A/N: Thanks to my beta, Maxi-Luca, for the great help provided.
Summary: On Emily's birthday party, Spencer sang to Emily and then they found a corner where Emily received her gifts and where they kissed, talked and fought a little. Spencer admitted to being jealous of Paige. They promised to have a talk after dinner with the Fields. Emily received another text from A.
He had to be inside.
Emily rang the bell to the Hastings and waited in choked anxiety, foot tapping against the cement of the front entrance.
Two minutes passed.
He had to be inside. He was inside three hours ago, before lunch, while the slow, anguished normalcy of homework took place up in Spencer's room, the flow of threats impeded because Emily shut her ears to it by using the mute mode on her phone. He was working inside his study, they heard him coughing when they walked by towards the stairs and Spencer told her he had caught the flu. It was impossible he had gone outside if he had a fever. He had to be inside. She had only forty minutes before Spencer returned. She had maybe forty minutes, probably less, to clarify the mess: to find a way out, to tell herself it wasn't that much of a deal, A was wrong again, there was a difference between a threat and a fact, as Spencer would say (and Emily could almost listen to the detailed explanation the same way she'd listened to Spencer's account ofHedda Gabler this morning), because a threat was always deployed to inspire fear whereas a fact stood naked and cold on itself, like death (and murder), and she needed to understand the difference before taking action, and nothing really bad needed to happen that would get them kicked out of town or imprisoned or that would bring some other disaster to them or to their parents. Parents. Emily swallowed, face against the front door. She was almost grateful her parents weren't living in Rosewood, although if the Hastings were targeted now things weren't much better at all, because Spencer was a Hastings and Emily had to take care of that too. And she was here for it.
She took a couple of steps back, the afternoon sun reflecting on the window of the living room.
He had to be inside.
Maybe she should have gotten his number (not that she would ever call him) in case Spencer got in trouble some day and she needed the information or…
He opened the door, brushy brows scrunched up together in surprise and sleepiness, and Emily felt her soul shrinking violently at the sight of his defocused brown eyes. Had she woken him up? Was he that sick? He was always working. He was never here. And, when he was, he was working too, always a blur on his way to somewhere else, a closing door, half a smile in passing, a whispered greeting and that was it. He was Peter Hastings, man of the world, king of Rosewood and its immediacies, father of the beloved.
He spoke first, his voice nasal and deep because of the flu he'd been incubating.
"Emily."
"Mr. Hastings", she managed to say back to him, her voice so thick and heavy with worry it had to be difficult not to notice something was terribly wrong with her. "I'm sorry I woke you up." He really did look like he'd been dozing off, and that was probably why it'd taken him so long to open the door. Leave it to Emily Fields to awake the man after the only nap he ever took in his life. Her feet wanted to continue tapping the ground in response to her tremendous sense of opportunity, but she managed to still herself and look him in the eye.
"Call me Peter, Emily", he admonished, exactly like his wife had done in the summer. "It's the flu medication that's making me sleepy, but you didn't wake me up." He took a second to resume his explanation. "I'm sorry to tell you Spencer's not here, though."
"I know."
He raised the famous Hastings brows and smiled a tentative one. "Is there something you forgot here this morning?"
She'd been wondering about how to explain it during the last hours, but there was no right way to talk about this to Mr. Hastings.
As a consequence, she fumbled, her fingers twisting on her leather jacket.
"I…" Maybe she could lie to him about this too, just to come in, but he was still guarding the door. "Do you have a minute?"
He looked slightly annoyed. He wasn't probably counting on a longer interruption, much less by his daughter's girlfriend.
"Of course." His body made way with the solid oak door. "Come in, Emily."
She nodded, knowing the first step had been accomplished. Now the rest.
He closed the door but didn't show her to the living room. Instead, he stood in the middle of the foyer, waiting for her to make the next move.
"Is everything all right with Spencer?", he finally asked when she uttered no words. "Is that what's bothering you?"
Now the rest.
Couldn't he sense the alarm signs, the red signs flashing in big teen neon lights?
"Spencer's fine", her voice broke, "it's not… it's…"
This was by far the scariest thing she'd ever had to do in her life. Keep them coming.
"Is it you?", he asked, his concern increasing. "I thought your parents were here this weekend."
She breathed, relieved by the chance of small talk. "They are."
"Is your father all right?"
"Yes", she confirmed, "although he had to leave early this afternoon."
Spencer had almost suffered a heart attack when she'd learned Wayne Fields wouldn't be present for dinner tonight. Emily had just been sad, but she was used to her father having to leave too early for her own liking. It was his duty. No questions asked. She wished she could see her duty as clearly as her father did, let alone follow it without asking herself questions no one could answer but all the wrong people in the world. She wished she held the key to her father's courage so she could use it too to battle in all the right fronts.
Peter Hastings seemed at a loss of words. "Well… I…"
"Mr. Hastings… Peter", she started, tripping over the eternal mistake of polite cordiality, "I have something I need to ask you, but it's… I don't know how to say it."
How to tell him about A without telling him about A.
How to survive this, how to get out alive, how to stay, how to do the right thing, how to save Spencer, how to save herself.
How to brave it out.
How to turn seventeen - she wasn't seventeen yet, but she would be in a few hours. This was A's gift to her.
"How to say what?", Mr. Hastings asked bluntly, his worldly charm rapidly deflating with the uncertainty of the situation. It wasn't as if he and Emily usually discussed problems, neither personal nor of some other kind. "Emily, are you in trouble? Do you need help?"
"No, I…"
"Let me ask you more directly", he offered, crossing his arms with a knowing frown, "did you get in trouble with the law?"
She shook her head with insistence. "No."
"Because, in that case, Veronica is probably a better person to talk to, Emily."
"No, it's not… I didn't get in trouble."
Not in that kind of trouble anyway.
"It's your birthday", he remembered all of a sudden, as if it was important, "Spencer told me."
"It's tomorrow."
"But you had a party yesterday."
She was surprised he knew about that. "Yes."
