"The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for, and I hate very much to leave it." -Ernest Hemingway

"I'm fine."

She started saying it so often that she sort of began to believe it. She believed that she was, at eighteen, fully capable of raising a child alone; she started to believe that the hole in her heart where Nathan had been would close up sooner rather than later; she told herself that pretty soon she wouldn't even remember the sound of his voice, the way he smelled, the safety of his arms wrapped tight around her.

And yet, no matter how many times she parroted the words to others, a fake smile plastered on her face, her eyes dull, void of their usual happiness and zest, she knew they weren't true. People approached her in the hospital, in the movie theater, when Lucas had taken her a few days ago, in the grocery store, when Brooke had dragged her out of the house, saying she needed to eat something, and they all asked, with that look on their faces like she was some kind of pathetic creature that needed serious mending, "Are you okay?" And each time, she'd nod briskly, rub her stomach and say, "Oh yeah, I'm fine."

But it was becoming increasingly difficult to pretend everything was okay, because she couldn't keep hanging in limbo anymore, in this in between world where nothing was absolutely certain but she was almost positive as to what the outcome of everything would be. Soon she had to make a decision, and that decision was going to break her heart. It was going to break all of their heart's.

Everyone kept telling her it would be okay, that she had all the time in the world, that this was not her fault, but none of the words they said made anything better; after it had all happened, and she was sitting, curled up on the hospital chair, Peyton had come up to her, holding onto a Styrofoam cup of coffee like it was the Holy Grail. "Can I get you anything?" she had asked. "Do anything for you?" And Haley had looked up at her and cryptically said, "I don't suppose you know how to reverse time?"

The ironic thing was that she kept expecting Nathan to turn up and make the decision for her, or at least make it with her, because although Haley was nothing if weak willed, she had gotten so used to having him there all the time; he was there to hold her hand and make sure everything was okay. He was her own personal Superman, clearing the road ahead of any possible traffic blocks before they could even stand in her way.

In a situation like this, Haley needed her husband with her, she needed him to tell her what he thought she should do, she needed to hear him say that no matter what she did everything would turn out okay in the end, that whatever choice she made was the right one.

When she sat by the hospital bed, holding tightly onto his limp hand, singing softly to him, when she woke up in the middle of the night because Lucas was carrying her from the couch back into his bedroom (she couldn't, wouldn't stay in their house), when she caught Peyton and Brooke sneaking panicked, upset glances at each other, Haley wondered what she had done to deserve something like this.

Was it because she got pregnant at eighteen? Was it because of the fight her and Nathan had had a few weeks ago, about whose turn it was to buy groceries, was it because of the way she had been mean to John McCrea in the third grade, was this the world's way of saying, "here's what you get for kissing Chris Keller, for leaving your husband, for being an awful person?"

Haley wanted to blame it on someone; the person that had hit him (a seventy two year old lady named Edith that was on her way to a doctor's appointment) or the people that had built the bridge (she didn't know their names because that bridge had been around since 1892, but there was some kind of plaque by City Hall that told all about them) or maybe even the man that had sold them their car (a nice guy, with a wife and four kids, that fixed cars up and sold them for a lot cheaper than he should.).

But every time she got right down to it, Haley always ended up blaming the exact same person: herself. And really, who else was she supposed to blame? She was the one that had asked him to go out for the god damn ice cream, she had insisted on staying home because it was late and although she was hungry, she was really tired. She should have asked him to go a few minutes earlier, or later, or not at all. They could have stayed home and watched The Price is Right or they could have walked, together. She could have gone with him, and then she wouldn't have to feel any of it.

But she hadn't. And so she did.

One Week Earlier

Haley was hungry. It was something that seemed inevitable now that she was pregnant, and it wasn't even that she was hungry for ridiculous things (she had heard stories about women that craved pickle and liver sandwiches all through the third trimester, women that would eat only grilled cheese for weeks straight before the thought of any sort of dairy product made them feel sick), she was just... hungry. And it just so happened that while Nathan was upstairs showering, she turned on the TV and saw the commercial for Dairy Queen, the big cartoon lips doing a very good job of convincing her that she needed ice cream. Now.

"What do you think?" she asked her stomach, pretending like the baby knew exactly what she was talking about, "how does an Oreo Blizzard sound right about now? Hm? Pretty tasty, right."

"Nathan!" she called up the stairs. "NATHAN!"

"What is it, Hales?" Nathan stuck his head out of the bathroom door, steam pouring out behind him.

"Baby.. I'm hungry."

He smiled to himself, because what else was new? "Uh-huh," he waited for what he knew was coming.

"Do you think you could pick up.. some ice cream, or something? I have money!" she threw her wallet in the general direction of the upstairs bathroom; it landed with a dull thud at the bottom of the stairs.

