•

"Shadow Play"

[A/N: QUICKLY POPPING IN TO SAY SPENCER'S DREAM IS NOT REAL, JUST HER IMPRESSION OF THE WORLD AROUND HER IN A NOIR TRIBUTE. CHARACTERS WILL NOT SOUND THE SAME OR INTERACT THE WAY WE KNOW.
TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDERS AND BINGE EATING, MILD HOMOPHOBIA.
THIS IS PROBABLY MY LONGEST CHAPTER TO DATE, I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY]

•

The chairs were stacked upon the desks due to the fact it was a Saturday morning. Mr Fitz's classroom was empty, as was the majority of the school. Four of the five friends snuck inside the english room, shifty eyes scanning the dead hallway for passing, curious life.

Halle had snuck them in altogether. Today was the dress rehearsal before opening night for the musical and while Hanna and Emily had more than a substantial excuse to be at school, Spencer didn't. So, Halle lied; told Mr Browne so she couldn't breathe in her 'Roxie'-solo unitard and had to pull Hanna away for private alterations. Emily came as a plus one for management then Halle opened the side door in her white robe to let Spencer in.

"How many murderesses are in the Cell block tango again?" Hanna asked when they entered. She had strutted inside first, a glaring sight in her neon pink and black lace dress.

Spencer made sure to shut the door. "Six," she said. "The song's long, they'll never miss us."

"We still got time, Han," Halle reassured her, as she tightened the tie around her towelled robe so it was secure.

Dropping her mobile from her ear, where it had been practically glued since they left they auditorium, Emily stated to the incomplete group, "Aria still isn't answering."

"She's still coming tonight, right?" Spencer double-checked with Halle.

As a response, Halle shrugged and replied, "That's what she said."

"Well, what are you gonna say when you get her anyway?" Hanna remarked in dry wit, "Isn't it funny how your old boyfriend turned out to be a stalking whack job?"

Halle tilted her head to the side, considering, and said, "Could be a little more subtle, but I'm good with that."

Emily argued indignantly, "Well, I'd like to know a lot more before we talk to her."

"That's why we're here, ain't it?" Halle said, hands out to motion at the bare, untouched classroom.

"Take this side of the desk," Spencer instructed of Emily. She looked to Hanna. "You take that file cabinet—" then to Halle, "you take that one," she said, pointing to the far corner built-in.

"What are we looking for?" Hanna asked while Emily and Halle had immediately leapt into their mission of find.

"Evidence," claimed Spencer. She bent down in sync with Emily, on opposite sides of the desk, as the pair both checked the drawers either side of the teacher's desk. Rifling through the top drawer, Spencer continued, "We're gonna need a lot more if we're gonna prove to Aria that Ezra's..." she paused, nervous in her clear discomfort, "not who he says he is."

"That he's A," Halle flatly said without remorse. She had pried open the corner's built-in cabinet, scanning the shelves and the designated spots for each class's textbooks for something hidden.

At the other end of the wall, Hanna went through the metal filing cabinet and wondered aloud, "How are we gonna convince Aria if we can't even say it out loud?"

They ignored her. The question was unsettling enough, as was their knowledge. The girls carried on with their quickening, desperate search, burying the lurching each of them felt in their guts. In the bottom drawer of the desk, Spencer froze at what she found. She collected out a weighty, brown envelope as her three friends continued to scan between books and papers in their designated areas. Hanna, on the other hand, found a distraction in everything she touched.

"If I was a teacher and my students only got me coffee mugs, I would so start flunking people," quipped Hanna, holding a mug she then set on top of the unit with the other three she had fished out.

Rolling her eyes, Halle chided, "You're flunking without buying teacher's coffee mugs."

"I'm actually doing really well at English recently," Hanna bragged with a smug grin. "Those detective books have really helped."

During their back-and-forth, Spencer had stood. The long envelope sparked her curiosity and she wanted to know why it was so heavy. Opening the fold, Spencer tipped the end and, shockingly, in to her hand fell a silver journal.

Eyes snapped up to it — at the minor gasp that Spencer released. The rest had seen it, too. This wasn't just a random journal in his desk; this was the missing one that they lost, that A stole from them.

Emily rose. "Tell me that's not what it looks like."

Drifting nearer, the group closed in around Spencer, who incessantly flipped through the journal to reveal what the niggle in all of them told them. When the journal had been opened, they saw the handwriting they knew too well at this point.

In awe, stunned with the stark truth, Hanna said, "Ali's journal."

Halle's scared gaze lifted to connect with Spencer's. "We have to go now," she said urgently. "Now — move!" Her voice soared as her fear increased. They had their proof and they had to leave before Fitz knew they were in his classroom yet alone had taken back their stolen item.

In a brisk hurry, the girls fled the room with the journal clutched in Spencer's hand. She held the door, at the bottom, agar and waited for the three to sneak out after her before Spencer shut it carefully.

"So that was Ezra at the cabin?" Emily asked quietly.

"We always knew there were two of them," Spencer responded, whispering.

They all started to whisper in their growing panic.

"Ezra and Shana?" Hanna questioned with her eyebrows lifted.

"Ezra and somebody," Spencer reiterated.

"Red Coat," Halle injected firmly. "His Red Coat."

"Who is?" asked Emily.

A door swung open in the near distance. At the clattering, the girls whirled their heads towards it. They swiftly scrambled around the corner, hiding in a panic at the heels that approached. From their strategic spot, they each skilfully peered around the wall to spy Mona.

With her stare peeled over her shoulder, her also sneaking out of dress rehearsal, Mona headed quick for the classroom the four of them had just left. After a quick survey of her surroundings, Mona entered but left the door open.

In a very quiet whisper, Emily asked, "What is Mona doing here?"

Spencer said, "I don't know."

"Is she looking for the book?" fretted Hanna.

"How should I know?" Spencer retorted.

"—Shut up!" Halle scolded them in a whisper-yell and a icy glower. "You're gonna get our asses caught."

Within the classroom, Mona clattered about. Whatever rifling Mona was doing caused a racket and made her presence known, especially with the door unlocked. She didn't have the same fear of being caught as the others did and yet her prior behaviour proved she was sneaking around in there. A huge clang sounded just before the clip of her platform heels picked up. Mona exited the classroom with her arms full to the brim with files. She squashed them to her stomach as she freed one hand to close the door, walking away after she was finished.

Still quiet, Hanna asked, "Why is Mona stealing papers from Ezra?"

"Can you please stop calling him Ezra?" pleaded Halle, fed up with the personalisation of their creep of a teacher. "Fitz is fine."

"Maybe she isn't stealing them," Spencer suspected, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

Emily's eyes bulged. "Maybe she's delivering them?"

•

From the second she had found it, Spencer fixed herself to the journal like she had done before it was taken. She poured over it, inspecting every single page for any mysterious tears that weren't 'The Cradler Robber' that Hanna had ripped out.

The fact they were in the Hastings house openly as they investigated their teacher unnerved Hanna. "Shouldn't we do this in your room?" she asked.

"No." Spencer informed, her red itchy nose stuck in the journal, "My parents are out of town, being lawyers."

With a hint of a smile pulling at her lips, Emily glanced at Halle. "Sounds romantic," she said, causing Halle to smile as well, cheeks raising in temperature.

Dryly, Spencer spoiled that. "Yeah, one's in Chicago, the other one's in Boston," she retorted, sniffing rather aggressively afterwards.

Hanna jumped in her stool, backing off at the disgusting sound that Spencer did, while Halle ignored it entirely. Her soft smile had twisted into a playful smirk as Halle mentioned, "There's always cell-phones and photos."

"Is there?" Emily asked, her voice raised in pitch as she flirted back. "You should tell me more about that."

"Please don't," Spencer begged with her face contorted up. "Because then I'll have the image of my parents doing whatever you two are and I can't have that right now. It's too full with Ali and Fitz."

Halle peered at Emily and mouthed, "Later," winking cheekily when she saw the delighted look on her girlfriend's face.

Focused on the journal again, Spencer told them, "I don't think there are any pages missing." She sniffed again, this time against the back of her hand; much more discreet than the first one.

"Okay—" Hanna was fed up after two sniffles, "are you, like, getting a cold?

Spencer faced her, startled at the abrupt direction. "Allergies," said Spencer.

Crossing her arms, Emily asked, "What about the phone number and email addresses I found with the money?"

"Well, I have a reverse directory for that phone number," Spencer explained, "and we can send emails to those addresses, but I think we should do it from someplace that can't be traced."

"There's an internet café in Philly," Halle said easily. "We pay with cash, it's quiet there — we can be and out."

"Great," Hanna said without a hint of praise. "What about the cameras? A can hack them, remember?"

"That's why you wear unidentifiable clothing, Han," patronized Halle. "You know, not like your dress."

"So, what? We wear a hoodie?" Hanna asked, rolling her eyes. She huffed, "Might as well go as A."

"We are," Halle said to her, shocking the dark blonde to snap her eyes to Halle. "I mean, if Fitz is gonna know we're onto him, I'm gonna screw with his head. And trust, if he don't know which one of us it is or if his Red Coat is turning on him, his ego is gonna take the hit."

"Good point," praised Spencer. Abruptly, she then wondered, "What do we know about Shana?"

Stunned slightly, Emily put out in puzzlement, "That she's missing."

"No, I mean, really," Spencer corrected, mildly peeved at her lack of information. "What do we know?"

"She was— is friends with Alison," Halle evenly stated. She managed to list what Mona had told her. "Her parents lived next door to Grandma D in Georgia and Shana moved here two years ago for a swimming programme, and moved to Rosewood High, like, two weeks ago when Alison showed her face."

"Don't you find it annoying that Ali had another friend we knew nothing about, that she was involved in this?" Spencer posed to them in her own irritation. "Like, why are CeCe and Shana—" she pulled a face, "Ali's lifelines and not us?"

"Because, Spencer," dragged out Hanna, "A's not looking at them like he is us."

"Until he is," Emily pointed out. "CeCe said she left town because she was scared of Wilden, what if she was really scared of A being onto her? She couldn't sneak around for Ali anymore."

"'Cos CeCe made herself known to us," Spencer jumped at that explanation. "The same way Shana did when she transferred schools."

"You think Fitz has scared Shana off the game-board?" Emily asked, trembling.

"Something scared her into not showing up for that money," Spencer concluded.

Halle said, "But Shana ain't involved the same way that CeCe was, right? At least not That Summer."

"But she's involved with all of us now," Spencer replied. "And a lot more people than us, too."

Sheepishly, Hanna voiced, "She was with Paige."

Frustrated, at her tethered end, Emily narrowed her stare. "Can we please not go there?"

"I'm just saying, we don't really have a lot of details about that," Hanna defended her interest. It caused Emily to blink in shock at the intrusion. "Okay, not those kind of details," said Hanna. "I mean, did Shana ever mention anything about Georgia? Something that connects with where Ali's hiding?"

"I thought you didn't want us looking for Ali," Emily recalled accusatorially.

When Hanna bit her lip at the call-out, Spencer filled the empty space. "I think A changed the rules on that," Spencer said for them.

"You think?" Halle scoffed. "There's, like, a whole ass news truck at the end of street, Spence. I got crowded by a pack of 'em yesterday."

"Yeah, hers and Jason's face were on every station," Emily said. "They're coming for us."

Reclining in the stool, Hanna shook her head and commented to Halle, "I can't believe you screamed."

"I was scared, Han," Halle countered defensively. "I wasn't expecting it."

"But you screamed," Hanna repeated. "You screamed—"

"Alright—I get it!" Halle cut in, her hands up and splayed. Irritation perched on her tongue, ready to be lashed out at somebody if another person crossed her. "Can we forget 'bout it already?"

"Well, that's not happening," Spencer replied. As proof, she snatched up the remote, switched on the small anchored television in the kitchen, and allowed the footage to play on mute. It showed the DiLaurentis house from down the end of the curve, from the right, a reporter in the bottom corner speaking. "It's a live feed," Spencer stated. "They've been there since the Rosewood Observer came out."

"This is such crap!" exclaimed Emily. Her arm flew out towards the television. "They can't do this, can they?" She faced Spencer. "What have your parents said?"

"Don't answer the door and no comment," Spencer revealed pitifully.

"Oh, great," Halle muttered sarcastically. "They tell you this before or after they decided to be lawyers outta state?"

"What do you think?" Spencer returned to her friends.

"I think you're staying at mine tonight," Halle said, firm but still gentle.

With a soft smile, Spencer appreciated the kindness. "Thanks, but Toby's letting me stay with him until they're back. It's easier to hide out at his, too."

"Well, I'm in the same place Emily is with this," Hanna claimed. "I mean, I'm more angry than I am scared."

"Look," Halle sighed and elaborated, "if we need to figure this out and Georgia is our lead right now, then there's only one reason Alison would go there."

"What's that?" asked Hanna, confused.

"Well, what do we know about Georgia?" Halle responded, opening up to the group.

"That Ali stayed there with her grandma That Summer," Emily remembered.

"Before she saw Ian at the Hilton Head," Spencer inserted knowingly.

"Yeah, and she stayed there for one of two reasons," Halle said matter-of-factly. "One—" she put up a finger, "she got Jason rewritten outta the will, and two—" she put up another, "she hid the money she got from blackmailing people."

"Like Aria's dad," Hanna realised, eyes lighting up.

"Exactly," Halle said.

"She hid fifteen-grand there," Spencer sparked up, "of course she's gonna want that money."

Halle led, "And when she found out it wasn't there..."

"Alison reached out to the only person she knew who had a Georgia and Rosewood connection," Spencer followed with ease. "It's why Shana was helping her, to find out where the money is."

"But Jason has the money," Emily said. "He found it under the floorboards."

"Yeah, but Alison can't ask him for it, he thinks she's dead and A's watching her family the same way he's watching us," Halle suspected logically.

"So, if Alison risked telling Shana she was alive," Hanna began nervously, "then she must really need that money." Her eyes had lifted and landed on Emily more expectantly than the others.

"Okay, so what do you want me to do?" snapped Emily under the pressure. "Interrogate my ex-girlfriend about her summer fling so we can find out where Shana is?" she threw out.

Hanna found that reasonable. "Basically."

It cause Emily to scoff, hurt and in disbelief. "The last time I spoke to Paige, she was nothing short of a cow. I had to threaten her so she wouldn't out Halle," she remined them all. "No—" Emily defiantly crossed her arms, "I'm not talking to her — one of you do it."

Heart fluttering at Emily's fierce defence of her, Halle couldn't help but find her girlfriend more attractive. The stubbornness only made Emily more hot and Halle's cheeks felt just the same, hotter by just witnessing Emily in such a powerful and protective way. Trying to calm the itch Halle wanted to scratch, the swell of lust she felt towards the girl next to her, she sought out a distraction. She asked Spencer, "Look, ain't there some sort of Mona/Fitz connection we should be worrying about?"

