AN: If you're still with this story, thank you. Updates may be few and far between.
Chapter 5
Spencer stands before her, unpolished and tired and fraying at the edges. Without meaning to, Hanna's eyes spot the jacket cuff with loose threads hanging down, the faded patch of leather from where Spencer has no doubt scratched it away – why, she isn't quite sure, but she can just picture it.
She doesn't quite know if she wants to hug Spencer or hit her, settles for stepping back a few paces and breathing, and she can see the understanding reflected in her friend's eyes. This routine isn't new to them, isn't unusual when they have to break bad news to one another and still hope to cling onto friendships. In the end they settle for hugging, hold on a little longer than they normally might and when they step back, they don't move for a good five minutes.
It's the relief, Spencer tells herself. It's getting company after not having anyone to talk to for what feels like several months, and it's the relief of knowing Hanna is here now, no longer in Rosewood to do impetuous things that would risk their safety even further.
It's the relief, Hanna tells herself, and though she's not one for pausing to introspect deeply, she does recognize what this would feel like for Spencer. Recognizes for herself the relief of seeing Spencer standing before her, steady and calm. Spencer was never the sort of person to trash a room, never the type of person who would break until pushed to her last tipping point. Spencer is here though, and right now they are all the other has got. She digs a little deeper this time, introspects and decides she's most of all grateful to Spencer.
They link hands, holding on loosely as though to anchor themselves to the ground, and Spencer tugs Hanna along to a tiny café. It's what the term hole-in-a-wall was coined for, a thin door leading to a small room no bigger than some living rooms; empty, except for the one barista who also appears to be handling food orders and gives Spencer a quick nod of recognition.
"I've been coming here a few days, getting the lay of the land. They don't mind if you come in all day. Food's decent, coffee's average," Spencer speaks clinically, pitching her voice low and Hanna listens quietly. This – being on the run – is beyond her knowledge, beyond her skill set.
They lay a few dollars on the little table that serves as a cash register and the money is collected, "endless coffee this time?" is called out by the barista and they're quick to agree.
"She means for the rest of the evening, anyway. You'd normally be shooed out in about five hours if you don't order food. Ordering food, they let you stay until about midnight. I don't think they're doing this to make a profit, somehow."
Hanna's eyes take in the room more thoroughly this time, Spencer crosses the room to place food orders, and she sees what that means. The room is shabby, chairs and tables mismatched like they were picked up at various yard sales. Faded wallpaper decorates the walls, though there are random splotches of paint like someone tried to brighten it up and gave up midway. It's not the cleanest dining place she's ever been in, or the sort of place she'd ever go – there's grime on the window, and the carpet could use a thorough cleaning, but there's something comfy about it.
Spencer returns, eyes her over the rim of the coffee cup she's draining, and she lets her gaze flick away before catching her up on Rosewood.
"A went silent for a few days; I guess trying to catch up with you. Your parents said something about hiring a PI. Aria and Emily went to Caleb and tried to track you online."
There's something of satisfaction in Spencer's expression and she sets her cup down without a sound. "Were there any messages at all?" and Hanna knows it's a double-edged question.
"No. A sent one message about how information on you would earn us a favour, and then stopped. I didn't tell the others I was leaving, so I don't know if they had any messages to pass along to you. We're the only ones who know I'm here."
This time satisfaction does manifest on Spencer's face and she smiles warmer now, signals the barista for a refill.
"We're in the clear, then," she whispers and Hanna only barely catches it.
Evening falls around the city as they finish eating and leave with another few notes on the table, Spencer drawing out a sheet of paper with a map on it. Hanna studies it over her shoulder as she traces all the lines, not knowing where it'll take them, but Spencer folds it back up and slides it into a recycling bin as they pass it.
The motel they reach is dingy and tired. From the outside, it looks worse than the diner had, and Hanna baulks at going in. Digs her heels in slightly as if that will stop her from going in, appraising the worn paint and crookedly-hanging sign. Not for the first time since she left, she misses her home. Misses the clean fresh paint and carefully-placed numbers on the front door. Spencer spins around, that understanding back in her eyes, and crosses the few feet between them.
"I don't like it either, but it is cheap. It's warm inside, clean and there'll be space for us both."
The reception desk makes it clear Spencer has oversold clean by at least two days, and the college-aged boy behind the counter grins at them both. It's an icky feeling, one that makes her want to jump in the first shower she see.
"One room?" he drawls out, and Spencer grits her teeth at him. Hanna prods her in the back, then steps forward, looping her fingers around Spencer's wrist and leaning in to her. The boy's eyes don't miss a thing, and he hands them the keys with a smirk and "enjoy your stay."
Not likely, she can practically hear in Hanna's thoughts, but they traipse up to the room and drop their bags. Hanna moves to claim a bed for herself, but there's only the one. At least it's not a single, she decides before snatching up toiletries and showering.
She comes back to find sandwiches in the kitchenette and the TV tuned to the evening news, and it's clear that this has become routine of a sort. Only the quantity of the sandwiches gives away the fact that there's been a change in routine.
"I'm thinking we stay a couple of weeks. I used to trade free work for a free room," Spencer comments during one of the ad breaks, and Hanna doesn't feel she can do anything other than agree.
"You don't pay?" she wonders later, and Spencer shrugs.
"Not always, not if I can help it. Makes the money go further. It's a finite amount, you know," and her eyes look playful when she says this. In response, Hanna finds her makeup bag, the one she'd taken pains to hide, and hands it over.
"I don't think lip gloss will help," she says, but she's already unzipping the bag, uncovering the stack of notes Hanna had buried in it.
They pool their resources, agreeing mutually that Spencer will handle the cash.
"Are we going to bring Emily and Aria here as well?" she asks right before Spencer falls asleep.
"Not here, to Louisville, no – but yes, we'll have them come to meet us. Different cities, different times."
It doesn't sound like the most solid of plans, but Hanna's here, with Spencer, and they've survived this long.
She falls asleep feeling oddly comforted.