"And…", he thought aloud, "are you…?" He examined her. "I know we're not supposed to talk about it, but Veronica told me about the little incident you had in the summer, and let me tell you I don't condone underage drinking but given the circumstances I can understand…"
The flames that covered her face were inevitable. "No, no, it's not that." A extreme feeling of shame at the connection between trouble and alcohol mixed with indignation (because it had only happened once… or maybe twice) and with the overwhelming urgency to apologize for her mistakes. "Although I'm sorry about that too." She wondered if she should have apologized to him as well, even though he hadn't been home that night and she wasn't sure he knew about it. Well, now she was sure, and the flames burned her face with heat.
He gave her a charming smile. "Well, that's good then, Emily. What is it?"
It was now or never.
"There's someone who…" She pulled out her phone, selected the message and held out the phone to him. "There's someone who says you made a mistake that could get you in trouble and I just wanted to make sure if it was important or…"
His skin paled away, much like his daughter's skin did when she felt insulted, and Emily felt exactly like she knew she was going to feel when she decided to come here and talk to him about the text: she wanted to throw up her guts. This was Peter Hastings. As if Veronica Hastings wasn't scary enough, add this one up to the mess. What was she thinking? Her future was doomed (even more) from now on if she made the wrong move. She had probably fallen down five more steps on her way to living hell. She was never going to go to college. She was going to be expelled from Rosewood, no, first from the Hastings household and then from Rosewood and then from the country; she would have to continue seeing Spencer in secret, and it wouldn't work out for a number of reasons, and they'd break up, and life would end, and she would never love anyone else, ever. But this was what A wanted of her: to make her move somewhere which would unavoidably be the wrong place, because wasn't it always wrong anyway? One thing was sure: she wasn't going to run in the woods; she wasn't going to ask for a girl's phone number. Parents had been included in the equation. And she was here. Talking to him.
And it was done.
"Someone?", he repeated, his voice flattening out in defence. "What kind of mistake?"
He took the phone in his hands and read the message.
"I…"
"What is this?"
"I don't know", she lied, startled at the annoyance in his voice, "that's why I'm here."
His face went red in small circles and trails, another trait his daughter shared with him. "Who sent you this?", he almost accused, teeth gritting, posture straightening. "This is offensive."
She swallowed. "Yes." Then came the half-truth. "I don't know who it is."
He seemed to hammer her to the door with his de-blurring eyes, one more sign of Spencer's biological inheritance which, right now, she didn't love. She'd always thought Spencer had Veronica's capacity for powerful staring, but it turned out her father was really good at it too.
"You don't know who this is?"
"No."
"You're not lying to me."
"No, Mr. Hastings."
"Has Spencer told you about this?"
"Spencer?", she asked, confused. "No, of course not, she doesn't even know I'm here."
"You are indeed finished with me", his teeth whistled, "if you continue with this line of action because I am calling your parents right now, Emily."
Though she was mentally prepared for harshness, her whole body trembled in fear.
"I would never do anything like this to you, Mr. Hastings." She pointed at her confiscated phone. "This is not on me, you have to believe me."
He examined her more closely, calculating the possibilities of Emily pulling off such a tease. They didn't know each other very well, but she had never been that type of kid. It was something for another type of kid, though.
"This is something your friend Alison would do."
Blood stopped running through her veins. "I'm not like her." It was true. She wasn't. No one was. Alison's fame had spread out all over Rosewood and who knew where else, had reached people they didn't even suspect. Maybe she'd done things they couldn't suspect either.
"I know that", he agreed, "but it certainly rings a bell."
"I'm really sorry."
What else could she do but apologize?
Apparently, it was enough for him, because he gave her a long scrutinizing stare before gesturing towards the living room with his hand in an open invitation.
"We need to talk."
She followed him as he walked decidedly past the living room in the direction of his office.
"Who is this?", he demanded to know once they were inside, her phone waving in his hand. "Who can know about this?"
A knew everything.
"I don't know", she repeated, always torn between telling the whole truth and the half lie, "I received it this morning and I didn't know what to do and that's why I'm here."
"It says it's up to you to protect me."
"I know it sounds like a stupid joke", she struggled to explain without slipping out on the whole A-scenario, "but I just didn't know what to do when I got it."
Suddenly overwhelmed, the atmosphere too charged between them and the viruses too active in the air, he opened the window to let in the chilly breeze of autumn.
"It can't be", he protested, his lips twisting in disgust. "This is a bad joke."
"I'm sorry I even came here to ask", she tried, "I just…"
She couldn't let it go in case it was important. Because it was A. So it was important.
"You have to know who sent you this."
"I wish I knew so I wouldn't be here, Mr. Hastings."
"Nobody knows about this." His words made her shut up in respect and he fixed his bloodish-brown eyes on her. "You can't tell anyone."
Therefore, there was this to keep silent about and there was this to protect him from.
And it was up to her, like A had said.
"I won't", she promised. "No one will know about it."
"It was never a fraud, you need to understand that."
"I do."
