CHAPTER 18
"I can't believe she hasn't woken up yet. Something's wrong…We should have called an ambulance too."
"She's only been out for ten minutes, Hanna. She's in shock. Just let the poor girl rest."
A stubborn 'harrumph' escaped from Hanna's lips.
"How's Cavanaugh?"
"Devastated…scared…"
"No surprise there…"
"I'm worried, Holmes." Hanna's voice cracked in slight as she said this.
The sound of shuffling feet. "Shh," Holmes soothed. "Everything is going to be okay."
Spencer peeked from under her eyelids to add faces to the voices she so affectionately recognized. Hanna was crying softly into Holmes's shoulder, her face buried from view. Holmes had one arm around her and was rubbing her back comfortingly, looking particularly harried and downtrodden, himself.
"What's going on?" Spencer murmured. They were acting as though someone had died…
Hanna's head jerked up immediately. She began feverishly wiping away tears, as though hoping to hide them before Spencer noticed. She was at her bedside in a flash.
"Hey, honey…How are you?"
"Fine," Spencer replied dazedly, rising into a sitting position. "What – what happened?"
Hanna and Holmes exchanged worried looks. After a moment Spencer understood why. The altercation from earlier in the evening came rushing back to her all at once, giving her the distinct feeling of drowning in the overload.
"Honey…You were – "
"Never mind," Spencer added hastily. "I remember now."
There was a moment of silence.
"I can't believe he would do something like this," Hanna murmured, smoothing down Spencer's hair lovingly. "I'm so sorry."
Spencer wasn't sure how to respond. She felt…oddly numb. A gentle rapping on her doorframe disturbed her reverie. Both she and Hanna looked over to see a young police officer standing in the entryway.
"I'm so sorry to bother you, ma'am," he began, "but we'll need to ask you a few questions."
Hanna looked to Spencer frantically and grasped her hand in protection, as though she were a fragile porcelain doll teetering precariously on the top shelf.
"I don't think now is the time," Holmes was protesting. "She's barely conscious…"
"It's okay," Spencer interrupted. Hanna squeezed her fingers gently. "I know how this works. I'll do whatever I need to do." Spencer beckoned him forward.
"Thatta girl," the officer said kindly. "We'll need to get a statement from you in order to press any charges."
Spencer set her face in what she hoped was a determined fashion. "Like I said. I'll do anything it takes."
"I should have you know," the officer began, "that I'll be asking you to reveal what could be very sensitive or private information. It may be something you're not comfortable talking about in front of others…"
"Right," Holmes stated at once, gathering the officer's meaning, edging quickly towards the door. "We'll give you some privacy, Spence."
"Let us know if you need anything," Hanna added, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her best friend's head. Spencer grasped at her hand.
"Please stay with me." She hadn't meant for it to, but the way in which she pleaded was likened to a small child frightened of monsters under the bed. She hardly recognized the frailty in her own voice.
Hanna's bottom lip quivered for a moment in a sympathetic pout. "Of course I'll stay." She scooted onto the bed next to Spencer, taking her hand and grasping it supportively.
The questioning didn't last long, much to Spencer's relief. Indeed, the officer was correct – much of the rehashing was uncomfortable, and she fought tooth and nail to control the tremor in her voice. It did not go unnoticed by Hanna, however, who would squeeze her hand whenever it began. Her care gave Spencer the strength she needed to continue on in the re-telling.
Once she signed her statement, the officer politely excused himself. Spencer leaned into Hanna's shoulder, exhaling heavily.
"You're so brave, Spence," Hanna marveled, resting her chin upon Spencer's head. "So very brave…"
"I don't feel brave," Spencer murmured. "I feel terrified."
"I know, sweetie…I know…" Hanna began tousling her friend's hair in comfort. "We'll get through this. I promise."
"Where's Toby?" Spencer inquired, sitting up to survey Hanna's face. Hanna blinked several times before responding, as though trying to clear any emotion from her eyes.
"Holmes told him to take a breather. It was...It was gruesome, Spence."
The silence settled for a moment as Spencer soaked in the meaning of Hanna's words. As much as she wanted to ask for clarification, she felt altogether unable to carry any further weight on her shoulders.
"Is he okay?" Spencer asked at last.
"He will be…when he knows you are." Hanna smiled sadly. "Do you want to see him?"
Spencer hesitated. "I don't want him to see me like this," she admitted.
Hanna rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Through sickness and in health," she mused. Her smile faltered in slight as her expression grew serious. "Don't shut him out, Spence. You don't have to be strong all the time."
Try as she might, Spencer could not formulate a viable response. This unspoken reply, however, was enough for Hanna, who stood up and began making her way to the door.
"I'll send him in," she decided. She knew, after all, that it was what Spencer was counting on.
The silence settled once more. She was alone for the moment. Spencer looked scrutinizingly around her bedroom, appraising its personal significance for the first time since she had moved in. So much had changed in these few short weeks. Though all of the furniture and décor was handpicked, she could not help but feel as though she were looking upon a stranger's bedroom. Something in her heart just felt…different.
