•

"Free Fall"

The mention of the dated, mental facility had Halle spinning all night. Even on her high from a more than successful school musical and the elevated celebration at The Grille that her parents had thrown for her, Halle had been consumed over Radley — and Aria — ever since last night. She had turned to bugging her mother about it on the journey home and all morning, even as her grandmother slept on the home office's couch-come-bed.

"Why are you asking me about Radley?"

"Better question right here," Halle claimed, hand up patronisingly. Her eyes were pinned intensely on Luisa Brewster as she prepared breakfast for her own mother and carer. "Why didn't you tell me 'bout it?"

"Why would I tell you about Radley?" Luisa asked her, near to sighing every time she opened her mouth.

"'Cos nana was there," Halle said like it was blatantly obvious.

"Why would I tell you about that?" Luisa dismissed her, "It was almost twenty-seven years ago, Halle, it's not current events."

"It's Radley," Halle said strongly, arguing over the kitchen island at her mother. "I can think a good few reasons to tell me."

Luisa shot her an incredulous look. "Like what?"

"Uh, I don't know," Halle began sardonically, ready to launch into a rant. "Maybe 'cos Mona was sent there after she bullied me for the whole of junior year? Or maybe 'cos Spencer went there not four weeks ago. Oh, and—" her eyes grew wide with her final point, "here's the real kicker — I have bipolar too."

"You have different types," stated Luisa, although she knew how tedious that answer was — and how severe her daughter's reaction would be.

Halle sucked her teeth at that. "Oh, so it don't count, that's what you're saying?"

"What I'm saying is—" Luisa exhaled forcibly and put down the knife she had been using for chopping strawberries, "it would've scared you," she said fairly. "You just got your diagnosis, you were already nervous about it, and you wanted me to tell you about Radley? No," Luisa said, shaking her head. "Absolutely not. Radley can be a scary place to hang over somebody's head. It would've scared you," she repeated. "I know it scared me when I was your age."

"What about Spencer was there?" Halle tossed back. "She's one of my best friends, Mom. You're friends with her mom and it never came up?"

"It came up when I spoke to Veronica, but not you," Luisa informed factually.

Betrayal hit Halle in the chest. "So, Mrs Hastings knew?"

"Like you said, she's my friend — I go to Curves with her every week — and she wanted reassurance that Spencer was in a good place," Luisa remained solid. "I gave her that."

Halle wanted to scoff. "By telling her it was scary?"

"By reassuring her it was the best place for Spencer to be," Luisa corrected. "It's not a bad place, Halle, it's just... places like that can be scary to some, especially when you're young and scared anyway." For a moment, Luisa wavered. Her fragile past lingered behind her eyes. She shook her head, ridding herself of it, and said, "And it doesn't really matter, it was such a long time ago."

"It does matter, though," Halle defended her right to know. "It matters to me."

"It was a brief time," Luisa said. "For a few months in my freshman year."

"How long?" Halle asked.

"A few months," repeated Luisa because it was all she wanted to give.

"How long's a few months? Three? Four? Eight?" Halle demanded fiercely, "How long?"

"Damn it, Halle!" exclaimed Luisa in frustration. Her eyes were clenched shut, screwed up tight, pleading with her daughter to stop. "Why can't you just let things go?"

Halle's raised her voice also. "Because I deserve to know why she was there." She sighed and bargained for it, "Mom, I get my bipolar from her, I share medical history with her, we overlap — I deserve to know what could be my future."

"It won't be your future," Luisa swore blindly. "You will never end up at Radley, not while I'm around."

"So, how come nana was there?" Halle questioned.

"It was—" Luisa cut herself off. Her hands gripped at the counter, knuckles tightly locked as she fought with it mercilessly. She blinked once and decided this was information ought to be shared. "My pops — your Grandpa Reggie," she started, "he couldn't cope on his own. I was sixteen, your aunt wasn't even in middle school yet, and he couldn't take care of all us."

Utterly disgusted, Halle released her offence. "So he sectioned her?"

"She had a bad manic episode and he couldn't cope," Luisa gave him the benefit of the doubt. "It was the only way he could keep us together."

This time, Halle did scoff out of hurt, "Oh, yeah, by sending her away."

Pressing her lips together, Luisa had to bite her tongue at her daughter's attitude. "My life, growing up, looked a lot different than yours," she hinted and yet Halle didn't care.

"Save me the 'when-I-was-your-age' chat, Mom, I've heard it all before," Halle irritably remarked, close to rolling her eyes.

"Halle, CPS were gonna take us away from him," Luisa snapped, and watched as Halle clammed her mouth shut, instantly regretting how she had spoken prior. "If he didn't act, they were gonna take me and aunt from him, and Rosewood's a small town — we wouldn't have recovered from that. When I told you it mattered what people said about you, I meant it," she said. "And you — or your siblings — wouldn't have been possible if it wasn't for Radley."

"What does that mean?" Halle asked, confused.

"It means, me and your aunt would have been split up," Luisa explained. "We would've been taken from your grandparents, taken from Rosewood too, and taken from each other. We would've been put in different homes, maybe in different cities, and they would've sectioned my mom anyway." She put her shoulders back and held her chin up high. "When I say pops did to keep us together, I stand by that. He hated himself for putting her there up until the day he died, but he'd do all over again if he had to."

"Mom..." Halle softened, "I had no idea."

"Exactly, you had no idea," confirmed Luisa, clipped. "So don't pretend to." She sucked in a breath and held herself well, summoning whatever strength she had in her. "I'm not proud that she went to Radley, and I admit," Luisa confessed, "I may have made a mistake not telling you, but I stand by why I didn't." Firmly, she said, "My family history doesn't have to be your family trauma, so—" her stare grew stern as she bore down at her daughter, "leave it alone now."

Then, before Halle could reply, Luisa snatched up the tray and left. Halle watched her mother walk out of the kitchen, following her with space between them, and enter home office. It had been the first time in weeks, the door where her father often worked, was unlocked; it was to best accommodate Halle's nana and her carer for a couple nights they spent in Rosewood. Halle eyed Luisa as she met her elderly mother with a bright smile and a happy 'good morning', while Halle felt her heart clench at the sight.

•

"She said that?"

Halle had recounted her early morning conversation with her mother to her friends. She walked, books squashed to her chest, in the middle of Hanna and Emily. She huffed away her annoyance, discovering it was increasingly hard to maintain it when her family history seemed to sad.

"Along with a lot of heavy family stuff I didn't know about," Halle replied towards Hanna's question. "But, yeah, her family history ain't my family trauma apparently."

"I get it," Emily voiced with a shrug. "She was protecting you."

"Protecting me from what, my own family?" countered Halle, sighing afterwards. "I hate that it's another secret."

"Well, our lives are full of them," Hanna said casually. "Don't be surprised when our families' lives are, too. I mean, my mom was just in a prison cell because she couldn't tell anyone Wilden was blackmailing her."

"And that she hit him with a car," Emily put.

"Actually, I knew about from the start so it wasn't a secret," Hanna chimed, a small smile on her face.

"Okay, we ain't comparing two things that ain't comparable," Halle started, heading to the school bathroom. "My nana being at Radley and me not knowing anything about it ain't the same as your mom not killing Wilden, okay?"

"So," Emily asked her girlfriend, "are you telling Toby you're dropping it or are you gonna find out more?"

"Em, she was there twenty-seven years ago," Halle reminded her. "I doubt she's got any information for us to use."

"But she knew Toby's mom?" Hanna asked, confused. "That's what she said to Toby, right? It's why he walked out of your party, right?"

"Toby's mom was there when she was, I guess," Halle pieced together without much information of her own. "You know—" her hand collided with the bathroom door, glancing over her shoulder at them both, "the first time his mom was there, but it don't mean anything."

The tiredness was in Spencer's bones. She ached as she brought the navy hoodie over her head, adding to the miscellaneous outfit she had on, comprised of baggy school shorts with the Rosewood High emblem on, her sleep top and shower sliders. There was now a permanent grey hue to Spencer's face. Dark circles were wrapped around her bleak, dull eyes. Her brown hair began to tangle and knot, the ends resembling rat tails because she hadn't brushed it in days.

She looked unhealthy.

She was unhealthy.

The door opened to the school bathroom and Spencer's reaction was delayed. She flinched three seconds after it swung open, after three of her four best friends entered.

Emily spoke, "Hey."

As did Hanna, more merrily. "Hey." Then, Hanna's eyes adapted to what they were witnessing. Her brows scrunched up at the choice of outfit that Spencer wore, and Hanna galled, "What are you wearing?"

Spencer, slowly, glanced down at the clothes on her weak, drained body. "It's nothing, I..." She told the truth but left out the most important part. "I had to change," she said with an easy shrug, "and this is all I had in my gym locker.

"Did you..." Emily was kind with not wanting to embarrass her friend. She started over, this time in a whisper, "Did you have an accident?"

Adamantly, Spencer swore, "What?! No!"

"It's okay, Spence, it happens," reassured Halle. "I can drive you home if it'd make you more comfortable—"

"I did not wet myself," Spencer cut in firmly.

With her arms crossed, Hanna snarked, "Well, are you going to? What's up with those shower shoes?"

Throwing her palms up, Spencer let out in irritable defence, "Can you just forget about the outfit, okay?" On a mission, Spencer defiantly crossed the bathroom and locked the door, stopping anybody else from interrupting them. Spencer turned and declared, "We have an emergency situation here."

The three girls span to face Spencer, now with her back to the shut — currently locked — door. "Is that why you called me at 4AM?" Emily asked her.

Both Halle and Hanna were out of the loop; as was Spencer by the look of her startled, confused face. This was news to all but Emily, and Hanna took serious issue with it.

"Wait, what?" Hanna directed at Spencer, "Okay, I thought after we saw Aria lip-locking with the devil, you went home to calm down and crash." She was firm with her recount, following an avoidant Spencer while she crossed back to the sinks.

"I—I—" Spencer stuttered, unable to compute as she floundered for an excuse. "I—must've just hit dial while I was asleep," she lied. Noticing how Hanna rolled her eyes, Spencer got defensive and swerved the topic entirely. "Look, okay, I know we said we were gonna talk to Aria after school, but I really think we need to tell her about Ezra sooner — like now," Spencer stated in a panic, causing the others to freeze up.

Stunned, Emily craned her head forward. "What? Spencer, we can't tell her now."

"She has a woodwork exam first period," Halle remembered the very reason they agreed not to tell her as soon as they could.

Yet, Spencer grew more insistent, "The longer we wait, the more dangerous."

Hanna narrowed her judging gaze at Spencer. "And you think it's any less dangerous to drop a bomb like that while she's going into an exam?"

Emily shook her head. "We can't do that to her."

"Do what?!" Spencer yelled, extremely agitated. "Protect her?!" She raved at them, "Ezra spoke to me this morning and I could barely maintain eye contact. Meanwhile, for all we know right now—" Spencer threw her hands up in a fit of frustration, "Aria is hooking up with him some janitor's closet." Madly, she launched at them, "How does that not make your skin crawl?!"

"It does," Emily admitted first.

"And we will tell her today," Halle said. "But not right now, not at school when she has an exam in twenty minutes."

