A/N: This may be the last chapter for a bit, seeing as I resume classes tomorrow. But I wanted to be sure to get it out there, as it is (hopefully) long-awaited. Enjoy!

CHAPTER FIVE

Spencer was frozen. She couldn't bring herself to move, no matter how hard she tried. It was as though a cold bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, tensing every one of her muscles.

"Can...Can I come in?" Toby asked quietly. She noticed that he had a paper grocery bag in one hand.

"Um...yeah, sure," she mumbled, finally willing her body to step aside.

He hesitantly stepped over the threshold, gazing around the apartment as he did so. "It looks nice in here," he stated simply.

"Thanks." She closed the door behind him, studying the back of his head. She suddenly felt self-conscious about her appearance - her hair was matted and she was still in her pajamas. Desperately trying to smooth her tresses, she slowly followed him into the living room.

He stopped at the couch and considered her for a moment, as though awaiting her permission. She cleared her throat and offered it. "Have a seat."

He did so, setting the mysterious paper bag on the floor beside him. Spencer stood there for a moment, feeling foolish. She was rapidly attempting to decide where the most proper place was to sit. At last, she chose to curl up in the solitary arm chair.

They sat there in silence for a few moments, avoiding one another's eyes. Spencer's heart was pounding in her chest as she tried to think of something valuable to say.

"How did you know where to find me?" she asked. So much for valuable.

Toby cleared his throat and smiled a little, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back to make himself comfortable. "I have my ways."

"Hanna," Spencer declared. She had known before she asked.

"Don't be angry," he protested nervously. "I practically beat it out of her."

Another pregnant pause.

"What do you have in the bag?" Spencer inquired.

He seemed momentarily confused, then followed her gaze. "Oh. That." He lifted it onto his lap and began rummaging inside. "Just a few things I thought you'd like."

Curiosity piqued, Spencer leaned forward to observe. He unearthed a bottle of wine and a brand new edition of Scrabble, setting them both on the coffee table.

She smiled inwardly at the board game. She was still struggling to come up with something proper to say.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. She mentally kicked herself. What is this, the interrogation room?

He seemed to mull this over for a minute before responding. "I missed you," he said simply.

"Oh."

Silence befell them once more.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, gesturing to the wine.

Spencer laughed nervously. "Isn't it a little early for that?"

"It's five o'clock somewhere," he quoted. Without awaiting a response, he had already fished into his bag of tricks to pull out two wine glasses and a corkscrew.

"You certainly went all-out," she observed.

"I figured, what with this being a new place and all..." he began. A loud pop! echoed through the room as he pulled out the cork. "...that you may not have all the essentials yet."

"Right."

He poured the wine and handed her a glass. She sipped on it hesitantly, as he swirled his own around.

"What are you doing in Michigan?" Spencer continued.

He took a long sip of his wine before setting it down on a coaster. "My unit stationed me up here, in the area. I've been working a security job on campus for now, but I'd like to use my G.I. Bill soon to start taking some classes."

"What kind of classes?" Spencer asked. Despite feeling like a young child with endless questions, she had to admit that continuing to talk was increasing her level of comfort.

"I'm not sure. Maybe some business courses...maybe some philosophy," he replied. He shrugged. "I have a lot of interests to explore."

She nodded, taking another sip.

"How about you? What kind of classes are you taking?" he asked.

She cleared her throat. "I start on Thursday...just some gen eds for now. But I think I'd like to major in psychology."

His knowing smile made her appendages tingle. Or maybe it was the speed at which she was drinking her wine. Or both.

"I always figured you'd go into social sciences."

She smiled slightly, too. Another pause.

"So," Toby began seriously. "Are we ever going to address the elephant in the room?"

Spencer laughed on the inside. She had never heard another person her age use that phrase.

"It's not so much an elephant anymore as it is its own planet," she replied, making a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. He did not laugh. "I mean..." she started nervously, "what is there to talk about?"

"What happened before I left." It was a statement, not a question.

The tingling in her veins seemed to freeze over once more in fear. She had always dreaded this day, and had admittedly thought for some time that it would never come.

She dove in head first.

"There was...someone..." she began uncertainly, unsure of how to even unveil the mystery without sounding like a psychopath. "Someone who used to harass me and my friends."

"Who was it?" he asked. He was now leaning over his knees, intently listening.

She shook her head. "We never found out. But they were dangerous. They were the ones - or one - who killed Ian."

Toby shook his head, confused. "I thought he killed himself?"

"No. It was a set-up."

She waited for this to sink in with him before continuing.

"Anyway...they had done terrible things. Nasty things. They threatened us...and that, I could handle. What I couldn't handle was them threatening you..."

Toby's gaze was unfaltering. He continued to stare into her eyes, his face impassive.

"When they cut your brake lines...I knew I had to walk away." Though the story was concluded, Spencer felt like there was still so much left to say.

He was quiet for a moment. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was scared," she rationalized, studying her wine glass. "I was scared that if I told you, you'd be hurt for sure."

"Spence..." he began softly. "I could have taken care of myself."

"You don't know what 'A' was capable of," Spencer protested, feeling irrational fear creeping into her voice. Though 'A' had left her alone for months, she still trembled at the thought.

" 'A?' "

"That's what they called themselves. It was some twisted homage to Ali."

There was another moment of silence before she turned the tables on him.

"How come you never wrote to me? When you left for the army, I mean?"

He hesitated, wringing his hands together in his lap. "I didn't think you wanted to hear from me, so I let you go."