In all honesty, she didn't understand anything but she had to pretend to understand whatever he said, since it had been her who had come here to confront him. There, the resemblance of an explanation began. He had made a mistake, he said. That much was true. His licence as an attorney could be revoked for malpractice and tampering with legal documents. He didn't exactly explain why, he said he was not a fraud, though; he didn't usually do anything wrong, he took his profession very seriously, it was the work of his life, she knew how important it was for him (that was why he was never home), she could relate it to her own dedication to swimming (it was a shame she was not swimming anymore, and how could he help her recover from that or encourage her to reconsider her decision to quit, Spencer had never clarified the reasons for quitting very well but he was ready to listen to her in case she needed to tell him, or to support her in any way possible), Spencer's own future depended on it, Princeton and every Ivy Leave depended on it, no one could ever know, if she loved Spencer she had to understand the vow of silence that came with being a Hastings, after all. She loved Spencer. There was no if. So she repeated that was the reason she was here. Then he said he was trying to help the DiLaurentis family when he made the mistake for which he was being blamed in that outrageous message. The DiLaurentis were behind this when all he'd been to them was a good friend, he'd felt sorry for them after what happened to Alison and he'd tried his best to help Jason DiLaurentis because he was the only son they had left, and that was why he had replaced one testament for another, so Jason wouldn't lose the money of his family (family money was important, not because of the value of money per sebut as a sign of the family's solidity), but also so he wouldn't be further questioned as a suspect in the disappearance and murder of his own sister, because what else could happen to that poor family? And now they were paying him like this. She guessed he was blaming the DiLaurentis for the text she'd received, and her mind started whirling with images of Jason and his parents collaborating with Jenna and Garrett Reynolds, and it just didn't make sense but what made sense anyway in this town, ever? She'd never thought of the possibility of adults, as inreal adults, joining together as A and enjoying the torture of four teenaged girls. Then again, whoever was in the woods running had been a girl too. He spoke up again, as if waking her up from her silent racing to conclusions: she knew how these things worked (but she didn't; she was only seventeen; not yet, really); she'd seen the accusations against Spencer. Yes, she had. Spencer had been falsely accused. The DiLaurentis were tricky people, even a girl so young as her had to notice, right? Emily nodded, catching her breath, because Alison had certainly been tricky and Jason had always looked somehow disoriented, and Spencer still thought he was guilty of something (like her father, come to think of it), but Emily had never imagined the whole DiLaurentis family as A. The conclusion was: whatever the reasons, a testament had been forged; Mr. Hastings' career was at risk. Even though she still didn't exactly understand the chain of events and he didn't completely clarify it, she knew enough to grasp the reality of a legal fraud and how it would affect Spencer's life, so she delicately decided to ask if Spencer knew about this. Was Spencer aware of what had happened? He said yes, Spencer was aware of the forged testament, she had found out while dating the carpenter boy of the Cavanaughs (Toby). Emily blinked, not sure if that was good or bad; Spencer hadn't told her; although it was understandable if she had kept silent to protect her father; Emily would've done the same; Emily was going to do the same. She accepted the explanation. Peter Hastings had his reasons. Anyway, he was Peter Hastings. It wasn't her place to judge his decisions… he knew what he was doing, right? I mean, he was Peter Hastings. You couldn't really try to walk in his shoes. Emily glanced down at his shoes, but he was wearing flannel slippers under his grey trousers, so she looked up to him again. She just needed to know what A had planned for her. But then he said Spencer shouldn't know more, that it was important for Spencer not to get involved with the DiLaurentis, that Spencer's future would be endangered if she tried to ask questions relating that family. Emily's pulse raced again because Spencer was always asking questions and that was basically what she did for a living these days, even if her father had no clue about it. So she asked him about Jason in the most respectful way she found. She asked: but do you think Jason is guilty of killing Alison? She asked: why did you decide to help him if you think Spencer's life is in danger because of him? She remembered the creepy pictures of Aria's lips in Jason's barn when she and Spencer managed to sneak in. She remembered the cookie and the mattress up in Jason's abandoned house in the summer. Because it didn't add up and she needed to know why Mr. Hastings helped Jason if Jason was dangerous, so she could also protect Spencer, she dared ask the most important man in Rosewood why he had acted the way he did, she tried to walk in his shoes for a moment, if only to help Spencer too, because she knew of the dangers Spencer faced every day more than he would ever know, and his skin paled away even more in response to her questions, his shoulders fell and his worldly dominion of every reason and every explanation, given the circumstances, taking the situation into account, faded, he blew his nose, his nose was tinted red and obviously running with too much water in his ghostly face, and his whole demeanour changed into one of a terrified rabbit in the last minute moment of truth before death, death in front of the seventeen-year-old hunter girl of the Fields. The killer Fields. Killers kill their prey, don't they? Look at Emily Fields, look at Peter Hastings in the same room answering a questionnaire, a gap of age and experience waiting to be filled and served.
If only she could kill the right prey.
Unfortunately she was the rabbit too, she was the one being hunt down relentlessly and she didn't know how to make it stop.
Then he dropped the bomb.
He said it was a secret Veronica knew about but which could never reach Melissa's or Spencer's ears. He said… he said more things, but she stopped listening, blown away by this confession she would have rather not heard. Jason, Melissa, Spencer. Alison. Spencer. Jason didn't have Spencer's eyes or Spencer's hair or even Spencer's chin or Spencer's… Spencer. Jason and Spencer. DiLaurentis and Hastings.
She stared at his slippers.
"Emily", he called out, "I made a mistake and now they're trying to make me pay for it."
In a daze, she came back to the conversation. He said if she truly loved Spencer (she did), if she cared about Spencer as much as she seemed to (no if), he reasoned with her, he begged of her, she'd keep her mouth shut and help him stop Spencer from getting close to the DiLaurentis. This gross attempt at blackmailing had to come from them. They were the only ones who could know about his tampering. He would talk to them and to Jason, but she had to promise him not to say a word about it to anyone, not even Spencer.
Still knocked out by the news, she gave him her word.
"This can't be out in the world, Emily", he begged some more, trying to guarantee her silence, "you have to make sure of it."
"It won't be out."
"Spencer can't know either."
She offered a small nod, too confused and shy to find the courage to disagree. "Okay."
"Do you understand why, Emily?"
Because it would turn Spencer's world around.
Because it would tear up the last remnants of her trust in people. Not in people - in him.
"Yes."
"Are you sure you understand?"
No, she wasn't.
A would tell Spencer sooner or later, and Spencer deserved to hear this from him.
"She should…" She staggered against different words that crowded her, screaming at her, because nothing made sense, and if she knew Spencer well she was sure Spencer would prefer to know about this, she was sure Spencer would hate it if she was the last one to know, just because… Spencer always wanted to know everything. "I think you should tell her before she finds out some other way, Mr. Hastings."
"She can never find out if we all keep our promises."
"I won't tell her", Emily defended, sensing the accusation in his threat, "but I got this text telling me things I'm not supposed to know about you", she tried to reason, "and Spencer can receive exactly the same text wanting to hurt both of you."
"She won't."
"She should know about this from you, not from anyone else."
"I think you're going too far, Emily, so be careful with what you're saying."
She didn't back down. "This is my problem too." It was her problem because Spencer was her problem and because A would go too far too if ever given the chance.