"Look," began Emily firmly, "I know you don't wanna keep her in the dark. Okay, but this isn't gonna be easy." She watched as Spencer got more and more antsy, rubbing her tired hands over her dull face. Yet, Emily continued, "She's in love with him and she has given up a lot to be with him. I mean, it's already gonna be difficult enough for her to believe he's even capable of this."

Halle could tell Spencer wanted to fight back but was too exhausted to. She noted the change in her friend the most in that moment; she added it to the incessant phone-calls and the clenched claws in the mystery, the withered look to Spencer's appearance and the violent shakes. Serious, Halle dropped her tone in concern. "Spence," she said, lilting, "are you okay?"

With a heavy sigh, heaving through panting, Spencer lied, "I'm fine."

A niggling feeling in the back of her head, scratching at her brain, told Halle it was a lie. Spencer's 'I'm fine' was Halle's 'I got this'. Sometimes it was the truth; most of the time, it was a lie. Before she could ask again — regurgitate her worry — the school bell rung and the serrated group parted.

•

Lunch was nauseating. Halle barely touched her chicken sandwich and she couldn't understand how either Emily or Hanna could eat while her stomach strained so tight that she couldn't physically ingest anything. Something was clearly happening individually with their two absence friends, and Halle scarcely could keep her nerves at bay. She felt sick just thinking of Spencer and — more strongly —Aria, who was kissing the enemy. The fact their teacher was A — was Board Shorts and knew Alison intimately — destroyed all faith.

The stares didn't help either. Everywhere Halle looked, to escape the tense silence of her table, eyes were fixed to them. Gossip soon followed. Murmurs were a typical sound around them. Halle and her friends were a topic of interest again. The hate grew with it and it haunted through the hallways just like Alison's ghost did two years prior. If only Halle then knew she was alive. She wouldn't be so tormented. She figured that was why she couldn't eat too; Halle would be judged for indulging in every day tasks and she refused to add the discussion.

On the other hand, Hanna virtually had inhaled her food. She twice chewed and immediately swallowed, hurrying through the items on her tray, then turned her attention to the cheese string on Emily's. She sat while Emily slowly ate and Halle didn't eat at all, stewing in her anxiety. She fidgeted at the courtyard table, fingers tapping at the surface as they itched to grab her friend's food.

"Are you gonna eat that?"

"Yeah," Emily answered, miffed as this wasn't the first time that question had been asked, and Emily, too, couldn't enjoy her lunch because of it. "I told you that, like, five seconds ago."

At the mild scolding, Hanna turned away. Yet, her agitated eyes kept searching back for the cheese string. She was shaking and folded in on herself, and Emily saw that.

Growing gentler, Emily caved and gave a sigh. "Here," she said, "just take it."

Instantly, Hanna was gracious but snatched it up fast from Emily's tray. "Thank you!" She tore open the packaging and ripped down a line of the cheese, shoving it into her mouth and chewing.

Emily faced Halle, exchanging a delicate look where it came to their shared friend. Emily's eyes got sad and she nodded, so Halle focused on Hanna. "Han," said Halle softly, "you wanna talk about it?"

"Sorry," Hanna apologised, "I just get... I just get extra hungry when I'm nervous."

"I thought it was sad," Emily mentioned sympathetically.

"I get sad when I'm nervous," Hanna inserted, ripping of another piece to put in her mouth. "Look—" her hand came out as she reasoned, "I've been avoiding Aria all day."

"Like I haven't," Emily returned. "I finished my Spanish homework in a toilet stall."

Halle claimed, "I took study hall in my car."

Leaning nearer to her, Hanna asked, "Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, what if we tell Aria Ezra's A and then she hates us?"

"We can't not tell her," Halle maintained. "I can deal with her hating us for now, but she'll eventually get over it and thank us for it."

Emily added on, "What choice do we have except to prepare for things to get ugly?"

Unbeknownst to them, Aria headed for her friends. She had locked onto them from a distance and hurried with her heels furiously clipping towards the table. She voiced her extreme gratitude to have eventually located them. "Finally!"

Her presence alarmed the three and others around them, who stared and pointed at The Liars. Aria's friends straightened up, eyes large at the shock, and now were seriously unnerved as they were planning on avoiding Aria until later when all of them were there. This was a conversation every member of their friendship group had to be present for and for everybody else who were watching them for their next dose of entertainment.

Aria brought her lunch tray and set it down as she raved, "Is there some cellular dead-zone I don't know about in the school?" Parking herself down at the table, Aria awaited their answers and instead all she received was feigned confusion.

"What do you mean?" asked Hanna.

"Well, I've texted you all, like, five times," remarked Aria, as she settled in closer.

Emily gawked, uncertain on how to navigate her reply — or lie. She had been panicking about it all day so far and yet hadn't thought of the obvious. She didn't need to because Aria stopped her.

"Whatever," Aria waved off. There was a sense of urgency to her tone, highly alert and rush. "Where's Spencer?"

Next to Halle, Emily hesitated — caught like a deer in the bright headlight of an oncoming car. She floundered while Hanna seemed fixed to stewing in her own silence. Halle was the only one with an answer and was capable of giving it.

"We haven't seen her," Halle said, lying like her watchers had expected her to without ever hearing their conversation.

That only made Aria grew serious. "Okay — well, we need to find her and talk to her right now."

The three clued in — on their teacher being raging psychopath — that he was A — and exchanged wary glances. They figured Aria must have discovered the truth without them, having been so close to their enemy that she was sleeping with him, and her friends didn't have to break Aria's heart. It was already broken.

Yet, Aria appeared like the most put-together of the four sat around the courtyard table. She seemed more determined that ever. She wasn't erratic or sobbing or acting like somebody had had her heart torn from her chest violently. Aria was full of concern and whole.

Emily pretended to be oblivious, "What about?"

Lowering her voice, now more secretive, Aria began, "Right, I think we all know that Spencer's been a little... extra intense lately." The three girls side-glanced to each other, knowingly guilty from hiding this from Aria and not telling her straight away. "And I'd just chalked it up to stress, but she's not just stressed."

Her friends girls waited. They held their breaths, awaiting Aria to speak the ultimate betrayal. Only, it never came. What was said instead shocked them to their core. All their anxiety, built up throughout the day so far, fell short when Aria opened her mouth and dumped the next thing upon them.

"She's strung out."

Confusion took a hold of each one of them. The group was shoved off a cliffside with that reveal, suspending in the free fall. During the fall, the three realised they weren't as clued in as they thought or would like, and were completely blindsided by it.

Floored, Halle blinked, "Sorry, come again?"

"You guys, Spencer has a serious problem," Aria repeated like they should all just catch on fast and agree. "All right, and this isn't the first time that has happened." While a tidal wave of shock crashed upon Halle and the other two, trying to float amongst the carnage of the drop, Aria reached in to her bag and collected out a thick file. "Two years ago it was enough of an issue that her parents had to ask the school for help," informed Aria and urged the file forward. "Look." She past it over to Emily and commented, "We were too busy ragging on Halle That Summer for weed and we didn't notice Spencer was speeding."

After she had accepted it, Emily opened up Spencer's file as Hanna and Halle leaned it to read also. The latter, who sighed reluctantly when she joined, noticed the Rosewood High School emblem on the front. She knew the words inside were confidential and as the three poured over them, they hadn't recognised the person they were written about.

"It started That Summer," Aria said. "Mr and Mrs Hastings went to their general practitioner, the doctor who prescribed the pills, but he wanted to refer her to a treatment place in the mountains."

"True North," Emily recollected with ease. "It's where Maya's folks sent her."

"Yeah, well, Spencer's parents didn't want that so they reached out to the school for support," Aria explained. "It's all in there, you can read it yourself."

"So, she was using the summer Ali disappeared?" asked Hanna, confused by it slightly.

"Yeah, but I think she used before," Aria revealed. "Do you remember what Alison wrote in her journal about Spencer, in 'Human Cheat Sheet'?"

Halle did. She swallowed before she said, "Spencer was awake for three days during our freshman year exams."

"Yeah, but we don't know she did that for sure," Emily reasoned.

Aria replied, "Her parents probably lied so it wouldn't look bad or backfire on her exam results, that's what Ezra said and—"

It hit Halle like truck, all at once, hard and fast. "Hold on, hold it—" Halle stared Aria down, "Ezra?" She recalled the school emblem and started to simmer with the rage in her belly. "Where did you get this? Did A give you this?"

"No, Ezra did," Aria claimed, "this morning."

Forcing herself to check, jaw grinding to hide her frustration that charged her rigid body, Halle said, "He gave you this?"

Aria seemed a little out of it as she answered liked Halle wasn't the one keeping up with that was happening at their table. "Um, yeah..."

"And you don't see a problem with that?" countered Halle instantly. "This—" she then yanked the file from out of Emily's grasp, "is private."

"Halle, she's using," Aria told her friend because it was the only defence that she processed.

"Yeah, and this is still private," Halle swore. She kept the file out of reach from all of her friends, clutching onto it for dear life. "It's confidential, and Mr Fitz shouldn't have it. And you having no problem with that is concerning." Halle held the file tighter, fingers bursting with her boiling blood. "This is going straight to Spencer, then to her mom and dad—" she saw Aria's eyes widen, and Halle finished, "and then to Principal Hackett."

"What? No!" Aria blurted out her exclamation. She realised her public outburst, gathering even more eyes on them, and dropped her voice, careful now. "You can't do that."

"Why not?" Halle shot.

"He'll lose his job," Aria objected.

Halle struggled to care. "Action meet consequence," she harshly returned. "Actually, I think I'm gonna go to Principal Hackett first. Tell him that one of his teachers is handing over school files to another student, and you," she looked fiercely at Aria and said, "can explain why."

"Halle, he'll be fired," Aria said again with more of the same, which only served to annoy Halle further.

"I don't give a damn," snapped the curly-haired girl. "What I do give a damn is why you're demonizing our best friend over a groomer—"

"—Halle!"

"—Hal!"

It sounded at the same time. Both Emily and Hanna scolded Halle immediately, horrified by what she had said.

"What?" Halle's head whipped towards them madly. "I ain't gonna sit here and let her tear Spencer down because of him."

Softly, Hanna put, "But she has problem, we saw it this morning."

Aria's brows knitted together and she said to them, "I thought you said you didn't see her."

Halle ignored her. "What we saw was our friend, who needs our help, not this," she spat, holding the file in a tight claw. "Or whatever you wanna do with this. Okay — I won't have her for this. I've been there — I've done bad things — really bad, messed up things because I was on something," Halle honestly admitted. "But what I didn't deserve — back then — was my best friends turning on me over something they have no clue about," Halle fought them strongly. "We didn't know the Spencer in this file and instead of questioning why we didn't pick up on it, you're gonna sit her and crap on her?"

"We need to help her," Aria inserted, eyes pinned onto the threatening file in Halle's iron-grasp.

"Yeah, but your version of that is only gonna make it worse," Halle argued. She shook her head, her jaw locked tight. "You know what? I ain't got time for this," declared Halle as she stood. "Think I'm done here for now."

Panicking, Aria stood with her. "Where are you going?"

"Away from you," Halle fumed at her. "And all the back-stabbing," she added, throwing a steely look to the silent pair. She scoffed at them. "Remember to clean the knife once you finish stabbing Spencer in the back, yeah."