Hanna sulked at that. "I cannot worry about anything else." She said, moaning, "My brain is full."

"So's mine," Spencer added on. "We'll tag up on this later," she suggested. "After opening night, Aria should be back then then."

"She's still coming tonight, right?" questioned Hanna.

"Should be," Halle answered. "She text to say she was this morning."

At that, three of four began to move. Spencer was gearing up to escort her friends out of the kitchen when she noticed that Emily had yet to move. "What?"

Emily's brain ticked, trying to make sense of all she had absorbed at the kitchen island. She attempted to slot the pieces together, but there was doubt behind every move telling it was the wrong one. "Did it ever occur to your guys that we found that book awfully easy?"

"What are you thinking?" Spencer returned, her arms folded.

"I'm thinking, what if it wasn't A who put that book in the desk," Emily mustered up.

"Em," Hanna sighed dramatically, "get real." She told them without hesitation, "This is all about the A-ness of things."

Halle was struck by the sentence — at how crude it accidentally sounds. Her brows quirked up at it. "Wow..."

"Yeah," Spencer stifled a smile, "I would not have said like that, but Hanna's right."

A wide grin broke out across Hanna's face. She happily said, "I love when you say that."

Emily went to comment on her suspicions further when her jaw slackened. Her mouth opened and closed several times, stunned. Then, she snapped into action. "Quick, where's the remote?" She rushed them, alarming the three there. "Something's happening."

The television captured Emily's attention followed by the incomplete group also. They were brisk, settling in at the width of the island counter to stare the screen. Spencer snatched up the remote and flipped on the volume as a reporter edged closer to the DiLaurentis house because a car had pulled in to view.

"—And her we have the mother to murdered teen, Alison DiLaurentis, arriving home," said the woman to her microphone. "Our sources say she's been unreachable since the allegations were made. And—And—" The woman flooded with a surge of excitement, seeing her story break when the door to the house opened. Halle's heart pained as she witnessed Jason exit his home-sanctuary to help his mother. "And we have Jason DiLaurentis, brother to the late Alison, too." She yelled at them, "Do either of you have anything to say about the Rosewood Observer claims? Have you spoken to Alison's friends?"

Halle's hand travelled up to her throat, clutching. She held her breath; a collective hurt was shared among the four who watched from the Hastings' kitchen. Jason had come out to collect his mother, helping her carry sleek shopping bags with Nelian's Departments plastered over the front, his back purposefully put to the intrusive camera to shield Jessica.

"She went shopping?" Emily asked, utterly perplexed. She spared a glance to Halle. "I thought Jason said she was hiding out her aunt's?"

Her stare was locked on the screen, baffled by what she saw as well. "He did."

Musing, Hanna pouted her lips and wondered, "What do you think she bought?"

At that, Emily moved her eyes to Hanna and shot her a steely look. "Are you kidding me? They're been hounded on their front porch and you wanna know what new shirt she got?"

"What?" Hanna defended with a shrug, "They've got a sale on."

"Guys, shhh," Spencer hushed them, waving her hand in the air as she turned up the volume to hear better.

"—Do either of you have a comment?" persisted the reporter, even as Jason and Jessica climbed the porch steps. "Do you still think Ian Thomas or Garrett Reynolds killed Alison? Anything to say about the girls lying? Do you—?"

The DiLaurentis front door was slammed in their faces. It was jarring. All four girls flinched back; Halle knew it was Jason's temper. The female reporter faced the camera. "Looks like we won't be hearing from the family anytime soon," she informed. "It's been eighteen hours since the Rosewood Observer published the article accusing the best friends of the late Alison DiLaurentis of lying to the police. So far none of the five teens nor their families have spoken out about the allegations." She smiled. "This is Sara Shepherd, New 9, reporting from outside the DiLaurentis family home—"

In a rage, Spencer shut off the show. The screen went black. None of them spoke. They didn't dare to. The girls were each in their own heads, stewing over the insanity their worlds had become. It turned them sour. They were far from victims in the public's eye now; they were playing victim. Rosewood had called them out and labelled them liars. Until either Ezra was arrested for being A or Alison came home with all the answers, that was all the five would ever be.

Pretty Little Liars.

•

The excitement was electric. The insane rush had struck each and every student and adult behind the scenes. With time, the anxiety snowballed. Despite the news earlier, Halle felt the most alive when everybody was mantic; it made her feel almost normal. Her hands tingled with sparks of anticipation, magnetised to the thrill of a busy, organised chaos of high school theatre. Mr Browne ran around catering to everyone's nerves, needs and questions. He was in a mad frenzy trying to ease it all while Halle was grateful for her little helper in the form of her anti-anxiety meds to calm her during the storm, but she could feel it rising slowly.

"It's twenty minutes until showtime, people!" yelled out Browne. Encouragingly, he flashed them all a bright, wide grin. "It's filling up."

With her head poked through the front curtains, Hanna was in awe of the rumble of the auditorium filling up. A trickles of people were still entering through the two back doors either side of the condensed rows of seats. The smattering chatter travelled all the way from the back and rolled up towards the stage and behind the curtains. "Oh, my god," Hanna announced to Halle. "It's gonna be packed out there. Who knew so many people wanna see a high school musical? It's not like Zac Efron's here," she dryly threw out, hoping for a chuckle from Halle.

"Could kinda use him right now for the distraction," Halle muttered out, slipping out of the pink, designed to be haggard-looking from her shoulders. "Is Aria here yet?"

"Not that I can see, but we've still got, like, twenty minutes," Hanna returned over her shoulder. The noise quietened when Hanna let the curtains fall, dulling it to the bustling backstage area. She walked over to Halle, who was stood in front of a full-length mirror, admiring her first costume: a beautiful, sliver unitard that dripped with tassels of shimming faux-crystals and iridescent beads that rippled when the light hit them. "You look amazing," Hanna made sure to compliment.

"Well, you—" Halle smiled proudly at her friend and praised right back at her, "did an amazing job with the costumes." She told Hanna, "I've never looked better."

"Now I know that's a lie," Hanna said, smiling. She joined Hanna, coming to stand behind her friends, arms threading arounds Halle's waist into a hug. "You always look great."

"Then, I look extra great 'cos of you," Halle replied. "This is gonna be worth a lot of money one day — a collector's item."

Boasting, Hanna said, "And I'll be super charitable and gift the money to the school textiles department as a thanks for my start."

"Wow," Halle beamed as she teased, "talented and humble."

"Always," chimed Hanna, her head rested against Halle's as they both looked in the mirror. Hanna was more than content with what she was reflected back at her — if anything, she was proud.

Whereas, Halle gradually lost her chill. She held tightly onto Hanna, letting the worry finally seep out into her features. "What if I mess it up?" asked Halle, suddenly vulnerably when she was being hugged. "What if I miss a step, or I'm off-key?"

Hanna laughed sweetly and said, "The Halle Brewster I know would never miss a step, she's too good." She reassured, "You're gonna smash it out there tonight, and you kind of have to."

"Why?" Halle asked, confused slightly.

"Because you're wearing my designs," Hanna answered simply. "And that's bad luck especially when..." Her smile grew large, spreading across the entire bottom half of her face, "I'm sending off the photos to the Fashion Institute."

Happiness swelled in Halle instantly. "Oh, my god! — Hanna!" Halle span around so fast, she almost whipped Hanna with the tassels on her costume; and she flung her arms around her friend. "That's amazing! Oh, my—" she pulled back, sighing through her smile, "why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now," Hanna responded. "But it's what I've wanted for years, and I can actually see myself there now after years of never knowing if I could... If I was good enough. And New York," Hanna let out a huge sigh and said, "it's my dream."

"You were always good enough, Han," Halle said, and hugged her friend once more, even tighter now. "You're gonna be amazing in New York."

"Are you all ready?" Mr Browne interrupted their sweet embrace. He took notice of it and minor panic flashed in his eyes, seeing the glassy glaze to theirs. "Are you alright here, girls? Good tears? Bad?"

Halle pulled away slightly from Hanna, but kept her close with a loose arm around Hanna's waist. "Yeah, yeah, all good here," she said.

"You're certain?" he questioned out of concern for his lead.

"For sure," Halle confirmed with an adamant nod.

"Great!" said Browne enthusiastically. Because I really don't need my lead spacing out on me less than twenty minute until curtains. And I saw the news today and I wanted to check—" while he spoke, Hanna glanced to see how dejected Halle had abruptly got, "you were all good to go," he said.

"I can assure you, Mr Browne," Hanna started most supportively, a smile on her face and a hand on her heart, "your Roxie Hart is reporting for duty and gonna blow you away tonight."

"I'm sure she will," Browne agreed in great confidence. He went to walk off when he pulled back, facing the dark blonde. "Oh, and, Hanna—" he surprised her by remembering her name, "great job. If you need a recommendation letter for college, ask," he said

At the extreme praise, Hanna lit up. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he replied. He struck up his two thumbs and remined Halle, "Show-circle in ten."

"Sure, got it," Halle said before he dashed off to see to the next person.

"Ahh!" squealed Hanna happily. She was practically beaming. "He thinks I did I great job — me!"

With a chuckle, Halle remarked, "I said the same thing, like, ten seconds ago and you didn't make that noise."

Hanna gave her friends a playful push and said, "Yeah, but he's the one in charge."

It happened fast. One Halle was smiling ready to serve a witty comeback at Hanna, the next she stiffened. Her whole body went rigid. "Yeah, but so is he," Halle said, her wary stare focused on Fitz as he appeared at last, twenty minutes before the show began.

Huffing, Hanna folded her arms over her chest and mused, "I was wondering when he was gonna show his face."

"Ditto," Halle shared.

The pair watched and judged. Mr Fitz strolled in like he was the final cog to make the machine function at full-capacity, like it wouldn't work without him. He was the most important piece. He smiled and chatted complimentarily with cast members. Fitz had fashioned himself a man of many hats: teacher, confidant, writer, poor boy, rich man, co-director of a musical, groomer, stalker, romantic. Somehow, he could never blend them all seamlessly together and once it slipped, none of them fit right.

"I better go find my seat," Hanna said, and glanced at Halle. "You gonna be okay?"

"No," Halle answered truthfully. "But—" she reassured Hanna with a smile, "Em's 'round here, she's got my back."

"With the way you two flirt, she's got more than that," Hanna devilishly joked. "She's got hands full."

"Shut your face," Halle said, chuckling through her burning face. "I'll see you in the intermission."

"Good luck," Hanna wished.

"Thanks," Halle responded, softly smiling.

After Hanna walked away — exiting the backstage area and avoiding Fitz but still shooting a death glare to the back of their teacher's head — Halle felt her stomach drop several stories. Fitz looked at her and smiled. Halle wanted to do the same as Hanna had, just to his face; let him know the revulsion she felt towards him. Yet, Halle remembered she couldn't, so she settled for a pressed smile then faced away.

For a distraction, she fiddled with the beaded tassels. Halle pretended to tangle and untangle them just so she didn't have to lie her way through a conversation with Fitz — A. In the mirror, still messing, her eyes lifted and met the soft brown ones that inspired hope in her chest. A bright, genuine smile crossed her mouth at the image of her girlfriend.

"Wow, you look so hot," flirted Emily, her gaze wide in astonishment. "Remind me to thank Hanna."

Halle's smile grew larger, into a playful grin. "You should come over here and thank me first," she boldly said.

Hesitant, Emily held back. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, get over here," Halle urged, almost laughing at how quick Emily was to agree.

They kissed sweetly at first. Halle put her hands on Emily's face, holding it, while Emily's worked their way to Halle's hair. Fingers soon slipped through the glossy silk-press Halle had gotten done that afternoon, and they pair focused only on melting into each other. Smiles broke through with each kiss, open mouths moving against another, collecting up the bravery both exhibited in their show of affection.

The two were so wrapped up that neither Halle or Emily had noticed the set of eyes watching them and another watching him. Fitz spotted the kissing couple while Mona eyes him out of suspicion. Lately, she treated him with caution, afraid of what even a minor slip could mean for her. She worried for Halle. They weren't friends, not really, however the joint experience of working on the musical had helped heal the fractured opinions of each other. After the musical, Mona could see they being really good friends if they tried. Mona wanted more than anything to try, so used her first available opportunity to warn Halle.

Soon, the buzz of the lively auditorium could no longer be numbed by the curtains. As the cast and crew collected in on huge show-circle, the full-house was known to them by the overlapping chatter and dullened thunder of hoards finding their seats. It stirred up more nerves, some of the team shaking in trepidation. Mr Browne had sense as such, decidedly prepared to qualm the brewing storm.

"Alright, alright!" began Mr Browne loudly, clapping twice to gain everybody's attention in the circle. "I know, I know — we're nervous, I can feel it, but if we all try to relax, we can enjoy this more."

The students gathered in quiet. They respected him and what he had to say. They waited for him to speak, listening intently. Browne was the heart of the show, the real authentic composer of the theatre while Fitz stood as a figurehead at the final curtain to lap up the applause.

"Before we go out there on that stage," he continued, pointing but never taking his stare of his circle, "I hope you're all really proud of yourselves — of your fellow peers — and this team. Because I am." Browne told them, "What you've managed to achieve, the hours and dedication you're put in to this show is outstanding. Your craftsmanship should be welcomed in every aspect of life, not just the theatre. It can teach you — spread yourself too thin, don't take that risk, and you'll never know. Now, you do," he declared gladly. "You all took that risk, and you guys found out that pressure makes diamonds." He sent a small smile to his leads. "Sometimes even stars. So!" he went louder. "I wanna be the first to give you guys your flowers. Congrats on this show, you are all magnificent, truly!"

"Go, Mr Browne!" cheered Simon, leading the clapping for their director.

At it, Browne displayed humility. "Let's go Sharks." He spared a look to his left. "Mr Fitz, anything to add?"

Clearing his throat, Fitz awkwardly seized his chance. "That, uh... Thanks to you guys—" his hands fell into a prayer, directing it out towards them, "for making my first musical a memorable one. It's been an honour creating this with you. Let's try and bring the house down, hey?" he finished with great excitement, fuelling the large group on. "Go Sharks!"

"Go Sharks!" the cast and crew chorused.

They dispersed once Browne declared, "Places — less than ten minutes till showtime, people!"

Emily squeezed Halle's hand lovingly. "Good luck out there."

