A/N: Sorry that the wait has been so long! Life has been hectic, as usual. Please enjoy!

CHAPTER 4

Aristotle once said that friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies. Two halves of a whole, two peas in a pod, and all sorts of other clever turns of phrase.

If that's the case, why do friends insist on hurting each other so often? How can you rationalize being blatantly harsh to someone who shares part of your own soul? Is that not indirect masochism?

I wish I knew what was bothering Hanna so much that she'd lash out that way.

Spencer leaned back in her computer chair, cracking her neck and reading over the journal entry she had written. What Hanna had said to her at the flower shop had struck a precise nerve. Writing about it seemed the ideal way to express her feelings, for she would likely never tell Hanna herself.

Spencer had been chastised by her family her entire life for inserting herself in the business of other people. She distinctly remembered the time in elementary school that she had caught Melissa making out with Eric Kahn on the bus. She immediately ran to tell her mother, who, as usual, was on Melissa's side.

"Spencer, it's not lady-like to put your nose where it doesn't belong," her mother had succinctly stated. Melissa's indiscretions were never discussed again.

It had been all about concern. It wasn't gossip, or being a tattletale. Spencer had been genuinely worried for Melissa's wellbeing. And rightly so, as three weeks later Eric tried to cop a feel. Melissa, who stuffed her bra at the time, had been mortified by the rumors that began circulating about her. She spent a good month holed up in her room crying over the incident.

And all Spencer had tried to do was prevent something like that from happening.

It had been the same with Hanna today. She only badgered her because she wanted her to be happy. Wanted the best for her. But she had a bad tendency of coming off as obscenely overbearing. She didn't necessarily blame Hanna for feeling violated.

She took a deep shaky breath, opening her email. Though she and Toby only got to talk on the phone once a week, he had frequent access to the Internet. It had been one of their primary methods of communication throughout the duration of his deployment.

There was an unread message. A balloon of joy swelled inside her heart, making it feel as though it would burst in excitement.

Dearest Spencer,

Only a few short days left now until I see your beautiful face. We will be heading back stateside soon, and I can't wait to be closer to you.

I've been thinking about you all day, and how I can't wait to hold you in my arms. I miss the way you feel, the way you smell….having all of that back will be the ultimate homecoming gift.

I hope you've been taking care of yourself. Don't stress too much about the little stuff. It all gets resolved in due time.

I love you,

Toby.

He always knew what to say. It was as though reading her mind had become a routine practice. Without fail, every time she was feeling concerned or upset, he provided her with the perfect affirmation that she needed.

He was right. The little things never lasted long. Within a couple hours, she was sure Hanna would be back to her bright, perky self. And they would be back to normal.

She typed a quick response to him before closing her laptop and stretching. Her eyes flickered over to the wedding dress she had purchased, and she felt herself involuntarily smile. She made her way over to the David's Bridal gown bag that hung so out of place in the closet. Gently running her fingertips over the nylon bag, she began imagining what it would feel like to wear it for real. On the actual wedding day, walking down the aisle to meet Toby at the altar. Tiny tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

She couldn't wait to make her love for him official, in front of their family and friends. It was truly going to be the best day of her life. Everything would be all right when he got home.

Hanna was on the edge of her seat in anticipation. She continued to peek through her fingers, which covered her eyes, unsure of whether she actually wanted to see what would happen next. Her plate of orange chicken lay forgotten on the coffee table in front of her. Her fear had made her quickly lose her appetite.

What appeared to be a child imitating a ghost with a bed sheet on was creeping up behind the babysitter. An ominous sense of foreboding was settling in the pit of Hanna's stomach, putting her adrenaline in overdrive.

"That's one of the kids, right?" Hanna pleaded desperately. Holmes impatiently 'shushed' her.

And suddenly, the bed sheet dropped to the floor, revealing that some intangible entity had been embodying the child-like shape inside of it. The babysitter whipped around to be met with a lifeless, flat piece of bedding lying mysteriously on the floor.

"Oh, my God!" Hanna shrieked, letting both hands fly to her eyes now to cover her view. She buried her face in Holmes's neck in sheer terror.

Holmes guffawed in amusement, putting a comforting arm around Hanna's back and patting her on the opposite arm.

"I told you that this was the best part of watching movies with you."

"Shut up," Hanna whined, playfully batting him on the chest. "Don't tell me that you would not be the least bit freaked out by that happening to you!"

"Sure I would, if ghosts were real," Holmes quipped.

"You don't know that they aren't," Hanna defended indignantly, raising her head to meet his gaze. "There are all kinds of strange things that the living can't explain…"

"The living, huh?" Holmes rolled his eyes. "I guess next you're going to tell me that you also believe in zombies."

Hanna furrowed her brow in seriousness. "You never know."

Holmes chuckled, extracting himself from their embrace and standing. "I need a bathroom break. Pause it, will you?"