"Halle—"

It was no use calling out her name, Halle had already stalked off with the thick student folder in her tight clutch. Other pupils were watching, judging and whispering all at once. Heatedly, Halle didn't notice or even care as she stormed in to the school from the courtyard. In her blind fury, Halle was also not aware that, so panicked and consumed by the web of lies her boyfriend had entangled her in, Aria followed. She chased Halle through the hallways, weaving and dodging the sea of students that occupied them during lunch.

"Hal—" Aria almost collided with another student. She dodged around them, peeking out to see Halle further down the corridor. "Sorry — excuse me." Picking up the pace, Aria managed to snake her way up to Halle and grabbed at the corner of the file, causing her friend to whirl around. "Give it to me."

"No." Halle tugged it back. "Why the hell would I give it you, Aria? You're gonna use it against Spencer," she accused.

"And you're gonna use it against Ezra," Aria tossed back lowly, through gritted teeth, but Halle failed to see the counterpoint or the eyeing stares on them.

"Your point?"

With a exasperated sigh, Aria explained, "Ezra shouldn't have to lose his job just because he's looking out for Spencer, okay? He gave me this file to help her, because he knows it's better coming from us."

"Okay," Halle bit, "so why didn't he just tell you? Why did he steal her student file?"

"He didn't steal it," said Aria defensively. "He works here, he has access to it."

"Yeah, but you don't," Halle reminded her madly. "This—" she held up the file, "never should've been seen by us, don't you get that?"

"Of—Of course I do," Aria struggled. She swallowed down the nerves, sweating as she realised the extreme danger they were in now Halle had that file. Ezra would kill her. He'd be so angry if it got out that he did this for her. He was doing it for her. It would be a betrayal on her behalf if this got out when he was doing everything he could to be with her. "But, Halle, you can't give that file to Hackett."

"Why not? Give me one good reason." Halle pushed for it. "Why — not?"

Aria stammered. "I—I—"

"You can't?" finished Halle for her. "You ain't got one."

"No, I do—I just—" Aria floundered under pressure. "Halle, please," she begged in desperation, eyes welling up with pool of anxiety. "Please, I— Sorry." With no other option, in a flash, Aria's hand darted up and out, snatching the file right out of Halle's hand. "Sorry."

Stunned, Halle barely had time to register the steal before Aria made a brisk break down the hall. "Aria—!" Enraged suddenly, Halle was now the one chasing her friend. She quickly rounded the corner when she spied Aria dashing for the exit.

Unbeknownst to Halle, in her locked but blind rage, her fast feet and stormy face caught the attention of Jason DiLaurentis. He had been leaving for the day, finishing up a conversation with Jesse Lindal, when he spotted Halle up ahead, having just turned onto the hallway. He wasn't the only one. One of the town's Liars running after another one grabbed everybody's eye. Before Halle, who was steaming, Aria hurried past Jason with her head ducked down. He recognised the spiteful fury and wished to contain it, blocking her from her set designation, especially when people were monitoring her every move because of that article.

Skilfully, and much to Halle's dismay, Jason stepped and put out his arm just in to connect with Halle's front. It acted as a blockade, keeping her from Aria. His arm had wormed around her waist, lifted her slightly off the floor and pulled her to the side of the hallway. "Whoa, there," Jason said, as he succeeded in trapping her.

"Let me go," Halle demanded. Her eyes were still on Aria, who picked up at the sight of Jason. "Let me—Now is not the time, I'm close." Wriggling, Halle tried to get out of his hold but failed. She batted at his hand. "Jason, I'm serious."

"So am I," he countered at her, causing her stare to snap to his. Only then did Jason promise, "I will let you go if you tell me what's going on."

She sucked her teeth at his conditional agreement, and Halle finally caved to stopping her fight. She had lost Aria now; the petite girl had fled the building with the file. "I was gonna report Fitz," Halle said, not taking in how Jason's green eyes largened. "But you—" she shoved him off of her scornfully, "ruined that when you let Aria walk outta here with that file."

His hold on her had weakened. He dropped her touch out, astounded. "What?"

"I was gonna report Fitz," Halle repeated for him, boiling over with fury. "I had proof but Aria ran off with it and you—" she accused him again with a furious finger, "stopped me from getting it."

"What proof?" Jason asked her.

"Spencer's school file," she snapped.

"Halle," Jason gulped, the apple bobbing once visibly as she looked deeply into her eyes. Something told Halle this was grave, whether it was his reaction or the following caution tone, she didn't know. "How did you and Aria get Spencer's school file?"

Dropping the fight in her, Halle conceded to having an ally. "Fitz gave it to Aria," she said to him. "He's A, Jason." Her stare was more scared than ever before. "Ezra's A."

•

The revelation was hefty. It amassed all the weight of the last three years — everything that had happened since That Summer and the night Alison DiLaurentis disappeared. It led the pair, the ex-lovers, to his living room on Bridgewater, and Halle did her upmost best to explain it to him.

"Tell me again," Jason requested despite the steely look to his darkening eyes and the exhaustion on Halle's face. He was sat on the couch next to her, a merely pathetic gap between them, his body angled towards her as he tried to absorb all she was saying.

"Jason—"

"Tell me again," he said, much firmer.

With a sigh, Halle proceeded to. "We didn't just find the Day-family house in Ravenswood, we found another A-lair," she said for a second time for him. "It was the fullest one we'd seen, like, it had everything — from receipts to pay-outs to photos of Alison we'd never even seen— letters from Alison to Ezra," she remembered clearly. "Everything! And there was all this tech, like, he had three computers. It was A's brain — so alarm systems, our cars, the police, street cameras in town. He sees everything."

"And the diary Hanna found?" Jason checked her on that part of the story, making certain he had all the facts straight in his head. "It's like the others?"

"Sorta," Halle answered. "This one had stories in it. Alison was writing stories about everyone, but changing the names and details so you couldn't tell who they were about unless you knew or were specifically involved."

"Why would she do that, though?" asked Jason.

"'Cos of him," Halle simply said. "Alison changed herself to get guys to like her. She took up field hockey for Ian, she learnt to be a writer for Ezra."

Jason said, "But she wrote one about him instead?"

"She called him Board Shorts," Halle told him. "It was his nickname."

A sardonic scoff left him. "Ali liked those." For a brief moment, Jason turned from Halle. He shut his eyes, pushing back the insults and snide comments he heard Alison call him in his head, trying to remember that he wanted to help her; that now was the time to make up for being an absent, older brother. After he recollected himself, Jason faced his ex again. "What was in this story?"

"Not a lot," Halle stated. "It was a re-telling of their conversation, how she flirted with him, how he acted to her flirting." She said, "He told her all good writing comes down to love and death."

"So, he's pretentious and a perv, great," Jason let out sarcastically.

Halle nodded. "They met a lot at a bar," she said. "The Hart and Huntsman, it's near—"

"Near Hollis," Jason interrupted, surprising her. "Yeah, I know it, only it's now called—"

"Snookers." This time, it was Halle who surprised him with her interruption. "It's where he met Aria," she revealed to him, hating how dark his stare went. Halle regretted to add, "On labour day weekend, on the first anniversary of Alison's disappearance."

The anger flared up in Jason. His chest grew tight, contracted to its very edge, and his jaw clenched, teeth gritted, until it hurt. The muscle in it pulsated, swollen, as he listened further.

"Spencer and me," she carried on although the searing fury scared her. Halle felt it burst into flames around her, scorching the air, but it never burnt her. After all, Halle wasn't scared for herself. She was scared for Fitz when Jason found him. "We went to the bar to check it out and Spencer saw Fitz there. They chatted a little, he made some crappy excuse to why he had to leave early, but he had ordered the exact same—" she made sure to stress, "as the mystery guy in Alison's story: boysenberry pie and board shorts ale."

Jason asked, "What else?"

"In the lair," Halle began, her mind racing with her own question, "they had photos of people on this one wall — everyone involved or linked to Alison. Guess who's face wasn't there?"

"His," Jason answered for her.

"Why put your own face up in your own lair?" Halle posed to him. "You wouldn't — he didn't."

"Do you know anything about the lair? Something more than can link him to it," Jason said, digging further.

"His name is on the sale ad," Halle admitted. Her head fell to a tilt. "But under Fitzgerald not Fitz."

Jason's eyes flashed up to her. "Fitzgerald?"

"Yeah, why?" Halle asked him now, confused to why he chose to pick at that part rather than the other things.

"Why would it be Fitzgerald?" he asked, puzzled.

"It's his last name," Halle stated for him. She rolled her eyes and added, "He cut off the rest for writing, apparently."

"Or because he was hiding something," Jason recalled. Recognition formed at the centre of his own connections. He rose abruptly from the couch and without a word, he exited the living room and headed up towards the stairs.

Mindlessly, Halle followed. "Jason?" He didn't answer her. "Jason!"

He was faster than she was — more determined. His feet bounded up the staircase, skipping two steps at a time so he'd reach the landing quicker. Halle held her chest as she chased after him, rounding the hallway after him to already find him within his desired location.

Halle hesitated when she realised Jason had gone in to Alison's bedroom. The pink had stilled her. Jason had ended up within the childhood room of his late sister and was crouched down by far bedside table. He was searching for something as he searched for something. A chill shot up Halle's spine at being back there, connecting to that girl trapped at fifteen sharing secrets with her best friends.

"Now, I don't know where my mom's put it," Jason started, his determined gaze scanning the room frantically before he stood up and travelled around to the other side of the bed. He repeated his search in the matching side table. He moved items out of it and tossed them to the bed, ridding them from his way. "But I'm sure she packed it," he finished.

"Packed what?" Halle asked, as Jason gave up and quickly crossed to the vanity. He clambered around inside the top drawer, scouring still. "Jason—" she said more sternly, "what are you looking for?"

"A book," he answered, continuing to make a mess.

"If you're looking for Lolita, Hanna had Alison's copy," Halle told him.

"I'm not looking for Lolita," he replied.

More things — things Halle didn't even know Jessica DiLaurentis had kept — were emptied out to then be shoved back in when he couldn't locate what he wanted. For a woman who said she got rid of a lot of Alison's belongings, most of them were still there or replaced with replicas. Jason tried the next drawer and the next, meanwhile, Halle stood in the doorway like a spare part. She was on the outside to his investigation, bewildered to what he was looking it. It wasn't until he had pried open the left, bottom draw, which was much deeper than the others, that he found it.

Triumphantly, Jason pulled out his hand. It held on tight to a hardback, and his mouth tugged up into a satisfied smile when he revealed what he had been desperate to find to Halle.

Tender Is The Night
By F. Scott Fitzgerald

Her eyes blew open wide. In an instant, Halle lapped at it and bore down at the retro cover. "Oh, my god, where did you get this?"

"I didn't," he said. "It's Ali's." Jason watched as Halle's stare snapped to him again at the reveal. He recalled for her, "She came back from a trip to New York with it That Summer. She said she went with CeCe, but mom went off about how she thought it was with a guy because of how Ali was acting too grown-up afterwards." His brows went up as he remarked, "CeCe may have been older, but they acted like spoilt kids together."