"Good luck back here," Halle jokingly replied, pecking her girlfriend's cheek quickly before she rushed off. Smiling to herself, really happy right now, Halle walked off to the long, joint vanity station to grab the dressing gown for the first number, 'Funny Honey'. She was double-checking her reflection when Mona approached.

"Hey—" Halle smiled at her through the mirror, "shouldn't you be by the stage already?"

"I should, but I needed to talk to you first," Mona mentioned.

"Well, can't it wait?" Halle said, "You're on soon."

"No — it can't." Mona rushed to the point. "I saw you and Emily kissed earlier and I—"

"It's not a big deal, Mona, don't make it one," Halle reassured. "Yeah, we're dating, it's a new thing, I'm bi."

Mona inhaled. "I wasn't the only one who saw," she said, and Halle dropped the fun from her tone. She noticed how Mona's eyes drifted to the stage access, lingering on Fitz as he readied the cast. "Don't let him ruin it."

"Him?" Halle questioned, filling rapidly with dread. "You mean Fitz? Mona, why would he—?"

"Mona!" shouted the devil himself. Fitz snapped his fingers at her and she flinched. "You're on, now."

"I'm coming," Mona called out obediently. She trembled, terror on her face.

"Mona—" Halle was cut off when Mona turned to plead.

"Don't make a scene," Mona begged in a scared whisper. "Please." She shook her head adamantly. "Not here," she said, back off to go to her spot.

Alone, Halle was left to spiral. She churned over what Mona had said to her. Fitz, Mona hinted with her loitering eyes, don't let him ruin it. Halle's mind rushed to a dark place — that Mona was smart enough to figure out Ezra's A-involvement — that she had be reluctantly roped into playing the game again by him.

But how could he ruin Halle and Emily? Was it a threat? Has he sent Mona to deliver it? Why?

The only explanation Halle had was weak. It was Aria. A would bargain Emily's safety to keep the secrecy of his identity from Aria. It was an easy task. All Ezra had to do was pull on the Alison-string and Halle and Emily fought. It was that sensitive. But surely Ezra should know, from all his A-knowledge, that Halle couldn't break Aria's heart like that? Halle couldn't possibly betray her and expose Ezra so flippantly.

She wouldn't.

She couldn't.

Even if Halle should.

•

"Are you okay?"

Spencer had been knocked multiple times on her way to find her seat. It was her own fault. Toby had arrived early to pick Spencer up, hurried her along because he didn't want to be late for Halle's big show, and Spencer hadn't gotten the chance to shot back a couple of pills. Now, the numerous sleepless night caught up to her. She was hot and sweaty; her nice dress she chose stuck to her damp body. She couldn't seem to move her limbs when she wanted to or how she wanted. Everything was on a delay.

Securely, Toby pulled her away from the people she had bumped into and offered them his sincerest apologies. He shortly found their seats and sat her down in the aisle seat. His next — most important — question was directed at Spencer. "Are you okay?" he repeated. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Spencer lied to him. She zoomed past tired and ended up a complete and utter exhaustion. She swore if she hadn't been sitting, she would've fainted. "I think I'm just..." she took a pause for a deep, achy breath, "I didn't get much sleep last night."

With a glossy show programme in his hand, dressed in a smart shirt and jeans, Toby asked her, "Do you want me to take you home?"

She was shaking her head. "You'd miss the start."

"Halle's not in the first song, Emily told me," Toby reasoned. "If I take you now, I can be back before Halle goes on and—"

"No, no," Spencer interrupted him, blowing air out twice to cool herself down, "I wanna see the show, I promise Halle I'd be here," she said.

"So did others by the looks of it," Toby commented, his gaze raised to the other side of the auditorium. There, making their way down the left aisle, were Jason and Jessica DiLaurentis; the latter was all smiles and merry greetings while a brooding Jason just wanted to find his seat. "Did you know they were coming?"

"No," Spencer admitted. She hadn't thought the pair would leave the DiLaurentis house after the local new channel had permanently parked themselves at the end of Bridgewater terrace. She ducked her head low. She couldn't risk facing Jason like this; he'd recognise the symptoms too well, especially in half of his mirror. "Toby," she said. "Toby—" she grabbed at his hand, pulling at him, "sit down."

"Yeah, I will," Toby responded. "Just, let me say hi to Halle's folks first, okay?" His focus was split between his girlfriend and Riley, who waved exuberantly at him from the seat she stood on, surrounded by the Brewster family. "I'll be two minutes, okay?" he asked, kissing Spencer's head before he took off.

Spencer eyed her boyfriend walk to Halle's family and be wholeheartedly welcomed into the fold. Halle's parents doted on Toby. Nick clapped a hand to Toby's shoulder, proudly introducing him to the extended family who had shown out for Halle's performance, including Halle's paternal grandparents and her beloved maternal nana along with her carer. Luisa reached up to sweetly smooth out his collar before bending backwards to introduce him to her frail but forever glamorous mother. Riley had to be pried from hanging off Toby by Myles when all the nine-year-old wanted to do was smother him because she adored him the most.

A smile pulled at the corner of Spencer's mouth, admiring the interaction. She raised her hand when Luisa glanced her way and waved. Spencer recalled Radley and the mantra that got her through it — Halle's nice, cosy family, which now only burst with more love. Hers wasn't warm nor fuzzy. As she looked to her side to find empty seats that strangers would fill not her parents, Spencer's eyes drifted to find Jason. In a simple navy suit, the discomfort was clear of his face while he loosened his tie and busied his stare to the programme; his mother was animatedly chatting with a couple of women on the school board. Jason was on the outside like Spencer. The black sheep of the family. Spencer wondered if that was where her true family lay — with her half-brother.

"Hey." Aria's petite form shuffled her way into the row in front of Spencer, peering over at friend with a smile, and grabbed Spencer's attention. She was with Hanna and Mike, the latter there to support Mona. "Did you know Halle's nana was coming?"

"Uh—" Spencer blinkered, "no, I had no idea," she said.

"Hal looks amazing," Hanna commented with a wide grin. She giddily told them, "She looks so hot, like, it's a crime."

"I bet," Aria said, cosying in. When she opened up her programme to Halle and Mona's picture, she said, "I'm so excited. Is she nervous at all?"

"A little, but it's Hal," Hanna answered. "She could be dying and she'd tell you it was a scratch." They laughed, heads forwards to the stage when the house lights flashed twice. "Oh, it's starting."

"Please make you way to your seats,
the show will be starting soon."

Toby re-joined Spencer, ducking in as he sat beside his girlfriend. "Hey, Lu gave me a water for you," he said of the kind offer of a bottle. "They're having a get-together at The Grille, hired it out. I said we'd think about going if you're not too tired," he added.

The lights dimmed once again, and Spencer's eyes shot from Aria to the stage. Her eyes searched, finding Noel Kahn sneak in the row behind Halle's folk, then her stare focused further ahead. She spotted Mr Fitz escape from behind the curtain and sneak down to the first row. Spencer's heart sped up, anxiety rising at seeing him sit down at the front, not before waving at someone. She shot to Aria, who smiled at him adoringly. The audience was then plunged into the dark, with Spencer only just making out the tear that tiny wave Aria gifted in return.

"The show is about to begin.
Welcome to Rosewood High's Chicago!"

•

The stage was black. Halle, in a thin nightie, had been in a singular spotlight until total darkness cascaded over her. Murmurs waved throughout the crowd, whispers of what was coming.

"And now," announced Simon the bandmaster. A light hit the side of the stage where his fake piano was forever perched. He spoke into the microphone. "The merry murderesses of the Cook County Jail, in their rendition of the Cell Block Tango."

#Pop, Six, Squish, Uh-uh, Cicero, Lipschitz#

Six white spotlights hit the stage. Mona, along with Lennon and four other girls, were in Halle's place. They were behind prison bars, in cages that slowly opened for them to prowl out like the audience was their prey.

#Pop, Six, Squish, Uh-uh, Cicero, Lipzschitz,
Pop, Six, Squish, Uh-uh, Cicero, Lipzschitz,
Pop, Six, Squish, Uh-uh, Cicero, Lipzschitz#

The six of them started to sing the chorus, belting out the lyrics. From the cells they each dragged a sturdy chair and brought them out in a line. Performed with a high vengeance shot up their spines, the moved they made were powerful and driven by resilience.

#He had it comin',
He had it comin',
He only had himself to blame,
If you'd have been there,
If you'd have seen it,
I betcha you would've done the same#

Hanna nervously watched from within the audience, nestled in the middle. She admired the performers and their insane figures, dressed in designs she helped sew. Hanna couldn't ever imagine herself in one, even now with how far she had come since... Well, Alison.

She shook her head and tried to focus on the dancing. Amazed at how in tune the six girls were their bodies, how they each could bend and snap and snake around the stage. Their elegant limbs wrapped around the chairs and Hanna's eyes were drawn to the tights on their perfect legs and how the corsets made their waists look tiny. Her tummy clenched at the sight. Hanna tended to fake the confidence most days, on the days where food drove her gain and lose control.

She sat slumped against the kitchen island. Bloated, and severely plump, Hanna felt her top could quite literally burst at the seams. If she moved, Hanna was petrified she'd hear a rip.

At first, eating made her feel better. Hanna's latest binge began as just the one slice of blueberry pie and she had a sense of control when she dove the fork into the crust-top. But, like always, it went further than one slice. Hanna didn't even get out a plate; she ate right from the tin and kept engorging herself until that control she craved had vanished with the sticky, blue filling.

Hanna ate until she physically hurt. Her stomach cried for a release, swollen and causing Hanna to topple over the counter in pain. The tears pricked her eyes soon after. That momentarily good, better feeling was replaced with the poor, disgusting thoughts she had about herself. She had kept at it until the pie was devoured and that little flicker of a smile she got when food first comforted her disappeared. Now, she was crying again.

The doorbell rang and startled her. The scary thought of being caught dawned on her, causing Hanna to jump up and panic. She went back and forth, trembling, until she snatched up the evidence of her binge. She needed to dispose of it, quickly, and dashed around the island to the trash-can. What Hanna hadn't expected was how entitled Alison was, figuring the doorbell was enough warning and waltzed right in.

Alison caught Hanna with the tin mid-air hovering over the trash. Her eyes judged the sneaky act of hiding the evidence of her little, obvious habit. Instantly, Hanna welled up as she prepare for the floodgates to open. Her tears splashed down and hit the tin, so she set it aside ready to give an excuse.

Graceful, in her angelic form, Alison softened rather than choosing to be mean. She moved in and placed a hand on Hanna's arm. "I understand," said Alison.

Hanna let out a sob at the unexpected tenderness and allowed Alison to hug her like she wasn't gross. She waited waited for the incoming condition to the touch, which was no doubt coming soon.

Against her head, to the sound of Hanna's leaky tears, Alison released her pity. "Poor Hanna," she said and pulled away. Alison wiped at Hanna's pink, soaked face. "You don't have to feel this way," she told her. "I can show you how to get rid of it."

#He had it comin'
He had it comin'#

The chorus rocked Hanna. It startled her back to reality. Her stomach still hurt at the distant memory, one that affected to this day. Triggered by the song, Hanna recalled that frightened, confused girl who was far too impressionable to doubt the impact a friends could have on her. Alison devastated Hanna's life. Food became a bigger secret, and Hanna morphed into a sad bundle who deemed sitting on a camping chair scary in case it broke and Alison laughed. Watching the dancers shimmy around those chairs, Hanna wondered if she'd ever not feel that way if Alison came home.

#He only had himself to blame,
If you'd have been there,
if you'd have seen it#

The sweat trickled down the side of Spencer's dull face. It slipped, cold to the touch. She fought tirelessly against sleep. Spencer willed her eyes opened when all they wanted to do was shut. Her thoughts kept going to Alison and That Summer and why she needed the pills the first time around. Her tongue was dry and heavy; she wanted to take another.

#I betcha you would've done the same#

All was fine. They had even been giggling when they came inside from a day sunbathing by the hot-tub. While Spencer and Alison wore their bikinis, Hanna shielded her body from getting a tan with an oversized shirt. She felt normal, although she didn't look like either of her friends, but Alison surely put a stop to that when Hanna picked up the first cookie.

With a disgruntled face, Alison patronised her. "Are you really gonna eat that, sweetie?" Her smile was fake. "I'm being a friend, Hanna."

Spencer barely had the chance to speak out or against the implication that Alison made when Melissa entered from the side door. The elder Hastings sibling tugged her boyfriend, Ian, along as she threw out, "Aren't you supposed to be at Alison's?"

They were, Spencer went to say, but Alison changed her mind for some reason.

Again, another person spoke first. "Hi, girls," met Ian Thomas nicely. He was always nice, Spencer was reminded as she stood up straighter for him to better see her new bikini.

"Hi, Ian," Alison said, beating her friend to it. She also showed off her body, angling it better so the older boy could see more youthful flesh, but Ian's attention was elsewhere. It was on Spencer. He even gifted her a friendly nickname.

"You still need help with your scoop, Spence?" he said. "I've got my stick in the car."

"Ian!" Melissa gave her boyfriend a playful show. "What are you, her babysitter?" She laughed at her own joke and started to pull him along behind her again.

Out of jealousy, and spiking anger at being ignored, Alison inched from the side-lines where Ian had shelved her into the main game. "You need to tell your sister."

Melissa pulled back, not aware of how drained of colour Ian had gotten because of the few secrets the sisters had. Ian Thomas was the first. "Tell me what?"

While Hanna was completely clueless, Spencer did her very best to appear the same. With a polite smile, Spencer avoided Alison's powerful stare and said to her older sister, "Nothing."

Baffled but not bothered, Melissa smiled and quickly let it go like it was too childish for her to cling to. Melissa only ever thought of Alison as childish; that opinion formed long before Spencer was her friend. She glanced at a relieved Ian to roll her eyes then succeeded in dragging him away.

When the coast was clear, Spencer immediately fixed Alison with a steely look. "Outside," she ordered.

The tension between them was apparent and stretched from the kitchen to the back porch. Spencer led Alison there and slammed the door shut after them when Alison had finished carelessly joined her. On the other hand, Spencer was livid. "What the hell are you doing?"

Headstrong, Alison crossed her arms over her chest and so much as informed Spencer of what she was going to do. "She's gonna find out."

Mirroring her close friend's actions out of defence, Spencer replied, "No, she's not."

Alison then smirked. "I promise you, she is," she said. "Because if you don't tell her, I will."

Easily threatened, Spencer recoiled. "I thought you were my friend."

"Don't you get it?" said Alison. "I'm trying to help you do the right thing."

"It was one kiss," Spencer argued fiercely.

Scoffing, Alison turned her back. She didn't believe Spencer, not when Ian flat-out blanked her in the kitchen for Spencer.