"Yeah," Hanna muttered, reaching for the remote. As he left the room, she felt suddenly uneasy. The lights were off to make the movie more suspenseful, and with the film on pause she was also now met with a precarious silence.

She curled up on the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees, taking deep breaths. It was only a movie…it was only a movie…

But was it? Hanna had experienced some very questionable conversations with the ghost of Alison DiLaurentis in the past. Drugged up on painkillers or not, the experience had seemed eerily realistic. There had even been lipstick prints on the cup of water beside her hospital bed. Jungle Red lipstick prints. Ali's color.

She was almost certain that her interaction with Alison had been real. Or some version of 'real.'

The sensitive hairs on the back of her neck stood up suddenly, alerting her to the fact that someone had entered the room. Her breath hitched in her lungs, and she refused to turn around.

"Holmes?" she murmured meekly, a tremor involuntarily creeping into her voice.

Silence. Trying to slow her breathing, she slowly turned around to glance behind the couch. Directly behind her was a figure in a bed sheet.

She cried out in alarm, launching herself up from the couch faster than she ever thought humanly possible. And suddenly, the ghost doubled over in laughter.

"I can't believe you actually fell for it," Holmes breathed through hysterics, pulling the sheet off of his head. It took a moment for Hanna's panicked brain to piece together what had happened.

"You asshole!" she shouted incredulously, marching over and punching him repeatedly in the chest. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Holmes laughed, tears of mirth trickling down his cheeks. He grabbed both of her wrists in his hands to cease her attacks. Hanna struggled against his hold.

"Let go of me!" she said stubbornly. "I'm in the middle of kicking your ass!"

"Oh, is that what you call it?" he responded cheekily, amused at her attempt to wriggle free.

"I swear to God, if you don't let me go this second, I'm gonna – " Hanna paused suddenly, rendered speechless as she finally met his eyes. It was strange, the way they had caught her so off-guard. She had never really noticed the color of them before. They were a light, soft brown, beautifully complementing his skin tone.

"Gonna what?" Holmes inquired, though he had calmed down considerably as well. The sapphire depths of Hanna's irises were likened to being lost at sea.

"I'm gonna…I'm gonna…" Hanna was struggling to finish her long-forgotten threat.

And then, before Hanna could even realize what was happening, Holmes suddenly went in for the kill. His lips crashed onto hers, melting to meet the shape of the kiss. He still held onto her wrists, which had all but gone limp in surprise.

She concentrated on the taste of his mouth, which was vaguely akin to coffee and peppermint. Neither Sean nor Caleb had ever kissed her like this before. It was direct yet gentle. Blunt yet soothing. Somehow Holmes's kiss felt distinctly like his personality, all rolled into a single embrace. It seemed to epitomize their entire relationship all at once.

And then, it was over as soon as it had begun. He was staring at her now, his expression appearing torn.

She was feeling much the same way.

"Wh-why did you do that?" she stuttered dizzily.

"I don't know," Holmes answered quietly, looking just as perplexed as she felt. He released her wrists and stepped away from her, as if putting an ample amount of distance between them would resolve any ambivalent feelings.

She had difficulty meeting his gaze, resigning to studying the upholstery of the couch. "Are…are we allowed to do that?" she asked uncertainly.

"I don't know," Holmes repeated. She was desperate to see the look on his face, but was intensely frightened of meeting his eyes. She was vaguely aware that if she looked at him, she might want to kiss him again.

And that was the problem, in and of itself – she had enjoyed it. That shouldn't have been possible. He was one of her best friends. He had taken care of her in a way that nobody else ever had. He could read her cues in a fashion that made it seem so easy, despite the fact that other people usually misinterpreted her. Including Spencer. It was such a special bond for her, something unprecedented in her life. How could she rationalize feeling romantically attracted to him when it could threaten the very core of their connection?

"I'm sorry," she murmured softly before heading hastily for the staircase. Her legs were whisking her away before she even knew what was happening.

At the top of the stairs she nearly collided with Spencer, who blushed pink in response.

"I'm sorry – I didn't mean to eavesdrop – "

"You saw?" Hanna demanded sheepishly.

"I mean – I was – I was coming to get some water…" Spencer winced, tilting her head in Hanna's direction. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Hanna muttered, feeling a stinging sensation behind her eyes.

"It's okay, it's okay…come with me…" Spencer grasped her hand and began to lead her down the hallway to Hanna's room.

Hanna squeezed her hand tightly, hoping to silently convey to Spencer that she was sorry for her behavior earlier. She didn't want her to be angry, or to ever feel that Hanna would intentionally hurt her…

Spencer squeezed back, indicating her understanding. She pulled Hanna into her room and led her to the edge of her bed, sitting beside her.

"Okay," Spencer began slowly, visibly sensing Hanna's internal panic. "Start from the beginning and tell me what happened."

CONT'D