Examining it further, Halle trailed her fingers over the bright cover. It was beaten up slight, wearing at the spine from time and use. Carefully, Halle tried to open the front only for the slip to move. It came undone, her having to catch it first. However, her eyes caught onto something more important. The gold marking down the bottom caught her attention. She read from it, "New York, 1934." Halle looked to Jason, stunned. "It's first edition."

"Exactly my point," he replied. Jason stood, joining Halle in her space. "Ali hated reading and that's far too expensive for her to have bought, and there's no way she could've ever convince my parents to buy it her."

"So who did?" Halle said.

"I was hoping Fitz and Fitzgerald were connected," suggested Jason.

"No," Halle said, with a shake of her head. "He has no connection to the author. His family are rich 'cos of art — they've got a whole ass museum exhibit for it." And yet, when Halle opened up the hard-back, her stomach fell through the two floors to the basement. "Oh..." Her eyes locked onto the hand-scribed inscription.

"What?" Jason moved closer to see what she did, now hovering by her side and almost over her shoulder.

She asked him, "You've never looked inside?"

"Alison never put it down long enough," Jason told her. "Between this and Lolita, it's all she read That Summer."

"Look," Halle urged, and pointed directly to what she saw and dreaded.

When you're dreaming of France,
escape to New York.
Your Fitzgerald

•

There was shouting — screaming. Spencer was crying hysterically. She begged for somebody to believe her — to listen to the words she had been saying. Halle wasn't there too; the others crowded her. Cornered, all Spencer could do was tear her vocal cords and plead for her friends to eventually hear her.

"Yes! I've taken a couple of pills a few times—and it's not great, I know, but it's not that big of a deal," Spencer freaked, tears steaming down her cheeks. "And Ezra's just trying to make it into a bigger deal than it is because he's trying to get the focus off himself—" Halle opened the door as Spencer screamed out, "—because he's freaking A!!!" Spencer broke as she finished, her head thrown back in distress as she then wept, "Oh, my god, this is brilliant. " She hid her soaked, reddening face behind her palms, crying still.

The door shut with the loudest of bangs. Their heads whipped towards it and they discovered a stunned Halle watching them in horror. Hurt flourished in Halle, rising alongside her anger. "What the hell is going on?" Her eyes caught sight of the file on the island, the same that Aria had snatched from her earlier. "You didn't." Her stare snapped to Emily and Hanna. "And you two went along with this? Are you freaking serious?" Halle scoffed at them and their spineless attitude. "You're pathetic."

"She needs help," Hanna defended their actions.

"Oh, and that's what this is, is it?" Halle shot at the two. "Her crying— begging you to hear what she's sayin'?" She stormed over and retched the file up. "That ain't helping, that's judging."

"She won't listen," Spencer sobbed to Halle desperately. "None of them are. He's turned them all against me, nobody believes me."

"I do, Spence," Halle avowed to her friends, a comforting hand coming to rest on Spencer's back to sooth her. "I believe you."

"Spencer," Aria injected calmly, and Spencer's tearful and distraught expression lifted to her. "Alright, I know that you're feeling cornered right now and none of us went about it in the right way but—"

"Oh, god, Aria," burst in Spencer, furious in her exasperation. "Will you wake up?!" she roared loudly, "This is exactly the kind of deer-in-the-headlights behaviour that almost got you shot in the back of a night club!"

In that moment, in that split second, it clicked for Halle that Spencer's substance use was different than hers. Whereas Halle could enjoy herself, lose control and give it all up (maybe with some temptation afterwards for a while or at her most stressed), Spencer had an addiction. She was like her half-brother in more than classic stubbornness. It caused Spencer to imagine things so vividly that Spencer couldn't separate imagination. Spencer was in deep trouble, and Halle had previously been blind to it.

"What night club?" Hanna asked.

Yet, it only served to upset Spencer further. Spencer drowned under the reality, swept up in a hurricane of disillusion and not being believed. She was sweating tears, perspiring rapidly while she spiralled. "I mean... I am..." She wiped aggressively at her gaunt face. "O—okay, I'm confused, but the point is that I'm not crazy, okay."

Her 'okay' was shaky. It cracked under the weight of all her insecurities, reminded solely of a month prior and how Radley labelled her 'mad' for thinking Toby was dead. Somebody was, Spencer had thought the entire time, and Spencer felt like dying herself. Spencer realised, locking onto each one of her friends' troubled expressions that this had fast become a losing battle. She lost them, and all she had left to grip to was Halle.

"You... You just don't see, they just don't see," she said to Halle. Spencer grew hot in impatience and increasingly needy. "How can you guys not see what's happening?"

"Spencer, I see," Halle assured cautiously. "I see, I hear you — I'm on your side, but you need to take a sec to calm down."

"I—I can't deal with this right now," Spencer panicked, and grasped at her open bag. In her escape, ready to flee upstairs, she pulled at the satchel-purse's handle, causing it to tip and its contents to spill out. In abrupt fight, Spencer jolted back.

A thud came; a thick pad fell upside down onto the island. Aria suspected she knew exactly what it was and stretched for it. Once she retrieved it, all while Spencer was too stunned to speak or do anything, Aria flipped it over to discover it was a prescription pad. Her eyebrows darted up. "Wren?"

Hanna stood, anger coursing throughout her body. "He's your hook-up?"

"Or did you just swipe the pad?" Emily vilely accused without much proof, flooring Halle in the aftermath of the three's joint cruel insensitivity.

Spencer floundered again. "It's not mine." She widened her eyes, terrified as she adamantly defended, "I've never even seen that before."

They looked at Spencer like it was obvious that she was lying. Halle saw it. Her gaze flashed between them and Spencer; it was two opposing sides. They ganged up on her, scaring Spencer into a timid beast afraid of a beating.

"Now, hold up," Halle stuck up for her. "A's planted things in our bags before."

"She's strung out!" yelled Hanna in annoyance.

"Spencer—" Halle's nostrils flared as she steamed with violence that for now she could keep at bay, "go upstairs, wash your face, I'll handle this."

"Halle—"

"Go upstairs, Spencer, I'll be right there," Halle asserted forcibly without taking her blistering glower from the three others. She waited for Spencer to creep away, sniffling and sobbing the whole journey up the staircase. Then, Halle unleashed hell. "How dare you," she instantly fumed. "How dare you do that to her."

"She's lying to us," Emily tried.

"She's in pain and you're acting like she's the enemy," Halle countered fiercely. "A is the enemy — not each other."

"Halle, she's saying that Ezra's A," Aria explained like Halle would falter, stop and switch sides.

She didn't. "He is," Halle stated with no hesitation. "And up until lunch, you guys thought so too."

"Because Spencer said so," Emily reasoned.

"Because the facts say he is," Halle snapped at her.

Aria refused, "Ezra is not A."

"Oh, yeah?" Halle got nasty really quick. She served them the same brutality they had given to Spencer. "Then why is his name on the Ravenswood lease? Why did he know Alison and give her this freaking book?" Halle slammed it down on the island and forced it open. "There — 'When you're dreaming of France, escape to New York, Your Fitzgerald.' — There!" she yelled. "Ezra's A."

"He's not—" Aria stuttered. "W—W—What is this?"

"Where did you get this?" Emily asked, shocked truly.

"Jason," Halle said. "He told me That Summer, Ali kept switching between this book and Lolita. She falls in love with an older man, right? A professor?" Halle sneered at her scornfully, glaring. "It's his writing, yeah?

"Aria, it's just like the one Ezra gave you," Emily remembered, having seen it a thousand times on Aria's bedside table.

"It's not—Guys, Ezra's not A," Aria said, wavering. She shook her head and shoved the book away. "No, no, he—he's being set up."

"Oh, so set-ups only happen when you choose, huh?" Halle quipped at her dryly.

"Halle, Spencer clearly needs help — she's using," Aria argued.

"Yeah, and two things can be true at once, Aria," Halle ripped. "Spencer needs helps and your boyfriend's A. Now I'm gonna go check on our friend. When I come back down, your attitude better be fixed or your asses need to be gone. I don't care which — choose."

Her glare was splintering. It burst and raged, burning with every fibre of her being. Halle hoped it hurt — caused them to crawl up in shame. She left them with the demand and stormed upstairs to let them make their decision without a further scolding from her wrath.

When Halle entered Spencer's bedroom, she could hear gentle weeping in the dark. Quietly, Halle walked in and set down the file on the side table. The noise caused Spencer to whip her head up. Halle was met miserably by Spencer's wet, splotchy face, red and drowned in salty tears. "It's okay, it's only me," Halle said. "Just returning what's yours, we can tell your folks together later, okay?"

"They don't believe me, Halle," Spencer sobbed. "They think I'm crazy again."

"You were never crazy to begin with," Halle said forcibly. She needed Spencer to know that much. "People just wanted you to be."

"They don't believe me, they're never gonna trust me again," Spencer choked out, breaking down in to more waterworks.

Swiftly, Halle joined Spencer on the bed. "Hey, it's okay, you're okay." Halle gathered her crying friend up in her arms and pulled Spencer up to her chest, cradling the girl in a blanket of safety. "We're gonna get him, Spence," Halle soothed. "I promise you, Ezra Fitz is gonna pay for what he did — is doing." She stroked Spencer's hair, waiting for Spencer to even out her breathing. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"The drugs?" Spencer asked timidly, peeking out from behind Halle's soaked sleeve.

"Yeah," said Halle. "When did it start? The first time?"

"It was a prescription. I swear I had a prescription," Spencer vowed strongly. "It was for ADHD, my mom thought they'd help mellow me out — focus me more. I realised they did that, but when exams came around, I hadn't studied properly—I couldn't. My brain wasn't working the way I needed it to, it was too slow. But I figured out if I just took more of them, then I couldn't sleep. They made going to sleep harder," she said truthfully. "I could study more that way."

"So, you took them to stay awake," Halle concluded, recalling Alison's journal entry 'Human Cheat Sheet'.

"I only did it for three days," Spencer pleaded to be heard. "Just enough to get me through the science papers, but then... That Summer," she started to add, "after Alison kept on at me for Ian, I needed to shut it all off. Calm it all down," she admitted. "And Ian never wanted to me in the day, so I'd take them to relax and to stay awake like before so I could meet him when he wanted."

"This was after he broke up with Melissa?" Halle carefully questioned. "In the June?"

"Yeah," nodded Spencer, sniffling through her snotty nose. "I felt terrible all the time, all summer, about sneaking around and it just got worse. So, I took more and more and more until I started to black out. I used to go for Melissa a lot in those moments, apparently," she revealed.

"'Cos of Ian," noted Halle.

Spencer gave another meek nod. "He told me that he really liked me, but we could never properly be together because of Melissa, because she was my sister. And I," she sniffled, "started to really hate her for it — and myself." Spencer wobbled, raked with new tears, "And all things Hastings — because if I wasn't a Hastings, then I could be with Ian."

"Spencer," Halle hoped, hugging her friend closer, "you know that ain't true, right?"

"I know, I know now," Spencer said. "I think I even knew back then, too, but I kept taking them. Even after we called the whole thing off, I still took them. Because when I did," her voice went up and thin, breaking, "I didn't feel so ugly or disgusting or guilty all the time. I spent That Summer hating myself," she told Halle sincerely. "And my family." She blinked and more tears wet Halle's top, creating a sodden patch on the material. "It's what Radley was partly about — not being Spencer Hastings."