"You're right", he reconsidered his words, "but you need to understand, Emily, this is a lot more complicated than you can possibly imagine."
One thing she could imagine: Spencer's reaction. It scared her.
"If you don't tell her", she argued more insistently, because somehow this seemed really important, "she'll find out with a text like the one I got and it'll be worse."
"No one's going to send her such a text!"
He had raised his voice and, as a result, a silence passed between them in the study surrounded by thick wooden soundproofed walls.
Fields Be Brave.
"Maybe not", she tried again, "but what if she does get one, Mr. Hastings? She deserves to know."
"She's a child", he spit out, "she's studying to get into college, and that applies to you too."
He wanted her silence but he didn't want her opinion.
"She works harder than anyone."
That was all she replied, and she meant it. The efforts Spencer had made to please her parents and respond to their impositions, learning on the way to listen to her own needs, beyond everything else that kept happening to her (Ian, A), had always impressed Emily; whereas Emily had thrown her future out of the window in search for a solution… to what? She'd fought so desperately to keep the HGH hidden from everyone, including Mr. Hastings, because she didn't want the Hastings to find out she was the cheat that she actually truly wasn't. All the things she had done… she had done for this? For Peter Hastings. For nothing.
He seemed to realize his excess and tended out a hand to her. "She's extremely talented", he offered in a softer voice, "and you are too, Emily."
"I'm not like her."
It was true. She wasn't like her. No one was.
"Listen, I know you care about her", he said, his voice controlled, "and if you truly do, you'll know what to do."
"Yeah…I…"
"You can't win this one."
"Win?"
He approached her, handing the phone back. "You don't let this out", he explained, his voice low, "and I will help you with college."
"It's not college I'm worried about", she blurted out without even thinking, "it's Spencer."
"I'm offering you financial support", he insisted. "It's an offer you shouldn't reject, Emily, given your current situation. I know Spencer's worried about your scholarships and I can only assume you, and also your parents, are worried about them too. Am I wrong?"
Was he trying to buy her silence with the promise of financial aid?
"No", she denied, her mind working too fast and at the same time too slow. "It's… You don't have to offer me anything."
He sighed almost inaudibly. "Just lay out your conditions so we can discuss them."
"I don't have conditions, Mr. Hastings", she struggled to explain. "It's only that I think she'll hate us if we don't tell her the truth."
Hate. Truth. Words.
"Spencer doesn't care about the truth", he deadpanned, "Spencer cares about success. It's always been like that with her."
Yes.
But it was his fault, he had made her like that, and anyway Spencer did care about the truth. She was a leader, she was a detective, she was a lawyer (tricky), she was a researcher, she was a teacher; she was so many things at once. She was also… she was…
"I'm…"
"I get to decide my daughter's best interest, Emily", he coldly claimed, "so can I count on you or not?"
He was probably never going to tell Spencer.
"You can", she assured, but boldly tried once more. "It's just… I don't like lying to her."
"You're not lying to her."
"We are."
He shot her a commanding glance, the rabbit moment forgotten in time. Now she was back to being the rabbit. "I give you my word, Emily, and I'll keep it." He paused, his eyes steely red. "I hope you can do the same for me."
On what he'd given her his word, she didn't know. But this man was still Peter Hastings, and it was time to surrender.
"I will", she assured, "I give you my word too."
"Can I be sure of you?"
"Yes."
He gave her an undecipherable smile. Somehow, the thought crossed her mind that he really believed she had been the one trying to blackmail him, that maybe she was like Alison, or maybe she was like everybody else, not good enough, and the carpenter boy was equalled in his mind to the ex-swimmer girl of the Fields. All the things she had done… for this - for this moment. And, even though she knew it wasn't the case, and he had confided in her about some of his wrongdoings, it felt dirty for her to handle the problem this way. With a slight shake of the head the agreement between them was sealed, and she found herself caught in a pact of silence with Peter Hastings, who believed Spencer didn't really care about the truth, only about success. But that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was still A.
The air outside was chilly when she opened the door to her car and flopped down into the driver's seat, glancing towards her watch and then the sky. The clouds were starting to dye away the yellow of the sun.
In thirty minutes everything had changed again.
The most beautiful thing in the world.
She re-reread the texts she'd been receiving during the afternoon. Four texts full of defiance and a warning to save the right person this time. Spencer. Spencer's father. Spencer.
Something worse was going to happen, she just didn't know what.
Adults were supposed to know best.
Adults were supposed to care, adults were supposed to be there for their kids. But when they were, they lied, and kids lied to them. The world of adults sucked. But the fear of not getting to be an adult sucked even more, because growing up meant being free and out of this town. It was at that exact moment when Emily promised herself that, if she ever got to grow up and leave, she would never come back, she would never bring her children back, she would never let Spencer come back either (although they'd probably have to anyway, because the Hastings were attached to Rosewood, so she had to postpone the promise until she could later negotiate it with Spencer). Maybe the rest of the world would be a more peaceful, welcoming place; although a part of her, perhaps the part that had already grown up too fast in the last year, knew it wouldn't be; but it was worth the try. Wasn't that what Spencer thought too? Wasn't that the reason why they wanted to go to college and have a life? In a way, they were already behaving like their parents, no matter how much they tried to avoid that outcome. They were dressing up for them, playing the parts they were expected to play; they were lying to them in return for being lied to, instead of just saying… whatever they could say (she wasn't sure); they were doing it to keep them safe. She was glad her mother was not living here anymore. She was used to fearing for her father, though; but she wasn't used to feeling his life depended on her, that it was her responsibility to keep him breathing in a physiological as well as in a non-physiological way. However, this was, more or less, the content of her agreement with Peter Hastings. She, the poster child of good behavior, the shy one, the sweet one, the promising swimmer, who was not even seventeen yet, she had promised The Big Man not to betray him, and still she had done it for Spencer, and still it made her feel like a bigger piece of crap; all she had ever gained, all the trust, the sweetness, the formal education she'd received, it amounted to nothing in the face of real trouble after making the wrong decisions. Hence, when she arrived to the restaurant with her mother, nicely dressed and clean, her façade impeccable, a ponytail allowing her face to glow in her young age, she was still dumbfounded by what she'd learned, not just by the details of it (Jason, the forged testament) but mostly by the complexities of it, by the absolute impossibility to understand what Peter Hastings expected of her and what she could do when A pushed her again to find out her limits. She was still thinking about all of it.