Desperately, Spencer snatched at Alison's forearm. "Now, you listen to me, Alison."

"Or what?" Alison snarled, jaw clenched, ready for a fight.

Lowly, almost whispering, Spencer broke the second dam to their friendship; the first was when Alison called Spencer a 'skank' for kissing Ian in the first place. "If you say one word to my sister about Ian, I will tell everyone the truth about The Jenna Thing," she spat and watched the fury form across Alison's perfect features.

#He had it comin',
He had it comin',
He took a flower in its prime#

Spencer scared herself. She blinked over and over, eyes overwhelmed by the flashing red and white, glaring lights. The furious, building crescendo had the girls on the stage singing out — almost shouting at her, reminding Spencer of the hate she held for Alison That Summer. She had motive, the police were certain. She yawned, bringing the tiredness on as the show continued.

#And then he used it,
And he abused it,
It was a murder,
But not a crime#

Her headset felt heavy. It weighed a ton around Emily's head, the pressure squashing her jumbled thoughts. Emily clenched her fists at her side, the phantom feeling of a shovel in her hands as the hurt came hurtling back.

Emily was full dressed. Her hair was still wet from the shower after convincing Alison to come swimming with her on a Saturday; their swim-coach tended to open up the pool for the team on the weekends. However, with the lack of rush around them like on school days, Alison took her sweet time getting ready.

The attractive blonde was wrapped up in a towel, her white lace bra hung over the locker door. She wanted Emily to notice — to comment on it —  but Emily was far too shy. It was a waste since everything Alison was for show — for the attention. "I need to find a French family that's dying to host a nice girl from Pennsylvania," said Alison, as she rung out her hair with a smaller towel. She tilted her head up at the fantasy. "Paris would be so awesome."

Unabashed, and definitely not shy like Emily, Alison let the towel drop. She rid herself of both towels and confidently displayed her naked body in front of her close friend. She gave Emily, who did all she could to refuse to look at Alison's glistening form, a full-show and a smile. "Roll out of bed, eat a croissant, shop for two hours, take a nap at the Louvre—" Alison popped out a hip as she spoke fondly of her imagination, smirking a tad when she spied Emily pick up the towel for her with a gentle smile on her face, "eat another croissant, shop for two hours."

She finished with a smile she knew would inspire hope and more pining within Emily then, sharply, Alison turned away. She cut it off. Emily was so caught up in the smile that she didn't even fully process how Alison's version of life didn't involve work or worrying about money. Emily's did and she was still in Rosewood. But Alison's intention had worked. There was no shame when Emily glanced over the curve of Alison's spine, fuzzy butterflies swimming inside of her as she wondered if Alison's skin was as soft as it looked; and if Alison was the same as Emily.

If she liked girls. If she liked Emily. After all, they had kissed in the library.

Still showing off, Alison sought for the attention she needed to exist. This time, with her new bra in her hands, she actively wanted Emily to give it to her. "Oh, have you seen this?" Alison bragged, "I got it in a French catalogue. They have them in, like, every colour." She smirked at how fixed Emily's gaze was on the pretty lace. Sliding her arms through the loops, she peeped at her longing friend over her bare shoulder, whose eyes lingered on her, and requested, "Do me a favour? Hook it for me, would you?"

At her fingertips, Alison toyed with Emily's sensitive feelings. She liked the longing looks and soft way that Emily treated her as if Alison would bruise. Emily's crush glowed. The devotion was clear and Emily would never risk the opportunity to share another kiss that meant something to her. She wouldn't say no; she liked Alison too much.

Gently, Emily reached out and swept Alison's damp hair from where it fell on her exposed back. Emily took ahold of the two ends of the bra and pulled them together, hooking it closed. It all seemed to play out slowly in Emily's mind and without thinking — because all her thoughts were masked with Alison and great expectations — Emily bridged the space between them and put the lightest of kisses to the back of Alison's neck.

In shock, Alison bolted forward. "What are you doing?" Gone was any trace of the previous smile or the playfulness of their prior conversation.

It triggered Emily. Her first response was fear. It suck in rapidly as she had to defend her actions. "Nothing. I just..."

"You just, what?" bit Alison. She lashed out callously as she scolded her friend, "Just because we kissed in the library, Emily, doesn't mean I'm into you like that. A kiss is a kiss. I like boys." Alison didn't relent until she saw tears in Emily's eyes. "And trust me, if I'm kissing you, it's practice for the real thing."

When Alison decided that was enough, she simply put her back to Emily to continue getting dressed. Mortified, Emily had never been so embarrassed in her life. Her cheeks were blazing hot from the humiliation. Her whole world — the crush at the centre of her breaking heart — had shattered, and Emily had to get out of that locker room before she started to cry.

Fetching up her towel from out of her locker, Emily shut it and collected up her other belongings from the bench. She was going to flee — go home, crawl into bed and bury her head in her pillow as she wept.

Alison wouldn't allow that, not yet anyway. She didn't care what Emily would do afterwards; she cared about herself. "Where are you going?" she called out harshly. "You're my ride, remember?"

Emily stilled. She parked herself up against the locker. She was forced to stay put — be submerged further in her horrifying rejection as she fought back floods of tears she wouldn't shed until Alison left her.

#If you'd have been there,
If you'd have seen it#

Emily shuddered. She dropped her stare from the stage, finally realising that her fists were clenched tight. Afraid, Emily released them and readjusted her headset to be less strained. She wanted to forget; the song didn't help. All she could feel was her fingertips itch, wrapping around an invisible shovel at the front of Alison's grave.

#I betcha you would've done the same!#

The mirror seemed to slew her image. Halle stared at her reflection, praying it would change with every blink. It didn't. Halle still had to face herself and what she had done. She torn herself in two, yanked apart when she thought of That Night, the crunch and whether Alison did have it coming.

It was before the summer, in the new year, before Halle's parents decided her grandmother should go into a home. Luisa Brewster, with her mother now becoming rash and forgetful rather than ditsy, sold her mother's house and moved the woman in with them. Luisa thought she could cope. She knew she could cope because she dealt with it most of her life, but she never stopped to think of her children.

Halle walked into the living room. She approached slowly, with caution. With the new medication her grandmother was on, the elderly woman was almost unresponsive, in a constant state of never being fully present. "Nana, have you finished your lunch? Do you want anything else?" Halle noticed only a couple of bites had been taken from the sandwich, but most of the orange segments were gone. She moved the fold-out table away from the woman and then pulled out the cream-coloured box out from one of the draws in coffee table. Halle took out several orange pill bottles. With each one, she popped the cap and got as many as her grandmother needed.

Anti-convulsion. Mood Stabilizer. Anti-psychotic.

"Here, Nana, you have to take these."  Halle held out a palm-full of pills to her grandmother and passed them off into the old woman's leathered hand. She watched as her nana's hand shook rapidly as she popped them into her mouth. Halle then reached for the orange juice on the tray and held the straw to her grandmother's mouth. When her nana was done, she shook her head, and Halle moved the glass away. Her grandmother took Halle's free hand and squeezed her hand three times weakly.

I love you.

It meant I love you. Her dad had taught Halle's grandmother the same thing he did Halle when she was a child for these exact moments — when the woman was only half there. She'd squeeze her hand three times, and it meant I love you.

"I love you, too,"  said Halle. She gave her grandmother a soft smile before she moved away, out of the way of the television stuck on the shopping channel. Halle handled the pill bottles with care and placed the box back into the drawer.

On her way back into the kitchen, tray in hand, she noticed Alison was watching. Halle sent her a look and both the girls headed into the kitchen, at the back of the house. Halle put the tray on the counter. "I told you to stay in here," Halle said, annoyed. She started cleaning the leftovers into the bin. "I told you to come in through the back-door because nana was in the living room."

"It's not my fault you've gotten all secretive since she got here, that's your mom's fault," Alison reminded her. The blonde picked at her nail-polish, bored watching Halle busy herself with cleaning up. "What's wrong with her? She's, like, a vegetable," Alison said, grossed out by it.

Halle slammed the plate down in the sink. She snapped. "Shut your mouth, Ali!" She fiercely stared down her best friend. "Shut your damn mouth or my fist will end up in it," she warned.

Alison was taken aback by Halle's new-found anger. She screwed up her face. "My god, Hal, it was a joke."

"Not funny," Halle shortly replied.

"Look, whatever it is, you can tell me," Alison urged. "We're best friends, Halle. We have been since were were kids, long before any of the others were there for you. I'm your best friend. If you can't tell me, you can't tell anyone," she said, so Halle caved.

Halle told her, "She has bipolar. She has done all my life, most of my mom's life too. This is what one of her episodes looks like. She's practically in a coma, barely speaks or does anything."

"So that's why she's moved in with you, so you can wipe her ass?"

Halle scoffed. "God, why did I think you'd understand? She can wipe her own ass, Ali," she defended hotly. "It's just... she can't be alone now." Halle grew sad. "Normally, with the right mixtures of meds, she could function like a normal person. Yeah, she's a bit ditsy, but that's alright. Mom noticed that she was having more episodes as she got older — prolonged sad and depressive moods, anxiety about almost everything, sleeping way too much or way too little. It just wasn't good, so that's why she's here, that's why I'm looking after her. And that's why I asked you to use the goddamn side-door," she finished irritably.

"Wow, if I had to deal with all that, I'd go nuts too." Alison saw the disappointment cross her best friend's face, the uncertainty in her eyes about what it meant for her family to have her grandmother live with them. It had only been a couple weeks and Alison already took note of what it had done to Halle. It had torn her apart, split her mind in two. Alison came around the counter and then snaked her arms around Halle's waist, hugging her from behind. Alison placed a sweet kiss to her best friend's cheek and then rested her chin on Halle's shoulder. "You're gonna be okay, Hal, you always are. I promise you, this isn't gonna hurt you," said Alison sweetly.

#Yeah, but did you do it?

With her head in her hand, sulking, Halle blew out a deep breath. She did her upmost to regulate her breathing, pushing her shoulders back as she lifted her gaze to meet her own reflection. She straightened up, wiping at the smudged lipstick at the corner of her mouth, her eyes now fierce.

#Uh-uh, not guilty!#

One white beam of light landed on Mona Vanderwaal. She was the fifth murderess, Velma Kelly, the one with the longest verse. In her corseted, black mini-dress, Mona strutted forward and smirked at the blackened out crowd.

#My sister, Veronica and I had this double act,
And my husband, Charlie travelled round with us#

Two of the other girls on the stage came to stand beside her, sandwiching Mona in. She put her back to one's own behind and rested her arm on the other's shoulder as they stepped back and forth.

#Now, for the last number in our act,
We did these twenty acrobatics tricks in a row,
One, two, three, four, five, splits, spread eagles,
Back flips, flip flops,
One right after the other#

She pulled away from them. The two girls left her to stand in the shadows while Mona reached her chair, circling around it. She put her two hands on the back as she carried on with her performance.

#So this one night before the show,
we're down at the Hotel Cicero,
The three of us, boozin'
Havin' a few laughs,
And we ran out of ice,
So I go out to get some#

Mona perched herself down on the chair seductively. She positioned her legs in front of her, leant forward on them, her right hand touching her chin. She made a show of curling her fingers and tapping her red nails at her skin.

#I come back, open the door,
And there's Veronica and Charlie#

Caressing her legs, up the black tights, Mona ran her touch up and down. She ended up with her hands on her knees, ready for the big reveal of the song.

#Doing number seventeen#

In a flash, Mona used her hold to push her legs out. They landed either side of the chair, and Mona's hands snapped to the front of the seat, gripping the front of it.

#The spread eagle#

Bringing her left leg around to the right side of the chair, Mona tilted her head back and feigned distress the way Velma Kelly did. She put the back of one hand to her forehead mockingly.

#Well, I was in such a state of shock,
I completely blacked out,
I can't remember a thing#

From between her breasts, Mona made a big show of tugging out the hidden scarf. It was dark crimson, the colour of blood, and Mona just kept pulling and pulling at it until, finally, it was out.

#It wasn't until later,
When I was washing the blood off my hands#

She dabbed at her non-existent tears from her face with the long, draping scarf.

#I even knew they were dead#

Instantly, Mona was up and out at the front. She threw aside the scarf and joined the five, now all lit up with red.

#They had it comin',
They had it comin'
They had it comin' all along#

Aria squirmed in her seat. She was acutely aware of the awful place her mind went when she heard this song; understood the words. She wriggled uncomfortably, writhing as she watched Mona dance along with the other performers. She was constricted, forced to listen, while all her mind did was haunt her with memories of a past Halloween.

She ran cold. Her touch icy as she felt the acid from her stomach rise into her throat. It coated her mouth. Aria wanted to vomit, but swallowed down the anxiety that came as the song raged on.

The others had left to retrieve the delivery pizza. Aria stuck around in Spencer's bedroom because Alison asked to speak with her, circling her in, entrapping her to a conversation she really didn't want to be a part of. Alison had even rounded on her, ensnaring Aria, like a snake ready to strike before it strangled them.

"Nobody likes a downer, Aria," Alison said of Aria announcing she wasn't going to Noel's party tonight. "And since you saw your dad kissing that tart—" she spat, "you're like an energy-suck every time you walk in a room."

Utterly dumbfounded, Aria couldn't conceal how forcefully that had hit her. The hurt struck her chest and right across the face, winding her. Aria wanted to keep the tears at bay as she defended herself, "Ali, I'm kind of dealing with a lot right now. Can you cut me some slack?"

Alison played concerned. "Are they getting a divorce?"

"No," Aria said, quiet, with a tiny shake of her head.

Scoffing, Alison began, "If I were your mom—"

"She doesn't know," Aria interrupted.

"I knew your dad would talk you out of it," Alison remarked slyly.

Not wanting to discuss this with Alison, Aria said, "Look, I'm so over thinking about this." Her eyes burned with hot tears. "I just wanna go to a movie and—" she sucked in a painful breath, willing a forced smile, "bury my face in a vat of popcorn."

Unsympathetic, Alison didn't care for what Aria wanted. "You committed to this party, Aria," she reminded.

"There's gonna be, like, a gazillion people there," she humorously dismissed, not yet ware of how unkind her new friend could be. "Nobody's gonna miss me."

"I will," said Alison, which caused Aria to sadly smile.

"Well, I appreciate that, but I just—"

Alison cut in, sickly sweet, "You know, it wasn't easy scoring you an invite." It stunned Aria how swiftly Alison had turned on her. Alison smiled falsely when she said, "A week ago, Noel Kahn didn't even know your name."

"Yeah." Aria fell short. "Yeah, I get it, okay? I just..." she sighed and said, "I'm sorry."

