Thank you lovely folks for the faves, follows, and the very kind review. This is the start of the story proper, so most chapters will likely be around this length from now on. Chapter titles are all taken from the Songs of Innocence and of Experience poetry collection by William Blake. I'm pre-writing chapters a few in advance, but if there's anything you particularly want to see (certain characters, more flashbacks, other POVs, etc) please feel free to let me know and I'll do my best to accommodate. For now, here's the next chapter; I hope you enjoy it.
[Seventy-one hours, twelve minutes.]
"And you're sure it was Spencer?"
With a sigh Aria flops down onto the couch, phone in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. "I don't know, Han."
"But Ezra said -"
"That he found her wandering the streets by herself," Aria confirms. She can imagine the look on Hanna's face as the gears turn in her head, trying to process everything that Ezra had said. I'm right there with you, Han.
"Without shoes," Hanna presses.
"Yes."
"Or any ID."
"Right."
A long silence follows the confirmation. Aria leans back against the cushions, their softness yielding too quickly to give her any comfort. With how frantic Ezra had sounded, and how worked up she and Hanna both are now, she would much prefer something with enough pressure to hold her together. Like a weighted blanket. Or a straitjacket.
For now, the wine will have to do.
"And he's sure -" Hanna goes on after a full minute of silence.
"He's not sure of anything, Hanna," Aria interrupts, more out of frustration with the situation than irritation with Hanna's reaction. "He sounded really frazzled, I didn't exactly want to push him for answers when he was already tripping over his words." She takes another sip of wine, glances out the window. Night had fallen long ago, and the one streetlight visible from their window hasn't had a working bulb in months. "You're on your way, right?"
"Yeah." As if on cue there's the sound of jingling keys and then the rumble of an engine. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Good." Aria takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. It's been a year since anyone has heard from A.D., and as far as she knows they're all safe now that Charlotte's killer had been revealed. But everything that had happened before that – the original A, then the A who had trapped them in the Dollhouse – has left its mark, and it only takes a stray thought for that old wariness to kick into overdrive. "Drive safe, okay?"
"Always do."
There's a hint of darkness in Hanna's voice, a reminder of a secret long since buried, but she hangs up before Aria can respond. As the call ends a new message comes in, the loud notification beep like a shockwave through the apartment: Be there soon. Even if Emily lived next door, there was no way she'd be here soon enough. Aria gets halfway through typing a reply before another message comes through: Have you tried calling Spencer?
Aria snorts, abandoning her reply. "Yeah," she says aloud, "only about a hundred times."
But Spencer hadn't answered, and nobody had seen her since she went to go pick up pizza an hour ago. Or at least, nobody is sure they'd seen her. With the way Ezra had described her, Aria is confident it can't be her. The person he'd run into sounded like she'd been… No. It's not her. Maybe I'm not the only one who's drinking tonight, Aria thinks, eyeing off her almost-empty glass. She's debating getting up to refill it when the sound of a door unlocking catches her attention, and she's on her feet before her mind has time to fully register the noise.
The door opens before she gets to it, and there stands Ezra, gorgeous and well-dressed and completely, undeniably sober. But leaning against him is another familiar figure, or at least someone who should be familiar. Like a ghost of a dream, someone you thought you knew once but hadn't seen in years. Her face is obscured by her hair, long and lank and snarled with tangles, and she's pressing her forehead into Ezra's shoulder with such force that Aria can't help but wonder if he's in pain.
"I -" Aria begins, but words fail her. She understands now why Ezra hadn't fully described her condition. It wasn't that he was trying to sugarcoat it to spare Aria's feelings; it was that the sight before her defies description, defies belief.
At the sound of her voice the long-haired woman jerks her head up, still gripping Ezra's arm like a lifeline. Her gaze is unfocused for a moment and Aria is reminded of a wild animal, backed into a corner and half-crazed with fear. Then the other woman meets her gaze, her familiar brown eyes clouded over like a murky pond, and Aria feels herself falling into them, pinned to the spot in mute incomprehension. This is definitely Spencer, it has to be, but…
Silence stretches on between them.
It's Ezra who breaks it, shifting his weight slightly – earning a soft, surprised gasp from Spencer – and saying, "We should, uh -"
He gestures toward the room and the spell breaks; Aria quickly steps out of the way to allow them entry. "Yeah, you look -" She cuts herself off, realizing that what she'd been about to say was so tactless it should have been coming from Hanna, not her. "It looks cold out there," she amends, closing the door behind them. Spencer is still leaning against Ezra, and Aria does a quick visual scan of her. She isn't wearing shoes, like Ezra had said, but she's wearing different clothes, too – she'd left the house in jeans and a blouse, and now she's wearing what look to be very old sweats. What the hell happened in the last hour?
Ezra carefully guides Spencer over to the nearest sofa and helps her sink down into it, but she sits on the very edge of the seat, stiff and rigid and staring straight ahead. She hasn't said a word this entire time. Aria catches Ezra's eye and mouths, What happened? He shrugs, looking as confused as she feels. Spencer had left an hour ago to get pizza, and she'd been completely fine then. She's been fine for a long time, actually, even after Mary Drake recently broke out of prison and skipped town. It had been hard for her, but they'd all had time to breathe now that the torturous board game had been finished and A.D. seemingly disappeared. But looking at Spencer now, Aria wouldn't be surprised if someone had told her that the torture had never stopped for her.
As much to help her friend as just to give her restless hands something to do, Aria announces, "I'm going to make us some hot drinks. Ezra?"
