Hey, everyone.

So, this is my way of taking a break from All Your Secrets and More and A Kiss To Build a Dream On.

I'm thinking this will, most probably be a two (maybe three) shot, but that all depends on its reception.

It is, as mentioned in the summary, a future fic (probably about ten years on from the beginning of season three A).

I hope you guys enjoy it.

Chapter One- The Living Years

It's a Tuesday. Not any particular Tuesday. Just a Tuesday in November. The suburban streets are quiet as the leaves fall of off the scattered oak trees and sprinkle themselves across the green linings of the sidewalk, creating a montage of fall yellows and reds over the perfectly even paving slabs. Curling and drying out. Preparing for the winter.

It's not too cold out, forty degrees, maybe fifty, but you're wrapped up sufficiently in a thick sports hoodie, your thick faux fur lined boots up to your knees over your ripped, blue skinny jeans. Your hair's tied in a high ponytail that still falls to half way down your back.

The leaves crunch under your feet as you turn into the drive way, under the overhanging oak and through the side gate of the backyard; it was probably quicker for you to have walked to her front door, but that involved crossing Main Street, and your mom still wasn't happy with you doing that on your own (despite your doing it all the time with your friends), besides, it was the more scenic route- and hers was the first house that you came to.

Shyly, you raised your fist and knocked softly on the glass pane of the door- she'd told you to just come in, but you still felt rude. It wasn't how you'd been raised. Patiently, you waited, not wanting to knock again in case it came across badly.

After a few minutes, the venetian blinds flickered out of sight and her face appeared; deathly pale and grinning widely. Her hand rested on the handle, and her big brown eyes darted back to your face, you giggled, and she smiled again, pressing her slightly crooked nose against the glass. You mirrored her, leaning your forehead against its smooth pane and squishing your nose against hers; her eyes opened and they smiled at you as her lips placed a kiss against the winter's interpretation of yours. With a small grin, she flicks the handle upward so fast that you almost fall through the door, tripping over your own feet to the sound of her smirk. She murmurs something about a race, but you're too busy unlacing your boots and placing them on the mat to even think about beating her. Her footsteps dance up the stairs and you clocked your head up from your shoes just in time to see her disappearing around the corner towards her bedroom.

You're up within seconds, your constant training having given you lightening reflexes, and taking the stairs two (maybe three) at a time, until your just behind her. She knows this now, you can tell, because she's bent over like a dog, using her hands to help her to scramble up the stairs first, her faded blue jeans just clinging to her unusually narrow hips.

Swinging her head back to throw a triumphant grin your way, she pounds over the threshold, missing throwing herself onto her bed in victory. You're close behind her, practically on her heels as she glides across the cream carpet, so much so that she trips you as she executes her victory jump, and sends you sprawling on top of her as the both of you hit, first the bed, and then the floor.

Her legs are tangled up in yours now, and your hair is so flustered that you're struggling to tell whose is whose as you try to break apart. Slowly, but surely, you separate, with nothing between the two of you save for a few stolen glances and childlike giggles.

She disappears off a few seconds later to grab some snacks and drinks, and as you watch her retreat you remember that you're supposed to be sick. Your throat had hurt when you'd woken up, and your mother- being who she was- didn't want to risk you going to school and getting an infection, or cholera. Spencer had woken under the weather, and had called your mom for a diagnosis, as her parents were (once again) out of town.

You were delighted that Spencer was sick too, and- after hours of persuasion- your mom had condescended to let you go over, since you didn't have a fever and even she could see that Spencer needed company.

You, however, where beginning to think that this whole thing was a rouse.

It's as she smiles when she reenters, now laden with a jar of peanut butter and crackers, as well as apple, cranberry and grapefruit juices (explaining that she wanted Kool-Aid, but her parents never bought it), that you remember why you're here. It's because she needs you: ill or not, she needs someone to care about her.

And it's then, as she flicks her ponytail over her shoulder, her eyes glinting at you, that you vow that you're always going to be there for her. Whenever, wherever, whatever.

Because she needs someone.

Because she needs you.

"Wow!" Emily exclaimed, crouching down next to the tiny table, "That's beautiful!" The little girl sat there beamed up at her, the crayon stilling on the paper,
"It's for you!" She said shyly, her pale cheeks flushing red as she bent her head down in polite embarrassment,
"For me?" Emily asked sweetly, placing her hand on the table, to keep her balance while she crouched, and pulling it away quickly as her fingers met something sticky on the table's surface, "Thank you, honey."

Ruffling the little girl's hair, she stood up, leaving the child to finish coloring alone. Smiles met her all around the room as she bent to pick up various toys and crayons from desks, placing them wearily in their rightful boxes, glancing at the clock intermittently. Emily loved her job; but certain days were longer than others, that was for sure.