When she tried to leave, Alison pulled her in again. "I didn't tell the girls about what happened," she chimed like it was an achievement and something that Aria should be thankful for. Her hip was popped out as she spoke as she threw Aria's words from earlier back at her, "I'm sure you appreciate that."

Spinning around, betrayal was beginning to chip away at the cracks of Aria's fresh friendship. She understood now what Alison could be like, having witnessed her bully so many, so Aria attempted to keep her sweet. "I do," offered Aria. "Thanks."

Those cerulean blue eyes narrowed into vicious slits. "Are you sure we're the only ones who saw them? I'd hate for your mom to find out from someone else," Alison disclosed, a honeyed air to her lilting tone.

Aria saw it for what it was: a thinly veiled threat. "Would you actually do that?"

A smirk spread across Alison's red lips, amused at how easily she could toy with her new playmate. "Trick or treat, Aria."

The game had been struck, and Aria lost her breath. For the first time, Aria felt fear when she looked at Alison through teary eyes. She was shaky as she stepped away from the toxicity and stumbled out of Spencer's bedroom in awe. Anger pulsated throughout her, but Aria burrowed it down deep to go get ready for a party she didn't want to be at but Alison wanted her at; because whatever Alison wanted, Alison always managed to get.

#I didn't do it,
But if I'd done it,
How could you tell me that I was wrong?#

Aria shed a tear from her place in the crowd. She had frightened herself, trembling at destruction that had followed her around since that day. The cause of it: Alison. Alison ruined everything, and Aria, as she reached up to wipe at her cheek, was hesitant to want her back.

#The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum,
The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum#

Front and centre, Mona led the pack in a barricade. Their voice rose and belted out the final chorus. It built and built and built for this moment. A cry of victims as they sold the audience the story to fighting back.

#They had it comin'#
#They had it comin'#

Muscles aches, both burning and numb from exertion and the wind. Panting heavily, Halle gasped for air as she dragged the blonde girl across the yard.

#They had it comin'#

Halle wiped at the sweat at the top of her forehead, collecting in her hair. She looked down. Eyes took in Alison's limp body, dead-weight and warm. Blood was starting to congeal at the point of impact.

#They had it comin' all along#

Locking her hands tight under the shoulders, Halle resumed to drag Alison. She put all her might in tugging the body where she wanted to hide it.

#'Cause if they used us,
And they abused us#

The crunch of Alison's skull shocked the pair of them. A horrified gasp left Halle and whimper left the other. Just as Halle's hand jumped to her mouth as the rock tumbled out of another's grasp.

#How could you tell me that I was wrong?#

BANG.

•

Spencer's eyes shot closed. A gunshot had gone off a the end of the song and she was plunged into the darkness of her lids, staying there momentarily until she figured out that she could no longer hear the music. When she opened them, a gasp escaped at the sight of black-and-white. Her world was noir. She was without colour, transported back to the true showgirl days.

Spencer hair was pristine as she looked at her reflection the the kitchen window, styled and pinned in beautiful waves. Shocked, she looked down at herself — at the gold on her wrists — at the silk that she donned in her skin as she stood by the kitchen sink. Why was she in her kitchen? The confusion hit her like a train. Her head seared with the thoughts of Halle's singing — or Mona dancing in a jell-cell. But now, Spencer was in her home... It wasn't hers... Not truly.

She looked around in a panic. The wall-anchored television was gone. All the modern electronics were gone. An old fashioned radio was flush against the far wall and the writing desk now had a typewriter and a phone with a very long, curly wire connected from it. These weren't objects that were familiar to her, but this was her home. She felt like it was her home; Spencer just wasn't used to it.

To this world in her head.

Over the crackling of the fire, a voice spoke. "You've been holdin' out on me." The man's voice came from the hallway, before Spencer had even seen him. Spencer's stare had snapped to him and his shadow-casted figure. He spoke with a twang, old fashioned and plummy. Spencer could tell it wasn't the version she knew of him yet she still knew him.

"Toby?"

He exited out of the shadows and stepped in to the light. Toby wore a long trench coat, his hands tucked in deep into the pockets. The hat on his head was positioned at an angle. Spencer's whole world seemed to relate to that hat.

"I wouldn't say no to a drink," Toby said and Spencer retracted out of trepidation.

•

She swore her lips were the most perfect shade of red. Often Halle Brewster left the red lipstick to Alison, but in this version of her life — along with the majority of her friend group, apart from Emily — bravely chanced the risk. Halle looked good with and in red; she always thought as much and yet stayed away as it was deemed Alison's colour. Now, in the school mirror, Halle admired herself and her full lips. Her mouth looked particular attractive like this, and there wasn't anybody to stop her cherishing it. After all, in every universe, Alison DiLaurentis was dead.

Looking into the small compact for its mirror, despite the huge sheet on the bathroom wall, Hanna said, "The more I see of men, the more I want to get a dog." She spared a quick glance at Emily. "Too bad there isn't another alternative."

"Too bad," Emily agreed with a nervous smile. Her soft, dark brown eyes had fallen to Halle, pining after the girl who fluffed up her thick brows in the large mirror. Emily thought she was beautiful in this world and the others, she sensed it. Emily Fields had never wanted to kiss the red off of a girl's mouth more than Halle's.

"So—" Halle dragged comb up through the hairs of her right eyebrow and asked out loud, "then you're saying he just paid for your cup of coffee?"

They panned to Spencer, who was perched against the elegant vanity. The floral drapes fell from the window, eluding to the secrets of a hidden conversation. "Left a ten-cent tip," Spencer said.

Hanna questioned her, "On a cup of coffee?" To the side, she threw a disgruntled look. "What a waste."

"Glad Aria's done with him," Emily briskly added.

"Is she?" wondered Spencer purposefully, in hopes of a gauging their curiosity.

Smugly, Halle was already open to the suggestion and declared, "My thoughts exactly."

"You think she started up with Ezra and didn't tell us?" Hanna checked with them.

Confidently, Spencer drew her shoulders back, put her chin straight and addressed the bathroom. "Show of hands, who hasn't lied about something romantic to the rest of the group?" she asked, and they fell silent. Halle risked a peep at Emily, who had done the same towards her before dropping her head fast. At the response, Spencer said, "I rest my case."

"Well done, Spencer," Halle chimed. "Right again."

"Right always," Spencer corrected, but Halle didn't agree. Neither did Spencer's own head, which throbbed with the dawning terrible thought that there was something too hurtful that she didn't want to be right about.

Emily asked, "What do we do?"

"There's nothing we can do," Halle dejected. As she turned back to the mirror, to continue perfecting the appearance of her brows, she said, "Aria doesn't listen to us at the best of time and never when it comes to Fitz."

"Wow, so cynical," Spencer commented. "I'm counting you out, then?"

"If you must count me anywhere," said Halle.

With that finalised, Spencer braced a moment to figure out a plan. She inhaled a sharp breath then focused on her best asset, Hanna. Rising from her perch, Spencer said to her, "Well, you're president of the man-haters club, how would you feel about keeping an eye on Ezra Fitz?"

Hanna buzzed with excitement, grinning ear-to-ear as she claimed dazzlingly, "I was born for the job."

The door swung open, and Aria strolled in with a warm smile on her also red lips. "Morning, troops."

Halle raised her perfectly groomed eyebrows in acknowledgement. "Morning."

"Hey," Hanna met as well.

The four of them stepped aside. They allowed Aria full access to the stinks and its huge mirror, giving them a bigger chance of sussing out the lies if Aria dared speak one during the weak half-interrogation.

"Aria," Spencer spoke anxiously like she couldn't quite hide how they had previously been gossiping and scheming behind Aria's back.

"How was Syracuse?" Emily asked politely.

In the mirror, Aria put her attention on reapplying her lipstick. It wasn't the same shade that Emily desired of Halle's, and yet it was still red. Halle's red had caused Emily's heart to pound and her own nude lips to pucker. The more time Emily spent looking at them, comparing them, she realised it wasn't the colour she wanted. It was Halle's lips. It was her mouth on Halle's, kissing her.

"Oh, it was fine," Aria said.

A lie.

"Did you have a good time with your dad?" Hanna asked next; it was her turn to dig.

Brightly, Aria spared Hanna a large smile over her shoulder. "Yeah, real good time," she said.

Finally, it was Spencer and her ability to know the right question that threw Aria and confused the rest of them. "Did you make it down to the Erie Canal Museum?" Spencer said, satisfied to know a lie when she heard it.

"Ah," Aria wavered like Spencer suspected she would. Aria's merry smile had dropped instantly, as did her voice. "It was closed."

Another lie.

Spencer was right. She tutted, "Too bad."

As she tucked away her lipstick, Aria took her turn to ask them a question. "So, what did I miss around here?"

The four girls looked to each other, not for support but for an answer. They truly had a lot to share and yet none were willing to reveal it to Aria.

"Nothing much," answered Spencer with a friendly shrug.

The bell rung out at the most unbelievably perfect time. While Halle and the chatty three from before were relieved, Aria was the most accepting of the natural close to the conversation.

"Well, it's time to go wrestle the world to its knees," said Aria before quickly she left first.

Collecting up their purses, Halle and Emily sent each other with gentle smiles and warm gazes. They naturally slotted in together, their arms linked with another's as they exited next side-by-side and giggling.

Hanna face Spencer and concluded, "You really have been to the Erie Canal Museum, haven't you?"

"Twice," Spencer chimed with a smile.

•

Toby had left her. He had left her with a giant, gorgeous painting of Alison hung up above the fireplace. Spencer felt Alison's eyes could move and were trained to her. The paint seemed to breathe and judge and manipulate the very same way that Alison did in life. It surveyed the room and Spencer, as she sprawled across the velvet chaise-long reading over the journal, Alison burned holes at her.

Bunny Boiler.

Alison's hatred shone menacingly bright when she wrote about Halle. She was spiteful and aimed to hurt with this story all because of Jason. If only Alison had known her hate was wasted — absolutely useless. Because even now, even in a world of black and white, even in Spencer's fantasy, Halle and Jason were always together.

The walls to her room vanished as Spencer looked over her shoulder as a scene unravelled. She nosily peered in to a love that wasn't hers, but was clearly in her mind due to it playing out in front of her. The wooden floor peeled into a grassy cliffside with the town's little lights like distant, flightless fireflies. The landscape was littered with them, one by one stumped out as the night grew darker.

A cloud of smoke disappeared, revealing Halle Brewster stood at the edge of Wright's Park. She sighed at the sight of her small town. A much colder feeling than the gust of wind passed through Halle at the thought of being trapped. She shielded herself from both with a black, tailored jacket accompanied by its faux-mink collar. Her cold feet tipped at the cliff's edge as the stark headlights approached. Her lips pulled up, a sigh falling from her lips, as she cherished the fact he came for her.

He left the car running. She lost the joy at that, suspecting he wanted them to make a quick escape and for her to go with him. The white lights illuminated her beauty and disappointment — the condition to him coming to see her when she asked. The unfairness of their relationship knocked her out of sorts, off-balanced, so she lost her breath when his figure climbed out of the old fashioned motor, blackened out by the dark shadows.

Jason had noticed her slight wobble and his voice called it out, "I'd hate to see a pretty thing like you fall."

"Oh, but for sure I'd fly." Halle rotated her head around, peering over her shoulder with a charming smile, forever enjoying every interaction they had. "Don't you think?" As he drew closer, further stepping in to the same shining lights she was, Halle angled her body towards him. Her brief smile had gone, worry clear in her face, dread in her lungs. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I didn't think you'd call," Jason replied with ease.

He joined Halle, facing down at her. In desperate longing, their eyes met and locked. They held each other's gaze for a moment, waiting for the other to break first or act on it, but the ex-lovers just stared with their hearts beating — pounding — in their chests. They called out for another and begged to be heard. Then, in one blink, the pair embraced. Their lips connected in a passionate kiss, melting in to the other's mouth. His right hand gripped her waist and pulled Halle in nearer, her flush to him, as her arms wound around his shoulders. With the city as their backdrop, they kissed and kissed again.

When they parted, Halle rested her forehead to his. Her breathing was heavy; her heart and head were light and fuzzy. "I must've have been mad to have said no to leaving with you," she whispered.

Jason shook his head. "I never should have left."

"It wasn't safe, it's still not," Halle cleared him of the guilt. She reached up her hand and gently stroked his cheek. Her palm was warm and the caress warmer so Jason leant in to it, savouring Halle's touch for as long as it lasted. "At least not for you."

Truthfully, he told her of the hold she had on him, "After all this time, apart from you, I didn't think that you'd still care, that your touch would still be tender for me."

"It has always been like this — for you," she said. The corners of her mouth twitched up while tears kissed her eyes. "Always you."

His breath hitched at that, then he dove in. "Do you remember that day on the beach?" he said. "My birthday in Cape May?" When she saw her nod, Jason recounted wistfully, "I think that's my favourite day, ever. I love that day." His hand fell on top of her after he felt it slip. "We never should've left that cabin."

Halle looked away, the water in her eyes welling up too quickly for her liking. She didn't want to cry, but the pain was causing her to teeter far too close. "I hate that day," she admitted depressingly. "I hate how good we had it, and how bad we lost it."

"We don't have to lose it," Jason assured her, his finger under her chin to bring her gaze back to him. He wanted nothing more than to keep Halle Brewster looking at him for the rest of his life. "It's right here in front of us," he said. "I'm right here in front of you."

Her heart beat even louder at his devotion. It thumped so intensely for him, Halle swore that he could see it through her chest and jacket. She kept her eyes on him and said, "But you can't stay."

"Can't stay?" Jason was confused by her words. Firmly, he told her, "No, I'm coming back to you, I'm never gonna let you go again."

"Jason, listen to me," Halle panicked. "You're not safe here — not yet. We're so close..." She paused, her heart breaking at the thought of Aria. "We have an idea... But you—" her eyes shot up to Jason, "have to go until I know it's safe."

He was floored. Halle had asked him to come and now she was telling him to leave. "Go?"

"You have to," Halle said. "Just until we figure out how to trap him."

"Him?" Jason's stare grew stormy, darkening. "Who? Who is it?"

"We—" Halle stopped herself in shame. "I can't tell you, I don't know for sure." She shook her head, frantic with her dizzying panic. "But what I do know is, you're not safe here," she said to him. "You never should've come back, you should've stayed away."

Spencer realised, watching from the comfort of her chaise, how unfair Halle was to Jason. How she had called and told him to come only to be stood in front of him pleading with him to go. It was the impression she got in this world and the other and it played out before her very eyes.

"I couldn't," Jason spoke. "My heart couldn't take the absence any longer."

Halle halted, struck down. "The absence?"

"Of you," he answered earnestly, his words swelled greatly with love.