He'd been staring at Spencer, his brow furrowed like he was trying to puzzle his way through a particularly dense essay, but he looks up at Aria as she speaks. "Uh, tea," he says absently.
Aria nods, turning her attention to her friend. "Spence?"
She doesn't react at all. Her shoulders are still stiff as a board, her hands clasped between her knees, her face completely impassive. For all the emotion and awareness she's showing, she may as well be made of stone.
Taking a step closer, Aria tries again. "Spencer? Do you want something to drink?"
Something in her voice gets through to her, and Spencer finally drags her gaze upwards. But there's no comprehension in her expression, no sign that she'd understood the words. Aria starts to repeat the question, but then something clicks in Spencer's mind and she shakes her head. "I'm not s-" she starts to say, but her voice cracks, rough edges from disuse crumbling into hoarseness. She swallows and tries again. "I'm not thirsty."
Aria catches Ezra's eye again, and he gets the hint. "I'll go make the drinks," he offers, disappearing into the kitchen.
In the silence he leaves behind, a thousand unspoken thoughts drift through Aria's head. She finally settles for the only one that matters, holding Spencer's gaze to try to keep her grounded in the moment. "Are you… okay?"
The look Spencer gives in response could be described as withering, if there were any emotion behind it. But there's something haunted in her gaze, something that mutes her emotions and her expressions, like a boldly colored portrait painted over with pastels. It's Aria who looks away first, but she can still feel Spencer's eyes on her.
"Stupid question," she mumbles. Her phone buzzes, and a sudden thought flickers into her mind. "Oh!" she says, so quickly that Spencer actually winces. Toning down her enthusiasm, Aria says more gently, "I talked to Hanna and Emily. They're coming over too."
Spencer's eyes widen, and for a second Aria thinks it's because she's excited. But the rest of her body language belies her anxiety – she's holding her left wrist in her right hand, digging her nails in so hard it's a wonder she hasn't broken skin; her shoulders are hunched, like she's folding in on herself; and in the split second it takes Aria to correct her interpretation, something in Spencer seems to shut down as she shifts away from her, closing off even further than she'd already been.
Aria hesitates. "Do you… not want to see them?"
"No," Spencer says, shaking her head so quickly that her hair tumbles into her eyes. She seems even further away, and Aria wonders if there's anything she can even say to cross that distance – or if everything she tries is just going to push her friend even further away. "I don't know. I…"
It's a bizarre experience, seeing someone as eloquent as Spencer Hastings at a loss for words. Aria can conjure up a thousand memories of seeing Spencer in her element, using her quick wit and impressive vocabulary to stun debate opponents into silence or talk her friends into getting on board with her latest outrageous plan. There was one time Spencer had even managed to persuade the mayor to abandon plans to turn the Rosewood Memorial Park into an upscale hotel, even though everyone else who'd spoken up at that town meeting had been in favour of it. But now here she is, stumbling over her words, letting silences hang far longer than they should. Aria's never seen her look so lost.
It leaves Aria at a loss too, struggling to even understand what's happened, let alone what she's supposed to do to help. While she's still picking over her words, trying to choose the ones that will hopefully hurt Spencer the least, there's a knock at the door. Spencer bolts upright immediately, that half-wild look returning to her eyes as she wraps her arms even more tightly around herself, all sharp edges and barely-controlled panic.
"It's okay," Aria reassures her, cursing herself for not having the foresight to tell the girls to text instead of knocking, "it's probably just Hanna or Emily."
"Oh." Spencer unstiffens slightly, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She rests her head on the top of her knees, her eyes fixed on the door. If Aria didn't know her as well as she did, the facade of calm expectancy would be enough to fool her. But she knows all of Spencer's tells, all her mannerisms and nervous habits, and she knows that her friend, once so bold and tenacious she'd rush headlong into danger if she thought it would help her friends, is on the verge of flight, all thoughts of fight long since forgotten or suppressed.
"I don't have to let them in," Aria offers after a few moments. There's another knock, louder and more insistent, but it doesn't send Spencer into panic this time.
Spencer takes a deep breath, her eyes flicking between Aria and the door – and then the window, and the door to the balcony. Looking for escape routes, Aria realizes with a start. Why doesn't she feel safe here? She starts to ask if something else is going on, if Spencer's heard from A.D. or if someone else has been bothering her, but Spencer speaks before she has a chance to get more than a syllable out.
"No," Spencer says, an ever-present edge of caution to her voice, "no, you should… They should be here."
Be here for what? Aria almost asks, but thinks better of it. "Okay," she says instead. "Sit tight."
As she stands up she almost reaches out, instinctively going to squeeze Spencer's leg in a familiar gesture of farewell, but she catches herself just in time and offers a tight smile instead, not wanting to alarm her further. Spencer doesn't seem to notice.
When Aria opens the door Hanna and Emily are both there, the former looking as glamorous as ever in a sleek black a-line dress of her own design, the latter a little more harried in an old Rosewood High Sharks hoodie thrown over a mismatched pair of pajamas.
"Where is she?" Hanna asks.
"Is she okay?" Emily says at the same time.
Aria holds up her hand to signal for silence, knowing that once the flood of questions starts it's likely to continue. "She's…" Aria searches for the right word to convey what Spencer is, how she's been acting since she got here, and finally settles on, "… lucid."
"Can we see her?" Hanna already has one foot in the door, forcing Aria to step aside as Emily follows suit.
"Yeah," Aria says, flattening herself against the door to make way for her friends to enter, "she -"
The rest of the sentence dies on her lips as Hanna and Emily come up short, staring at an empty room.
She's gone.