Glumly, Halle kept playing with Spencer's hair, listening while her heart ached for the girl in her arms. She hummed softly, "I like Spencer Hastings. I like her a lot, actually."

Tearful, Spencer mustered the strength to crane her head back to peer up at her close friend — probably her closest, and most trusted, right this second. "You got me through it — Radley," she said. "You and your family." She watched as the crease appeared between Halle's brows, puzzled at the surprising confession. "I know it sounds weird and you also don't have the perfect relationship with your family, but it's more like a family I'd want than my own. And when I was there, I thought about your family a lot and when it got really hard for me, I chanted it in my head." She recited so Halle would better understand, "A nice cosy house, parents of the couch watching television, one older brother, sisters — one younger, one the same age — a family dog. A family."

Halle didn't know how to react. She got choke up, water glassing over her own vision. "Spencer, I—" she cleared her throat, "I had no idea."

"I didn't know how to tell you," Spencer disclosed. "I'm jealous of what you have, and now — with this," she emphasised greatly, "I don't think it's enough to get me through Radley a second time."

"Spencer, no—" Halle sat up further, more stern and fierce, "you're not going to Radley again." She embodied her mother. She lived through that same morning — the conversation they had — and it made complete sense to Halle why her mother wouldn't tell her about Radley. Radley did this to people. It scarred them for life. They were always fearing when they'd be sent back or locked up again. Halle, now, understood why Luisa Brewster never told her about it.

"But they don't believe me," Spencer tearfully argued. "They think I'm crazy, they'll send me away again until I stop."

"You ain't crazy," Halle promised her protectively. "You ain't going anywhere either — I won't let it happened ever again, okay? But, Spence," she softened her tone, as well as her eyes, "you gotta let me help you. Will you let me help you? Please, Spencer."

Spencer gifted her a small, weak nod and whispered out, "Okay."

•

They dove in to the hot pizza in Spencer's kitchen. Hanna had ordered it ten minutes after Halle had gone upstairs; seven minutes after Aria had left in floods of her own tears. Both Hanna ad Emily pulled out a cheesy, veg-adorned slice as their mood remained bleak and miserable.

"So, did Aria text you?" Hanna asked, copying Emily by putting her slice on a plate.

"Yeah," Emily answered. "She said she's saying in, she text when she got home."

"And we believe her?" remarked Hanna incredulously.

"Why?" Emily said, "You think she's gonna go see Ezra?"

As Emily moved to go to the spice rack on the back countertop, collecting out the cayenne powder, Hanna voiced like an excerpt from a woman's magazine, "Spencer may have an addiction, but so does Aria." Hanna said to Emily, who re-joined her at the island, "I mean, love is a drug, too. And who says Ezra doesn't put Aria in a—" she sharply inhaled, her brows scrunched together, "what do you call it?"

"Altered state," Emily said.

"Yeah, exactly," responded Hanna. She crossed to get to the fridge, opening it up. "I think Aria kept her habit a secret, too. It's a classic druggie move."

"Okay—" Emily pulled a face, "do you think you can ease up on the language, Han?" she requested, arms folded and hugged to her stomach.

"Halle got to you, didn't she?" Hanna sighed and agreed, "Yeah, me too."

"She was right," Emily acknowledged. "We were cowards, we should've told Aria about Ezra straight away."

"Well, Spencer's fixed that for us," Hanna retorted, fetching out two cans of soda. "And Halle nailed it shut with that freaking book."

"So, what are you saying?" Emily had to check. "You still think the same? You still think that Ezra is A?"

Shutting the fridge door, Hanna returned with their tow cold drinks. She mentioned, "There's too much evidence against him. We found the Book of Revelations in his desk."

"Yeah, but what if that was a plan from the real A," Emily proposed, "trying to make Fitz look guilty? A does that," she knowingly claimed.

"Then if we're giving him that grace, Spencer should have it too," Hanna replied. She urged, "Come on, Em, you saw her face when that pad fell out, she'd never seen it before in her life."

"But she is using, Hanna," Emily softly expressed her concern. "Spencer needs help."

"Yeah, and you bitches gave her none of that," Halle countered, having heard a lot of their conversation from the stairs. From her spot, elevated high, Halle spotted the pizza and remarked, "Wow, ain't this homey? Your best friend thinks she's this close—" she squeezed her index finger and thumb within an inch of each other, "to you shoving her off to Radley again and you've ordered a pizza to said-friend's house — nice."

"Sorry, I was starving," Hanna sincerely apologised. "My stomach is hurting really bad and I get really hungry when I'm—"

"—You're stressed, I know," Halle interrupted. "Just like I know when Spencer does, she self-destructs. Or Em goes for a swim, or Aria gets defensive and draws. I know all this, but I ain't ever thought for second you'd talk to Spencer like that — not after Radley, not after what her being there did to us as a whole." Halle's peeved nature was written all over her face. "Maybe Dr Sullivan was right, huh, we do need that group session so we stop treating each other like crap anytime one of us is having a hard time."

"Is Spencer okay?" Emily asked, feeling terrible.

"I got her to stop crying if that's what you mean," Halle threw out. "The answer's no but she will be."

"Halle, we never meant to go that far," Hanna started truthfully. "I just snapped. It was already so hard to believe that Fitz was A and that—"

"That he'd hurt Aria like that," Emily inserted.

Fast, Hanna agreed, "Yeah, and when we saw that file, it all changed." She excused, "We thought it could explain it away and it meant we didn't have to tell Aria because it'd hurt her."

Emily frowned. "And we ended up hurting Spencer instead."

"It's okay," came Spencer' tender voice from the staircase. Her face was still gaunt, but at least now it was dry. "I get why you did it," she said. "We're all guilty of falling into A's traps — he knows we'll fall because he knows us." She travelled towards them. "In a way only somebody who is closer to us would."

"A teacher," Emily said.

Halle stated, "A best friend's boyfriend."

"Here." Spencer pulled out a tiny ziplocked bag and tossed it to the island; inside were the pills. "That's all of them," she declared, referring to the nine capsules. "I don't need them anymore."

Hanna slowly picked them up. "What even are they, Spencer?"

"ADHD meds, I think, I'm not exactly sure," Spencer muddled. "I've been buying off different people so it's not really consistent.

"Spencer!" Emily was mortified in her heightened concern for her well-being. "That's so dangerous."

"I know, I know," Spencer said honestly. "Look, I know that my credibility with you guys kind of got decimated today, but Ezra is A."

"I know, Halle showed us the book Jason gave her of Ali's," Emily said.

Confused, Spencer asked, "What book?"

"A book Fitz gave Alison That Summer," Halle informed her. "He signed it and gave it to her for a gift," she said, and slide the edition of 'Tender is the Night' along to her. "He wrote inside the cover."

"Your Fitzgerald," Spencer read aloud. "He has to be a A. This proves he knew Ali more than her journal does."

"How can we be sure, though?" Emily asked.

"We always said it was Ali's secret boyfriends who hurt her That Night," said Spencer. "He found out she was pregnant — or seeing Ian for fun on the side — and got mad. He came to take it out on Alison and found Faith instead."

"Now he's A to find out how Alison ran away," Hanna put.

"And to scare us into never telling the police again," Halle told them. "Even getting the 'liars' narrative out so no one believes us."

"You think Ezra leaked it?" Emily said, eyes wide and large.

"It was two sources: a cop and somebody else," returned Halle. "Who else knows this story better?"

"Okay—" Hanna looked at them wary, "but we've just pushed Aria straight to Fitz, how do we prove he's A?"

"We set him up," Spencer declared, and showed them their annotated journal of Alison's. "I've been studying all the changes, and I think A is trying to cover up the place there he used to meet Ali."

"The Hart and Huntsman?" questioned Hanna.

"No—" Spencer flipped it open and forced the journal down, spinning it around to slide it across the kitchen island to her friends. "Somewhere else," she claimed. "A place where they can meet and not be seen. See this?" She pointed directly out a specific sentence in the mess of Alison's writing.

Emily tilted her head to see. "'Still thinking of Ambrose Pearson'."

"Right, but that's not what it used to say," Spencer stated factually. Determined, she told them, "Originally, it said 'still thinking of Ambrose Pavilion'."

"So, A changed it," Halle noted.

Spencer replied, "Yeah, so that it would sound more like a person's name, so instead of looking for a location, we'd be searching for a guy."

With her arms fold over themselves, Hanna stubbornly inserted, "Yeah, some weirdo called Ambrose."

"Right," Spencer further explained, "so, Ambrose Pavilion is halfway to Killingsworth, it's a little shopping village near the William Tell Lodge slopes." Halle's brows furrowed, recognising it slightly, which Spencer picked up on instantly. "What?" she focused all her attention on Halle. "Do you know it?" Spencer asked.

"It's, uh..." Halle pulled from her childhood. "It's nothing, really," she said. "My dad's folks, they used to rent out a cabin there every Christmas, kinda a ski-tradition for his family. It's full of rich folks," she stressed.

"So, a great place for Ali to hunt out her next boyfriend," Hanna remarked back. "Especially since she needed the money."

Emily turned to Spencer and asked, "So how does that prove that Ezra's A?"

"It doesn't," answered Spencer truthfully. "Apart from the rich part. But A already knows that Ali's still alive, and A knows that she never got that money in the coffee bag that she needed from Shana." Greatly, Spencer advised, "So all we have to do is convince him that Ali's gonna meet us at Ambrose Pavilion to get it."

"And you think the person showing up will be Ezra?" checked Emily, eyes on Spencer for the reply.

Only, the response came from Hanna with immense confidence. "It will be."

"Why are you so sure?" Halle asked, floored but the astounding conviction her friends had; like Hanna already had more knowledge than her.

And she did.

Flatly, Hanna stated to the incomplete group, "Because William Tell Lodge is the turning I gave Travis for the cabin."

It hit them hard. "Oh, my god," gasped Emily. She put it together easily. "It was never Aria's uncle's cabin," she said. "It was Ezra's."

Spencer was heated. "Yeah, and that's why A knew where we were to get Ali's journal."

"So, wait," Halle played catch-up, "if Alison knew Ambrose Pavilion... maybe she knew the cabin, too?"

"Ali's been connecting us to Ezra all along," Spencer claimed. "We had the pieces, we just didn't know what they were," she said, and the kitchen ran cold.

•

The exhaustion had past from Spencer to Halle. She was drained by time she started to walk home, after bidding her friends a bittersweet and weak goodbye. Halle was ready to wash her face and crawl under her comforter until the next morning. However, once she made contact with Toby's brown and beige truck, Halle knew that wouldn't be happening. Her house was warmer than the iciness she had just left before at the Hastings'. It stirred up a pang of self-indulgence within Halle, put there by Spencer's Radley confession. Radley was cropping up more than Halle like, causing her to grow more resentful, especially since it stalked her home.