"Missus Fields?" A voice called out from somewhere around her knees, accompanied by a tug on the leg of her slacks, "Missus Fields?" She chuckled good naturedly, bending over to meet the eyes of the little boy standing before her,
"What can I do for you, sir?"

"I'm not a sir." He giggled, flicking his hair out of his eyes, "I'm only six!" Emily smiled,
"Why, so you are. It's that haircut, makes you look a lot older." The little boy smiled brightly,
"You think so?" He beamed;
"Absolutely. You look very handsome."
"My sister said that I look like a girl." He frowned, his bottom lip wavering, "She's really mean."
Emily nodded,
"Sisters are like that sometimes. You just have to remember that she loves you really."
"Do you have a sister, Missus Fields?" He asked, his eyes watery,
"No, I don't," She laughed, wiping away one of the child's tears, "But my best friend from high school had a big sister, and she was the meanest sister that I ever met."
"My sister put soap on my toothbrush." He told her, pulling a disgusted face as he did, "And it made my tongue taste all yucky."
She smiled to herself, thinking that it actually sounded far more like something that Spencer would have done, than Melissa.
"Well, just don't stoop to her level, okay Charlie?" She asked him, getting a smile in return as he scampered off into the sea of his classmates.

This was why the children liked her. Teaching the first grade, she'd been warned, could be nightmarish- the kids were young, and plentiful, and had a tendency to be a little unruly; but so far she'd had a lot of fun.

Sinking down at her desk, she pulled out a stack of papers to grade and smiled at the first one on the pile. She'd been told, at every lecture she'd attended, and every class she'd been to, not to have favorites- but she couldn't help it. She smiled once more at the name on the paper as the sound of the bell resounded around the walls of her classroom, before dismissing her class and watching them file out of the door towards their parents. Smiles flew in all directions as backpacks and lunchboxes bustled through the crowd of chatter and into the waiting arms of the adults waiting for them- Emily's biggest critics.

The door banged shut, leaving Emily alone in the quiet of her head for the weekend. It was odd, she thought, that addressing her class at the end of a Friday afternoon could often be the last time she spoke until Monday morning- she lived alone, after all, and never bothered to speak to her neighbors. She'd not really even bothered to make new friends since high school, either. But she had her students, and their first semester assessments, and that was all she really needed.

Once upon a time, in a big castle set high on a hill, sat a lonely prince. He was very sad, because the princess didn't like him and his pet dragon had flown away, leaving him all alone with the evil witch...

"Miss Fields?" A little voice called across her classroom, "What are you smiling about?"

Emily jumped a little in shock (she'd thought for sure all of her students had gone), as she looked up from the paper towards the little girl, sat at the back of the classroom.

"I'm reading a paper from a very special student," She grinned, beckoning the child forward to her desk. She suppressed a laugh as she skipped across the room, her long, elaborate braids of dark curly hair swinging over her shoulders,
"Really?" The child asked, "Whose is it? Is it Meghan's? Because she's very clever. But I don't like her, she's mean."

"No, it's not Meghan's." Emily smiled, taking the little girl under the arms and pulling her onto her lap, lifting the paper up for her to see, "It's a very, very special students."
"It's mine!" She grinned, twisting around to smile at her, showing Emily the gap in her teeth as she did, "It's mine, Auntie Emily!" She paused for a second, putting her hand on Emily's shoulder and looking her very seriously in the eyes, "I am allowed to call you that now, right? Because Mommy said that I mustn't call you that when I'm at school."

Emily nodded and smiled down at her niece,
"Yeah, it's okay now." She took the paper back from her tiny hands and placed it back on the top of the pile, "Wait a second, why is Meghan being mean to you?"
She jumped down from her aunts lap and stomped across the classroom towards a desk in the second row,
"Well," She began, "I was sitting here the other day, and I was reading my book, because you said that we could sit anywhere we liked, and she came over and pushed me and told me it was her desk and that I couldn't sit there because Harry told her that I had cooties, but cooties are stupid and pretend and not real. And she said I was a dork because I was reading a book- and I said I couldn't help it if she was intellectually incompetent and it wasn't my responsibility to make her look good by being stupid."

Emily sighed and rolled her eyes, looking her niece up and down exasperatedly,
"You know, as your teacher I have to tell you that you shouldn't have said that to Meghan and I want you to apologize." She said diplomatically, laughing as the child's lips formed a pout, "But, as your godmother, I'm going to high five you on that, okay?"

She smacked the girl's hand against her own, and laughed as she slid her papers into her briefcase and tucked her chair into her desk. Her niece was already stood by the door, her hand on the light switch waiting for Emily to walk through it,
"God, you are so much like your mother." She laughed, ruffling her hair as she walked through.

