CHAPTER 9

"Stop squirming and hold still."

"No! It stings, damnit!"

"You're acting like a child. Stop moving."

Hanna dipped the wet rag into the bowl again. The warm water within it had become stained pink with Holmes's blood. She began dabbing at the caked blood that had gushed from his nose following the fight with Cody.

Holmes flinched again, grumbling to himself. Hanna could not help but roll her eyes.

"You got punched in the face, and this hurts more?"

"It's like adding salt to a wound," Holmes protested. The hot water was like holding his face into a roaring fire, making his injuries burn.

"Just let me do one more. Okay?"

Holmes silently obeyed. He watched the concentration in her blue eyes as she began mopping at his cheek once more, using her other hand to steady his chin. She pursed her lips together, focused on the task at hand.

"Aren't you the least bit insulted by what he said to you?" Holmes demanded incredulously. Hanna sighed and set the cloth into the bowl, putting it aside on the coffee table.

"Of course I am," she said plainly, "but I'm not going to fly off the handle every time someone pisses me off."

"Funny you should say that," Holmes countered icily. "Because you were kind of the one that started it."

She blushed slightly in sheepishness, not meeting his eyes. "Yeah, well. I shouldn't have done it. But you shouldn't have finished it, either."

"Someone had to," he grumbled. "I wasn't about to let Cody have the last word."

"It doesn't matter what he thinks anymore," Hanna argued vehemently. "It's out in the open now. So it's over and done with."

"He called you a bitch," Holmes growled. Hanna offered a weak smile in response.

"Wouldn't be the first time someone called me that," she reflected. "It stopped bothering me a long time ago."

Holmes was silently fuming as he turned this over in his head. "It's a dirty thing to call a girl," he insisted. "Nobody should have to get used to it."

She reached out to take hold of his hand, squeezing his fingers. He squeezed back. "Well, I appreciate your chivalry."

"He couldn't be more wrong, anyway," Holmes continued softly. She blushed a bit in response.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They sat in silence for a moment before Hanna opted to change the subject.

"Where do you think Spencer and Toby are?" she asked sadly, glancing at the clock on the wall. It read 3:06 A.M. With a heavy heart, she and Holmes had accepted that they would surely not be returning tonight.

"Hotel room, probably," Holmes said darkly. "I wouldn't worry too much, Han. Cavanaugh doesn't know how to stay mad for long…and he'll rub off on Spencer before you know it."

Hanna snorted. Holmes knew her mind was immediately plunging into the gutter.

"You know what I mean," he said, rolling his eyes.

She was still giggling. "Yeah, I know." Without warning, the smile on her face began to fade; she scooted closer to him and curled up against his chest. He was not complaining, but it caught him off-guard nonetheless.

"You okay?" he asked, absent-mindedly twirling a lock of her blond curls with his fingers.

"I don't know." He could hear the sniffles in her voice. "These past few days have just been a whirlwind of crazy. One minute I'm feeling one thing…the next, something entirely different. I feel like my brain is turning to mashed potatoes."

Holmes chuckled a bit. Hanna could feel the sensation of it beneath the cheek she had pressed against his chest. "Well, a good plate of hearty mashed potatoes is everyone's favorite meal."

She smiled involuntarily. He had a knack of always saying the perfect thing to make her feel better. She rose up slowly to look at him, her eyes studying his face.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked quietly.

He knew what she meant. She did not need to elaborate. He shook his head shortly in despondency. "I don't know. You tell me."

She raised an incredulous eyebrow. Clearly she didn't like the idea of it being left in her hands.

"That's the thing," she began. "I don't know either."

Holmes reached out to take hold of her hand gently in his. She brushed her thumb affectionately over his fingers.

"Well…what are you thinking?"

It was her turn to shake her head. She looked lost. Helpless. "I don't know what I want."

Holmes nodded briefly. He had been expecting an answer of this magnitude.

"Well, I'm okay with waiting."

Frustrated tears sprung to her eyes as she pulled her hand away. "You're not helping."

He did not reply. He wasn't even sure how to.

She impatiently squeezed her eyes shut to push the tears back in. When she opened them, her eyes were clear once more. "You have no idea how hard you make it," she mumbled irritably. "You are always so nice to me…and it just makes me feel more guilty."

"Fine then," Holmes said jokingly, clearing his throat dramatically. "How about this? Don't keep me waiting. I have better things to do. Yada yada. Something like that?"

Hanna laughed out loud at his attempt. "You're not very good at being the asshole."

"I'd like to think I never have been," he answered sincerely.

She sighed heavily. Instantly he knew that he had said the wrong thing, yet again. Instead of arguing, she fell limply against his chest once more.

"Will you just sit with me like this for a while?" Her voice was small and delicate as she asked the innocent question.

He smiled into her hair, planting a kiss on top of her head. "Of course."

Spencer awoke in a cold sweat, instinctively kicking the blankets off. She had had a nightmare about Cody, one that she had not had in months. He was hovering over her, trying to make her succumb to his advances…It was akin to dealing with the same heartache all over again. And those feelings were most unwelcome.

