A/N: This is not the rom-com I'd been telling you guys about, it's just a small fic, will probably only have five or at most six chapters. It's heavy, but at least Spashley is in it together. Kindof had to get this out so I can concentrate fully on Ghost again.


Denial

It came as a shock to everyone who'd ever had the opportunity to meet them. Spencer thought it was an April Fool's joke – she wished it was an April Fool's joke. She'd even forgive Glen – and her parents – for the unnecessary expenses of flight tickets and hotel bookings to get to LA first thing in the morning, after the disturbing 1AM phone call.

Perhaps they just really missed her, and a prank of this magnitude was the only way to get her home, even if it was just for a weekend.

"Are you nervous?"

Spencer tried to remain calm with a dismissive shake of her head, tried to slump her shoulders and relax into the comfortable business class seats of Wandering Airlines, but her stormy blue eyes gave her away.

After thirteen years together, Ashley Davies knew her wife better than she knew herself. When Spencer turned to face her, her heart ached in an agonizing way she'd only felt thrice before; when her father passed away, when Clay passed away, and when Spencer broke up with her start of senior year.

Anxiety was radiating off of Spencer in waves. Her eyes were unsettled and it just accentuated the dark, puffy lines underneath, breaking through layers of concealer just like the pain broke through layers of bravery and forced smiles.

Ashley reached over the armrest console between their seats, her heart skipping a beat as Spencer's arm lifted automatically, their hands meeting in the middle, fingers intertwining tightly. It was the tiniest thing, but she couldn't help but treasure these little unspoken harmonized movements, where their minds and limbs were on par with each other's. It happened so often that they mostly took it for granted. But on behalf of Spencer, she started drawing these things from her sub-conscience to full awareness, knowing her wife needed to know now more than ever that she was there for her.

After thirteen years together, Ashley also knew Spencer's insecurities – there weren't many, Spencer was one of the bravest people she's ever met – but in light of what was happening, she had an inkling that one particular self-doubt would resurface.

"No matter what happens, I'm here for you, okay?" Ashley offered supportively.

Spencer couldn't help herself; it was either Ashley's hand or an embarrassing, uncontrollable tightness in her chest. She squeezed incredibly hard, reminding herself to take deep breaths despite how much it hurt. Having a panic attack while they were thirty-five thousand feet up in the air was not going to help her situation.

When Ashley clutched even tighter, Spencer closed her eyes and released a shaky breath, praying that the tears would ease up on her for at least the duration of their flight. They'd just reached the standard cruising altitude, leaving them with another two hours and fifteen minutes before the comfort of Seattle was far behind and despair would suffocate them like Los Angeles smog.

"Can I get you ladies anything to drink?"

Ashley shot a quick glance to Spencer, who was still holding onto her hand for dear life, unable to open her eyes – she knew they were filled with tears – and smiled tight-lipped at the flight attendant, her own voice cracking as she spoke.

"Yeah, just some water. And a paper bag?"

She watched carefully as the older woman's eyes focused on Spencer, and by the look of sympathy on the flight attendant's face, Ashley wished more than anything that her wife's current state was just a case of Aviophobia. But she didn't correct her. This wasn't anyone's business but their own.

"Coming right up." The flight attendant smiled, and reached into the beverage cart, retrieving two chilled bottles of Evian. She whispered something to her colleague at the back end of the cart, and within seconds the requested items were handed over.

"Thank you." Ashley waited until they moved on before her thumb brushed over white knuckles and gave Spencer's hand a gentle squeeze.

Spencer opened her eyes, gratitude sparkling behind pained tears. She took in brown eyes that reflected her own sorrow, a wavering smile, and a hand still holding on to hers. It was impossible to compare the grown up Ashley to the youthful, scared girl who ran whenever things got too hard. Just thinking about it flared up insecurities she'd thought she'd buried a long time ago.

"Breathe, Spence. Don't assume the worst, okay? You're going to wear yourself out before we even get there."

Ashley's usual raspy voice was firm notwithstanding the deep concern that lay right beneath. It was a comforting sign that her wife was prepared to be strong for both of them. Spencer knew she was already at breakpoint, and they didn't even know the full truth yet. Part of her was desperately clinging to the idea that this was all a prank, that they would land in Los Angeles, grab an Uber to the Carlin house, and her family would yell out surprise when she opened the front door. The other part of her recognized the urgency in her brother's voice despite their drifting siblinghood over the years. It was that part that had her in such a frenzied state.

