the door and a demonic atmosphere greeted her, tense drums pounding against the walls and flowing up to the ceiling, then back to the floor, punctuated by an insistent bass. Heart and soul, a man who looked like a gravedigger sang, his voice deep and too shaky, one will burn, one will burn. No, the house was going to burn like this, and it was Hanna who would to set it on fire if she had to keep listening to this. Normal people listened to Taylor Swift and watched The Notebook when they were heartbroken; they cried until they were left dry, they ate too much chocolate chip ice cream, they cried again over having eaten too much and got sick of it. Then they pulled themselves together, went to school in sweatpants and wearing no heels, and once they realized they were losing all the respect they had gained in the previous years they dressed nice again and put a fake smile on their faces. They stood up and went on. That was how the circle of life started all over again. But not like this. The house had changed so much in the last days. Hanna was even folding her clothes before going to bed as a way to appease Emily's soul, the one that wanted to get burnt. She approached the laptop on the desk and turned the noise down. Then she turned around to face Emily's bed, where she knew Emily would be because she'd hardly moved out of it lately. The silhouette of her friend, with her long dark hair falling over the shoulders in the most perfect disarray, eyes semi-closed, lay slouched on it. Even in her PJs and an old T-shirt, Emily was the picture of pure, isolated innocence and beauty. It was Emily, for God's sake, Hanna encouraged herself. Break legs. Break legs.
"Are you trying to kill people with this or just yourself?"
"Sorry."
The voice came out hoarse as Emily got up from the bed to turn the music off.
"Can't you, like, listen to Taylor Swift like normal people do when they're sad?"
Her features twisting in a grimacing gesture, Emily glanced over to her but didn't answer anything, and Hanna supposed the grimace meant Emily didn't like the combination of Taylor Swift and being sad. She opened the window to let the fresh air wash away the music.
"Why do you listen to it?", Hanna tried to make conversation again. "It's depressing."
"Suits the mood, I guess", Emily answered, the curtain of hair covering her face. "I know you hate it."
"I totally hate it."
"I'll try not to listen to it while you're home."
"It screams go around and kill people to me."
"It doesn't talk about that", Emily argued in a whisper, "it's just… Toby gave it to me."
Toby.
"What?"
"He gave me the CD a long time ago."
"Huh."
"I just felt like listening to it again."
No wonder people took Toby for a criminal, Hanna thought in realization. "Well, you're not Toby, Em", she said soothingly, "you're just sad, so..."
Emily's long eyelashes pointed to the floor. "Yeah, I know." There was a pause. "Sorry." Another sorry and Hanna would start singing too. Emily was blaming herself and Hanna couldn't take it anymore. Break legs, not soothe them. Goddamnit. Trained assassin.
"So did you have dinner?"
Emily shook her head and said no, walking back to her prison-bed.
"Wanna go downstairs with me?", Hanna offered, knowing the reply was going to be not tonight, maybe later, or a simple shake of the head. "There's healthy food you'll like." Emily had been sick, so she'd been eating veggies and ham and yoghurts for the last two days. "Pizza and ice cream." It was tempting, and at least Emily's stomach had been feeling better.
"No, thanks."
So it was the no, thanks this time. Great. Hanna approached the door, mentally screaming at herself for being so weak with Emily, always so weak because it was Emily.
But she owed it to her. They were both so loyal to each other. She owed it to her.
"I don't know what you did", Hanna turned around and shot, "but you need to tell me."
Emily didn't answer, the slight rise of her eyebrows indicating surprise.
"It's… nothing."
A lie. Spencer was right. Everything in Emily screamed a guilty conscience.
"I'm serious, Em", Hanna warned, "or it's over." She saw the fear flash in Emily's eyes. She'd seen it before, but never like this. It meant something. It was time to grab it and shake it wild and loose. "With Spencer."
"It's not over yet", said the hoarse voice, "not yet."
"She broke up with you."
The things she did to her friends. The things she said to them. Tears filled Emily's eyes, but something about what Hanna had said forced her to get up again.
"Did you talk to her?"
"A says it's over for you", Hanna revealed, "and Spencer's sinking."
Tears started to flow. "Don't say that."
"You're not helping", Hanna attacked, feeling the tears well up in her own eyes too, "and anyway she's not gonna change her mind, not like this, you know how she is anyway, and you're not helping."
"No, I…"
"I tried to tell you many times", she continued, "so if you wanna fix whatever you did, you have to say it now, it's now or never."