She glanced over at Toby, who was still sound asleep beside her. She was grateful that her flailing did not stir him.

She stood up and grabbed his t-shirt, pulling it hastily over her bare torso. Even though it was just Toby in the room with her, she was feeling suddenly self-conscious about her body. Something to do with the nightmare, assuredly. She fished through his jacket, knowing that she was more than likely going to find what she needed. Lo and behold, her fingertips grazed the corner of a cigarette pack. With hastened silence, she pulled the pack and his lighter out, hurrying towards the door wall of the hotel room.

Once on the balcony, the chilly night air crashed upon her bare arms. For the moment, she didn't mind. She took a seat on the patio chair and studied the cigarette. She had not had one in months. She distantly remembered a time that she and Wren would sneak around to smoke while he was dating Melissa – shortly after that, she had sworn them off.

But the anxiety that pulsed through her body was frightening enough to warrant one right now. She perched the smoke between her lips and blocked the lighter from the wind.

The first hit reeked of ambiguity – on the one hand, she could feel her lungs crying out in protest. On the other, she felt an inexplicable wave of relaxation spread throughout her body and all the way to the tips of her toes. She leaned back in the chair instinctively.

Hanna was right, in her annoying way. Having discovered that Cody was home had only created an irrational sense of worry and panic. One that she had surpassed long ago as she began to move on. It was like taking two steps forward and three steps back. She was on high alert now. And she loathed his very presence – hated him for putting her back to square one.

The worst part about it was that it made her worry about her standing with Toby. She loved him – there was no doubt about that. Not even a hint of such. But how could she make him commit to someone who was damaged goods? He deserved better than that. He deserved better than fawning over her needy, broken spirit.

No sooner had she thought it that Toby was carefully stepping onto the patio with her. He yawned dramatically and stretched, leaning up against the wall to survey her.

"You must be freezing," he stated simply. No mention of the cigarette in her hand. He must have understood.

"I'm fine," she replied. She kept her eyes trained on the wooden slats at her feet, hoping she was keeping decent control of the despair in her voice.

He came up behind her, using both hands to give her a shoulder massage. Involuntarily, she leapt to her feet, putting ample distance between them. The look of hurt and confusion on his face was enough to make her burst into tears. She fought tooth and nail not to.

"Sorry," she muttered pathetically. She wasn't even entirely sure why she had done it, but immediately regretted that she had. She took a cautious step toward him, suddenly cognizant of the bitter cold lapping at her bare arms.

"It's okay." He shoved his hands into his coat pockets thoughtfully, gazing at her. Uncomfortably she turned away, stomping out the remainder of her cigarette on the ground. "Is something on your mind?"

She scoffed bitterly. "If it exists, it's on my mind," she said sarcastically. Hyperbolic as it may be, it felt truthful. Her brain was flooded with a wealth of information and feelings that she could not comprehend all at once.

"Come here," he offered gently, reaching a hand out to her. He was leaving the next move up to her, which she appreciated. And try as she might to lift her stubborn feet in his direction, they were glued to the spot.

He allowed his outstretched hand to dangle there precariously for but a moment before retracting it, looking even more hurt than he had before.

Spencer felt a lump forming in her throat. She was willing herself not to cry.

"I had a nightmare about that night," she said quietly. She knew she didn't need to elaborate further.

He squared his jaw determinedly. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" she cried suddenly, feeling the build-up of raw emotion clawing at her insides. "I'm outside in the freezing cold, having a cigarette, jumping away from my fiancée when he touches me." She rubbed her forehead tiredly. "Look, I just need some time to myself. Okay?"

Toby's brow furrowed in perplexity, shooting daggers of desperation at her with his sapphire eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means I need a couple of days," she stated fervently. It hurt to say it out loud, but she knew that it was true. She couldn't put him through the process of managing this pain with her all over again. She would make it right – but she had to do it herself.

"Don't push me away, Spence," he pleaded, taking a step towards her. Without thinking about it, she took a respective step away.

"I just need time. Okay?"

"I can help you," he argued vehemently, but did not attempt to come any closer. "That's what I'm here for. To support you. To be leaned on."

"You're not listening," she snapped venomously. She didn't mean to talk to him that way, but it was just sort of happening. "Go home, Toby."

His eyes searched hers for a sign of hesitation. He found none.

"Are you leaving me?" he asked quietly. His voice was small, like a child's.

She sighed heavily in response, shaking her head. "No." Her voice was considerably calmer. "That's not what I want."

He nodded shortly, but appeared slightly more lightened at this revelation.

"Please," she continued. "Just give me a day or two to get all of this put back together in my head. Okay?"

"Okay." He said the word, but didn't appear to like its meaning. He hesitantly began to step towards the sliding door.

"Toby?" she said quietly. He turned to her expectantly.

"I love you," she offered. He smiled slightly in return.

"I love you too. Forever and always." With that, he had disappeared. To do what, Spencer was unsure. Perhaps he would get his stuff together and head home. Maybe he would ignore her wishes and just wait for her inside, for her to cool down.

She wasn't sure – but she knew that she felt suddenly very alone.