"I don't know," (of course he knew, it was Haley, for god's sakes), "I mean.. what's in it for me?"

"Maybe, if you're really good, I'll let you have some of it."

"Some of what?" he said suggestively.

"Some of my Blizzard, you freak."

"Oh man.. Hales, I don't know. I really don't think that's gonna do it for me. I'm a growing boy."

"Growing boy, my ass."

"It's true!" he held up his hands in protest. "I'm coming downstairs, I don't like talking to you from so far away."

He thumped down the stairs, wearing nothing but a tiny hand towel around his waist. "So, a Blizzard is all I'm gonna get? It's all you're gonna get? You sure about that, Hales?"

She threw a pillow at him.

"Hey! Do you want more children?" he cried, sidestepping the pillow.

"Alright!" she giggled. "If you go get a Blizzard.. we'll see. But why you'd ever want to.. Nathan: look at me. I'm a monster. I bet you can't even pick me up anymore. This baby is making me huge."

In an instant, Nathan was by the couch and in one smooth movement he bent down and effortlessly lifted Haley, kissing her on the nose. "You," he said, "are the most beautiful woman in the whole entire world."

"Promise?"

"Of course I promise, you doofus."

"Doofus?" Haley smiled, and lightly slapped Nathan's shoulder. "What are you, eight?"

"Almost.. what kind of Blizzard?" he asked, setting her back down on the couch.

"Oreo.. and get something for yourself, okay?"

He nodded. "Bye Haley."

"See ya, stud."

And he walked out the door. Later on, it would occur to Haley that she hadn't told him she loved him; they always said it to each other. Always. What made her not say it that night? Was it because the Dairy Queen was five minutes away from their house, because it was a Tuesday and since when did anything bad happen on Tuesday nights at nine thirty? Did she just assume that Nathan knew, that there was no need to tell him again.

But if she had known that this would be the last time she would ever see him, fully see him, as he should be, what would she have said differently? Would she have told him that he was everything to her? Taken the time to thank him? Or would she just have let him go, because she'd want him to believe that everything was fine?

She knew however, around ten o'clock that something was wrong. Because it wasn't that nice of a night out, and the longest she'd ever had to wait in line for an ice cream cone was five minutes. And so she started to worry. She started to remember all the CSI episodes she had seen, the documentaries on TV about the missing, the bodies that were found days (or weeks, or months later) in garbage bags, in the bottom of the river, tied up in the basement. She started to prepare herself for a knock on the door, a phone call; "There has been an accident," was what she was prepared to hear. "I'm so sorry." She kept picturing the doctor saying it to her, over and over again.

She chewed on her nails until they bled, she tried to pretend like Nathan had just gone for a drive, she spoke out loud to the baby to try to calm him down, while really she was trying to make herself believe that everything was okay.

She thought maybe he was with Lucas, maybe they were talking about the state championship, thinking up strategies; he could be at Rachel's for all she cared, so long as he was safe . So she called Lucas. "Hello?" he sounded groggy when he answered (a tiny part of her mind wondered who, in their right mind, could possibly be sleeping right now, before realizing that only she was worried about Nathan, and she wondered how many other people were sitting up, waiting and hoping), and Haley knew he wasn't there. But she had to ask.

"Luke?" her voice was tiny. "Is.. is Nathan over at your house?"

"No, Hales.. why?"

She fought to keep everything steady; because if her voice shook, if her hands trembled, then it was all real and something was wrong. "He left to get me ice cream almost.. forty minutes ago and he's not back. And I'm really worried," she couldn't pretend with Lucas, that everything was fine when it wasn't.

"Okay.. where did he go?"

"Just to the Dairy Queen, Luke it's five minutes from here, at tops."

Lucas was silent and for a moment, she thought he didn't believe her, that he'd tell her to stop worrying and that Nathan was going to walk in the door any second, with some ridiculous reason as to why he was so late. "I'll come over."

"It's okay!" she said, her words meaningless. "You don't have to, it's stupid. I just.. I thought maybe he would be over with you. It's fine! Maybe.. maybe you could just drive around, and see if you can see him? See if maybe he's with Skills or stuck in traffic.. or something."

This was pointless, she knew, but at least it gave her a hope that maybe he was stuck in traffic (at ten twenty?) or maybe he and Skills were down at the River Court (he had learned that lesson a few weeks ago when he had gone to get Haley a burger and had been sidetracked by the serene court and the ball, and he'd know now to do that again.).

"Sure, Hales. Do you want to come?"

"I think.. I'll just stay here," she said quietly, "in case he comes home?"

"He'll be fine," Lucas told her, and Haley couldn't tell if it was a genuine promise or just the sort of thing you were supposed to say when your best friend's husband was missing.

"Please Luke.. bring him home."