A/N: Hunker down for a bit of a long authors note, please. And PLEASE read this before going on!

This story is very honest, real, and raw. I don't often put this in these stories, but this story is drawing off of personal experiences. It's going to be long, rough, and there are probably going to be some of you who don't like it, or disagree with the story line. But as I said with 40 Days, this is my story. I'm just sharing it with you.

This story is definitely going to be all over the place. I generally write in second person, but this story, while Ezria, is definitely encompassing other characters as well. This is a story that affects a lot of people.

Also, the updates may be more stagnated than they were/are with 40 Days/Say Anything. That said... You can find the video and banner for this story on my profile page. Finally: the basic idea with this story is that it's been about a month since A was found out. I'm going with the show on this one. Aria and her friends have just returned from their class trip to DC...Oh, and Ezra still works at Hollis. It's also slightly AU and very OOC. That is all.

Lost That War

Chapter 1

She Feels Lost In Her Own Life

When she stared at him, it was like her eyes were made of ice. It was so cold and unforgiving, so refusing and shut down that his whole body ached for her.

It hadn't always been like that. There had been a time when she was like an inferno, in every sense of the word. Her skin used to be hot enough to set his senses on end. She stared into him, seeing more than he ever wanted her to know. And she had a sharp tongue, too.

In a way, she still had that sharp tongue. But the words coming out of her mouth weren't ones that were loving anymore. They didn't drift into his ears like they should've been lyrics to a song. They felt more like knives being driven into his chest. Another fist to the gut before he could catch his breath from the last blow.

He knew that it wasn't his fault. It wasn't her fault either. But something inside of her had broken that day. Something he knew of all too well. And he wanted so badly to tell her, so that he could be there for her. But then, how could he, really? How could he make her understand that he knew how it felt to be that violated? How could he go there, when he wasn't really being honest with himself?

"You don't know what you're talking about."

I brought my sword, of this I'm sure

I'll use it on myself instead

Ezra sat on the couch with his hands clasped over the back of his neck. His elbows were digging into his thighs from the pressure that was being applied. He was shaking from the emotions running through them, and unable to stop the tears that were running down his face.

He wanted to hurt someone. He wanted to hurt that boy. He clenched his eyes shut, and suddenly he was sick to his stomach as waves of flashbacks ran past his eyes.

Pinned to the ground. Arms squeezed so tightly, wrists were bruised. Lies about why school wasn't important that day. A made up story about why it hurt way too much to move.

"I just, I wanted to get home, cause we were supposed to have dinner, a-and he offered me a ride. I was so late, because Hanna asked me to stay."

He could hear her sobs in his head, replaying the story over in his head. It made him want to vomit.

"After I called, he pulled off the road. I knew what he wanted, so I got out of the car, and I was gonna run. He got out too, though, and threw me against he car. He tore my clothes. He kept hitting me, kept telling me to shut up. He wouldn't let go. And he-…" She shook her head.

Ezra dug his fingers into his scalp, his knuckles white as his hands continued to shake.

"Hey man, its okay. Breathe." Hardy's voice was soft as he placed a wastepaper bin in front of Ezra. He placed his other hand on the middle of Ezra's back.

He felt sick, even just to be touched at a time like this. His hands moved off his neck and he gripped the wastepaper bin, heaving into it. His body shook even harder as bile and stomach acid burned his throat and coated his tongue.

"Z, man, just try and take a breath." He patted Ezra's back.

He heaved into the bin again, squeezing it tighter. It grew to a point where he was sure there was nothing to give back, but his body continued to find fluids to throw up.

"Hardy." Ella's voice was soft. "Why don't you try and-"

Ezra was able to suck in a deep breath after a moment. His forehead was coated with a shade of sweat, and he was still ready to vomit at a moments notice.

"Is there anything I can do, man," Hardy asked.

"Keep your fucking hands off of me," Ezra spat through clenched teeth.

Hardy moved away from Ezra and stood. "Ezra, man. I never-"

"How the helldid this happen," Ezra growled, looking up at Ella and Byron. "You were supposed to pick her up."

"I had a late meeting," Ella explained. "Emily was going to get her home."

"But Emily left because Mrs. Marin called. Her dad had been in an accident. Hanna left with her," Spencer said from the doorway. Her voice was shaking and tears were in her eyes. "There were fifty people in my house. I couldn't leave, Ezra-"

He shook his head as he stood, keeping his eyes closed. "I didn't say it was your fault. I should've gone and gotten her, like I offered to."