And suddenly, for the first time in her life, Spencer Hastings found herself terrified at the prospect of being left alone.
She threw the covers back in desperation, rushing for the door. As she made her way down the apartment hallway, she saw that the police and Cody were long-gone. Her living room was empty.
"Oh, no," she muttered, dropping to her knees beside what was left of the coffee table. She grievingly picked up one of the broken legs into her hand, turning it over. What had once been smooth mahogany wood with a polish finish was now splintered down the center. Impure. Ruined. Broken.
She did not dwell on the metaphorical connection.
"Spencer?"
Her gaze shot up, startled. There stood Hanna and Holmes in the apartment doorway.
"My coffee table…" she muttered despondently. She felt silly as soon as she had said it.
"Oh, Spence," Hanna chastised, amused. "Typical…when you should be resting, you're concerned instead about housekeeping."
Spencer failed at hiding the beginnings of a smile. She'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the feeling of her lips being involuntarily tugged upright.
"Spencer…" a new voice began distantly. She recognized it at once as she raised her gaze to his. There was an expression in his eyes that she had never seen before. She struggled to find the perfect word to describe it in her own head, but could think of nothing better than 'despair.' It frightened her, in truth: she had not seen him this vulnerable since she had privately spied on him in the alleyway, back in Rosewood.
"We'll give you two some privacy," Hanna decided after a beat. "If you need anything Spence, don't be afraid to call."
Spencer nodded vaguely as Hanna squatted to give her a quick hug. With that, she and Holmes disappeared through the front door.
It was just her and Toby now. She felt suddenly foolish that she was still appraising the table leg in her hands. But for some reason, she could not let it go.
"Everyone was right," she said at last, her breath hitched in her chest. "I was an idiot."
He was at her side in a split second, kneeling before her to cup her face in his hands. "No, no, no. Spencer, listen to me…none of this is your fault."
She shook her head in protest, avoiding his gaze. She could feel the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. "No, Toby. I was being stubborn. I was trying to prove a point to everyone else…to you…to myself…" She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I didn't think about what could happen."
He placed his finger beneath her chin, raising her eyes to his. "The chances are one in a million, Spence," he began soothingly. "You couldn't have predicted this."
"Actually, almost 17 million women per year are the victim of sexual assault," Spencer responded robotically. She was surprised by her own voice. "Sorry – I just wrote a paper about it…"
Toby seemed to be suppressing a smirk. He was failing miserably.
"You bounce back better than anyone I know," he admired, pulling her into his embrace. She willingly allowed herself to lie upon his chest, taking in the comfort of his scent. "You amazing, beautiful girl…"
"Toby?" she asked softly.
"Mmm?"
"I think I need to lie down again," she began, rubbing her temple. "I'm still a little dizzy."
"Sure," he responded immediately. He did not even wait to see if she would pick herself up off the ground; he had already gathered her into his arms. She nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck as they traveled back to her room. It all but broke her heart when he set her upon the bed. Even though he assisted her in pulling the covers over herself, she felt inexplicably cold outside of his arms. He sat at her bedside and took hold of her hand, silent.
She looked at him questioningly. Though they were touching, he felt too far away. She shivered involuntarily, wishing desperately for him to take her safely in his arms again. It was the only place she felt secure.
"Lay with me?"
"Of course," he murmured. "Scoot over."
She did as told, holding up the corner of the blanket to invite him in. As he scooted in beside her, she mechanically raised her head to place it on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. This was much better.
"I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner," he started. She could feel the muscles in his chest tightening with frustration as he spoke. "I could have done something…"
"What matters is that you're here now," Spencer replied. She softly trailed her fingers along his pectorals, absent-mindedly tracing the pattern of the hem on his shirt. She squinted her eyes a bit upon further observation. "You're covered in blood," she stated quietly.
"What?" He raised his head slightly to look down at his own stomach. "Oh," he replied nonchalantly. "It's okay…not much of it is mine."
Spencer gulped involuntarily. There was a pregnant pause.
"I'm sorry about your coffee table," he continued. "That…well…that was my fault."
She did not bother to ask how. She had a pretty good idea.
"I've never had someone defend my honor before…" She took a deep breath. "At the risk of causing Susan B. Anthony to roll over in her grave…I kind of like knowing that you'll always come to my rescue."
Toby chuckled a bit at her reference to the feminist movement. He swirled his fingers through the curly ringlets of her hair. "Like it or not, I always will."
She smiled ruefully into his chest. "I love you."
"I love you too," he stated without hesitation.
Another pause.
"I'm sorry," she offered.
"Sorry?" he asked, perplexed. "What the hell could you possibly be sorry for?"
"For believing all of the nonsense…for doubting you…for ignoring you…for everything," she rambled, shaking her head as she recalled her own defiance. "I should have talked to you…I should have heard you out."
"I don't exactly blame you," Toby replied. He was beginning to trace indiscriminate shapes along her back now. "You heard some harsh things..."
"But they weren't true," Spencer added.
He hesitated before beginning to slowly sit up. "Spencer…"
She didn't like that tone. She didn't like it one bit. She raised herself into a sitting position as well, interrogating him with her gaze.
