AN: A chapter to remind everyone that their relationship isn't perfect. Enjoy!

"Do not be afraid; our fate
Cannot be taken from us; it is a gift."
- Dante Alighieri, Inferno

She talked in her sleep. On the occasions Tracy spent the night-which were becoming more and more frequent-Ted would hear her late at night, murmuring Max's name over and over. When he would turn to look at her, her face was always contorted in pain, one arm curled tightly around herself as defense against the nightmares.
Ted felt each whisper like a dull knife. To know that she was in such distress just inches from him...he felt powerless, knowing that none of his attempts to console her would work. Every night was the same, and it had been trial and error learning that he could not fix this; Ted held her, pressed kisses to her forehead, told her she was okay, all to no avail. They would both drift back off only to have Tracy wake him hours later with a scream muffled by her pillow.
Some nights Ted would try to imagine her grief. He pictured another life, one where he'd lost his love. Usually he thought of Robin or Victoria, the early days when his heart seemed to beat just for them. He thought of an accident, a car wreck or a house fire, and wondered how it felt to have your life come crashing down like that. Whenever he did so, the only conclusion he seemed to draw was that Tracy was strong; living proof that grief changes the shape of your bones but doesn't necessarily break them.
Some nights Ted would paint her in a happier light. Laying on his back, he'd watch the shadows on the ceiling and wonder what sleeping patterns she'd had Before (that was how they referred to it during those rare occasions Max was brought into conversation-Before and After). Ted tried to envision her sleeping peacefully at night, curled up next to him. The only times he knew Tracy to sleep soundly were during their Sunday naps out in his living room. He figured something about the daylight made her feel safe.
Some nights-ones he was not particularly proud of-Ted would feel the doubt fill him like an inflating balloon. How could Tracy love him when Max was still haunting her dreams? Ted believed she must recall Max's lips during every kiss they shared. When she turns up the radio and sings along, every lyric must be reminding her of someone else.
He felt foolish and awful, but Ted thought of it as some kind of competition. During the day, he was certain he was in the lead. It was at night that he realized there was no chance to win when you were competing against a ghost.
He could never say this to her, of course.
He couldn't say this to anyone, and the knowledge that he had thoughts too terrible to speak aloud made Ted uneasy. He wondered what kind of future him and Tracy could possibly have when she loved a dead man.

It was his birthday. Tracy still brought him flowers, even then, ten years After. When she asked if Ted wanted to come with her, he declined. Head down, he said that she should have that time alone. Ted expected a nod, followed by the door shutting behind her, but instead heard the soft thud of Tracy placing her umbrella down. A moment later she was standing in front of his seat at the counter, leaning down to meet his gaze. "Alright, spill it."
Ted glanced up, playing dumb. "What?"
"Ted. How long have we been together?"
Bewildered, Ted answered immediately. "Six months, two weeks, and...three days?"
"And when was the first time I told you about Max?" she asked, tone even. Ted couldn't read her expression, which was something strange and new. "I guess...Six months, two weeks, and two days ago."
"Right. And you, Mopey, have been grumpy for 199 of those 200 days. So, spill it." Ted shook his head in disbelief. Nothing got by this girl.
"I'd really rather not say it, and you'd really rather not hear it. Trust me."
Tracy stared at him for a long moment, and she seemed to understand without him saying another word. Ted usually loved that about her, but now it made him feel twitchy. This was surely the end, when she figured out that this guy was jealous over her dead boyfriend. Ted felt his stomach drop at this realization-that he'd ruined things yet again, and with a girl as amazing as Tracy, at that.
Tracy watched his face drop, and needed to explain. "Max..." She paused long enough to realize that she no longer buckled under the weight of his name. "Max was the love of my life."
Ted nodded, eyes darting down. "Hey." She took his chin in her palm, expression soft. "He was." she emphasized. "Past tense. When he died, I never thought I would find that again. It was like the first lottery ticket I bought and, kaboom, jackpot." She released his chin to take his hand instead. "Then I met Louis, and it wasn't..." Tracy searched for the words, eyes turning towards the ceiling. "He was great, but...Like, okay, for example-there was one morning with an English muffin and a rendition of Beautiful. Louis looked at me and chuckled, you know, as a courtesy, but I could see tell he thought it was dumb. And it was then that I realized what I missed so much about Max. I realized that I didn't want someone that had to courtesy chuckle. I wanted that guy back, that guy who gave the french toast that performed Singing in the Rain a standing ovation." She stopped short in her rambling, giving Ted a leveled look. He seemed to understand.
"I asked the eggs Benedict for an encore." he recalled, smiling smally. Rose nodded, grinning.
"Exactly." Tracy lifted his hand, still entwined with hers, to kiss it. "You're my guy, Mosby." she said lovingly. She stared him down until his smile widened. "Like I said, I never thought I'd buy a lottery ticket again. But I took a chance, and low and behold, it was another jackpot."