"Speaking of my Mommy," The little girl asked, slipping her hand inside her aunts, "Where is she?"
Emily shrugged, swinging the child's arm in hers,
"I don't know, sweetie, she must have gotten held up." She used her shoulder to push open the large double doors and held them open for the child to walk through- this had happened a lot as of late, despite her mother being one of the most punctual people she knew.
"What could be more important than me?" She asked sadly, her big brown eyes wide with disappointment as she scanned the parking lot for any sign of her mother's car. Emily sighed sadly at the little girls comment, finding herself shocked- once again- at the world that she was experiencing; a world that Emily herself had yet to make sense of.

"Nothing." She confirmed grimly, heading in the direction of the street, "Now, my car's in the shop, so we have to walk- but, I believe there's an ice cream store about halfway there..." She trailed off, watching as her niece's face lit up, nodding her head fervently.
"Can we?" She pleaded, "Mommy never let's me have ice cream!" I want chocolate, and strawberry, and vanilla, and toffee, and peanut butter, and-"
"Are there any flavors that you don't want?" Emily chuckled. The little girl cocked her head to the side for a second, her lips pursed in thought,
"I don't like mango. Daddy likes mango, but I think it's gross."

A car door slammed loudly behind them and Emily her name being yelled. She whirled around, a smirk on her face as she watched a familiar figure climb out of her- badly parked- Prius, and start to half run, half trot down the sidewalk toward the two of them, her dark brown hair flying behind her in the wind.
"Looks like we won't be alone for ice cream." Emily grinned, nudging her niece and pointing in the woman's direction.

"I am SO sorry I'm late." She panted, coming to a halt just in front of the pair of them and crouching to pick her daughter up,
"Mommy!" She squealed, letting go off Emily hand and wrapping her arms around her mother's neck, clinging to her body like a koala bear.
"Hi, honey." She smiled, placing a kiss on her daughters forehead, before letting her snuggle into her neck, "God, Em, I'm sorry. We had a bit of a crisis."
Emily waved the apology off with her hand, tilting her head to the side in concern as she addressed the other point made by her best friend, "Crisis?"

Aria sighed,
"Yep." She muttered, "Just to make a change."
Emily froze,
"It's not...?" She stuttered, "It's not...you know?"
"Oh, God no, Em." Aria replied, shaking her head tiredly, "Nothing like that."
"Like what, Mommy?" The child is Aria's alarms asked, sitting up against her mothers forearm and placing her sticky hands on the side of her face,
"Like nothing, sweetie," Aria assured her daughter, "And what is all over your hands?"
Emily bit her lip to fight the smile that was emerging as her niece giggled and smacked her sticky fingers against her mothers face.
"Get off, Scarlett." Aria warned, placing her daughter back down on the sidewalk, where she immediately began to climb around Aria's legs.

"So, what was going on?" Emily asked, as she followed Aria to where her car was sat on the edge of the street. Aria sighed, lifting Scarlett off of the ground by her hips and setting her down in her seat, securing her seatbelt with a tug and an exasperated sigh.
"What do you think?" Aria asked darkly, rolling her eyes as she slammed the door to her car and walked around to the drivers side, " Do you need a ride?" She asked rhetorically, opening the passenger door as she spoke. Emily shrugged, buckling her seat belt and turning towards her best friend,
"Is it work?" She guessed, clutching at straws now, unable to read her best friends face. She couldn't fathom what could possibly be in crisis with Aria's work, she wrote for a living, and worked mainly on inspiration- as far as she knew, the girl hadn't written in months.

"God no," She dismissed quickly, shaking her head, preoccupied, as she pulled into the stream of traffic. "No, it's not that. It's Hanna." She grimaced.
"What's wrong with Auntie Hanna?" Scarlett shouted from the back seat, her eyes wide,
"Nothing, sweetie."

Aria shot her a meaningful look and Emily nodded in recognition, a wry smile crossing her face.
"Hanna?" She mouthed back, wary now of Scarlett's ever alert ears, "What's up?" Aria gave her a strong look, eyebrows raised. "Still Caleb?" Emily groaned, throwing her head back against the seat, "Really?"

"No," Aria said solemnly, "Well, actually, yeah. But that wasn't this today's main issue."
Emily pursed her lips sceptically, sending her best friend a confused look.
"She heard something today." Aria announced as the car ground to a halt in her driveway, "Something about Spencer."

A/N

So, what did you guys think so far?

I'd also like to give a short out to JamScottRocks54 who enjoys heckling me on a daily basis to update may fics. Happy Birthday!

I look forward to reading your reviews, as always.

~LaughLoveLiveXx