Spencer was already there, sitting on a table from which she stood up politely to greet first her mother and then her, a small, nervous smile on her lips.
She was also nicely dressed and clean, her façade impeccable, her hair pulled into a few formal braids, discreet make-up, and she shot her an encouraging glance that Emily could hardly return, because she wasn't even thinking about her mother's intervention tonight anymore. She was just thinking about Peter Hastings. She was just thinking about Jason and Spencer and about everything that she could not say to her. And she was thinking about how much she still wanted her (bad, so bad) even though it wasn't the moment to think about that. It was the damn butterfly in her stomach and the hungry vulture she could dimly perceive in Spencer's sideways glances that stole the breath from her lungs once more and made her feel like the true teenager she actually still got to be from time to time, the one who would like to forget about parents and sneak out in the middle of the night and find somewhere dark and deserted to celebrate her birthday with the one person she loved.
But she could not exactly look her in the eye. Not right now.
"I don't know where you put so much food, Spencer."
Spencer blushed under the spell of Pam Fields' words. They were already handing out the menus to the waiter, and Spencer had asked for a Philadelphia steak sandwich with fries and salad on the side.
"I'm starving tonight", she explained with a polite smile, "I had a light lunch."
"She gets really hungry around this hour", Emily added. "Food is a must."
"And my metabolism works really fast."
"And she works out a lot", Emily contributed too. "Plus she's lucky."
The waiter sent Spencer an appreciative glance before walking away, which only served to increase Spencer's blush and Emily's inner butterfly smile.
Pam Fields looked from one girl to the other with a fond, calm easiness that surprised her daughter. That was Spencer's effect on her parents. Spencer was a winner. Spencer was success. Was Spencer also the truth? Did she want it?
"Are you still the captain of the field hockey team?"
The word team created some visible anxiety in the two teenagers.
"I was briefly last year", Spencer answered, "but I'm not anymore."
"How come?"
Spencer paled at the question.
"My coach didn't think it was appropriate to give the captaincy to someone who'd had to do community service", she explained in her best disinterested voice, "and after the summer we decided it wouldn't be such a great idea so I… nicely stepped out." She quickly decided to give one more detail. "But I'm still playing for the team, and anyway I don't have that much time for a captaincy right now."
Emily shot an apologetic glance, as if that had been her fault. "It was really unfair."
Pam nodded, looking concerned too. "Yes, that was… I can imagine." She paused, examining Spencer's face. "Wayne and I were so sorry to hear about community service, Spencer."
"Fortunately it all ended well", Spencer made sure to add, "and it's not like the team's so important for me this year."
Pam smiled sweetly. "I'm sure you have other things in mind that are more important than playing hockey."
"It's a very complicated year."
"Spencer's going to Princeton, mom."
"I, uhm, that's not sure yet", Spencer clarified, paling again, "but my parents want me to go there."
"I'm sure you can get in any university you want", Pam answered. "Princeton should be happy to have you."
"Well, it's…", Spencer hesitated, "I'm not sure where I want to go yet, but I'll be applying to a lot of universities."
"Any preference?"
"No." Spencer's face looked completely blank, but Emily could feel a certain tension. "Not yet."
"I thought you were applying to Princeton", Emily turned to ask her. "I mean, didn't you…?"
"I haven't made up my mind yet."
"But your dad…"
The name made her feel dirty when she employed it now. Maybe she would never be able to say your dad to Spencer without feeling weird and confused and dirty.
"My dad will be happy with my decision as long as a good university takes me."
Pam Fields intervened. "Certainly", she agreed. "Because you'll make the right decision."
Spencer only gave half a smile for an answer. She was nervous. Emily could see it. And it would be incredibly sexy if it wasn't because Emily felt like crap and couldn't think about sexy things without thinking about Peter Hastings at the same time.
There was a silence around the table.
"I'm sorry Wayne couldn't make it", Spencer offered to fill the void, "I would've loved to see him."
"He's sorry too."
"And I'm sorry too", Emily corroborated. "We're all sorry."
"Maybe next time we could have dinner with your parents, Spencer."
Her mother's words made Emily immediately stiffen up. That was just not what she needed.
Spencer didn't seem to love the idea either. "That would be nice", she said, anyway. "I'll let them know."
"I can call them."
"Yeah, that's…", Spencer replied. "That's probably better."
Pam seemed to catch on the general sense of awkwardness. "I mean, if you girls are all right with it."
"It's perfect", Spencer smiled. "It's just that they're always out… they're never here, uhm, together… I mean simultaneously."
Pam nodded. "They work so much", she agreed. "But it comes with being a Hastings."
"It certainly doesn't come for free", Spencer added, and Emily stiffened some more. "But my mom will be happy to join us, I think, and maybe my dad too, if he's in Rosewood."
"And I'll be delighted to be joined by them", Pam Fields concluded with a soft smile. "You can tell them that."
"I will."
Emily stole a glance at Spencer, who returned it out of the corner of her eye. Apparently, there was some sort of tension that Emily couldn't entirely grasp but that could not relate to what she had done today, because it was impossible Spencer knew about it. So why was she tense about her parents? Besides the fact that, well, she was always tense about them anyway. She'd have to ask her later. Or maybe not. Because she was a liar now – again.
"So… Emily", Pam said, "I think we should… talk about something that is not so pleasant… if that's all right with you too, Spencer."
Spencer nodded, wide-eyed. "Sure."
"Mom", Emily protested, "do you mind if we wait until we at least eat? I'd appreciate that."
"Emily, isn't it better to solve it now?"
"It's fine, Emily", Spencer tried to calm her down, "we can talk."