"You – the – the girls?" she stuttered.
"No," he replied defiantly, shaking his head in desperation. "No, no. No girls. You – well…you were the first."
"The first?" Spencer demanded in surprise. His hurt expression made her feel instantly guilty. "I just – I mean – I thought – Jenna…"
"No," he said firmly. "It never went quite that far."
There was a moment of silence.
"You were mine, too," she provided. She figured it had been obvious, but it felt good to say nonetheless.
He smiled, reaching out to cup her face in his hand. The far-off look had returned to his eyes, as though he were concentrating on the wheels turning in his head.
"What is it?" she asked worriedly.
"Afghanistan," he stated bluntly. He paused to choose his words carefully. "Cody wasn't so wrong about that…I mean, I volunteered to go." Spencer's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. He must have noticed, because he hastily continued. "But that was months ago. Long before that night at the bar…"
Spencer took a deep, shuddering breath before asking the question she dreaded. "What does that mean?"
His gaze trailed down to the comforter, as though he could not look her in the eyes when he responded. "I got orders to ship out. Just last week." He began chewing nervously on his bottom lip. "It's a short tour, though. Four months."
Spencer willed away the tears that threatened to form. Four whole months?
"I'm so sorry, baby," he began, reaching out for her. She fell easily into his arms as he rocked her gently, back and forth. "I wish with all of my heart that I could go back and change it. I do. And it's not fair to ask you to wait for me…but when I get back, you'll be the first person I want to see. No matter what."
She rubbed at her eyes stubbornly, intent on preventing herself from crying. "When do you leave?"
He hesitated. "Next week."
Her heart felt sore. It was as though somebody had removed it, put it in a pot of boiling water for a few moments, and then returned it to its proper place behind her left breast. It was a dull, bruising pain…one that she was all-too familiar with. She had felt it the day that she broke up with him in Rosewood.
The fear was beginning to creep back in. She couldn't stand its presence. She needed him to help her chase the demons away.
"Kiss me," she commanded softly, distantly aware that she had failed in controlling the tears. She felt their warm invasion trickling down her cheeks. His eyes did a onceover of her face, as if ensuring that this was truly her wish after all that had happened. He then lowered his mouth to hers, capturing her bottom lip between both of his own. He had purposefully approached it in as gentle a way as possible, so as to not startle her. It was she that began deepening the kiss, yearning for his unconditional love. She needed him. She needed that kiss. She needed this connection…the reminder of what intimacy was supposed to be like. The last thing she wanted was for Cody's behavior to taint her views of it.
He was hesitant at first before responding to her urgency. He softly rolled his tongue across her own, trailing his fingers along the side of her jawbone. She shivered expectantly, tugging on his arm to indicate that she wanted him on top of her. Needed him on top of her. She needed to remember the security of making love to him, and him alone.
He did not budge. He continued to kiss her, but would not concede to her demanding gesture. To make her intentions more clear, she began trailing her hands across his waistline, fidgeting with his belt buckle.
He pulled back at once. "Spencer…" he began sternly.
"I want to," she stated fervently. He watched as she struggled with trembling fingers to undo his jeans. The image of Cody fumbling with his own was flashing through her head. She had to remove the memory at once – and the only way she could think of to do so was to create a new memory of Toby instead. "A little help?"
He shook his head ever-so-gently, scooping her hands into his own. "No, Spence."
She paused, struggling not to feel mortified by his rejection. "I need to," she said firmly. Her breath had grown unwillingly shaky during the kiss. "I – I need his image out of my head." She could not meet his eyes; she knew that he would see through her.
"Which is exactly why we can't," he reasoned, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "Moving past this is going to be a process…and it's going to take time."
Her bottom lip trembled with embarrassment. "I don't want to think about him," she replied desperately. "I want to think about you."
"And we'll have plenty of time to make that happen," he comforted, pulling her into his arms once more. "And when it's the right time, I'll be here. Okay?"
She nodded distantly. She knew he was right, of course…But it didn't change the fact that she did not want him to be. "What if I'm not ready before you leave?" she asked sadly.
He did not even bat an eyelash. "Then we'll spend four months building up the anticipation for something wonderful."
She took a moment to let this sink in. She could not believe how unfailingly supportive he was…How she had always been and would always be his first priority. How going four months without sex was of no concern to him.
If possible, she fell more in love with him at that very moment.
She scooted down a little, replacing her head on his chest, as she had done before. She fought to calm her anxiety by concentrating on the rise and fall his chest took with every breath. It was likened to being rocked gently to sleep.
"What's four months, right?" she decided at last. "When after all this time we still found each other?"
He leaned down to kiss her forehead, gently pushing away stray strands of hair that tickled at her face. "We beat the odds once already. We'll do it again."
She smiled softly into his chest. Yes. They would beat the odds.
"I don't know what I'll do without you here, right next to me," she said sleepily, stifling a yawn.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her before responding. "No matter where I am, my heart is always somewhere with you."
She gently kissed him on the chest where her lips rested before she drifted off to sleep.
CONTINUED