So, I decided I love Tracy/Ted, and this was born. I think we see too much of Tracy's forgiving, strong nature, and we need a little more of her weak moments. Also, I can't seem to stop with the angsty stuff.

Disclaimer: I don't own How I Met Your Mother.

"I'm so sorry."

When she whispers these words into the darkness, he's caught off guard. In fact, he's left wondering for a while if she even spoke at all, when she suddenly buries her face in his shirt and wraps herself so tightly around his body.

He decides not to say anything, but he does wrap his arms tightly around her. When he feels her face move too much against his shirt, and when he feels the slight damp feeling of her tears, that's when he comes to realize that she really did speak and is now crying.

"It's okay," he whispers into her hair, because he doesn't know what to say.

The response he gets is her soft sobbing, and her fingers clutch his shirt desperately, her body shaking as she's being racked with sobs. He kisses her hair over and over again, feeling his own eyes sting with the promise of tears as he listens to her cry.

She gasps into his shirt one final time before her body relaxes and her tears subdue. While she isn't shaking anymore, however, she dedicates herself to holding his body desperately. He holds her just as desperately, and their fingers ache as they grip each other's shirts.

Suddenly she lets go of him, and she just presses her body closer to his, letting him hold her without holding him as well. She runs her fingers over his arm, stroking the material of his shirt, trying to compose herself. He lets her even though he wants to say something, and she's clearly trying to act as though everything she just did didn't happen.

"Don't be sorry," he says, just to make sure she knows that. "Please never be sorry."

She pulls away from his body slightly, but just to look at him. He can see the tears shining in those eyes he loves so much, and he wishes there was something he could do about them. He presses a desperate kiss to her forehead, and her skin is cold under his lips.

He also pulls the blanket tighter around her body, fearing that she feels as cold as her skin is. She gently moves in closer to his side, pulling the blanket closer around her body as well.

"I...I'm a mess," she manages out then, and she laughs before she continues, "I really don't know what to do. I- I don't want to leave you alone, or the kids, or..." She trails off, and then finishes, "I'm- I'm scared."

He feels her heart beat against his, and but his could have stopped for all he knows.

"Don't say that. You're going to be fine," he says, but this is mostly for his own benefit. He's alarmed by the way she's speaking; usually, she's always optimistic. She's one who always has the positive outlook on life, and now she's the one who doubts it.

He's afraid for her.

She sighs, and he can feel every small movement her body makes as she does. She hooks her arms around his neck, then buries her face into the crook of his neck. He slowly moves his arms to her waist, making sure the blanket is still around her first.

"I love you," she whispers into his skin. "So much."

He holds her tighter before he replies, "I love you, too."

Her body relaxes, and while she continues to embrace him, she seems to be drifting off to sleep. He's about to close his own eyes, but then he feels apprehensive. What if she doesn't wake up? What if she never wakes up?

"Tracy?"

She opens her eyes; he can feel her eyelashes on his skin.

"Yeah?"

He shudders slightly, feeling foolish, before he mumbles, "Nothing."

She moves her head away from his neck, and she tenderly presses her hand against his cheek, shifting slightly so she's laying next to him, staring into his eyes in the darkness. Her other hand goes to clutch one of his hands, and she intertwines their fingers as she sleepily whispers, "Tell me."

He shakes his head. "No- it's nothing. Go to sleep."

"Ted..."

"It's nothing," he repeats, but again, this is more for his own benefit.

She doesn't argue again, because she knows that thinking about things alone is something that Ted Mosby does. And while it breaks her heart to know he might have to do that for the rest of his life, she decides to humor him just this once.

She can't go back to sleep now, because she's worrying about Ted. She knows there's something he wants to say, but he's afraid of saying it, as usual. While she doesn't exactly want him saying I love you at the end of a first date, she also doesn't want him to not say anything.

"So...what are you thinking about?" he asks into the darkness. His voice is tentative, because he doesn't want to say so, but he already knows she won't be able to go back to sleep.

She bites back a smile.

"You," she answers honestly.

He shifts closer to her and asks, "Were they good thoughts?"

She smiles this time, because his voice is teasing and his words always find some way to cheer her up, even when she's on the verge of snapping. Usually she'd respond with some teasing remark and they would laugh together, but she can't do that today. She realizes that there's so much she wants to say to him that can't be put off, and she has to do it now.

"Not exactly," she finally answers. "Ted...I know you're upset."

He doesn't try to deny it.

"And...I need some closure about this," she continues, and her eyes scan his face, even though she can't see him very well in the darkness of the room. "I brought it up- and I'm sorry- but we should talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. You're going to be okay."

She sighs, and she tightens her fingers around his and says, "You underestimate me, you know. I was always a little bit of a detective growing up, so I know that's a lie."

He smiles. "Well, your skills have always been better than mine."

"I know." She grins in response, but she falls somber a second later and says, "Now come on, tell me what's going on in your head. I want to know what you think about all of this."

He lets go of her fingers and draws her closer to him gently, pressing his forehead against hers.

"At the hospital, I told you that we were going to get through this together," he reminds her. "I told you I wasn't going to go anywhere, didn't I? I meant it. You're going to live, Tracy. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

She places her hand on his arm reassuringly. "It's okay that you're upset."

"I'm not upset." This time, he denies it.