"I can't do this," Spencer admitted in a whispered fluster, her eyes begging Ashley to take away the fear and pain that resided within her. Her gaze dropped as fingernails dug deep into skin that wasn't hers, frantically trying to channel the panic into her hand instead of her chest.

"Spence, look at me." Ashley's resolve to be firm was about to crumble when she saw the despair in blue eyes of a soul that was never meant to be crushed like this. It was a vow she made on their wedding day, and she knew it was impossible to control – some things were just out of her hands – but she'd do anything to take this pain away. She ignored the waning crescent indents forming on the side of her palm and the sting that came with it, her concern more to keep an impending panic attack at bay.

Her free hand pushed into the flattened small white paper bag still on her lap, separating the sides, and in a swift move she had the opening pressed against her wife's mouth. Spencer was already flushed, her breaths becoming ragged as she overcompensated for the decreased level of carbon dioxide intake due to their altitude.

"Breathe," Ashley demanded softly. She forced herself to take deep breaths, her chest visibly rising and falling for Spencer to see. Though the panic attacks weren't a frequent occurrence, Ashley was thankful for the handful of times it happened on ground level. She would have freaked out if it had to happen for the first time so high up in the air.

She took note of a once vibrant complexion turned completely pale, and the slight tremble accompanying the other evident symptoms of a condition Spencer was deeply embarrassed about. They only found out two years later – after the school shooting which took Clay's life – that things occasionally got way too much for her beloved blonde. The long intervals between attacks just attested to how strong her wife was, and Ashley couldn't help but be proud that Spencer was always so brave to take whatever came her way head-on.

Spencer's shaking body wasn't only because of the panic attack; she swallowed rapidly and continuously to keep the sobs from escaping her throat as Ashley eased her out of the attack. She absolutely hated her mind and body for betraying her – for making her lose control. She prided herself in being a strong person; it was one of the things that made Ashley fall in love with her to start with. But sometimes fear got the better of her, and she wondered – irrationally – how long Ashley would still put up with all her baggage.

She vaguely observed as Ashley slowly removed the paper bag and let her breathe on her own. It was somewhat easier; the tightness clutching at her chest and around her heart reduced to a mild pain that was sure to leave her with an aching body for a couple of days. No matter the amount of hours she spent doing yoga and muscle-relaxing exercises, the severity of her panic attacks always left her numb and exhausted.

Spencer was secretly thankful to be exhausted. Maybe this way she'd be able to get some sleep after a long night of worrying. If her overactive mind would allow her to.

The solution to her predicament came in the form of a small green and yellow colored capsule-shaped pill, fluoxetine, in an outstretched palm – one that didn't sport four painful nail-incisions.

Lost blue met soft brown eyes, and finally a single tear escaped, trickling slowly down a pale, flushed cheek.

The world around them forgotten, Ashley closed her fingers safely around the pill and leaned over the console separating their seats, her thumb gently brushing over the wet trail of heartache. She wished for the umpteenth time that they could switch places, so she could absorb the anxiety and confusion and grief instead. Not that she thought she'd handle it any better; she just felt so helpless and sad to see Spencer so broken.

"Sleep will do you good right now. I'll wake you when we're about to land, okay?"

Spencer hated this. She hated that she hadn't slept, she hated that she appeared weak, she hated having to medicate herself to have a chance at living a normal life. But looking at Ashley, at the way concern and sadness was slowly eating away at her, Spencer knew she wasn't only doing it for herself. She loved Ashley far too much to make things even worse by refusing help.

"Okay." Spencer reached out with her free hand - her left hand and Ashley's right still tightly clasped together - and opened her palm to take the pill. She smiled bravely when Ashley's face lit up, relief evident in her eyes. Tense shoulders sagged with a much needed released breath, and once the pill was safely on her tongue, Spencer felt some of her own tension drain. She took the still water from Ashley and gulped down a generous amount to quench her thirst and soothe her raw throat.

"Do you need anything? Are you cold?" Ashley asked, grateful for the privilege of flying business class. Though it wasn't considered a long flight, this particular carrier still stowed away blankets and pillows for their passengers.

Spencer's heart calmed for the first time since the dreaded phone call from Glen. She reclined her seat slightly and closed her eyes, her hand still clutching Ashley's tightly. "I've got everything I need right here."


