A/N: Jenni urged me to write this, and obviously I caved (not that I needed much persuasion), so I guess this is for her. Holls proofed it, so thanks for this baby. This is obviously angst, and well, you know the drill with me. I started it over a week ago, so I really hope this makes sense in one way or the other. Please don't kill me for not updating Sandcastles in over a month, I was super super busy and I just couldn't wrap my head around the next chapter. I promise I will update soon, bear with me. I hope all the other stories are enough for now. Reviews and stuff, because you know me.

Story of a Life

It was the story of her life. Always the same; the one that dictated every single move she ever made until the moment she met him. After they married, she put it to rest, and the story of her life became the story of her past. She would always carry it, though. It was always there, and always a subject for questions. But she no longer allowed it to control her. She no longer accepted the night thoughts that taunted and left her restless. She had a new story to write; her own story, her own family. That was until she realized that all she thought she knew wasn't true.

There was one part of her that refused to leave. The doubt and, the guilt. What if? always, what if. Maybe if she had been there… And now this. A new doubt to keep the sleep from her. What if she had been there, in the car. Her mom was still alive, but could she have saved her? Sighing, she pushed the covers off and reached for the sweater that lied casually on the bench at the end of their bed. She looked around the room, her eyes landing on her sleeping husband. Her rock, always her rock, but even he couldn't understand. She closed her eyes as a single tear rolled down her cheek, making her way to the window seat, pulling the sweater tighter around her, needing something to protect her.

She rested her head against the wooden window frame and glanced at the passing cars, at the way the lights in other windows were turned off, one by one. Another day ended. Another day with doubts and insecurities. With fear and regret. And a deep sorrow that could never be cured. It was still the story of her life, no matter how much she wanted it not to be. It was still the thing that defined her, that made her who she was. The thing that lingered and pained her more than anything she'd ever experienced.

The warm touch of his hand on her shoulder brought her attention back and she glanced to meet his eyes. He nudged her to move, taking the seat behind her, letting her sink between his legs as his hands moved to wrap around her.

"Let it out." he whispered in her ear. And then he felt her shudder, her body trembling in his arms as sobs filled the silent room. He tightened his grip, holding her close, his silent way of letting her know that he will never leave. That she wasn't alone. Her tears soaked through his sleeve as she buried her face in his shoulder, her cries tearing his heart into pieces, conveying pain he knew he would never be able to fix. There was something about the way it hurt her, this thing that she carried around since she was fifteen. It was painful just looking at her, listening to her. But the most painful thing was the understanding that he could do nothing to cure this, and that it will forever burden her.

He waited patiently for her sobs to slowly die down, replaced by silent tears that still slid down her cheeks. He shifted slightly, looking down to her, but she avoided his eyes. Letting out a long sigh, she wiped her tears and allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she waited for the relief to wash over her, as it always did after she had a good cry. But not this time. She could still feel the lump in her throat, threatening with every breath she took, every breath that was almost a sob. Every bone in her body hurt, like it hadn't before, alerting her senses to the realization that this could still hurt her. There were still parts of her that didn't ache over this, until now. Now it was everywhere, ready to consume her, to break her down finally. When she didn't speak, he pressed a soft kiss to her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, contemplating on whether or not he should say something. He'd over-heard. He wondered if she knew that he stood still while she cried, listening to the story Will told her about their parents. If she would've ran to him had she known? Probably not. Elizabeth was never one to break or to show emotions that indicated weakness. She was tough and determined on always being so, even when she was clearly hurting, when she was breaking inside. The only person who ever got to see her that way was him. Somehow, he was the lucky one, the only one she trusted enough to leave all masks behind. With him she allowed herself to feel exposed, to shed all clothes, all façades, everything. With him, she was just her, and she was still tough, still strong. She never seemed small to him, nor weak. She was human, and it made him was to protect her from any pain possible.

"It should've been me." her voice wasn't above a whisper as the words left her mouth. And even so, they startled him and brought him back from his own thoughts. He focused his eyes on her, not sure if she actually spoke, or if it was his own imagination filling in the blanks.

"What?"

"In that car; it should've been me, not Will."

"Elizabeth…" he started, already forming his regular speech in his mind. They've been over this more times than he could count, always coming back to the same place where irrational guilt took over. He always said the same things, explaining how it wouldn't have changed anything. How if she had been there, if she had died too, he would've never had the chance to meet her, and they would've never formed their life together. Fate, he kept telling her, wasn't something to fight against. She wasn't supposed to be there, she was supposed to be okay enough for them to meet. But she never let him say another word.

"No, Henry. I was older. I am older. I could've done something. Maybe, if it was me there, and not Will, she would've lived."

"Elizabeth, she died in a matter of minutes. Even if a doctor was there, there's a slim chance they would've been able to save her. Will was old enough to do everything you would've done had you been there instead. There was nothing you could do, no matter how much you want to believe it."

"You don't know that." She said bitterly, feeling the anger starting to bubble.

"Neither do you." His voice was calm and steady against her burning skin, reminding her that he was always her rock, the one she leaned on.

She was mad, but not at him. She was mad that she was so busy studying, that it was the only thing that mattered to her. Angry that she couldn't find the time to have this one final moment with her parents; that instead of saying thank you for the ice cream, and 'I love you' as they walked out her bedroom, she yelled at them for leaving the door open. And this one thing she never told Will, for feeling this tiny bit of joy when they finally left her alone and the house was quiet enough for her to finish her tasks. She felt nauseous at that thought now, as she did every single time she remembered. How could she. Maybe this was her punishment -that the house was never loud again. That even Christmas was as lonely as she had been since they walked out the door.

"Baby," he whispered in her ear, his hands rubbing her arms slowly. She shook her head, the tears spilling again, her sobs threatening to escape. "Don't shut me out. I know that I wasn't there, that there's no way I could possibly understand, but please. I'm here now. I have been here for the past 28 years."

Turning her head, she met his eyes for the first time that night and he had to blink at the sight of her, at the pain reflected in them. "He got to see her. One last time, he got to loot at her. I didn't have that. I never received my final moment with either one of them. The last thing they remember of me is me yelling at them to shut my bedroom door. That's… That's how they left this world."

"They knew you loved them."

"Did they? Because it clearly seemed like I was more devoted to my studies than I was to spending time with them. And I sure as hell didn't say that as often as I should have."

He sighed. They had fights before that ended badly, and while things might have been left open, she never failed to say 'I love you', even if he was just going out for a walk. You never know, she told him once when he questioned her about it. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he pulled her closer to him, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You're a mom now, would you ever think that? When you left for Iran, you and Stevie were… Did you think she doesn't love you? That she wouldn't care if you…?"

It was quiet then, as she took a moment to reflect on his words. When she was lying on the floor with Fred on top of her, all she could think of was how grateful she was that she said I love you to them before she left. How it didn't even matter if they said it back. All she cared about was them being okay. Those where her last prayers before she blacked out from the pain. Turning her head to him, she nodded before pressing her lips to him, her way of silently thanking him. For everything. He captured her lip between his, letting his glide over hers as he deepened the kiss, swallowing the tears she shed.

When their lips broke, her eyes remained closed, her tears glistering in the dim light of the street outside. "You can't change the past. And as much as this pains you, you can't bring them back. But you can cherish them as you do every single day. And you can live the life they would want you to live. Be happy."

"Be yours." she mumbled.

"Forever." He nuzzled his nose with hers before pressing his forehead against hers and holding her tight as fresh tears wet her cheeks.