All of a sudden, Emily felt tears in her throat. For the first time in the day. It was a record. She was on the verge of tears almost every day. And, today, she'd been so anxious and worried and plain shocked she hadn't even sensed the constant urge of choking and the imposing lack of air. But it was coming back. The team. The HGH. A.
"Mom, can I be excused for a second?"
"Emily, sweetheart."
She stood up and forced a smile. "I'll be back. I'm just going to the restroom."
Eyes hanged on her as she walked to the restroom in an unstaged escape. Run, Emily, run.
She bolted the door in the stall and took a deep breath against the wall.
She had a headache. Maybe she was incubating the flu too.
"Em?"
Spencer had followed her to the restroom.
"I'm here."
"Em, come out."
"I already came out, Spencer."
There was a quiet, dry laugh at the other side. "Funny. But come out anyway."
She came out and turned on the water to wash her hands. "I'm fine." Spencer's face and upper body were reflected in the ample mirror, concern in her features.
"We just have to tell her I'm tutoring you and it's working."
"I know."
"So let's just do it."
"It's not gonna work."
"We don't know that."
"I know my mother, Spencer."
"Fine, you do", Spencer agreed, "but we've got to try."
Emily took another deep breath and turned around to face Spencer. "Why are you so tense?" She wasn't supposed to ask, but then again she couldn't really control it. She cared about the truth, especially when it had to do with Spencer.
"I… You know why."
"It's not only my mom."
"I was born tense, Emily."
"But you're tenser… Is that a word?"
"Yeah." Spencer looked away and chew on her lip, a clear sign of nervousness. "I just don't want you to be extra worried tonight."
Her heart jumped. "What happened?"
"It's nothing", Spencer quickly added. "Okay, it's something. I may have forgotten to email my pre-application form to Princeton."
"What?", Emily shrieked. "How did that happen? How could you forget that?"
"Friday was the last day to send it and I saved it on my laptop to do it later when Aria called", Spencer explained, "because we had a rehearsal and then we were going to discuss Alison's double life and… I totally forgot."
"Are you crazy?"
"Gee, Em", Spencer whined, "I can sense the Hastings pressure growing up in you."
The Hastings Pressure, boiling inside her, scorching every field, burning down the smoke.
"Sorry."
"At least you're coming in handy to test their reaction."
It was going to be much worse.
"But Princeton…"
"There are other universities, Emily."
"That your parents will hate." The taste of the word in her mouth. Parents. Hate. Parents hated her as much as any university that was not good enough. Success. "It's my fault."
"It's not." Spencer took her hand. "It's just… it's gonna be difficult to explain it to my parents and I may need to get into Yale and Harvard and Stanford and Columbia and everywhere else to make them forgive and forget, but it's gonna be fine in the end."
"You don't really believe that."
"What am I supposed to do?", Spencer raised her voice. "Pack my stuff and change my name and leave town to try my luck in South America? I admit to having thought about it, but I don't think it's really the best solution."
"Why aren't you freaking out about this?"
"Because I already freaked out", Spencer admitted, letting go of Emily's hand to cross her arms. "I spent the whole afternoon freaking out and trying to breathe into Aria's phone. I just didn't want you to freak out too… like you're freaking out right now."
Emily pouted. "Isn't there a way to fix it?"
"Maybe I can camp out campus and blame the economy and Obama", Spencer chewed on the words, sarcastically, "but I doubt it."
She felt like crying. "Spencer."
"I'm sorry, okay?"
"It's my fault", Emily said again, horrified because it was true and she cared about the truth. "It's the damn birthday and it's A."
"It's not your birthday."
"It is", Emily fired back. "Shit."
Failure.
Now she had passed it on to Spencer. One more thing to feel proud of.
"Let's go back to the table and have this conversation."
She nodded, because her mother was waiting, but before she could start walking Spencer gently gripped her forearm.
"And we talk tomorrow, right? You and I."
She gave another nod. "Yeah." What kind of strategy could they design when Spencer was probably going to have to fly the country after this disaster, while she herself would be on some incredibly secret mission to save Peter Hastings and blow up her own life on A's terms?
Apparently, Spencer picked up on her uncertainty. "Unless you prefer to have the talk on Tuesday."
"No, it's fine."
She didn't even know what she was going to say to her, given the circumstances.
"You sure?"
"I am sure."
"Because you look really tense too, you know."
"I know."
Spencer held her grip on her forearm. "It's just… I thought…", she stuttered. "But tomorrow's your official birthday so if you wanna postpone the conversation, I just thought…"
"I want to have the conversation." That wasn't entirely true, though. "Really."
Spencer smirked a little. "Or you want to have what's coming after it?"
That was it.
Emily couldn't help but smile in return to Spencer's soft, somewhat shy smirk.
"You're always so clever."
They fell on each other's gaze for a moment, and Spencer relaxed the grip but didn't completely let go.
"Gimme a kiss?", Spencer requested. "Now that we're clear."
They hadn't kissed hello in front of her mother. They had kissed in the morning. They had kissed before lunch. They had kissed a lot while doing homework. All those kisses felt like a robbery to A and to time, when it should feel the other way around. Damn. But she wanted to kiss her ever since they arrived to the restaurant. The problem was she didn't feel very clear right now. Spencer blinked, waiting for some kind of answer, and Emily closed the distance, catching her lower lip and allowing the butterfly to kick her stomach with ardor.
It lasted until it really started to revolt.
"You're not chasing me around", Emily warned after breaking it off, "I wanted to kiss you."
Spencer rolled her eyes. "But I still had to ask."
"It's a restroom", Emily protested, "I get nervous in restrooms."
"I think the word you're looking for is horny."
There was a special brightness in Spencer's eyes, but Emily hushed her as if her mother could hear the dangerous words.
"You're allowed to think about it, Em", Spencer mocked her, "it's not a sin to think about it."
She blushed, because she was indeed thinking about it. "I'm not saying it's a sin."
"But you're acting like it is."
"I know it's not", Emily countered, stopping in front of the door, "it's just distracting and…"
"And mind-changing."
She turned around to face Spencer's mocking gaze. "Stop it." Spencer was never going to let her live it down after what she'd said yesterday night at the party.