That loud, incessant beating in Halle's chest started to hammer. It punched against her ribcage, fighting to be flush to Jason's heart as it was when they kissed. It echoed all around and in her ears. Halle was overcome by him — by his confession. Yet, why he left dawned on her and Halle tried to withdraw.

"No," said Halle. "You have to go, you have to leave — it's not safe."

Jason grasped at her hands and declared, "Then come with me."

"I can't!" she exclaimed. After, she turned her whole body away from him. Her sad eyes twisted her stare to be bitter while she faced faced the town she resented most. She ran cold with it. Halle said, "I'm trapped here, I'm here until we figure him out. Jason, I can't leave."

His strong presence closed in on her. Jason wrapped her up on his arms, engulfing Halle; this time he allowed her to sink deep in to his touch. He pressed the side of his head to hers. "You just have to get in the car," Jason suggested lightly. "Get in the car and we'll drive. We'll be in Cape May by the morning."

Halle sniffled, fresh tears now on his coat. "It sounds so lovely," she began, trying to push back her compulsion to let out a cry. "But—" she pulled herself away from his hold, "it's a fantasy. This is all a fantasy," she said whether her words were for Jason or Spencer. Halle's glassy stare was now terrified while she pleaded with him. "You have to go, please go—"

He cut her off. "I'm not leaving again—"

"Jason," she begged him even louder, "please go. Leave," she said.

"I'm not leaving you—"

"Jason!" Halle did cry out at him. Her whole frame shook violently, fear consumed her as she implored him further. "Jason, go!"

"Okay," he said. "Okay." Jason brought her back into his hold, keeping her there with both their eyes shut for a solid minute straight. Jason just held her there. He didn't want anything from her but her safety; if he could guarantee that by leaving, he would. So, he did.

Unwillingly, Jason accepted his fate and stepped back from her. He was ready to do what she asked, tears in his own eyes as he refused to meet hers. His back was to Halle, halfway to the car, when he hesitated. He reacted to the space he was surely going to put between them by rushing in again. Sharply, and swiftly so she couldn't argue, Jason seized her wet face in his hands and crashed his lips upon hers.

The kiss made him go weak and her strong. There were walls to their love but they had been obliterated. All that was left was knowing his wicked heart belonged to her her and only her. Jason DiLaurentis had only ever loved Halle Brewster, and it was a goddamn tragedy.

•

The concrete beneath their heels appeared black from the rain. The overpour had stopped, but threatened to break at any given moment. Those clouds were grey when Spencer witnessed the world in black and white. The group rounded the front of a large, unfamiliar building, escaping in to the dingy side-alley. They were secluded from most of the bustle they had walked past on their way, quietened down the dark path.

Club Tocambo was a high-society cocktail lounge. It was met with hundreds of patrons on a weekly, even nightly basis. business boomed with life, so it had surprised Hanna's friends immensely when she directed them to this designation, her stepping of the curb first to motion with her hands to the grubby back door.

In shock, Emily had to question it. "Here? The calls came from here?"

"Typical, really," Halle muttered out her comment. "Where you'd find her in life, Ali would be in death."

Hesitant, Spencer paused at the poster plastered on the brick wall. She blinked, her exhaustion from another life peeking through lazily as she struggled to keep up appearance. She blinked, her head searing like it had before. Her vision was foggy, just able to squint to make out the club's name had changed. The post now read 'The Onyx'.

Somewhere, perhaps rattling on inside of her head, Spencer heard clapping. The applause rolled over in her brain, stirring her. When it had stopped, she blinked again and the print read, 'Club Tocambo' once more. She shook her head, dizzy and growing tired even in this noir world. Decidedly stuck in a conundrum, she zeroed in on the mistake and said, "That's not how you spell 'nightly'," when she spied 'nitely shows' underneath 'The Onyx'. Spencer jolted back, scared. "Hey, Han, what's this club called again?"

"It's literally on the poster, Spencer," Halle answered for the dark blonde. She pointed towards it. "Tocambo. Now come on."

Spencer looked back at the poster to see that Aria was right. It struck her odd and fearful on her own melting brain. She couldn't fathom ever making a mistake or slacking in such an obvious way. It puzzled her own self — how the cleverness reached full capacity and worn through. In another place, Spencer Hastings was burnt-out and this Spencer was gradually joining her.

They stopped at the door, and Aria voiced her perplexed confusion. "You think that Alison's in there?" She asked, "Why?"

"Because somebody called the number on that contact sheet from a payphone in this club," Hanna answered simply.

"That's Alison," Spencer sourly remarked, snapping back to this reality as she joined them. "Hiding in plain sight and doing three shows a night."

"She was never gonna give up the attention completely, was she?" Halle inserted in a knowing sort of way.

In her heated determination, a faint annoyance from the quickness of their last meeting with Alison, Spencer shoved the door open with a stern palm. The group quickly discovered it was the stage door and lead to a spiral staircase. One by one, they ascended the rounding steps, climbing higher on the metal, hearts wildly pumping the apprehension to every cell of their bodies at the thought of seeing — or catching a glimpse of Alison. A big live band blasted in the near distance, no doubt giving away the stage's location, which the five agreed to avoid.

They couldn't be seen here.

Neither could Alison.

And the group of them should definitely — most importantly — not be seen with Alison either.

At the top step, the girls stumbled upon a dressing room. It was full to the brim with the finest, most glittery and fabulous showgirl costumes. Spencer looked around at them with a familiar buzz. Roxie, she thought. She could hear it now and Halle's singing echoed around in her head.

#The name on everybody's lips
is gonna be... Roxie#

Spencer snapped her eyes to Halle. "What did you say?"

Halle looked at her, confused at the call-out. She craned back her head and said, "I didn't say anything."

Carefully, they had each ventured inside of the long room. Hanna shut the door behind them, trapping them in, just as Aria spoke.

"Looks like somebody threw a hand grenade into a room full of Rockettes," Aria commented from down her nose.

With a playful smile, Halle nudged Aria's side as she passed the girl by and aimed for light-heartedness when Halle replied, "Sounds like my kind of party."

#The lady raking in the chips
is gonna be Roxie#

"Did you say something?" Spencer again asked Halle, her head whipping back and forth between inspecting the glamourous unitards and Halle.

"No," Halle said, glowering at Spencer. "Like I said the first time, Spencer. Lord, what is with you tonight?" she asked her. "It's like there's two of you and one is barely there anyway."

"I'm—"

"This isn't right." Emily served as the perfect, easy distraction. She refused to believe her whereabouts. "Ali can't be here," she said, eyes searching for Hanna to explain the lie.

Hanna didn't. Instead, she countered, "Well, this is where the call came from."

Behind them, the door opened. Bawdy music and laughter followed up the stairs and carried in to the hallway; it failed to touch the dressing room. A woman appeared in the doorway, soon revealing herself as Alison DiLaurentis to the five stunned girls. Her lips were of course painted in Jungle Red and her gorgeous, blonde hair was styled out of her polished, heart-shaped face. She was the epitome of a showgirl — a girl all for show. Yet, she put none on for the intruders before her.

Slowly, with her extended index finger, Alison closed the door to. She shoved her way into the light, claiming it, and greeted her friends with a harshness that was familiar to their friendships. "Did anybody see you come in here?"

The five girls looked to each other. They were still stunned at Alison's miraculous appearance but managed to exchange looks of mild bewilderments at an answers. Truly, they hadn't stopped to watch.

Still, Spencer gave an answer. She shook her head as she said, "We don't think so."

Aggressively stripping her arm of an elbow-length, white satin glove, Alison demanded of them, "Then get the hell out," and threw the glove at her dresser.

Emily, pleading, tried like she always did. "Ali—"

"—I told you not to come look for me," Alison interrupted vilely. She slipped on a fluffy white coat, glaring viciously as a snake would through its slits. Everything about Alison was snake-like. When she spoke, she hissed. When she struck, she did with venom. When she found her prey, she didn't stop until they could feel Alison suffocate them of life.

"Well, things have changed," Aria said defiantly.

"Maybe for you, but not for me," Alison tossed out at them. "I mean, are you trying to get me killed?"

Halle couldn't help but roll her eyes at the amateur dramatics. It was freshman year all over again and they were meant to ask 'how high' when Alison told them 'jump'. Miffed, Halle said, "The only person trying to get you killed is yourself, Alison. Everything that's happened is because of you."

"Of course, that's what you think," Alison said. "Passing the blame is something you do now, I hear." She callously narrowed her eyes more. "Did your precious doctor tell you that?"

"No — common sense," Halle stated as fact. She refused to be baited in to a fight by Alison. Halle had long overgrown her. "You're not in danger like we are."

"Need I remind you this one—" Alison pointed directly at Spencer and exclaimed, "already tried once!"

At the accusation, Spencer held strong. "Don't talk to me like that. Don't talk to us like that."

Yet, Aria tried to sway Alison the kind, more appreciating way. She attempted to keep the peace while also keeping their ex-leader sweet. "Ali, we want you back," she said.

Alison didn't like the sound of that and it was obvious that she thought Aria had never been good at neither of what she attempted. Alison's hateful nature had reared its ugliest head as she glared holes into Aria's precious, scared face. "Are you sure about that?" she asked solely of Aria. Alison held her scorching stare on Aria for a while, encouraging the petite girl to cower and go timid; she wished she could've kept her that way. Then, Alison finally turned the spite and nastiness for Spencer once more. "I bet this one would love if someone happened to me. That way she wouldn't have to worry about dropping down to second place if I came back."

"What is wrong with you?" accused a disgusted Hanna.

In a flash, Alison's head had whipped around. "Aren't you sick and tried of her ordering you around?"

"You are way out of line," warned Emily.

"Am I, Emily?" Wryly, Alison's tone dripped with coarse callousness as she spoke. She condescended the girls every time she opened her mouth. "Am I really?" Alison pitied them, "Start thinking for yourself instead of letting Spencer think for you."

"Well, maybe she's right," Spencer then bravely voiced. She seized the opportunity with a firm grasp — to discard Alison from their group. "Maybe it's time we all start thinking for ourselves." She faced Alison's spite straight on, and Spencer met her with her rightfully with her own, "Let's see how long you last out here without us."

Lost, Aria asked, "Spencer, what are you talking about?"

Spencer chanced a step forward, unflinching as she locked her eyes onto Alison and entered her space. "You're setting us up for something," she accused, and Alison didn't deny it. Alison, in all her smug glory, never spoke; she just looked boastful and beautiful all at the same time. "I don't know what it is, but it's a set-up," declared Spencer right in Alison's face. "And we're supposed to be some kind of decoy for you and take all the heat. But you only ever tells us what you want us to know." She snarled with her red lips. "It's always been that way."

Alison still never denied it. She clung to elsewhere, questioning Spencer back. "And you're different?"

"Yeah, I'm different," claimed a strong Spencer.

Unimpressed by it, Alison poked holes in that claim when she cast her slimy eyes to Aria and asked, "Has she told you?"

"Told me what?" Aria fell short of knowledge. It was obvious Spencer hadn't, and Alison knew it.

With her point proven, Aliso returned to Spencer and challenged her with a smarmy and malicious look. She waited expectantly and Spencer fumbled at the first hurdle. A weakness was shown — one Alison never had.

Guilt.

Spencer couldn't do it, no matter how hard she tried or how fierce of a push she gave herself. There was something in her that stopped her from just coming out with it, shattering Aria's heart and their friendship while they were at it. Spencer hated the idea of both and the risk she would have to take to tell Aria the truth. She had to, they all knew that, but it didn't make it easy.

"Aria..."

BANG!

A gunshot fired. Glass shattered, broken at the forceful impact of a bullet colliding with it. Its target was missed, as was Aria narrowly. The six girls screamed with all the might, ducking down low, petrified of a potential second shot. Swiftly, Hanna had shut off the lights; the gunman couldn't shoot in the dark if he couldn't see, she had hoped.

At the commotion, Alison made a quick dash. Under the cover of dark, she opened the door to the dressing room and fled in a hurry. She didn't have to be held ransom for answers if she escaped, nor be responsible for the fallout if somebody was injured — as long as it wasn't her. However, the five friends had seen and trailed after her just as fast.

All of them rushed down the spiral staircase, running for their lives in loud high heels and with terrified breaths. They made a sharp turn at the last step, spinning into the loading dock. It was a maze, with its towering metal grates and boxes stacked high so they couldn't see a complete idea of their whereabouts. All the girls had was to follow Alison.

They were fenced in, and Alison, even in her own scared state, barked orders at them, "Split up. Go different ways.

Spencer rudely countered, "Get whoever it is to follow us so you can get away?"

Filling with rage, Alison raised her palm up and went to swing it at Spencer. Instead, Alison's wrist was caught, contained in Hanna's iron-grip. Hanna glared furiously at her and said, "Don't even think about it."

The aghast look on Alison's face told them all of how astounded she was. Her shock had shaken her, struck her the way she had intended for Spencer — and it was Hanna who did it. Meek, timid, admiring Hanna Marin. The one meant to always blindly support Alison because Hanna wanted to be Alison. The Hanna Marin now wasn't anything like the girl that Alison had left behind in the wake of her 'death'. Three years had proven Hanna strong and capable and that she had value in her identity alone; in fact, Hanna preferred Hanna when, before, all she wanted to see in the mirror when she looked in it was Alison DiLaurentis.

While Alison had to deal with that, a voice called out for one of them.

"Aria?"

It was Ezra Fitz. Each of them knew it. Some where just more shaky than other at hearing him.

"Are you in there?" He waited. "...Aria?"

Relief sighed from only Aria. "It's Ezra," she said like it was some miracle.

In a deadly whisper, Spencer said to her, "Don't answer him."

Aria snapped her head around. "What are you talking about?" she asked as if Spencer was crazy for doubting Aria's version of shelter. "It's Ezra."

Shaking her head profusely, a scared Hanna pleaded. "Don't let him know where we are."

Floored, entirely, Aria looked to Halle next. She figured Halle had the answers she craved — that she was the secret keeper for the group — the one that held the key to what happened. Even Spencer felt it when they were together. A long time ago, Alison was wrong: secrets didn't keep the group close, they tore them apart like they were now. But secrets certainly held Halle's bones within her skin, forcing her to stay pieced together for everybody else. So, Halle had said to Aria softly, "Don't."

"But why?" Aria would listen to Halle if she must. Halle would protect her.

"I—"

Alison was left rolling her eyes at the avoidance. She considered her ex-friends cowards and Halle the biggest one of them all. The group had lost their spark — their regimented loyalty when Alison disappeared. They started thinking for themselves and of others. They cared more than Alison ever liked them to, and Alison showed them up for it. "You better tell her."