"I looked for a letter every day," Spencer blurted before considering her words. Impulsivity had taken the bull by the horns. "I missed you...every day."

He studied her face, searching for any hidden meaning behind her words.

"When I saw you at the bar last night..." she began, feeling uncomfortable letting the silence settle for long periods of time, "all I could think about was the letter you wrote to me, before you left."

He nodded. "The one that said I'd fight for you."

She eyed him for a reaction. "Did you mean it?"

"Every word."

"Even now?"

"More than ever."

A period of time passed where they locked eye contact, each thinking desperately of what to say next.

"How about that Scrabble?" Toby finally proposed.

The hours wound on, each one progressively bringing more comfort than the one before. They sat on the floor on either side of the coffee table, each intently focusing on the competition at hand. The bottle of wine was nearly empty, and Spencer was basking in her success.

"Omnipotent," she announced. "That's 102 points."

Toby gaped at the game board. "Where on earth do you come up with these words?" he mused. She simply smiled in response.

"Your turn."

He considered his letters for a moment, concentrating. Spencer watched him, greedily taking in all of his beauty. She had missed the way his jaw squared when he was deep in thought, the way his eyes seemed to give off a brighter blue when he was competing with her.

"Ah," he said at last, the proverbial light bulb going off in his head. He picked up a letter and reached over to place it on the board. En route, he bumped the glass of wine that Spencer had foolishly left teetering on the edge of the table.

"Oh!" she cried in surprise as the red beverage splashed into her lap. She stood up quickly, studying the stain that was beginning to seep into her gray t-shirt.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," Toby began, leaping to his feet. "Where do you keep your towels?"

"It's fine," Spencer laughed dismissively, enjoying the warmth that the wine in her blood stream was providing. "I'll get it."

Toby hesitantly sat back down, watching as she slipped into her bedroom down the hall. She was rummaging through her drawers for something clean to wear. He began to quietly finish the word he had begun, but found his eyes flickering to her room occasionally. She was setting a fresh shirt on the bed, mopping up as much of the mess on her stomach as she could with a hand towel. He studied her intently, feeling a balloon of guilt in his chest as he did so.

Suddenly, she pulled the wet t-shirt over her head, her back to him as she did so. He felt his mouth go dry as he appreciatively gazed at the curvature of her back. Her porcelain skin glowed in all the right places, her shoulder blades shifting as she lowered the new shirt over her head. She had always been so beautiful...

She began to turn. Embarrassed, Toby quickly averted his eyes to the game, feeling perverted. So what if she had accidentally left the door open? That was not an open invitation to look.

"Back," she stated as she immediately began attending to the mess on the carpet with the same hand towel she had wiped her shirt with. Toby watched, feeling utterly useless.

"Here, let me help..." he began, leaning forward to take the towel from her grasp. As he did, his fingers mistakenly brushed hers, and electricity coursed through them both. He stopped to look at her, wondering if she was experiencing the same magnetism as he. He found that her eyes were trained on him as well, their hands still touching, faces precariously close.

"Toby..." she began quietly.

"Hmm?" he responded, hardly audible.

"Would you really fight for me?" she murmured, searching his face desperately for an answer.

"Until the day I die."

She smiled nervously, twisting her fingers more tightly around his. "Toby..."

"Shh," he murmured, using his free hand to cup her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes filled with confusion. He slowly craned his neck inward, planting a tentative kiss on the tip of her nose. Her eyelids fluttered as he did so. He began a pattern, placing another on her forehead, then gingerly brushing his lips down to her cheek. He was dangerously close to her mouth; he could feel her warm breath on his face, and could smell the bitter wine on her tongue.

He paused to study her reaction, silently asking permission to take the next step. he saw the passion burning deep within her eyes, an internal struggle taking place.

"I love you," he murmured. "I always have."

She blinked several times, as if nervously trying to choose her response.

"I love you, too," she said at last.

What happened next was a blur. It was not Toby this time, but Spencer, who initiated the next move. She had quickly lunged toward him, trapping his lips with her own. There was a desperate desire in her embrace that Toby had never witnessed in her before. She pulled him closer to her, practically sitting in his lap, greedily nibbling on his lower lip and using her tongue to explore his mouth.

He felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, his skin burning in a way that only Spencer was able to command. He plunged his hands into her hair, using this leverage to pull her face closer. She moaned softly into his mouth, fumbling beneath his t-shirt to caress his abdomen. Her fingertips left a powerful tingle in their wake.

She pulled back enough to begin yanking his shirt over his head. As she did so, she chewed her bottom lip seductively in such a way that Toby knew it would be nearly impossible for him to back track now. She threw it carelessly toward the couch, pulling herself into his lap so that she was straddling his hips. He trembled in slight, lowering his lips into the crook of her neck and planting kisses down to her shoulder. She sighed happily, pulling back so that she could remove one of her own articles of clothing. The new shirt that she had put on less than five minutes ago was now somewhere toward the kitchen.

Toby marveled at her body, softly tracing the shape of her curves with his fingertips. She caressed his cheek as he did so, gazing at him expectantly.

"I don't think we should..." he began, concerned for what the aftermath of such a fast-paced reunion would entail for both of them emotionally.

She paused, considering his face. She brushed her thumb across his soft lips.

"Don't you want to?" she asked self-consciously, out of breath.

Toby laughed bitterly. "More than you can imagine." He paused, studying her face. "Do you?"

She nodded. "Make love to me."

Toby's heart skipped a beat. He began to stand up, holding both of her legs around his hips as he did so. They never broke eye contact as he carefully carried her back toward her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

TO BE CONTINUED