"Ezra- Z-"

Everyone piped in at once, ready to shut down his self-guilt.

"Can't believe I let this happen again," he murmured to himself, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

"Alright," Ella said after a long moment of silence. "We all need to take the time to just… sleep on this."

Ezra shook his head at her. A pained expression coated his features as tears filled his eyes.

"Nothing is going to change between tonight and tomorrow morning," Ella finished, her voice quivering.

"Can-"

Ezra cut Spencer off. "I need to see her, before I leave."

Ella nodded to him. Ezra walked out of the room and headed up the steps.

Once he was out of earshot, Byron and Ella turned to Hardy.

"Hardy," Byron asked softly. "What's he…Something more is wrong than just this."

Hardy shook his head. "I can't, Mr. Montgomery. Ezra…That's his own thing. He's gotta tell you that in his own time."

"Can you tell us anything," Ella asked.

Hardy shrugged, looking down at the floor. "The Hollis Paper. Last year's editions. That's all I can tell you."

We are broken

What must we do to restore our innocence?

The knot in Ezra's chest was so tight, it was hard just to get in a decent breath. He stood outside Aria's door, trying to muster the courage to knock on it.

How could he find the words to comfort her? What could he say that could possibly help her in this moment? He knew she had to be reeling. She had to be pulling apart at the seems, and completely at odds with what had happened.

Truth be told, he didn't really want to go in there. He knew what would happen when he walked in. They had talked about having sex more and more in recent weeks. Ever since her parents seemed to have semi-okayed their relationship. The discussions hadn't grown so serious that they were set on it happening just yet, but they'd had a few close calls. Every single time, one of them put the other off, having to run off somewhere instead.

"Ezra?"

He pushed her door open. She was curled up into a ball on her bed, wrapped tightly in one of her blankets. He stood there in the doorway. He didn't know whether he should go to her, or just stay where he was standing. He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it a moment later. What could he say?

"Aria…"

She pushed her torso up off her bed. "Could you come over here?"

Ezra walked over to her. He sat down on the bed, but didn't dare to touch her. "Are you…." He didn't know how to end that sentence. Okay? He knew she wasn't. In pain? Probably. Sane? He sure as hell wasn't.

Aria dropped her blanket. She was in a pair of loose sweats that had the name of the school she'd gone to in Iceland. "Are you okay?" She asked him.

He would've laughed if it didn't hurt so much just to take a breath. "I should ask you that."

"I'm not the one who's afraid to move," she replied quietly.

"Sorry," he murmured just as softly. "I just wanted…." He shook his head and looked down at the floor.

"To make sure I was okay?" Aria asked.

Ezra just nodded. He reached a hand up and cupped her left cheek, brushing his thumb gently to wipe away tears that had fallen earlier. "I'm so sorry, Aria. I'm sorry I wasn't there, I-"

His words stopped when he felt 105 pounds of force launch against his chest. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

Ezra wrapped his arms loosely around her, trying with everything inside of him to not fall apart. His hands began shaking again, and more flashbacks hit him like a runaway train. After a few minutes, he pulled Aria's hands off his shoulders and clenched his fists. He didn't want her to know he was upset. She deserved to have his support.

"Ezra?" She frowned at him, confused.

"S-Spencer wanted to see you before she went home," he said. The words ran out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He walked out of the room and bounded down the stairs, trying with all his might to catch his breath. It only seemed to be getting harder to breathe.

"Is she alright," Spencer asked as he stepped into the foyer.

Ezra stared at her with his jaw clenched. His hands were still shaking. He clenched his fists again. Spencer shuddered as a loud crack filled the room. Ezra had punched the wall with his right hand as hard as he could.

"Ezra-" "Z, man-"

He punched it once more, and then again, each time with increasing force.

Hardy reached out to stop his fist before it hit the wall a fourth time. He threw off Ezra's aim, and it hit the stained wood that covered the walkway into the sitting room.

"Fuck!" He glared angrily at Hardy, angry tears brimming in his eyes.

"Are you proud of yourself now?" Hardy was clearly just as angry as he was. "C'mon, I'll take you to the hospital. You probably broke your wrist."

