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The Morning After

Rosewood Memorial Hospital, Children's Ward, Room 151 – Spencer Hastings

It was the worst thing to happen to the small, sleepy town of Rosewood, PA. It was the stuff of nightmares. The small shred of worry, that it would happen here? It did. It was a dreadfully quiet Tuesday morning, and not a single television set was tuned into anything but the several news stations covering the gruesome details as they were being released.

The names of the victims had yet to be released, yet the shooters had voluntarily surrendered and were currently with the police. There had not been an official release on the number of fatalities or injuries, but as Peter Hastings bought a cup of hot cocoa from the hospital cafeteria, as Melissa Hastings firmly gripped the TV remote in her sister's hospital room, as Veronica Hastings sat motionless on a soft chair next her bed, they knew their family had come very close to being one of the families whom had lost their son or daughter. Rumor speculated that one family had lost both of their kids, but nobody knew for certain.

All they knew was that Spencer had been shot. Twice. And it had been a miracle she'd survived. Whether they almost lost their daughter and sister by Mona's hands or by Aria's was anyone's guess.

Melissa tore her eyes away from the TV; it was replaying the scene from yesterday. Dozens of police cars, emergency services, worried parents, and news vans crowded Rosewood High's parking lot. In one shot there were a group of kids running from the building.

"Mom?" Melissa whispered, just as her father walked back in. "Why – what happens now?"

Peter dropped down heavily into a chair next to Melissa and comfortingly placed a hand on her shoulder. Melissa had flown in from Boston as soon as the news broke, and she still had on her business suit from yesterday.

"Mom?"

Veronica finally looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying. Her makeup ran down her face and her hair was frazzled.

"We wait," Veronica replied monotonously.

"Wait for what?"

"Anything," Veronica sighed. "A trial. The – the names of the…" she broke her, her gaze drifting over to her youngest daughter. "We just wait. Okay?"

Melissa opened her mouth to protest but promptly shut it.

Almost collectively, three pairs of eyes turned back to the TV mounted on the wall. The station had switched to coverage of the shooters; Mona's and Aria's smiling faces filled the screen. Melissa was baffled. Surely there had been some mistake? Aria hadn't shot anyone. No, not Spencer's girlfriend. Melissa had watched Aria and her sister grow up together, this wasn't something Aria was capable of.

"Who do you think shot her?" Melissa's voice came out pained.

"Does it matter?" Spencer's voice startled all of them and their heads whipped over to Spencer's bed. She had woken up so quietly and lain so still it was no surprise neither of her family members had noticed she had awoken.

All three of them broke out at once.

"Spencer! Oh, my baby!"

"Are you in pain? What can I get you?"

"Let me get your doctor!"

And then Spencer was being hugged by her father, crushed by her mother, and enveloped by her sister. One of them must have hit Spencer's call light because the light outside Spencer's door, began to flash and a small alarm started going off.

The three of them calmed down just as Spencer's physician walked in. He was in his late forties with kind eyes and a gray beard. It was the first time Spencer had seen him, and she was immediately reminded of an old-fashioned ice cream shop owner.

"Good morning, Spencer. I'm Dr. Livingston. How are you feeling today? You gave everyone quite a fright." He shook hands with Peter, Veronica, and Melissa with a warm 'it's nice to see you all again,' greeting, but Spencer recoiled before Dr. Livingston could shake her hand.

Spencer blinked. Even though her head felt foggy, she remembered everything. The sounds of gun blasts. Laughter. Her classmates' last breaths. That fucking song, playing over and over..

"My friends. I – how are they? Are they OK? How's Emily? Hanna? Ali?"

Dr. Livingston sighed.

"Spencer, I'm sorry, but we're still…trying to figure out exactly who was hurt by yesterday's…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"Bloodshed?" Spencer's tone was hard and bitter, but you could hear the pain in her words. "Don't try to sugarcoat things or dance around the elephant in the room."

Everyone looked uneasily and Spencer merely rolled her eyes.

"Ah, yes. The…shooting." Dr. Livingston looked uncomfortable. He moved forward to inspect Spencer's vitals. Her temperature was fine. Her blood pressure was a little high, but he expected so after what she had been through. He lightly pulled up her gown to check on the bullet wound by her ribcage. She had a few cracked ribs from the impact of the blast and falling against the floor, and the bullet had narrowly missed her liver. A milliliter closer, and Spencer probably wouldn't be here.

"Your wound is looking better." He tried to sound cheerful, but the attempt was futile. As her family looked over the wound themselves, he carefully undid the top of Spencer's gown to check her other, more serious, wound.

The bullet had torn through her. It missed a major artery in her heart by just a hair's length, but had exited through her shoulder blade. She had also just managed to avoid paralysis. One of his other patients hadn't been so lucky.

"You're doing well," he said. "We're going to run through some more tests. I'll have your nurse set you up with a morphine drip, and you should get some more rest."

Spencer shrugged. Her doctor beckoned her parents out of the room, and Melissa stayed behind.

"Spencer?"

Spencer blearily glanced at her sister. Melissa looked so…crestfallen.

"What?"

Melissa swallowed.

"I – uh, I just…"

"Are they dead?" Spencer cut her off. "Don't lie to me."

"W-we don't know the names of the ones who d-died, but God, Spencer, I hope your friends are OK. Mom and Dad haven't been able to reach any of the parents. Everything has been so chaotic…"

Spencer shifted in her bed, and asked the question she have d been dreading.

"And the..shooters? Are they…dead?"

Melissa's face drained of color.

"N-No. They turned themselves in.."

Spencer pursed her lips together and was quiet for a long time. Eventually their parents came back in, along with Spencer's nurse. The morphine drip was fast-acting and any pain Spencer felt dissipated. She felt sleepy yet happy at the same time.

Her father caught her watching the TV, and hastily flipped to The History Channel. They were doing a documentary on Alexander Hamilton, and Spencer smiled.

Was there a possible way to replace the blood in her veins with this stuff? She never wanted to feel an ounce of pain again. It was wonderful.

The wounds would heal. She would be fine physically, for the most part.

But the real pain was only just starting. For everyone.

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