Emily sat on the bed again and wiped her eyes with the sleeve.
"I can't."
"You owe me", came the last kick, "I'm your best friend so you owe me or it's over."
Fear again. It's over, it's over, it's over: the pure repetition of it was causing Emily's walls to fall. Hanna was tempting it so it'd go free, but the result still shocked her when Emily covered her mouth with the palm of her hand, tears falling harder, stronger, in violent waves. Hanna knew the words could work – in the name of loyalty – but seeing the effect they had made her run to the bed in horror. She was playing with emotions for the greater good, for Emily's greater good, but she was scared. Emily was not Spencer. Emily couldn't take this. And still – it was working, it was breaking Emily, like the plan told her to do.
"I'm sorry", Emily mumbled through the tears, "I'm sorry, Hanna."
"Stop saying that."
"No."
"You're the tomato sauce, Em", Hanna said, thinking this would make Emily frown in wonder and smile, "so seriously you gotta start acting like it again."
"I should go home."
No smile.
"This is home, Em."
She embraced Emily's legs with her arms to offer consolation.
"You're gonna kick me out, Hanna", Emily muttered, trying to disentangle from Hanna's hands, "you should kick me out, so I have to go home, I called my mom today and I'm..."
Kick out.
Texas.
"That's crap", Hanna protested, "you don't even like Texas, you can't go."
"No, you don't get it."
How was she supposed to get anything? Nobody spoke clearly anymore.
"I do get it, but…"
"No, you don't."
"I…"
"It is over."
Emily was speaking nonsense, but when Hanna thought better of the words, which she hadn't really registered at first, a cold sweat started to cover her head. Texas, over, you should kick me out, home. The things they hid from each other, the things they said, the things they did, the things A forced them to do. A forced them to do stuff. All the time. Like that time A wanted Hanna to tell Mrs. Montgomery about Ezra Fitz. Every time, all their secrets were on the verge of being exposed. Her mom's secrets. Her mom. It was over. It was really going to be over now.
"Emily, what did you do?"
Her own voice trembled along with Emily's body under her weight, but the waves of tears, on the loose, said nothing else. It was clear to Hanna, though. Her mom. It was all over now.
"Is it my mom?"
Through the veil of tears Emily's fear shone and Hanna felt the walls crumbling down. It was her mom. It was all over now. However, instead of kicking and screaming until she felt numb or Emily's leg got broken or her soul got burned, break legs, break Emily's legs, she owes you, she owes you because she's your best friend, what Hanna did came as a surprise even to her: she held on to Emily tighter, squeezing her until neither of them could breathe, and she muttered everything would be all right, everything would be fixed soon.
A/N 2: The song Emily is listening to is "Heart and Soul" by Joy Division.
A/N 3: Thanks, everyone! If you guys are being patient, I thank you with my heart.
go-sullivan: Yes, she does seem the type, right? I had to think about: did I ever write anything about this? I don't remember my own fic!
BittersweetLIZ: LOL I like it! Hmmm, so this chapter continues the story where we left it. And I don't know, I still have to write a few chapters to finish it but I'm hoping we'll all see the connections
Opportunity: Thanks so much! You can't imagine how much I appreciate kind words like these. Especially when you say you see a connection with the show: ego-boost! So thank you. And, yes, Alison... Two flashbacks were planned with her. She is one of the most important persons in these girls' lives. Also, Alison: she's kind of a third wheel in their relationship, or that's the idea I tried to play with.
Spicy Emily: Yes, a flashback! :) I thought it was an important moment for Spencer (it's Spencer's flashback) to remember.
LaughLoveLiveXx: Exactly. As usual, you nailed it. Thanks so much!
splatterkitsch: Thanks so much! Trust me, it also makes me happy when I update!
shrillshellshine: You did not embarrass yourself, you just made me very happy. I just... Yeah, thank you. Like, I've been writing this story forever and this kind of review means a lot to me.
Guest: I am sorry. It took me lots of rewrites and corrections with this chapter. I started it in March!
Quinn: Your reviews are... I squeal too when I see them, let's leave it at that LOL Anyway, yes, you touched an interesting subject. PLL is such a smart show and there are few people out there writing about it, which I don't get at all. Maybe its intelligence makes people not want to write about it? I don't know. There are some brilliant fics around, but overall I agree with you. I'm also super grateful for your words :) And for your interpretation of the flashback. And for everything you say!