"You should use your superpowers to change my mind about everything we don't agree on."
Right.
"Wouldn't you like that?"
"I'm imagining a world of hot issues such as… abortion, the health care system, defence expenses, the next president of Bolivia, is Rihanna a good singer and so on that we'll have to discuss."
Somehow, Emily doubted they could really engage in hot discussions about all those hot issues (key word being hot), but her face went redder anyway.
"Too bad we agree on almost everything."
"Is that so?"
She felt a pang of doubt. "We don't?"
"Of course we do", Spencer smirked, kissing her nose before pushing the door open with her hand. "Let's face your mom."
If only she knew how much parent-facing she was having to do today…
The food was already on the table when they came back, her mom sitting straight and waiting for them to start. They didn't talk. They ate instead, and Emily nibbled lethargically on Spencer's fries, both anxious about the intervention to come and relieved it'd been postponed for a few more minutes.
It took those few minutes for her mother to clear her throat and speak up again.
"How was the tutoring today, Emily?"
Emily swallowed the piece of roasted chicken. "It was good."
"I think we can get her back on track for mid-terms", Spencer said, "definitely for finals."
Pam Fields shook her head and looked at Spencer. "I took the liberty of calling your mom, Spencer", she explained in a soft tone, "and we agreed your schedule is already complicated enough for you to be able to… well, to solve this for Emily."
"But she can do it", Spencer argued, "Em's a good student, it's just going to take…"
"She's a good student", Pam Fields interrupted, "but she's an outstanding swimmer."
"I don't want to swim anymore."
Her mother stared in unconcealed concern. "Emily, we are so worried about you, and I know it's difficult for you to understand this, and it's okay if you don't want to swim anymore, but you need to give me a good reason for this and you need to offer another plan, or…"
"Mom."
Spencer gently set the fork down on her plate.
"You can't put the responsibility on Spencer", Pam Fields warned, "because it's not fair to her."
That was the final bullet that did it.
Amazingly, it was exactly what she was thinking; she just hadn't worded it like that.
"She's not doing that", Emily heard Spencer say weakly, "I volunteered to help."
"Spencer, I know you want to help", Pam replied, "and I know you also agree with me about the team."
"I…"
"She does agree with you", Emily announced firmly. She was trapped. But it wasn't the first time. And her mother was right about Spencer. Spencer was doing far too many things. She had forgotten about Princeton. She was pretending to be okay about it, but Emily knew she had to be terrified of telling her parents when she couldn't even explain it had all happened because she was hunting down a stalker slash murderer all over town. There was nothing to do to fix it. But Emily had to stop the nonsense and bargain with her mother for a way out. Spencer couldn't be the eternal back-up plan. "Can you give me two more weeks?"
"Two more weeks for what, Emily?"
"What are you gonna do if…?"
"You know what I'm going to do, honey."
"I don't want to leave Rosewood." Her voice filled with unshed tears. "You can't just drag me out of here because I don't want to swim anymore, mom."
"I'm worried about you, Emily, and your father is too", her mother answered sternly. "And, trust me, I don't want to hurt you, but I know something's happening to you and…"
"I need two weeks", Emily begged. "Then I'll go back to the team."
"Two weeks for what?"
"They still want me."
"Emily."
"I need to sort things out with someone else… someone I need to talk to."
Pam Fields narrowed her warm brown eyes. "Honey, are you being bullied by this girl… what's her name… Paige Mcsomething?"
Oh, no, no, no.
"No." She wanted to sound firm and clear. "We're friends. I was the one who recommended her to the coach for the captaincy and she's been trying to convince me to swim again."
She could sense Spencer's tension but she needed to negotiate this with her mother without her mother thinking Paige was to blame for her situation.
Pam Fields frowned, in doubt. "Yes, I know, but…"
"I'm not being bullied", Emily insisted, "I told you I'm just tired of competing."
"So who do you need to talk to?"
"Someone who's been helping me out with this."
"Are you seeing a therapist?"
Spencer coughed on her water.
"Mom, no", Emily denied, "it's just someone I had a problem with. But it's not bullying. And it's also not Paige."
She was such a bad liar.
"Emily, am I supposed to believe you have to talk to someone with whom you have a problem but who's helping you out with swimming? How does that make sense?"
It didn't, really.
"I said I had a problem", she tried to clarify, or rather to mess it up more, "not that I have a problem now."
Leaning back on her seat, her mother sighed deeply. "What kind of problem?"
"It's just… something."
"Something?", Pam Fields questioned in a disbelieving tone. "Someone?"
She sighed deeply too. She should get lying lessons out of someone who knew how to do it well: Aria. "It's my ulcer", she finally offered, knowing the new lie was only going to muddle the situation even more, but hoping it would somehow get her mother to trust her. "It's a doctor. Someone I don't like."
She caught a glimpse of Spencer's rounded-plate eyes.
"I thought your ulcer had completely healed."
"It has", Emily explained, playing around with her food. "But it was giving me problems again because of how pressured I felt about my times… and I quit, and I've been sorta seeing him to get the proper treatment, but I didn't want you finding out."
Her mother looked even more worried now. "You should have told me about this, Emily."
"I'm sorry", she looked down to her plate, ashamed that she was turning to a health problem to buy time, "I just didn't want you worrying about it too much."
Pam Fields directed her eyes to Spencer. "I assume you also knew about this, Spencer."
"I… Yes."
"You should've told me."
"I'm sorry."
Her voice was a shadowed pale ghost of the confident Hastings she usually was.
"I asked her to keep it a secret", Emily asserted, "but she didn't agree with me."
"Emily, you can't just do things like you're old enough to make decisions on your own", her mother scolded, "and, whether you like it or not, you're still my daughter and I am entitled to know about your health."
"I didn't know what to do."
This time she sounded so deeply honest and vulnerable (because, in this case, it was the truth) that her mother's eyes filled with tears too, and her hand stretched out on the table to catch and squeeze her daughter's. "Honey, I want the best for you, I really do."
Emily nodded, fighting the ever-present tears. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth." Although she was more sorry she was lying to her now. There was no way out.