It wasn't nearly enough rest for her overly exhausted body, but Spencer felt remarkably better when her dreamless sleep was interrupted by an angelic voice, gently urging her to wake up.

She took a deep breath, immediately engulfed by a mixture of Ashley's natural scent and the perfume she was wearing. It set her at ease to such an extent that she almost thought she was back home, just waking up from a terrible nightmare.

But as she sat up, Ashley's leather jacket snugly wrapped around her upper body, Spencer realized with a pang that they were on a plane - about to prepare for landing at LAX.

Still, the two hours of sleep - and the treacherous fluoxetine - helped tremendously to keep her calm and relaxed.

"We're about to land. Did you sleep okay?" Ashley asked, eying her carefully.

Spencer offered a genuine smile and squeezed gently at the hand still holding hers. "I did, thank you, Ash."

Ashley beamed from ear to ear and leaned over to plant a soft kiss on Spencer's lips. Though she didn't sleep at all, just the fact that Spencer did - and looked less stressed - was enough to lift her own spirits. "I'm glad. Buckle up, I'm taking you for breakfast after we touched down."

"Ash, I don't think I'll be able to hold anything in," Spencer immediately protested. Not only couldn't she stomach food right now, she was more anxious to get to her childhood house and find out what was going on. The faster she got to the bottom of everything, the faster she could relax.

But Ashley was having none of it. "Spence, I know you want to get there as quick as you can. But we have no idea how today might turn out, and you need to eat. I need to eat."

Spencer knew Ashley only added the last part to make her realize how important a small breakfast would be - not to make her feel bad. She'd taken medication on an empty stomach, and Ashley didn't even get a chance to drink her morning coffee in their rush to get to the airport at the crack of dawn. For both of them to stay sane, she owed this to her wife. She offered an apologetic smile and her thumb mimicked Ashley's, rubbing gently over warm knuckles.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I probably already owe you a truckload of coffee."

Ashley smiled teasingly. "Damn right, you do. The flight may have been comfortable but their coffee doesn't match the Spencer Wake-up call Special."

This pulled a chuckle out of Spencer, and it felt good to focus on something that didn't feel like the end of the world. "You only like it because you don't have to get out of bed to make it yourself," she teased back.

Ashley laughed, her eyes turning soft. "No, I like it because you make it."

Spencer threw her hands up in defeat, the smile on her face almost enough to wipe away any trace of sadness they'd experienced just hours before. "It's the same thing!"

"No, it's not," Ashley countered, planting another soft kiss on Spencer's lips. "When you make it, no matter the time of day, you add a dash of love."

Ashley's words had Spencer blush and tears welling up in her eyes again. "It's because I love you, more than you'll ever know."

"Yeah? What if I already do know?" Brown eyes challenged blue.

"Then I'm making you way too much coffee."

Ashley laughed and clutched tightly onto Spencer's hand, bringing it up to her lips, leaving soft kisses over her knuckles. "I love you too, Spence."


Despite all the effort – even succeeding – to get Spencer's mind off of the reason they were visiting, all the lightness and playful bantering disappeared the moment their Uber driver put his car in park, and got out to politely help them remove their luggage from the trunk.

While Spencer froze in her steps, staring at the house that held some of the best – and worst – memories of her life, Ashley took it upon herself to see the driver off.

"Are you ready?" Ashley asked softly, her hand automatically reaching towards Spencer's, holding on tight to offer all the support she possibly could.

Spencer took a deep breath. She wasn't ready. She felt safer outside with Ashley beside her, holding her hand, holding her together. She knew once she opened that front door it was like opening Pandora's Box – there was no going back. Whether her entire family was hiding behind sofas and nooks and walls, or whether there were truth in Glen's words, she'd only finally know if she took the final steps towards the door.

She still had a couple of feet to go, and without answering her wife, Spencer paused to take it all in. She wanted to commit this moment, this view, to memory, because regardless how things would go, it was how she wanted to remember it. Her gut told her things were going to change, whether she liked it or not.

She took in the classic dark facebricks making up the front facade of the homey two-story house, separated but held together by light plaster offering a beautiful contrast - if she had to get completely artsy about it. The white wooden panels making up the outside of the small foyer were oddly newly painted, surprising her somewhat. The brown, wooden front door was still exactly the same as she remembered.