When she entered, familiar chatter filled the backend of the house. She walked past the home-office, its door wide open while an old television, which had been wheeled in specifically for the two nights, was on low with Halle's nana watching re-runs of Magnum PI. Halle walked past it, heading for the kitchen, where she wasn't surprised to have found Toby. At the island, Luisa had gotten out her slender, wooden tough which hosted all the family recipes, past down for decades. She picked out the ones she liked and showed off the laminated cards to Toby, who was on the opposite side to her.

"She likes spaghetti bolognese, right? This is Nick's mother's," Luisa said, and slide one card towards him before she continued rooting through the box.

"It's her favourite," Toby claimed of his girlfriend with a smile. "I don't think I can compete with Carlo's, though."

"Well, it's the thought that counts, my love," Luisa comforted, putting him more at ease within the Brewster household. She held up another. "My pops's gramp's gumbo, but you'll need my help because it's not really a beginner-friendly dish," she jested lightly.

"I do want something I can cook for her," Toby replied.

"No gumbo, then." Luisa went back to her cards. "Pumpkin soup, fried catfish, fried orka, green bean casserole, salmon and brown rice," she listed. "Ooh, ooh—" Luisa grinned positively and said, "If you wanna go with the spag bol, I can whip you up my banana pudding, so even if it goes a little weird, you can still save it. And trust me, there ain't nothing my banana pudding can't save."

"Thanks," Toby said, taken aback by his gratitude from her help. "This is great."

"Don't mention it," Luisa said, waving him off. "This is what I love. Oh, hey, honey," she met, at last noticing that her daughter was in the same room. "I'm just helping Toby find a recipe he likes."

With a chuckle, Toby's cheeks had flushed a light shade of pink as he elaborated, "I'm cooking for Spencer tomorrow night, I've got something big planned."

"The necklace is beautiful, Toby," compliment Luisa honestly. "Oh—" Abruptly, Luisa bolted straight and recalled, "I have fresh basil and parsley in the yard, let me go get you some, okay?" she asked, then briskly headed out back through the enclosed porch.

Once Halle was alone with her friend, she clipped at him, "I would say I'm surprised to see you here but I ain't."

"I did come here to see your mom," defended Toby.

"Sure you did," Halle chided. "Just if you so happen to find out more 'bout Radley, then that's just an added bonus, huh?"

"She knew my mom, Hal," Toby argued with her. "She was at Radley with her."

"Yeah, but, like, over two decades ago," Halle countered. "Before your mom died, the first time your mom was at Radley. My nana has nothing to do with what happened on that roof."

"She was pushed," Toby stressed, visibly hurt all over again due to the new knowledge. Years later — a NDA signed with a huge settlement — it was still raw. Talking about it was like pouring salt directly into a fresh wound. "Somebody killed her and your nana could know them."

"How?" Halle pushed. "My nana wasn't there when your mom was the second time, Toby, she wouldn't know."

"Maybe she does," Toby said defensively. "Maybe the person who killed her was there the whole time, when your nana was there too."

"Toby, I love you, but you have to let this go," Halle said, heart aching for the boy begging in front of her. She was too sore to do this again. "You were doing so good lately. You accepted that your mom would want you to live your life, why are you being roped in over one little comment my nana made?"

"Because something ties me to you — and it's Radley," stated Toby firmly. "Maybe if I can just talk to her, maybe—"

"Maybe, what?" Halle cut in. "You'd know what your mom was like twenty-five-ish years before she died?"

Deflated, Toby asked her, "Can I try?"

"She's..." Halle felt conflicted. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. "She's fragile, Toby. Her memory's not as good as it used to be. She confuses things and I..." Halle paused, biting the inside of her cheek. "I don't wanna put you or her through that."

Toby pleaded, "Halle, your nana knew my mom at Radley. If my mom had enemies there, maybe they were always there and resented my mom for getting better then coming back. Please—" he reached out, "it's all I have of her."

A sigh escaped Halle. "Okay."

Halle couldn't remember the last time she was in her father's home office. It hadn't changed much apart from the few boards, plush to the far wall, covered up in white sheets. They caused Halle's brows to knit together, confused at the secrecy, but it didn't last long. Toby had nudged her side when the carer noticed them enter. Halle's nana was deeper in to the room, facing one of the larger window with a miniature television in front of her.

"Can we have a moment with her?" Halle asked the carer.

"Of course," agreed the carer kindly. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

"Thanks," muttered Halle lowly. Then, softly — softer than Toby had ever seen her — Halle trod closer until she was imposing on the elderly woman's quiet time. "Hey, Nana, it's Halle," she said. "Your granddaughter."

Gloria's head rolled around to face her, eyes lighting up with a bright sparkle when they connected with Halle. "Hey, baby," she said, lightly chuckling. "I know who you are—" she beckoned Halle closer, welcoming her in with a hug and a peck to her cheek, "mwah — your mom didn't tell me what time you'd be coming home. Was school good?" she asked, just as Halle sat down opposite her on the sofa. Gloria gave a warm smile, keeping a hold on Halle's hand even as they pulled apart. "You look tired, baby. Go to bed."

"No, no, I'm fine," Halle said to her. "I wanted to see you before I went up." She didn't like the way her words sounded on her tongue, far too mellow and shallow. She smiled and told her, "I brought you a programme from my show from the other night. You remember coming, right? You sat by mom and Myles," she reminded to jog the lady's memory. "It was Ch—"

"Chicago," said nana Gloria, smiling widely.

Halle was pleasantly surprised, touched at how she remembered although it was short-term. "Yeah, it was Chicago."

"You did so well, Halle," her nana praised her gently. "You were amazing and I had such a good time at—" Gloria had stopped when her stare caught onto the male figure lingering nearby and she aimed her next words at him. "Hello, dear."

"Hi, Mrs Douglass," Toby politely greeted. "I don't know if you remember me. We met the other night, at Halle's show," he said. "I'm Toby. Toby Cavanaugh."

"Yes, I do," Gloria replied, still with a smile on her face. "I do remember you — you're Halle's friend, yes."

Toby joined Halle on the sofa and said while sitting, "You also knew my mother, Marion Cavanaugh. You told me you did the last time we spoke."

"I remember," returned Gloria, nodding as she did her best to absorb the active conversation. Halle could physically see the cogs churn inside of her grandmother's head, working it out as information flew at her; it was why Gloria tended to function at a delay. "But she was Marion Hall when I knew her, at Radley," she said. Innocently, Gloria asked Toby, "How is she? I can't believe how grown up her boy is now."

"She's..." Toby faltered, shattered in a second. "She died, a few years ago."

"Oh, how awful," said Gloria, as she matched his glum mood. With a sad sigh, she lifted her hand to her heart. "That must have been so hard for you, to lose your mother," she said, and Halle felt her chest clench at the thought of her own while she was here. "How old were you?"

"I was fourteen," Toby stated, swallowing painfully. "She died at Radley."

A wince left Gloria. Her hand moved from her chest, extended out and reached for Toby's knee. She clutched at it, holding it tight in her weathered palms. "I am so sorry, honey," she sympathised like it was second nature. "What an awful, awful—" she stressed, "place for her to die. How long was she there? It was her second time there?"

"Yeah, her second," answered Toby. "She was there for a year."

"She missed out on a lot, then," replied Gloria, saddened by it. "I'm sure she never wanted to." She softened even more. "I'm sorry, my dear, I can't imagine the hurt that caused you and your family."

"It was just me and my dad," Toby told her.

"Really? She didn't have any more after?" Gloria wondered. "Then again," she chuckled, "I had two and they were hard work, let me tell you. I should've stopped at Luisa. It was—" She cut herself off as her eyes had drifted back to Halle as she chatted. Her smiled faded. As did her memory. The fog came rolling in and, with it, the confusion seeped into her brain. "Lu?" she said of Halle's features, those that matched her mother's. "Lu!" said Gloria suddenly in pleasant surprise. The brightest glint shone across her eyes. "I didn't know you were coming today."

Halle slipped. The anguish slapped her right across the face and burned. Her eyes welled up, pricking with tears. She saw the misty forgetfulness in front of her and gave it compassion. "Yeah, Mom, it's Lu," said Halle. "I'm here."

"You should be at school, you hate coming here," said Gloria, her tilted to the side as she took in the familiar features her mind had cruelly muddled. It was an obvious blur of the images of the people she loved most, mixing and swirling in a pool of time. The Alzheimer's had been petrol in it; the colours were off, souring, and shapes had disintegrated slowly. Halle was both.

"But I love see you," Halle promised. "You know—" she squeezed her nana's hand lovingly and said, "I really missed you."

"I missed you, too, baby," Gloria softened at that. "I'm sorry I've been away for so long, but—" her hand came up to cup Halle's face, a thumb rubbing against her cheek, "we'll be together again soon, okay? And then I'm yours forever, we'll never be apart after I come home, honey." Just as the sadness poked at Halle, Gloria became distracted by Toby's presence. "Did you bring someone this time?"

"Oh, this is Toby, Na—Mom," Halle self-corrected. "He's my friend."

"Oh, I had a dog called Toby," she informed happily. "When I was a little girl," she said. Ever so slightly wobbling, Gloria asked her granddaughter, "I've not him before?"

Not wanting to distress the elderly woman further, Halle did what she did best for good. Halle lied. "No," she said, "you've not met him."

"I was gonna say," began Gloria, smiling once more as she reached out a hand for Toby to take again as if it was first time. "I think I'd remember such pretty eyes. They are very blue, dear, just stunning."

Accepting Halle's grandmother's hand, Toby treated her with the same gentleness she had done him prior. "I got them from my mom," he said.

"Well, I betcha you your momma was the prettiest on the block with eyes likes those," Gloria complimented, her sweetness practically tooth-rotting.

"She was," Toby responded. "You actually knew—know," he swiftly corrected to present-tense, "her actually."

At that, Gloria delighted. "Do I?" She clasped her hands together and shot her wide smile at Halle for a brief second before it returned to Toby. "Oh, well, who's your momma?"

"Uh, Marion. Marion Cavanaugh," Toby stated. "I think you knew her as Marion Hall." He explained, "She was—is here with you at... Radley."

Halle took in a sharp breath at the mention of Radley. Her shoulders hunched in, contorted into an ugly shape as she tried to act indifferent the treatment facility.

"Oh, of course I know Marion," Gloria bragged like she had fully control over her mind and memories. Her voice rose with excitement. "She's lovely, and she plays the piano beautifully, too." Stretching her neck so that she could survey the office that looked much different than the rec room at Radley, she said, "Oh, but I can't see her, though." Then, Gloria reassured a saddened Toby, "I'm sure she'll be along soon. Maybe we should have tea together—" she smiled at Halle, "wouldn't that be nice?"

"So nice," Halle said, although she lacked the enthusiasm of her grandmother. All Halle seemed to feel in this room, beside her beloved nana, was the sharp sting of why she tended to skip visiting her — why Halle avoided the looming distress it caused both her and her nana. It only tore her in two. It had done since she was fifteen.