"You need to tell me everything that's wrong."
If only she could say… but it was a bad idea. She was a liar and a failure and the person responsible for Spencer's mistake and, not only that, she had no clue what her next step was going to be. But she couldn't leave Rosewood. For a variety of reasons. And it was better if her mother left Rosewood so she would be safe… safer at least. This was not a safe place.
"I'm better now."
"What's this doctor's name?"
"Why do you want to know?", she asked, knowing she was pushing too many of her mother's buttons. "It's… It's going to be fine."
"Do you really need to ask me that?"
She parted her lips, the tongue tasted it in her mouth, but she was unable to say it.
"It's Doctor Kingston", Spencer mumbled, coming to the rescue, "he's an old friend of my family and he already treated Emily for her ulcer the first time."
Her mother looked back at Emily. "And you don't like him why?"
"I… used to…", Spencer stuttered, still trying to help, "I… He kissed me once. Twice."
"Oh."
"It was a long time ago but Emily doesn't like him."
Pam Fields seemed to retract after this confession, suddenly embarrassed to know more about her daughter's and her girlfriend's relationship. She had gone a long way in accepting Emily ever since Maya happened, and especially after Spencer happened things had been a lot easier because she was used to having Spencer around, she knew her, trusted her and liked her, but that didn't mean it was easy for her to think of, well, the fact that they were involved in certain activities that implied things such as… romantic jealousy.
Therefore, Wren Kingston did the trick.
After that, her mother promised to give two more weeks for Emily to solve her problems and go back to the team. In exchange, Emily had to offer a blood test that would prove she was ready to compete again, and a plan signed by Dr. Kingston allowing her to do it, which she would have to get… somehow. A conversation between her mother and Wren was prevented because the British doctor worked a lot of hours and was doing a personal favor with this act of amazing kindness (even though he hadn't been actually informed of it). And that was how Wren made his way back into their life again, in the form of the most absurd lie of all. It seemed particularly difficult to get rid of him, no matter what, and Emily hated herself for it, not only because this meant Spencer would be the one asking for the newest favor (she wasn't going to be as foolish as to pretend it made sense for her to try this time) but mostly because this also meant she would actually go back to the team in two weeks… to be finally exposed by A, if and when A felt like it, unless Spencer's efforts finally paid back. And then there was Peter Hastings and his fraud. It was such a great mess it was difficult to unravel it right now even for her and she was sure, if asked to give a thorough explanation, she would be rendered speechless. But that was not the case. Her mother believed her. As Alison had taught them, you had to lie, and if you didn't succeed, then you had to lie again; and the lie had to be much better. Apparently, it was a lesson that could keep you alive - until you died.
Truth didn't matter.
Success did.
Neither of them seemed reachable for Emily Fields.
They left the restaurant and she managed to steal a minute to say goodbye to Spencer while her mom retrieved the car. She told Spencer to wait a second, she said I love you, you know that, right?, and Spencer said it back, I love you too, she whispered, and of course I know that, tomorrow's your birthday and I may have something else for you, eyes glimmering in the dark, what else?, Emily asked, although she honestly didn't care about the presents, just about tonight, just about the fact that they were now saying goodbye, and still Emily couldn't believe today had ever happened in real life. Peter Hastings, Jason DiLaurentis (or Hastings too, she thought in a mix of terror and awe), Princeton, Wren Kingston… they could all go to hell, she was sold out, she was sinking down, she was drowning. The car stopped besides them and the kiss on the cheek felt like an inappropriate form of saying goodbye, and Emily watched as Spencer waved her hand and walked back to her SUV, hasty yet elegantly strolling in her discreet flats. And she loved her. It hit her clear and raw, so raw she didn't exactly know what to do with it at this point in her life except keep going forward.
When her mother dropped her off in the Marins', where she was going to sleep again tonight, she stopped a moment to say good night to Mrs. Marin, who was watching TV with a glass of wine in her hand.
Hanna was already sleeping.
The covers felt crisp and cold when she climbed into bed, and Emily rubbed her bare feet against each other, warming them up. There was a noise of paper as her body rolled over to one side, adjusting to the comfort of a better position. She used her phone to light up the night, and there it was, the message: a yellow note with capital letters, sticking up to a folder which contained one copy of a testament, a picture of Mrs. Marin kissing and sexily hugging Detective Wilden, and a copy of Hanna's police report charging her for shop-lifting, executed by Detective Wilden. She froze as she glanced over at Hanna's bed, where Hanna lied in a mess of covers and blankets, a pale thigh and a foot sticking out. Then she read the note again.
"Who will you save? – A."
A/N: I'm aware of having taken a risk with Peter Hastings, who might be slightly OOC. Sorry about that.
IRuleUK: I thanked you for your review by PM, and let me tell you that, weeks after reading it, I still appreciate it so much. Seriously. I don't know how to say it better.
Craycrayforshay: Writing the sexual tension is fun :) It's actually a lot more fun than writing anything sexual lol Thanks a lot :)
go-sullivan: Yes, yes, they're getting close and then they're letting go and then they're missing each other. It's that sense of we're fine but we're not that I want to give in writing. So thanks :)
LaughLoveLiveXx: The thing about Spemily... I don't know what the thing is. But thank you :)
dmpanda5: Yeah, that Aria-Ezra connection... in the show Aria's always tracing up to Ezra no matter what, so I wanted to underline that lol You don't sound creepy, I do think it's better to fight than to stay quiet and cold, because it means communication... But, yeah, we will see.
DelusionalDaydreams: Loving your user name... Anyway, yeah. Antsy.
latro73: Thank you, thank you, thank you :)
Mona: Yes, the bond is too strong. It's exactly like you're saying. And Spencer's insecurities... I think (in the fic) Spencer's gotten a lot better at feeling at ease with herself because of Emily, but also she is insecure because she perceives being herself as a weakness. Besides, she feels dependent on Emily. Dependency can be a weakness, that is true.
Guest: yeah, I know... Sorry :)
Spicy Emily: I'm glad you liked it :) Sex might have to wait a little longer... Ahhhh. I'm mean :)