Surprisingly, Emily snapped first. "Shut up, Ali."

The fabulous blonde almost laughed at her. She tended to fall to laughter whenever Emily tried to stand up to her because it pathetically never lasted past the hard glare Alison would give her as a response; Emily would withdraw and duck her head like scolded dog. That came out when Alison spoke to her. "Who sharpened your tongue, little girl?"

"Back off, Alison," Halle threatened, having reached her limit.

"And of course you have to defend her," Alison retorted. "How many times do I have to tell you, Hal, sticking up for them doesn't make you a good person? It makes you fake."

"Well, that makes two of us," Halle countered.

They were interrupted by Ezra again. "It's safe," he called out after getting no reply for a while. "You can come out now. I'll take care of you."

It was siren-call. Aria had been summoned to him by a voice and her feet reacted by moving towards it. As did her mouth. "Ezra?"

Spencer was quick. She darted after Aria, planted herself right over Aria's shoulder just in case. The remaining four did the same, with Alison lagging at the back with a bit more distance between them. Like always, it was them and her. Alison preferred it like that — it made her a god in their eyes — untouchable. There must always be a space so she felt powerful compared to them. But now, it excluded their fallen, almost forgotten leader.

They girls stayed hidden from Ezra, concealed by the storage boxes. Something in Aria's gut told her something wasn't right. A tug was felt with every step but it pulled her from him, not to him. If Aria needed anymore hesitation to joining him, Ezra gave it to her without asking.

"I don't know what they've told you about me, but it's not true," Ezra said, and it made Aria uneasy. His figure appeared like a shadow. He was blacked out from view, a smoky silhouette rather than a person. A character rather than her boyfriend.

From the back, Alison needed to be some part of the reveal. She piped up just to sneer at them, "You guys gonna tell her, or is that supposed to be my job?"

Snapping, Aria lashed out at her friends. "Well, somebody better tell me something."

"I'll keep you safe, Aria, I promise," Ezra said loudly to her. "I love you," he added, followed shortly by Aria's doubts veiled thinly as love. "No one has ever loved you the way I do."

It worked. He successfully played on Aria's emotions and now she was drifting towards him. Then, a swift hand stopped her. Aria glanced back and there was Halle begging her not to go.

"Aria, don't," Halle said, holding on.

Like before, Aria asked, "Why not?" She faltered knowing Halle wanted her to stop. It broke through whatever trance Ezra had her under.

"It's..." Halle couldn't do it. She had Aria's heart in the palm of her hand, squeezing, but Halle wouldn't break it.

"You can't trust him," Spencer briskly inserted.

Aria grew impatient at the secrecy and pushed, "Why?"

Silence fell over the group. None of the four could do it to their fifth. They each shared in Halle's sentiment, not willing to purposefully maim their friend so brutally or abruptly.

Alison could.

Alison would.

She loved this kind of cruelty.

Scowling, Alison glared at Spencer specifically. "No guts," she said, teeth bared through her jungle-red lips.

Aria's pleading stare ran cold when she took in Alison. Her body thawed with vengeance and gave an icy burn with hate. She was reminded of it whenever Alison DiLaurentis travelled too closely. "I think I liked you better when you were dead," she spat.

Defiant of Alison — of all of them — Aria pushed back her clenched shoulders, put her friends behind her and ventured out of their hiding spot. The four nearest went to stop her once more, but withdrew when they realised Aria had stepped too far in to the light. Aria was now faced with Ezra.

Or who she thought was him, originally.

Aria was drawn in. A beautiful, unique moth fluttering with shiny and pure love, who positively shook to close in on the flame. It was alluring and unpredictable. Aria likened it to the sanity within the chaos. A prime example of how, in the vast ups and downs, during the turbulent and agonising parts, Aria clung to the most stable thing — him. She craved his attention while it lasted. His approval to where she placed herself for him, her eagerness to impress him because only his praise mattered. It never lasted. Aria thought that was why it was so sweet — how the flame burnt her wings just right and she'd stay. She'd stayed for the scars. So, when the man snatched up the lighter, she didn't flinch. Aria was awaiting the kiss of heat from a love that hurt as much as it soothed.

"No!" Spencer held back the others, who dove out with gasps of terror at the sharp flick of the lighter. She kept them back and safe only to discover they were never in danger with this person.

The orange flame of the light revealed the figure to be Toby. His slender frame was known to them, and Spencer finally relaxed. Even Aria's breathing steadied further at the sight of him instead. "We don't have much time," Toby declared, aware of the collective relief. "I hit him hard, but I only hit him once."

At that, Aria panicked. Her stare whipped down to the ground and found the familiar leather of the shoes she worshipped. It happened in a flash. Aria went to break away — to flee to her beloved Ezra Fitz — but Toby's arm had caught her first. He wrestled Aria far from Ezra, pulling her towards the street.

The connection and reassurance that came with Toby's presence captured them. The rest of the group were pried out of their spot and joined the quarrelling pair. Their brisk steps nosily clipped against the wet concrete; it was starting to rain. As they rushed to the car, Toby dragging Aria with him, Spencer suddenly noticed they were complete but missing an additional number.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, exhausted from the panic. "Where's Ali?"

It was Emily who hurried her. "She's gone," Emily said in a rush, despite not knowing what had happened to Alison. "Get in," she demanded, practically shoving Spencer in to the front passenger seat and slamming the door after her.

Soon, they were speeding down the dimly-lit streets at night. Toby drove for Rosewood, their forever destination. It was raining heavily now. The grey clouds had cracked open and the heavens showered down on the roof, rattling the metal vehicle as it coasted on the road. Water hit the windows with a fury. Spencer's head worsened with the weather. It drove her stir-crazy, spinning like she was stuck on that spiral staircase, leading to Alison and losing her constantly. Spencer lost her sanity along the way, stumbling, unable to get up while everything continued to spin faster.

In the muddled mess, Spencer sought clarity. She needed comfort and looked behind her, on the back seat at her friends for it. Silently, she begged them to quieten the noise but it only created more when she located an upset Aria.

"Why'd Toby hit him?" Aria asked Spencer demandingly. Her bottom lip blubbered, eyes glossy like she already suspected the truth to Toby's actions.

Yet, Aria was met with more silence. Like before, none of her friends had enough courage to tell her. They wouldn't pipe up to give her the answers. Spencer even faced forward, a headache coming on, to avoid it while Emily stared out the droplet-covered window.

"Ali was right," Emily huffed out. "None of us has any guts."

Lowering her head, Spencer winced at the pain in her brain. It swelled massive, pounding at the centre of her forehead. She pinched the bridge of her nose to elevate some of it — to focus herself — yet it just made things worse. The cogs were no longer in function; Spencer was running out of steam.

Toby saw her tiredness and wanted her to push through it. "You figure it out yet?

Exhausted, Spencer begged him, "I wish you'd stop saying that."

He kept at her. "Have you?" His eyes flashed to the fuel-dial and mentioned, "'Cos this car is just about out of gas."

"So am I!" Spencer yelled at him. Her throat was scorched, red raw from the outcry. "I'm just so damn tired!"

"We're all tired, Spencer," said Hanna unhelpfully.

The selfishness to everybody's lack of participation in solving the mystery compared to Spencer. She sacrificed herself to it. None of them asked her to, but she did it. Spencer accepted the mantel of responsibility. She decided it was her only duty.

Growing bored, Emily huffed, "Figure it out, so we can get on with our lives.

"No matter who gets hurt," added Aria on purpose.

Depressingly, Halle concluded, "It was never going to have a happy ending, anyway."

"You're all the time talking about wanting the answers," Toby retorted at his girlfriend. His brow quirked up. "Maybe you do, maybe you don't."

Spencer seemed offended by what he said. She recoiled angrily. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe you're afraid of finding out the whole truth," Aria suggested.

Toby boldly claimed to the whole car, "She already has the truth."

"Where is it?" barked Spencer, haggard to the point of exasperation. Her hands were clawed, hooked as she wanted to screech. "In the book? Where in the book?!"

"Look at the pages," Toby instructed.

Stubbornly, Spencer fished out the journal. She waved it around, in her boyfriend's face, in a high fury. Out of crippling aggression, she flipped it open and searched for what he told her to.

He saw what she did and shook his head. "Don't look at the book—" he raised his voice at her, "look at the pages!

Spencer cried, "That's the same thing!"

"No," Toby was the firmest he had ever been with her. "It's not."

Her head went down. Book. Pages. Look at the pages. Pages of the book. It came hurtling towards her. Alison said they had all the pieces. Spencer had all the pieces. Her head seared. Her eyes burned. A white light came closer. It sped at her. She squinted at it, glaringly, but the light kept coming.

It was heading for the car. It was coming for Spencer.

She gasped.

BANG!

•

Spencer jolted awake in her seat. The clapping sounded like a gunshot going off and woke her from the deep sleep. Her heart jumped up into her throat, her hand to her thumping chest. Spencer was drenched in sweat, sopping wet as her head whipped around at the startling applause.

Leaning in closer, Toby spoke softly. "Hey, sleepyhead—" he gave her a small, comforting smile, "you okay?"

Struggling to adjust to this reality, Spencer blinked rapidly. She rubbed at her tired eyes. "How long have I been out?"

"Since the first act," Toby said. "You looked like you needed it, so I let you sleep." His eyes went to the stage as the rumble of a soft ballad began. "It's the final song."

"The final...?" Spencer was hit with a new wave of bewilderment. "I slept through the whole show?"

"We'll talk after, okay? Just—" Toby was distracted, torn between two as his interest fell on the stage. "After the show."

Appearing in the set's roll-on doorway, Halle slide into view of the crowd. The soft yellow light kissed her brown skin, a beautiful pink hue cast on and around her due to the shade of her full-length gown. Every hand-stitched sequin of the elegant halter-dress shone like a pearl. Rolling her wrists, Halle extended her arms up the frame. She closed her eyes, let out an exhale, and willed on the solo start of the duet.

#It's good#

Sweetly, her bird-song carried out. Her chest swelled with confidence, positively glowing as she took up space.

#Isn't is grand? Isn't it great?
Isn't is swell? Isn't it fun?
Isn't it?#

She leant against the frame, arched up at it as she sung out.

#Nowadays#

Halle stepped out from the doorway, her right foot placed first. Wrapping her arms around her shoulders, Halle embraced the mellower side to the number. She chanced a glance to the side of the stage, by the curtains, and spotted Mona in a shorter, more fringed version of the same pink dress that Halle wore; a white blazer was thrown over it.

#There's men,
Everywhere jazz, everywhere booze,
Everywhere life, everywhere joy,
Everywhere#

At centre, Halle smiled. She cherish the heat of the singular spotlight, the tingling sensation she got while she performed. Her head was up, chin lifted. She hadn't dared look out at the crowd yet, even as they swiftly headed to the end of the show.

#You can like the life you're living,
You can live the life you like,
You can even marry Harry,
But mess around with Ike#

Her eyes did the searching for her. They had the courage while Halle had none. Immediately, she found her family near the front. Her heart leapt when she saw her nana with her hand clasped impossibly tight with her mother. Tears welled and Halle directed the word to her nana, who sung along in her loving haze. Halle's smile grew.

#And that's good#

There was an unexplainable pull. A magnetised tug to the left. In a sea of nearly three hundred, among the many full rows and faces of Rosewood, Halle found him. Jason. Her heart gave a flutter, strained like a thread had wrapped around it and pulled her soul to his. The last part, Halle, before she even knew it, was singing the last part with her eyes pinned to him.

#Isn't grand? Isn't it great?
Isn't it swell? Isn't it fun?#

The lights went off. A rumbling of low drums sounded and sparked Halle onwards. In the cover of dark, Halle briskly walked to the back of the stage as Emily alongside another stage-manager rolled the prop-door off. Mona hurried to stand beside Halle and shoved a white blazer at her. In a rush, Halle unzipped the bottom half of her dress, revealing it was a unitard with sequinned fringe that matched Mona's. Slipping on the blazer, Halle buttoned it as Mona spoke.

"You ready?"

"Are you?" returned Halle with a smile.

Easily, Mona chimed, "Duh," just as the song came back around so they could do with whole song over as a duo.

They turned, and the entire stage was illuminated by yellow. The pair had synchronised themselves wholly to the other as they repeated the same part of the song that Halle had just sung, matching their audition song. Each foot placement was in line with the beat and precise. The touch was light like they glided as they made their way to the centre, carried on cloud nine.

Cheekily, they chose to wink at each other at the same time. Their smiles were beyond joyous. They were positively aglow when they were side-by-side singing together. Somehow, in the process of the musical, Halle had velcro-ed herself Mona. Her success was Mona and vice versa. Halle had to reach the note for Mona to know where hers was; Mona had to hit the move for Halle to as well.

When they did part, it was a mere half a metre. Each of the two propped out their right left with one, then did the same with their left with the following. They did this twice over, smiling the whole way through.

#But nothing stays,
In fifty years or so,
It's gonna change, you know#

The two arched their backs to the right. They splayed a hand up on their shoulders, posing in an elegant curve.

#But, oh, it's heaven#

The notes were drawn out longer as they dropped in the stance slightly. Their knees bent when they began the next, extended start to the final word to the song. They stood up straight, turned their backs to the crowd and unbuttoned their blazers.

#Now... a... days!#

The blazers were flung off and dropped. They kicked them to the side, out of reach, while the audience cheered and the music switched into 'Hot Honey Rag'. This was the finale performance, and Halle committed herself to going out with the almightiest of bang. The back wall of the stage was lit up with a thousand little, yellow circles.

In perfect double of each other, Halle and Mona did a basic Charleston. Their arms were out in front, swinging side to side, tout and pulled in tight with their feet were swivelling. When the cymbal crashed at the end, they slapped their hands to their thighs. They launched into double steps, shimmying back and forth. Next, the pair swept their right arm into a big, washing motion. They stretched up high and repeated it with the left.

A loud crash came from the orchestra boat; Mr Browne was inside of it, conducting the band with large, exaggerated movements. It spurred the girls on, wickedly happy grins on their faces as they rolled their shoulders, bodies rising and falling during the pas de bourrees steps. The heels clicked against the stage floor, stepping to the right and clapping low when the beat hit. From the clasped position, they completely opened out and struck a pose to the left with their hand bent by the elbow to the back of their angled skulls. Their legs were turned in while they pulled back at a seamless curve.

On the last step, they pivoted on their left foot, put their backs to the crowd and flicked up their arms in the air. They tossed them side to side as they powerfully strutted to the far screen. Both then stopped and looked to the right, shifting their weight in to a suzie-q step. There wasn't a beat they missed or skipped over. It was choreographed to utter perfection. Neither were an inch off. With each foot pop, hop from one side of the stage to the other and for every pose, they shone brighter and better. They came alive up there; it was the most alive Halle had ever felt.