That very door, underneath the small porch, held so many whispered secrets and love declarations after late night dates. Her eyes lost focus and a slight blush tinted Spencer's cheeks as she recalled the countless times Ashley had her pinned against it, and thankfully so, because her wife had a habit of making her knees go weak with her intense kisses.

She filed the memory of what happened on the inside against that same door for later. Much later, when she was alone with Ashley in their hotel room.

Her vivid, pleasant memories were ruined when she felt pressure on her hand. Spencer frowned, turning towards Ashley, but brown, narrowed eyes stared ahead, shooting daggers towards the door Spencer had just admired.

Spencer finally followed her wife's gaze, her palms suddenly feeling sweaty as she tried to digest what her eyes were witnessing. Somewhere, deep inside, she tried to block the information from reaching her brain. If it did, it would inevitably make all of this real. She couldn't ever let this become real.

"Doctor Montanio." Ashley's voice was stone cold.

Spencer was surprised that she even acknowledged and greeted him.

"Spencer, Ashley, uh, hey."

Spencer had no words. She stood frozen, in shock, her eyes following every movement Ben Montanio made; adjusting his tie with one hand while the other gripped a Thermos flask, the steam of the hot coffee inside clearly visible. He kept moving, walking up to the open double garage doors, straight to a black Rover that didn't belong there. He was on his way to work. It was 8AM, after all.

"Come on," Ashley nudged her gently, an arm now around her shoulders.

Spencer blinked several times, deliberately willing away what she had just seen. There was still a chance that they'd walk through the front door, her family waiting to jump out and yell surprise! What a perfectly executed, and well orchestrated April Fool's prank this wouldn't be. She was ready to be surprised, ready to shrug off all the fears that had been plaguing her mind for the past seven hours, ready to laugh about it and spend a fantastic weekend with her family.

"Mom? Dad?"

Alarm bells went off when Spencer called out to both her parents, especially after they'd just witnessed that snake of a doctor leave the Carlin house. Ashley desperately wanted to pull Spencer out of there, save her of the heartache that was sure to follow. She felt annoyed with herself for trying to be optimistic about Glen's phone call. She'd given Spencer false hope.

"In here, Spencer."

An icy chill ran down Ashley's spine as she recognized the indifference in Paula Carlin's voice. It was something she'd grown used to when Spencer just came out to her parents, and even long after that, despite putting her best foot forward, there was just something that always made her wary of her wife's mother. They'd gotten over their differences before the wedding, getting along for short amounts of time, but just the tone of Paula's voice had Ashley on high alert.

Ashley led Spencer – seeming tense all over again – to the dining room, where they found Paula sitting at the table, heaps of paperwork surrounding her. She wasn't dressed for work like Ben was, and it didn't look like she was going in to the emergency room anytime soon.

"Mom?"

Ashley's heart constricted at the way Spencer's voice cracked.

Her eyes followed Paula's features closely, confused as the older version of her wife finally looked up and smiled, seeming happy to see them. "Spence! Ash! It's so good to see my girls!"

Paula pushed back her chair and jumped up, engulfing both of them in a big bear hug.

Ashley couldn't help herself, it felt like they were being led into a trap. There was a false sense of security in the false bravado Paula was offering Spencer. This was no April Fool's joke like Spencer had hoped.

"Where's Dad? And why aren't you dressed for work?" Spencer fired loose, her voice eerily cheerful. As if her world wasn't slowly falling apart.

Ashley wriggled out of Paula's arms to observe her reaction to Spencer's questions. The moment she let go and Paula gripped Spencer tight against her, she knew.

Glen hadn't been joking.

She held her breath, waiting with a heavy heart to see her wife come undone.

"So, what exactly did Glen tell you?"

Ashley immediately recognized Paula's deflecting tactics. It angered her immensely that the older Carlin thought her daughter was stupid enough to fall for it. Did she not remember that Spencer graduated high school with a GPA of three-point-nine?

"Mom, what's going on?"

And there it was. Ashley hoped that they would be completely honest with Spencer, even if it broke her now. She could deal with that. She could be prepared for the heartache and panic attacks to come. But if they started lying, like it already looked like they were doing, this was going to drag out for a very long time, putting immense pressure on Spencer, and eventually increase her anxiety. It irked Ashley that Paula, as such an accomplished surgeon, refused to acknowledge that her daughter had a health problem.

"Why don't you girls sit down? I'll grab us some coffee, and then we can talk."