Ezra opened his mouth to protest, only to be met with an onslaught of Ella, Byron, and Hardy telling him that there wasn't anything more he could do there. Angry and feeling defeated, he walked out of the house with Hardy, and to his car.

"What about my car," he asked with a low voice. His anger was still very present.

"God knows they're going to give you vicodin, which means you not knowing me from Adam. I'll sleep on your couch, and I'll take you to get your car in the morning."

The rest of the ride was silent as Ezra brooded. As the time passed with each minute on their way to the hospital though, the pain in his hand and wrist grew, spreading from just his wrist to almost up to his forearm.

When they walked into the ER, he was slightly surprised to find that it was virtually empty. Whether people were driving drunk or just being plain stupid, a few hours earlier, the room had been packed with people. Almost immediately, a nurse took them back to the first trauma room.

"I don't want to be in here," Ezra told her. He refused to even step through the doorway.

She turned back at him. "Excuse me?"

"I'll wait for another room," he told her, holding his right arm to his chest.

"Mr. Fitz-"

Hardy shook his head at her. "Don't push it. He's had a lot of bad things happen in that room. One of them was tonight."

She looked at them both suspiciously for a moment and then led them to the second trauma room. She flipped the light on and then gestured to the bed for Ezra to sit on. He walked over to it and settled on the end, still keeping his arm against his chest.

"It says that you're here because of a potentially broken wrist?" She asked him.

"It is," he replied without hesitation. He'd had broken bones before. He knew what it felt like.

She nodded, looking through his chart. "Alright. I'll get the-"

Before she could say doctor, a male attending stepped through the doorway. He was of average height, with salt-and-pepper colored hair. He was the same man who had helped do a rape kit on Aria barely two hours earlier.

"Weren't you here earlier," he asked.

"With a colleague," Ezra fibbed. He was there with a colleague, sure. But he definitely hadn't been there for Byron.

The man nodded, looking down at the chart. "What seems to be the problem."

"My wrist is broken," Ezra replied. His tone was bored.

The nurse turned and exited the room, leaving just Ezra, Hardy, and the doctor in the room. He pulled the curtain shut behind himself and then sat down on the rolling stool and settled it in front of the bed, offering his hands out to examine Ezra's hand and arm.

"You didn't go looking for trouble," the doctor asked. Probably to make sure he hadn't tried to kill anyone.

"No," Ezra replied. "The wall got the brunt of my anger."

The doctor nodded, not bothering to even try moving Ezra's hand. It had already started to swell.

"Well, why don't we get a few x-rays to make sure this isn't going to require surgery, and then if all is well, we'll get you into a cast and send you on your way."

Ezra nodded.

He spent most of the next hour and a half staring at the ceiling as x-rays were done, and then sitting on the hospital bed while the doctor and nurse wrapped his forearm, wrist, and bandaged two of his fingers where he'd broken knuckles.

By the time he stumbled into his apartment in a drugged stupor, it was almost 1 AM. He tripped over his own feet as he walked towards his bed, struggling first out of his shoes, and then out of his jeans.

Hardy shook his head as he pushed the door to Ezra's apartment shut, and locked it. He made sure the chain was up as well, before following his friend over to the bed, where Ezra was still trying to get out of his jeans.

"Stop squirming so much before you hurt yourself worse," he scolded.

Ezra scowled at Hardy, pushing his jeans down his legs with his feet. Vicodin also like to knock him into next week. Hardy pulled the jeans from Ezra's legs once they were most of the way down, and then passed him the pair of pajama pants that were folded up at the end of the bed. Ezra took them and started to pull them on, almost tripping in the process.

Hardy caught him, and pushed him back up into an upright position and grabbed the sides of the pajama pants, pulling them up in a single swoop.

"Now lay down and go to sleep," he ordered.

"Bite me," Ezra growled, even as he moved towards his bed.

Hardy laughed sarcastically. "I would, but I like being alive."

A moment later, Ezra thumped against the bed. Hardy looked over his shoulder and chuckled quietly. His former roommate was already asleep.

He walked over to the bed and pulled the covers up over Ezra before snatching the extra pillow on the bed and walking over to the couch. He tossed it down on one of the arms and then pulled the blanket down that was lying over the side of it and laid down.

I trust you with my tears

And my secrets never told

Byron stood in his office, having pieced through over half the papers that the journalism department had given him. They were out of order, so everything he was flipping through was all over the place.