The thrill carried her through the whole performance, inspiring her on to give the best possible show ever. With Mona as her partner — her equal — Halle did exactly that. Together, they danced off the stage to come back with a fake Tommy gun each. A roar of laughter rippled up the crowd. They strode on, playful smirks gracing their glowing faces, lapping up the flying feel of a soaring high. The dynamic duo made it to the centre with the prop-guns and whipped them up to rest upon their shoulders as they repeated a swivel-step. Swinging them around, the music swelled greater.

A loud crash was heard. The girls whirled around, clutched their guns and pretended to shoot. Flashes of light sparked and flew. The circular, yellow lights burst. The entire backdrop went black. The girls threw aside the guns and travelled to opposite sides. Then, 'Roxie & Velma' was shining in place of the lights, and Mona glanced back at Halle to shoot her a wink along with a curt nod. They both forced their cores tight and cartwheeled back to the centre, ending back to back and posing.

Saddled in next to each other, the music reached its peak. With a deep breath, their chests heaving up and down from all the exertion, they pushed their right arms out and sang.

#And... all that Jazz!#

It finished in a total blackout. With a bang, they were plunged into total darkness. In the silence, Halle heard her heart pound in her ears. It thumped, hard. Her chest heaved with every exasperated pant. She wheezed, her chest rising fast and falling even quicker. Out of breath, her eyes locked onto the shadow-cast audience. Beads of sweat pooled at her hairline. For a second, all she could hear was her own heart.

A droplet dipped from her forehead, tumbling down the bridge of her nose then it happened. Sound came rushing back to her and Halle was blown away. A huge, thunderous applause crashed upon her in waves of support. It bounced off the walls of the auditorium, doubling in volume. It broke and grew, overwhelming her. With it, Halle was electric. Static tingled at her fingertips, and she burned brighter.

As did Mona. The girl beside her gripped Halle's hand when the all the lights came on, including the house ones. The audience was on their feet as they applauded the two. They were mad with it and it showed no sign of waning when the rest of the cast came out to join them on stage. If anything — to Halle — it got louder — more intense.

Tears glassed in her eyes. Halle searched for her loved ones, her nearest and dearest. She found her mother first, arms holding up Halle's nana, who looked to be mesmerized by the show. Next to them, Halle's gaze travelled to her father, his phone out recording her with a massive grin. His dark eyes lifted to meet her and aimed his smile at her when she blew him a kiss. Her other grandparents cheered and clapped; her grandpa cupped a hand to his mouth while he cheered the loudest. Myles had Riley stood on her seat, assisting her with the homemade sign, 'MY SISTER'S A ROCKSTAR'.

Pride was the overwhelming emotion. Halle buzzed with it. It sprouted from within, swelling until it was all she felt. Everything else was a blur. She couldn't remember much after the curtains were drawn. Her arm was interlocked with Mona's, them cross-stepping backstage together gleefully. They were both pulled at and hugged more than they had ever been, but, somehow, always slipped back to each other's sides.

"Meet you in the music room, yeah?" Mona said to her, her hand up to her one of the stage-managers. "You're not skipping out on the cast toast, right?"

"Me? Never," Halle said jokingly. "Oh—" she remembered, a smiling growing soft. "My folks have, uh—" her hand came up to nervously scratch at her head, "hired out The Grille, kinda a little opening night party if you wanna come," Halle offered Mona, watching the surprise seep into her features. "You can bring your mom and whoever's here for you."

"My mom," Mona nodded. "It's just me and my mom, and Mike," she added with a coy smile.

"Well, I hope you guys come," Halle said sincerely, still smiling even as Mona left her to go get changed.

On an all-time high, Halle was practically beaming. Her smile was so large, it took up the majority of the bottom half of her face. Her cheeks ached but still she kept the bright grin. Warmth radiated from her, face flushed and heart soaring, Halle took a moment for herself. She reached the epiphany that she could allow herself to be this happy — to be filled with all the amassing joy — because she had been the root-cause of it. While she shared in knowledge the musical as a whole was a team effort, Halle praised herself for it as well.

It was when she was alone, it wore thinly. Halle was still happy, just most settled and relieved it was over. She returned to her vanity, to grab at her bag for her change of clothes, and stilled. Her feet stopped as her eyes connected with a large bouquet of pink tulips. They were awaiting her arrival, and her breath caught. Slowly, Halle made her way over to them and admired their pristine beauty for a second before she plucked out the card to read.

For the brightest star anywhere,
not just Rosewood.
Jason.

The smile that spread across her face was painful. Her cheeks swelled up high and her chest could barely contain the joy she currently felt spiking throughout her body. But in this private moment, with the pink tulips a foot away, Halle took it all in humbly. At last, she felt herself steady. Her breathing collected evenly. Halle was calm.

A tiny bubble of laughter escaped her. She giggled, her hand to her lips as she held back the adoration she had for tonight. It would go down as one of her favourites. She was thankful for everything, suddenly. Her life, even with the chaotic twists and turns, pushed from one deadly scenario to another, was hers entirely. The choices she made were her own. It didn't feel like a punishment anymore; it was a reward to live so fully. The wounds were finally closing.

"Hey, you're missing the fun," called out a bright-sounding Emily. She pointed her thumb behind her, back over her shoulder, as she spoke, "Browne has opened a bottle of that non-alcoholic stuff for us in the music room, we're all gonna be toasting soon—"

Settled fully within herself for what felt like the first time in a really long time, Halle took a big leap. She cut Emily off with a kiss. Determined, Halle had walked straight over to her girlfriend, planted her hands onto Emily's cheeks and crashed her lips onto hers. Halle gave Emily a bruising kiss, one that had been enough to stop traffic. The one she had been wanting to share for the longest time.

Stunned, Emily blinked several times at the impact. She had her fair share of surprising kisses but none this enchanting or meaningful. She tried to compute what had just happened in her head but was stuck, lost for words. So, Halle pressed her hand to Emily's mouth and smiled, speaking for the both of them. "I love you." A surprised smile curving upwards on Emily's cheerful face. She melted, oozing at the centre of her glowing heart. Halle beamed back at her. "I've never said that first, you know. I've only ever said it after somebody else, but I do," Halle said. "I really feel it, Em." She laughed out giddily, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Emily returned, and the two kissed again.

•

Afterwards, Halle was smiling wider than ever. She had glued herself to Emily for the majority of the party, their fingers interlocked, giggling like two fools in love at whispered secrets at the party. They chatted to the people who had showed out for her, ate off the same shared plate from the buffet, even dared to kiss in front of their families and friends. They only parted when somebody else had pulled them away for a chat like when Wayne had called Emily over.

"I'll be right back," Emily assured, kissing Halle's cheek before she nipped off to go speak with her parents.

"So—" Toby came over with two drinks for them and said, "you two look cosy."

"Thanks," Halle said of the drink. "And we are. It's turning out to be a pretty amazing thing," added Halle, smiling again. She swore she wouldn't be able to move her face tomorrow with how much of it she was doing.

"I like you two together," Toby commented. "You both look really happy."

"I am," Halle replied honestly.

Toby took a sip of his drink. "So, that's your famous nana Gloria?" he said of the elderly woman sat with her carer in the far corner of the restaurant. Luisa Brewster hovered nearby, conversating quite merrily with a couple other party-goers. Halle recalled fondly one of the first heart-to-hearts she had with Toby — how they spoke about the loss of a loved one even while they were still present. That night, when Toby walked her home, Halle felt safe and understood; Toby had tended to give her that feeling still.

"Yeah." Halle sighed with a smile. "I didn't know she was coming," she admitted. "I didn't know all my grandparents were, either."

"Well, it's not everyday you get to be a rockstar," Toby responded with a goofy grin. "You were amazing tonight."

"Thank you, and thanks for coming," Halle said appreciatively. After, she gave him a light nudge and asked, "You wanna meet her?"

"You'd give me that honour?" said Toby, pleasantly surprised at the offer.

"Of course," Halle said. She took his drink out Toby's hand and set them both aside before she led him to the corner booth. She had shot her mother a smile when they past and as Halle joined her grandmother, the carer stood up to give them space. "Hey, Nana," Halle said with a gentle smile.

"Oh, hey, baby," met a rich, buttery voice. She lit up when Halle came to sit next to her on the booth-seat and grasped at Halle's hand in her own leathered, shaky ones. "Did you eat?"

"Yeah, I ate some," Halle said. "Nana," she began softly, her eyes moving up to Toby, to introduce them. "I want you to meet a friend of mine, this is Toby."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs Douglass," Toby politely spoke, using Halle's mother's maiden name. A sweet grin appeared, directed at the woman in the colourful trousers and draping cardigan and head full of silver wisps. "Halle's told me all about you."

Tapping at Halle's hand thrice, the old woman asked her granddaughter, "Do I know this one? I've not him before?"

Halle sense the worry and calmed it with a kind smile and a small shake of her head. "No really, Nana," she said. "Just briefly. He was at the show, he said hi to mom there."

"Oh, well—" Gloria Douglass looked to Toby and smiled, "nice to meet you, too," she said. "Toby's a lovely name. I used to have a dog called Toby when a little girl."

"Nana," laughed Halle.

"What? I did!" said the woman with a large smile. "He was lovely, too. Best dog I ever had, you don't take offence to that, do you?" she asked Toby, who shook his head.

"Not at all," he said. Toby explained to her, "It was my mom's choice."

There was a tug at Halle's shoulder, causing the girl to look up. Halle discovered a determined Spencer behind her, persisting at her nudges. "I need to talk to you, now."

"—I bet she was lovely as well," Gloria mentioned, and Toby again chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, she was," Toby had replied.

Caught between, Halle asked, "Can it wait? I'm kinda busy."

"Not really," answered Spencer. "It's about..." she lowered her voice for the secret, "Ali's journal."

Reluctantly, Halle had to nod. "Okay." She turned back to the sweetly chatting two, squeezing her nana's hands three times. "Hey, I have to go talk to Spencer for a sec."

"Hey, Mrs Douglass," Spencer softly greeted the elderly woman with a wave, who absently returned the gesture.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Halle told her.

"Yeah, of course, baby!" said Halle's nana positively. "I have your friend..." she thought back on it, trying hard, "Toby," she guessed, and smiled when she saw Halle nod encouragingly. "He'd keep me company."

Halle broke into a sad but proud smile. "Yeah, it's Toby." She said, "I'll bring you back a cup of tea and something sweet, alright?" Her gaze went to Toby. "You'll be okay with her for five minutes, right?"

"Yeah, totally," confirmed Toby. "I've got experience, go."

"Thanks."

As Halle stood, being rushed along by Spencer, she overheard her nana instantly take up interest in the kind boy opposite her. Halle heard her asked, "So what's your lovely momma's name?"

"Uh, Marion," Toby stated warmly. "Marion Cavanaugh."

Halle was surprised when she was taken to the narrow hallway between the restaurant floor and the kitchen. She knew the path well, having worked there she was was fifteen, but fell into confusion when she saw that Emily and Hanna were waiting in the slender space also.

"Where's Aria?" Spencer asked, eyes wide and alarm.

"We couldn't find her," Hanna said.

"What's this about?" Emily asked, and Halle was glad she wasn't the only one on the outside peering in.

With her back blocking the noisy party, Spencer pulled out the silver journal from her bag. Her eyes were larger now, more alarmed. "We were supposed to find it," she declared.

"But why give the book back after going to all that trouble to steal it?" Emily questioned the motive.

Spencer scrambled to open it, using the bookmarked string to find the page she wanted. "Because now it's a Trojan horse," she said miraculously. "Look—" she directed them down to the writing, "there are changes," she implored. "Little changes that have to add up. Like here it says, 'I can't stop thinking about Ambrose Pierson'," she read. "But in the picture I took in the car—" she pulled up the photograph on her mobile and compared it for them. "It says, 'I can't stop think about Ambrose Pavilion.'"

Still perplexed, Hanna voiced, "What's Ambrose Pavilion?"

"Not Ambrose Pierson, that's for sure," huffed Halle, eyes scanning the page for more words she could tell were manipulated and overlapped.

"I don't know either," Spencer admitted, "but it was a big enough clue that whoever stole this book wanted to make sure we never saw it, in fact that we saw something else."

"So we couldn't link them to that place, and then to Ali," concluded Halle.

Hanna wondered, "Are all the changes like that?"

"Yeah, so far," Spencer revealed. Her brows shot up, arched, as she elaborated to her friends, "January becomes March — a cute girl becomes a cute guy."

"And A thinks we won't notice because we'll think we're so smart for getting it back," Emily realised logically, putting it together.

Halle recalled back to that same morning., "That's why it was so easy."

Delighted, Spencer held her phone in an iron-claw like it was their most powerful weapon. She said, "But A doesn't know that I have the original pages on my phone." She smirked, "So we have our edge back."

Emily said adamantly, "We should find Aria."

Shaking her head, Halle mentioned, "I ain't seen her for a while."

"Well, she's not left," Hanna put. Her stared pointed over Spencer's shoulder at an affectionate Mike and Mona. "She's his ride."

"Which means she's around here somewhere," Spencer reasoned. "We have to tell her about the journal and Fitz now."

With her brows scrunched together, confused as she tried to make sense of it all, Hanna asked for clarification, "So, wait, you're saying that Ezra left that book for us to find?"

"Which means he knows we know," Emily said, eyes bulging in dread.

An urgency came over Spencer. "We have to tell Aria."

"Will she even believe us over him?" Halle asked, concern under her surface.

Spencer pushed, "We have to try."

Scanning the bustling, chatty restaurant floor, Emily sighed when she couldn't find their friend. "I can't see her," she said. "Maybe she went to get something from her car?"

"If not, well, then we'll sit on her porch until she gets home," Hanna decided from them.

The four agreed. Quickly, they filed after each other and headed for the door. They expertly manoeuvred their way through the pockets of people who had shown up to celebrate Halle, a blend of family and friends alike. At the back, Halle steamed after her friends, within the final stretch of the door when a hand curled around her wrist.

Jolting around, Halle was shocked to find out that Toby was the culprit. "Toby, can you hold on for—?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me your nana was at Radley?" Toby asked her seriously.

"Radley?" Halle was stunned. Her breathing shallowed out, eyes darting between her nana, him and her friends who had stopped by the door too. She couldn't see what had caused the four to freeze at the windows, unaware of how they had found Aria kissing Fitz outside by her car, but she did see the betrayal laced within Toby's blue eyes. "What do you mean, Radley?"

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