Consumed in positive chatter, Gloria lapped at the chance to talk — to talk about her daughter with such immense love that Halle wanted to cry. "I always wanted you to learn the piano," mentioned Gloria. "The lessons were too expensive so it put you pops off, but then again," she broke into a musical chuckle, "I could never get you to come inside to sit down if I tried." Now, facing Toby, she informed him sweetly, "Every afternoon, from when she finished school to eight o'clock at night, she'd be practicing her little cheer routines." Her hand flew out, joyous as she shared, "You'd push all the furniture out of the way and do it in the living room. You had to be the best at everything," said Gloria. She sent a smile to Halle, all teeth and sparkling eyes. "Convinced she's gonna get out our little apartment, you tell your pops all the time." Playfully, Gloria rolled her eyes and jested to Toby, "She wants to live in one of those nice, big houses, like on Sunnybrook or Bridgewater."

The sadness was crippling. It had continued to creep up on Halle and now was lurched over her, smothering. Her grandmother's words upset her further, dragging Halle down while a grey cloud loomed above. She wriggled uncomfortably in her seat, antsy suddenly as she fought back tears. Her heart ached, her mother at its very centre. She blew out a hush of air, pushing back the water with all her might.

Sensing Halle didn't want to be there any longer than they needed, Toby took control. He tried to focus the elderly woman on him instead. "Yeah, my mom tried to teach me the piano, too," he said, capturing Gloria's attention. "I wasn't that good at learning, I preferred to listen to her."

"You know—" Gloria smiled as she said, "I never knew Marion had a son your age, too, Lu." Her hand landed on Halle's thigh, squeezing, when she added, "Marion did like the name Toby, it was at the top of her list."

"Do you, uh—" Toby leant forward, digging, "know a Dr Palmer at all, Mrs Douglass?"

"Dr Palmer?" Gloria really thought on it. Her brow was furrowed; she had the same confused vertical line between her eyebrows that Halle did. "No," she answered with a soft shake of her head. "Should I? Is he a doctor here?"

Toby was stumped. He pulled back, his head lowered slightly as he uttered out in disappointment, "At Radley."

"Yes, at Radley," said Gloria, eagerly awaiting more information. "We're a Radley."

"Oh, uh..." Toby paused for a moment, unsure of how to tread over this foreign territory. "Yeah, he was my mom's doctor."

"Not at Radley, then," decided Gloria.

"Yeah, he worked at Radley," Toby revealed to the woman, who was growing more and more confused by the second. Yet, Toby hadn't noticed. He just kept on pushing and pushing. "He was the doctor she spoke to the day she died."

"She died?!" exclaimed Gloria in extreme panic. She rose out of her seat a little, head whipping side to side, between him and Halle. "Marion's dead?! How? I don't understand, she's dead?"

"No, nana," Halle said calmly. Her hands were out, trying to coax the trembling woman back down, but it was to no avail. "No—"

"Nana?" Gloria interrupted, blanking. "Lu, what's going on? What's this game?"

"Nana, no," Halle regretfully stopped lying. She swore, all the way down to her rotten core, this was the punishment for all the lies. "I'm Halle," she said gently, as she pointed to herself. "I'm your granddaughter. I'm Luisa's daughter," she explained. "I'm Halle."

"I—I—" Gloria stammered. Her mouth opened and closed several times, muddled completely. She was thrown, uncertain of anything around her. Fear seeped in as she shook her head, craned by from the two she now saw as blurry faces. "I don't—I don't remember." She pulled back from Halle's touch. "Where am I? This isn't Radley," she panicked. "Where's Lu? You're not Lu, I don't know you."

"Yes, you do, Nana," pleaded Halle, tears streaming down her face. "I'm Halle."

"I don't know a Halle," said Gloria, shaking her head adamantly. "I'm confused, I'd like not to be confused anymore please."

"Okay, let me help you," requested Halle. "I can help you. What do you wanna know?"

Swimming in her memory pool, drowning, Gloria was among her fondest ones but couldn't tell. She had no floats around her. No lifeline to pull her back to the surface; the shore was long gone. "I—" She struggled, "Who are you? You're not Luisa?"

"No," Halle answered, shaking her head softly. "I'm Halle, Luisa's daughter."

"Halle?" Gloria checked to be sure.

"Yeah, Halle," said Halle, with a tiny smile as she manage to sooth the panic. "Can you—" Halle spared a quick glance to her friend, wiping furiously at her growing wet face, "Toby, can you go find her nurse and my mom, please?"

"Sure," Toby said, already standing. "I'll be right back. I'll get your mom."

As he was leaving to go find help, Gloria asked once more, "So, you're Halle?"

"Yeah, I'm Halle, and you're my nana," Halle confirmed through the tight clench of her heart.

•

It had taken less than twenty minutes for the panic to die down in Nick Brewster's home office. The distress had been calmed, eventually. The fog of forgetting was gone, replaced by a more subdued version of Halle's nana due to a couple pills. Toby's concern, on the other hand, still swirled. He was sat on the back porch, on the steps, waiting for Halle to come out; and soon enough, she did.

Toby swung his head around when he heard her join him. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's okay," Halle told him, as she handed him one of the two steaming cups of coffee she brought out with her. "They've given her something to help her sleep." Halle stepped down and sat down next to him. "Mom thinks being in Rosewood makes things worse for her. It confuses her more."

"I'm so sorry, Hal," Toby earnestly said. "I never should've pushed her to remember. I should've just listened to you when you said drop it."

"Don't worry about it," dismissed Halle with a deep breath. She felt it all the way down to her gut. "We all would've done it for answers."

"Hurting somebody isn't worth the answers, trust me," Toby said, weight to his words. He was talking about joining the A-team without upsetting her, Halle gathered pretty easily. Curiously, he asked, "When's the last time she was in Rosewood?"

"March 2009," Halle stated, acutely aware of the significance of that year for her. "She had her birthday here, then my folks moved her out to a care home in New York. A brilliant, very white-walled—" she shared a small smile with Toby, "and expensive care home," she said.

Naturally, Toby wondered, "How long's it been since you saw her?"

"A while, uh..." Halle had to think back on it. "Her birthday," she said. "So end of last March. And then before that was Christmas, and then her birthday again, and..." She stopped, feelings the tears burn her eyes. Her chest constrained; she had to raise a hand to it and rub at the obvious knot there. "And then I hadn't seen her since... since the summer Alison disappeared." Halle confessed to him, "I avoid her at every cost, which she really doesn't deserves, but I can't—" she cracked, "g—give her anymore than that right now."

"So when she was at your show the other night?" Toby led, questioning.

"I had no idea," Halle honestly said, shaking her head. "But, you know, she liked her musicals and being in New York, it's bound to happen." She told him, "Apparently they have day-trips to the theatre, there's a specific one that started doing nights for people like my nana." She shook her head. "I don't remember the name—" her voice gave a weak wobble, "my mom would know."

Attentively, treating her with extreme care, Toby poked at her wording. "You said liked," he pointed out. "Don't you mean likes?"

Sadly, Halle frowned. "No, I think I meant liked," she said, and looked away from him so she could hold back her tears that threatened to fall all at once.

Dwelling deeper into the misery, Toby had to wonder aloud, "Has she ever called you 'Lu' before?"

Halle shook her head. "But mom said she's been getting more confused lately, so—" Halle forced herself to stop; an influx of tears attacked her. "Sorry," she swallowed, hard. "It's just a lot, you know."

Again, Toby apologised. "I'm so sorry. I never should've suggested we talk to her."

"You wanted to know more about your mom," Halle put sympathetically. She knew if it was her or her friends that they would stop at nothing to do the same — get the answers they craved — even if it meant often bending their morals to do so. It didn't make them good people; Halle never claimed to be one.

"I didn't need to," Toby said, refusing to let Halle scapegoat his actions. "You were right — I signed that NDA, I should let it go."

Gently, because she was obviously pierced and fragile, Halle disclosed to him, "You're the only person I would've done that for, that I would've seen her with. I don't—" Halle paused for second time, blowing out more air as she blinked away tears. "I don't talk about her with anyone else, really."

"Because I understand," Toby knowingly concluded.

"You always did," returned Halle with the softest of smiles and a minor, slightly playful nudge to his shoulder. When it had settled, when a few seconds of silence had passed and Halle thought more on it, she couldn't help the wry scoff that came from her throat. "God, I'm sick to death of Radley. I never wanna go there again," she said, as a singular tear leaked down her cheek.

"Makes you think what else happened there," mused Toby absently.

With an adamant shake of her head, Halle denied that. "No, no, I don't wanna know." She said, "One family's secrets are enough for me."

"You know what it does mean, right?" Toby grabbed her attention as he sweetly put, "We were always connected."

She got what he was saying — what he meant. There was something that bound them together and it was sprouted at Radley decades before they were even born. They were fated, brought to one another for some reason. Halle guessed it was because she had to learn kindness again like she would've when a child made a new friend. After all, Toby was Halle's first, genuine friend in a really long time. And, now, Toby was suggesting it was fated; they had always meant to find each other and be friends. It began at Radley.

A huge, disbelieving smile broke across Halle's face as she let out a laugh, "That's so sweet but so lame all at the same time."

Wholeheartedly, Toby agreed with her and shared in her laughter. "Totally lame," he said, and let Halle rest her head on his shoulder for a while afterwards with his laid on hers also. "I'm sorry."

Feeling more tears fall, wetting his short, Halle whispered out, "I know."

•

There was an air of easiness to Ezra Fitz while he enjoyed his early afternoon coffee. It was a pleasant day, dry enough for him to sit outside The Brew at one of their iron-wrought tables for two. His leather-bound journal laid in front of him along with a series of newly collected photographs of the Liars. That was what he called them now. Liars. So were the newspapers; it was catching quick and he clung to relevance. However, it was pushed aside as he examined the most recent images of Halle Brewster and Jason DiLaurentis as they ducked into the latter's car yesterday after school. Jason had always put Ezra on edge, intimidated slightly, so Ezra wondered what power these image could have on other people, too.

People like Emily.

"Can I top you off?"

His thoughts and penmanship were interrupted by the very same girl he has been thinking of. Bracingly, Emily had prepared herself for this specific interaction by breathing deep and grimacing back her disgust with a smile. She held up the coffee decanter to him, offering politely.

"Oh, no," said Fitz. Her used his smallest finger to discreetly tuck the surveillance images from Emily's line of sight. "I'm good, Emily, thanks."

She flashed him another smile then turned away. Instantly, it dropped. Emily was never good at keeping up a consistent show, but her steps were chosen mindfully for a lie. She reached the furthest table and let the dish-bucket she held slip from her grasp. It clattered to the floor, a couple plates smashing on the sidewalk. Ready to act, Emily quickly lifted a reassuring hand up to a rising Fitz, stopping him from helping. Silently, Emily told him she was okay and he re-sat.

A phone rang, and Emily let out a huff, acting annoyed. She paused cleaning up to collect out her mobile from within the red apron tied around her waist, sighing when he stare connected with the contact ID. Still, Emily answered it all the same. "Hey," she said, as she held the device to her ear. She continued to clean. "Yeah, I can't talk right now. Can I call you back?"

Emily paused, waiting, then grew indignant in tone. "Seriously, now is not a good time..." She fetched up a few more broken pieces of porcelain while she pretended to engage in a real conversation. "No, I know, I just... I don't know if I can do it..." A tired sigh left her after another purposeful delay. "We don't even know if Ali's actually gonna show up," she said lowly into her phone.

Fitz's eyes flickered up at the mention of Alison's name. His writing ceased. His body was frozen as he itched to listen closer. The pen he wrote with salivated for answers, ink balling at the point.