"Yes, you are. I know you," she says matter-of-factly. Searching his face with her eyes, she swallows thickly and adds, "And it's okay if you don't really think I'm going to make it. I don't want you to clam up on me now. I want the Ted Mosby who blurts out whatever is on his mind. The one who isn't afraid to take a chance with words."

He blinks to keep from crying. "Not words like...like the ones I'm thinking."

"You should," she says honestly, and her voice wavers. "I want to know."

This time, when the burning feeling in the corner of his eyes that tells him he's about to cry starts, he doesn't blink. Instead, he admits, "I'm scared, too. I might be even more scared than you are."

"Then tell me that," she says gently. "I want to know your feelings, too."

He shakes his head. "No. You've always been the one who gets me through everything. I don't want to be afraid when I'm the one who is supposed to support you during this...time."

She smiles again. "There. That's the Ted Mosby I love."

He smiles, a small, weak thing, and he laughs slightly and shakes his head just the slightest before he says, "You're laughing at me, aren't you?"

"Of course not," she says reassuringly. "I do want you to be afraid. You seem to think that admitting that you're upset doesn't make you stronger, and that you won't be able to offer me support if you're upset."

"Well...isn't that true?" he asks.

She shakes her head and intertwines their fingers together again.

"We're going to be strong together," she says firmly. "Okay?"

He lets his tears start to fall. "And...if I can't be strong?"

"You can," she whispers, and her own tears are starting to fall, too. "You know you can."

This time he's the one to swallow thickly and speak, but it's only to mutter, "Okay."

She doesn't relent, though, and she gently prompts, "And that means-?"

He breathes deeply and answers, "It means I'm going to try. I'm going to try because I really want to be there for you, even if I'm not exactly the best person to do it. I want to be strong- and scared- with you through the whole ride to recovery."

She smiles sadly and adds, "And if there's no recovery?"

"Don't say that." He's startled.

She squeezes his hand. "I just need to know you'll be okay if..." She trails off. "If I have to go."

"You know I won't be okay," he says, further startled. "I love you."

There's a significant pause in the conversation, but then she starts to laugh. She wipes at the tears that streak her face, laughing and looking so happy yet sad at the same time, and her free hand squeezes his until he almost feels a twinge of pain.

"It's- it's silly," she manages out, between laughs. "I was always so scared of being alone after Max died, and now I'm even more scared about leaving you alone. It's kind of ironic."

"As an author, I think you know irony is overrated," he says pointedly, teasing just a little bit.

She wipes again at her tears, laughing at his mannerisms. "True."

He brings his own free hand to help her with her tears, even though he knows he's on the brink of tears himself- maybe this way he'll get the practice he needs to help her through her struggle, to help her get to the road of recovery.

"It's weird," she says suddenly, her laughing voice now more quiet and tense. "I started out crying, and you comforted me, and now you're crying and I'm the one trying to comfort you."

"You're still crying," he points out teasingly, just to lighten the mood.

"So are you," she teases back, and he smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead.

"Excuse me, I'm trying to be romantically funny here," he huffs, and she laughs.

"You don't have to try," she says, and she leans forward and kisses his lips chastely. "You're always going to be my romantically funny and amazing husband."

"Hmm...I think there should be a handsome in there somewhere."

She breaks into the wide grin that always makes his heart flutter. "Okay, my romantically funny, amazing, and extremely handsome husband. How's that?"

"Perfect." He reaches out and brushes her hair gently, then adds, "We're perfect."

She lowers her chin and lets him thread his fingers through her hair, letting their perfect moment continue. Even though she's not crying now, she's still feeling a little upset, but she promises herself she won't cry again for Ted's sake.

"Do you know that saying 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger'?" she asks, and her voice cracks.

"Yeah." His own voice sounds weird now, too.

"Well, I think it's bullshit," she says, and she pauses to think about it. "I think what doesn't kill you is eventually going to kill you anyway, and that you're not getting stronger the first time, you're just preparing to fight against it the second time."

"I think that's the point of the saying, though- you go against it the second time, and you're ready."

"No, it's not- the point is, it will kill you in the end, whether you're stronger or not."

He's quiet for a minute or two, and then he says, "I don't understand."

But she knows he does, and he knows it, too.

"I'm saying that I know what's going to happen, and I'm scared, but...there's nothing I can do. There's nothing you can do. Do you understand?" She scans his face with quiet, surprisingly dry eyes.

"But there's a chance, isn't there?" He swallows and continues, "What if something saves you for good from what can kill you, and then you won't ever have to face it again?"

She smiles sadly. "The odds are against it, Ted- the cancer came back after going away once. The odds of me living are slim to none by now."

"But there's a chance. And that's all that matters."

She looks at him. He's still the same, always believing in eveything that has to do with miracles and second chances and destiny. The thing is, she wouldn't change that about him, because it's one of the things she loves about him.

So she changes the subject and says, "Tell me a story."

"A story?" He's doubtful of this change of subject.

"Yes- a story. A story that's etched into your memory because of how great it is."

He thinks about it, and then says, "Okay."

"So that's a yes?" she teases.

"Yes, I'll tell you a story," he says, and he begins, "I was waiting for my train to come through after leaving Barney and Robin's wedding. There was this annoying lady who kept prodding me for details after I told her about this beautiful, amazing bass player I had seen at the wedding-"

"Hold on, that's the story of how we met," she interjects.

"Shh," he says instantly. "I'm telling you a great story that's forever etched into my memory."

And so he continues, not even realizing just how true his words will prove to be in the future.