He'd managed to find a couple of headlines that Ezra had bylined, but there was nothing out of the ordinary there.

He tossed another paper down on the desk and shook his head, frustrated. He was getting towards the bottom of the stack, and he hadn't managed to find anything useful. He huffed, frustrated. He ran a hand over his face and pushed back from his desk and walked over to the door. He opened it up, making sure that his students were free to come find him if need be. He was never in the office on Fridays, but he didn't feel that there was much he could do at home, and curiosity beckoned at him to find out what Hardy had been talking about.

The younger man was passing by his door, carrying a stack of teachers manuals and a grading book under his left arm.

"Hardy!" Byron called out to him.

Hardy stopped in his tracks and turned around, looking at the older man. "Mr. Montgomery. What's up?"

"What's up, is the journalism department gave me a hard copy of every paper printed last year, and they're completely out of order."

Hardy furrowed his brow. "Late February. Early March."

Byron groaned and turned back into his room. He headed over to his desk and picked up the stack that he had already pieced through, flipping through the dates. It was a bi-weekly paper, which had lessened his load considerably than what it would've been if it was a daily edition.

After flipping through his already-read stack, he pushed it aside. He hadn't read anything that Hardy was referring to.

Hardy walked a few feet into the room, settling his books on the coffee table in front of the couch in Byron's room.

"It, ah, was a front page story for about a month." He looked down at the paper in the unread stack on Byron's desk. "There. That one."

Byron looked down at it.

Campus Stalked By Rapist, Hunting Male Students

He opened his mouth, but there were too many questions, and somehow, a part of him didn't even want to know the answers.

"You had to find it yourself," Hardy said softly. "Ezra... He doesn't talk about that month."

"I tried to do things your way, and I know you and your wife want to brush this all under the rug. But I can't. No matter how hard I try not to, I love your daughter. Not because of the fact that she makes me happy, or makes things feel more real than they've felt in longer than I can remember...Aria saved my life, in more ways then I'll probably ever be able to explain to you."

Byron pressed his index finger into the headline, looking up at Hardy. "Ezra, he was involved in this?"

Hardy shook his head. "I shouldn't even be-"

"You opened the door to this," Byron argued. "WAS Ezra involved in this?"

Hardy closed his eyes and shook his head. "Ezra got the worst of any of that, Mr. Montgomery. And I'm not saying anything else. I'm sorry." He picked up his books and headed towards the door.

"Just one more question," Byron said just as Hardy reached the door. "Not related to this."

Hardy turned around and looked up at him. "What?"

"Did Ezra ever try to kill himself? After?"

Hardy took a deep breath and looked down at the floor, and then back up at Byron. "Ask him about his wrists sometime when you're alone."

With that, Hardy walked out of the room and left him standing there, wondering what exactly he was supposed to ask.

Byron sunk down into his chair with a heavy breath and picked up the newspaper. He shook it out and then began to read the article.

A campus-wide curfew is in effect starting tonight, after numerous attacks have been reported. The assailant has yet to be captured, and is only known to be wearing a black ski mask during the attacks.

Male students are warned, as all victims so far have been men, to keep their doors and windows locked. Safety regulations should be followed to a T during this time of duress.

Hollis administrators ask that all students, male and female, not travel anywhere alone.

Curfew regulations have been posted in each student hall, and each floor's bulletin has the schedule.

On behalf of the administration, and Hollis Paper, PLEASE BE SAFE!

Byron dropped the paper on to the desk and placed his hand over his upper lip, shaking his head. Ezra had the byline.

He set the paper aside. The one under it had a similar headline.

Curfew Still In Effect; More Students Come Forward

He read the short article that went along with it; it was almost word for word what Ezra had written in the release 2 weeks prior, but it wasn't his byline.

Byron furrowed his brow and shook his head, picking up the paper. The next three papers had headlines that spoke of the rapist. After that, news of it dispersed, but no article after the first one had Ezra's name in it.

As he restacked the papers, curiosity started to build. Had the story been passed around the room? Had the story been taken away from Ezra? Or had he refused to continue it after something had happened?

Byron picked up the phone on his desk and dialed the number to the house as he placed the newspapers back in the bag that he'd been given when they gave him the copies. After a minute, the line clicked over.

"Byron?"

"Yeah, he replied, making sure that the five papers were set aside at the top of the stack and then placed the bag on the floor. "We need to talk about Aria and Ezra."