"Nice," observed Hanna, all the way across from The Brew watching the scene unfold. From the safety of Spencer's car, they examined their set-up, eagerly awaiting A to finally fall into one of their traps.

"I think he's listening," Spencer said, her phone out also as it connected her with Halle.

Further down the street, Halle was kindly looking over the fruit cart. She had Pacha next to her, on a short leash; she appeared like everybody else who was running errands in town. "Oh—" her eyes loitered down the road to see Fitz stop to take complete notice of Emily, and Halle said, "he's for sure listening. The bitch stopped writing." She wondered, "Do you think Em could spill coffee and take a peek?"

"It's too risky," Spencer claimed. "At least for now." In her car, staring out of the clear windshield, she leant neared to Hanna's phone. Her grip tightened around the wheel, locked on her target. "Okay, now say something like, 'I know she needs the money but it's too dangerous'," Spencer directed.

And Emily did exactly that. "I know she needs the money," she said, heartfelt and in distress, "but it's too dangerous."

Not inconspicuous at all, Hanna had raised a pair of binoculars to her face. She got a much more zoomed-in look at Emily and Fitz. Hanna could see him twitching. "Tell her to get closer to the smushed fries," she advised, and lowered her aide. Spencer glanced at the dark blonde to shoot her a look, but Hanna held her ground. "Just in case he can't hear."

Rolling her eyes, Spencer dismissed it. "Just mention the location, we're golden."

"Yeah," Emily acted out her unwillingly acceptance. "I heard you," she said. "Ambrose Pavilion, closing." Hurriedly, Emily finished collecting up all the pieces from the sidewalk, as Fitz held up the corner of his page to jot down the slice of information.

"He's got it," Halle confirmed for the group. She pulled her gaze away from her teacher and back to the red apples. "He heard her."

"I gotta go," Emily told her friends before she swiftly ended the planned call. Afterwards, she stood. The plates pieced within her bucket collided from the action, but the ground was now clear once more. Emily removed herself, proud and — most thankfully — relieved as the plan was set. All they had to do was pray it worked out best.

Or at least better than all their others.

•

For closing time, there was still thin crowd of rich folks. Designer branding seemed to decorate almost every handbag and pears were hung around the necks of most women collected at the little cocktail bar on the corner, their heads thrown back in polite laughter. They were carbon copies of Mrs DiLaurentis, so it made sense that Alison lingered here. Alison belonged here, among them.

"Where's the snow?" Hanna asked, perplexed as she stared up at the rubber ski-slope which was mostly bare besides the thin layer of white frost.

"It's not cold enough yet," Emily explained. "They probably substitute it overnight."

"Well, that's boring," Hanna huffed. "If I'm paying for skiing, I better see some snow."

Logically, Halle reasoned, "Places like this tend to fork out money for the months it doesn't snow. You get discounts on your rental and stuff."

"Like the people who come here need a discount," Hanna said sardonically. Her eyes travelled around the quaint, tiny village-eques scenery. Cosy cabins store were lines in two neat lines with a sweet ivory water fountain in the middle. There were little paths directing off from the store-front, no doubt leading to the rows of log cabin-rentals in the woods beside the slopes. This was where the wealthiest of families on the Philadelphia Main Line and it was made blatantly obvious to the three girls as they strolled through the holiday village. "I knew I should've worn my Prada pumps, not my Tori Birches."

"It's a ski slope, Han," Halle pointed out. "Even your boots are wrong."

"Hey, these boots are anything but wrong," Hanna corrected her firmly.

With a glossy map in hand, Emily sighed and then instructed, "We have an hour before the ski-lift closes. The shops will shut before then," she said.

"You know that for sure?" Halle asked.

"Well, I'm guessing they do," Emily said, worried. "I reckon we just find a quiet spot, order coffee and wait for Spencer to show."

"Good idea," Halle replied.

While they walked to the far side of the small village, looking the rows for the quietest coffee shop, Hanna made conversation. "So, Ambrose Pavilion is what, rich people central?"

"They all look like Mrs D," mused Emily, definitely more uncomfortable as the beady eyes of strangers stalked them as they strolled through.

"Mrs D prefers beach rentals, not ski ones," Halle countered.

Hanna gave a scoff, "God, I can't believe Aria ever brought his poor-boy act if this is where he was taking Ali."

Stepping ahead without realising, Halle threw out carelessly, "It ain't like he's ever told Aria the truth, why would he about this?" Halle had taken a couple more steps when she noticed she was alone. She looked back and found her two friends had stopped out of confusion. "What?"

"What you you mean, he's never told her the truth?" questioned Emily of Halle's brutal statement.

"Well, there's Maggie for one," Halle reminded. "And their kid."

"Yeah, but he didn't know about that," Emily pointed out.

"Okay — well, then, there was Jackie," Halle retorted, hand out with it. "That woman had a whole ass ring on her bony finger, like, three months before he met Aria. Then, there's his secret rich-boy life," she said, irritated as she counted it on her fingers. "And how he knew Ali is another. Like, he's Board Shorts for christ's sake and you don't think the man's a liar?" She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "He lies, okay? And he's been lying since day one."

Considering Halle's point, Hanna had to agreed. "He did meet Aria in the same bar he met Ali," she said. "Even if he's not A — I mean, if he's just Board Shorts — you've gotta admit, Em, that's super creepy."

"Exactly," Halle said, while her girlfriend stayed silent as the glaring truth all at once hit her. "All of junior year we spent pointing a finger at Ian and NAT when we really should've been looking at who Aria was lip-locking with."

"Ugh!" Hanna shivered dramatically. "I'm sorry but just thinking about him and Ali like that gives me the heebie-jeebies."

"Yeah—" Halle pulled her coat closer, "I know what you mean."

Upset, Emily frowned. "I can't believe we missed this," said Emily, punishing herself for it. "He's been there from the very beginning — lurking — always asking questions — digging into our lives. My dad told him I was struggling again." Shaking her head, Emily allowed it to settle for a moment before she sucked in a breath. "How do we tell Aria?" she asked. "How do we hurt Aria like that?"

"We just do," Halle inserted. "It freaking sucks, but we can't lie to her. Like we said, Alison was wrong — secrets don't keep us close, they keep us apart."

Again, Hanna let out a irritable huff and chided, "I am so ready for this to be over."

"Me too," Emily agreed.

"Ditto," said Halle.

Soon, the three had found themselves a secluded table at a little coffee shop. Wood beams surrounded them. The whole hotspot for the holiday cabins was built entirely of it, supposedly wrapping them up in cosy wintery image — like one from a whimsical postcard or those bad christmas movies her mother liked to stick on while she ironed. All Halle felt was cold. Not even the highly expensive coffee she drank warmed her up. She was too on edge to let it.

"The lift is closing in twenty minutes."

Her knee bounced up and down rapidly, incessant to display her swirling anxiety to the entire pavilion. The heel of her boot clicked against the chair leg, faster than the minutes that ticked up on her phone screen. She tapped her middle finger to her thumb while they waited. Every part of Halle seemed to be doing something — was moving as she sat near the woods as darkness enveloped them.

A much calmer hand came to rest on top of her knee, stopping the troubled taps. Halle's gaze travelled from the hand, up her girlfriend's arm, to meet Emily's kind, comforting face. "Hey," she said with a warm smile. "You good?"

Halle's breathing was already shallow. "I'm just getting nervous."

"Same," Emily shared, easing Halle only a little. "But we're together."

Fed up, Hanna let out tired sigh. She captured the couple's attention as Hanna proceeded to huff out of annoyance. "God, only Ali would think making out after an extreme sport is hot," she commented, as she eyed the slope. She tracked the little, slender lift-carriages that zipped slowly along side of the enormous mountain. "Like you're supposed to get sweaty together, not before you even get to the good part."

Emily grew more disgruntled. "You're talking about Alison with Mr Fitz — A," she said, "I don't wanna think about them getting sweaty in any way."

"Bet," Halle voiced, and raised her extortionately-priced coffee to her mouth to a sip. Her face screwed up at the bitter taste, wishing her had added that second brown sugar.

They fell into silence. Another announcement had came over the speakers, and the barista passive-aggressively made a show of packing up the rest of the outdoor tables to get the girls to leave. They did, gradually making their way to the exit as rich vacationers headed for the lift to get them up the mountains to their cabins.

"The lift is closing in five minutes."

The three made certain to walk as the slowest pace. Emily gripped tightly at her bag, which housed the coffee-bag of cash for Alison. They could see the exit in the distance, collectively growing more anxious at time ticked by them.

Impatience irked Hanna to snap. "Ugh, can we just toss the money—" she glared at Emily's purse, "so we can get out of here?"

"No," Emily refused strongly. "We have to wait for Spencer to get into position."

Halle glanced around, noting the dwindling crowds of people leaving the pavilion village as the sky had gone black. "Yeah, that's great, Em, but she ain't here."

Nervously, Emily checked her phone for the umpteenth time. "She should've been here by now."

"What do we do?" Halle asked.

"I say we call it off," said Hanna stubbornly. She crossed her arms over her chest, severely peeved at the wasted journey. "Look, neither Spencer or Fitz have shown. And if they haven't by now, they're not going to. I say we go home and try again," she declared. "Somewhere closer to home."

Halle saw her point. "Maybe he knew it was a trap."

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain why Spencer didn't show," Emily argued. "She should've been here."

"But she's not," Hanna shot. "Like it or not, Emily, but Spencer's not reliable right now. She's a liability and until we get her help, it's gonna change. So, let's go," she demanded. "I'm cold and hungry."

Sighing, Emily caved. "Fine," she said. "Let's just go."

"Come on," Halle encouraged, slotting her arm through Emily's. "We'll call Spencer from the car and—"

A dullened shout cut through the brittle air, travelling through the trees. It silenced Halle. The hairs spiked up at the back of her neck, and a frightened chill bolted up her spine. Halle whipped her head around towards the slopes. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Emily asked curiously.

"I thought—" Halle shook her head, confused. "I thought I heard a scream."

"It was probably just the wind," Emily reasoned.

"That or noisy rich folk," Hanna suggested.

"Yeah..." Halle's eyes lingered on the slowly itching lift-lines, thrown by it. "Yeah, you're probably right," she said.

They had managed to reach Emily's car when another vehicle came speeding into the parking lot. Immediately, the girls recognised the car. "Oh, here she comes now," Hanna drolled, as the fast car was yanked to a stop.

Spencer, discombobulated and frantic, stumbled out of the driver's side. She fumbled with the blonde wig, almost dropping it from her sweaty palms. "Guys," she said in a rushed panic, "I'm so sorry I'm late. Just help me get this wig on and I'll get into position."

"It's too late," Emily scolded her. "The place is closed, Spencer."

"We missed it," Halle said.

"Yeah, and just like you," Hanna cursed out spitefully, "Fitz didn't show either."

"He didn't?" Spencer asked in shock. "Why wouldn't he—?"

Breaking up the heated tension, the brewing friction between the friends, a series of chimes went off. They groaned, dreading the evitable. Where they expected a gloating text from A, the four girls were stunned to find it was Aria's name that covered their screen. Yet, the fear still kicked in.

SOS

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