This is based on Elizabeth and Henry's conversation about their break-up. Henry says 5 days and Elizabeth corrects it as 3 days. It's slightly AU in the sense we never actually find out on-screen what happened or why, beyond Henry being afraid and an epic proposal afterwards. I have written the story as if Elizabeth is still in College and they are living together.
The day he walks away her world starts to shatter. She thinks she should have fought harder. She should have held onto him until he agreed to stay forever. She sees his face in her dreams. It's distorted by pain and possibly fear. Fear of what she doesn't know. Her? Them? This? She's not even sure what this is. She hoped it was something. That they would nurture it together. Watch it bloom and encompass them, secure in the forever. Now it is like she is standing in a barren wilderness, baking in the blistering heat. She feels dizzy and adrift.
Every hour spent with him cemented a broken brick back together in her battered soul. Each kiss is like water falling on a sunbaked beach. Slowly, in increments by tiny steps, she had started to bloom again. And then he took a wrecking ball to her soul and shears to her heart, and she doesn't understand why. None of it makes sense. She can't find a pattern or a causality. Her mind yearns for a why. She must have missed something. Done something. Said something.
Hunger eventually forces her off the sofa. She pads barefoot to the kitchen, stepping over broken pieces of crockery as she goes. She kicks a large piece away from the front of the fridge and winces as her toes sting. "Damn it!" She watches dispassionately as pinpricks of blood collect on the side of her toes. She pulls the fridge door open and gulps at the leftover lasagna that seems to dominate the middle shelf. She takes a deep breath and ignores it, instead picking up two yoghurts and the remains of an interesting looking quiche. She sniffs but what the hell, food poisoning would give her something else to focus on right now. She plops back down on the sofa, pulls the lid of the yoghurt and licks it in circles. She drops it on the floor before counting each spoonful of yoghurt. She contemplates the rest of the food and pulls off the end of the quiche ignoring the crumbs of pastry that fall on the cushions. What does it matter? The quiche tastes weird and she swallows heavily before dumping the rest on the side table. Sighing deeply, she lays back on the sofa and stares at the ceiling. She doesn't want to think or feel.
##
He walks until his feet hurt and the cold seeps into his bones. He ignores the ache and pushes himself until he reaches the bench by a small lake. He sits on the worn wood and burying his head in his hands, cries. Her face full of devastation floats in his mind and he embraces the pain. He deserves it. When he got the letter about deployment, everything seemed so logical. How could they continue when he wasn't there? How could he expect her to wait, not knowing if he would ever come back? She has lost so much, and he refuses to add to that pain. The irony is not lost on him. He hopes though that this pain will depart, in later years put down to infatuation, a silly passionate young love. He is sure she will find someone else to love her. Someone who deserves her and can be present for all the important stuff. She astounds him. He realises absently that it has started to rain, and he heads back to his car. As he eventually slips soaked through and feet a wreck into the seat, he wonders what to do next. Technically it is their flat, but he would never kick her out, so that leaves him here. It's late and he decides to just sleep in the car tonight. It's cold and noisy but a part of him thinks he deserves it.
The next day he drives to Pittsburg, back to the home he ran from. His mother greets him in the living room and one with one look at his face she asks, "What happened?"
##
She wakes with stiff neck half on the sofa, salt tracks dried on her face and the sunlight burning her eyes through the still open curtains. She stands, wincing at the stretch of sore muscles. She stands in the middle of the room for a while, waiting for her mind and body to connect. She has classes but the mere thought of walking out the door is too much. Instead, she goes and runs the shower. Once the room is full of steam, she sits under the waterfall of water and cries. She wants him back. She doesn't care if he is sent overseas for months, as long as he comes back to her. The thought of him not in her life for eternity is too much. She wonders what she did to make him not trust in her devotion, to him and them. She's scared of it all but it's the sort of fear she wants to live not avoid. Eventually, the water turns cold, shivering she stands and lets the contrast settle her mind.
She lays on the bed wrapped in numerous towels, damp hair leaking into the pillows. She is so tired; she wants to scream. In the end, she falls into a restful sleep. Dreaming of him and them and a future that is no more.
##
His mother listens for an hour to her son, lips pursing tighter with each explanation. When he stops part of her wishes he wasn't too big to take over her knee. Schooling her thoughts, she regards the mess that is her eldest son. She may have questioned his relationship initially, but now she can see the love leaching off him. Love mixed with fear and despair. She takes his hand and says firmly "Love is a leap of faith. You can't know how it will work out. All you can do is trust that your love and belief in each other will take you through the rough and the smooth."
"I won't hurt her again!"
She sighs at that "Henry you are already doing that by walking away."
"How would you know?"
"By looking at you. I know she loves you as much as you love her. It was clear as day in her eyes. I can only imagine the despair she is feeling right now." She squeezes his hand "Son, you aren't a coward. Face this battle together, don't run from it."
"If she can't do that?"
"Then that is her choice to make not yours for her."
##
She considers ringing Will when she wakes, holding the phone in her hand until the dial tone started piping but decides against it. He would only tell her that everyone leaves in the end and she's better off. She's not even a hundred per cent sure where he is right now. She shakes her head, not that it matters. He would come if she asked but what for. At this point, it feels like a pity party, and she is not ready to let go. Yet. She watches the rain out of the window, drops sliding down the pane and hears dimly the laughter of the students below. She's missed most of her classes and she can't find it in herself to care. What difference does it make? On her second lap of the kitchen, she stops in front of the neat list of phone numbers pinned to the notice board. His parent's number seems to glow red in her mind and she finds herself lifting the phone handle before she even realises it. She stops, what would she say? She considers for a while, even punching in the first couple of numbers before hanging up. She refuses to be needy even as her heart breaks. She heads back to the sofa, stepping in the broken crockery and swears. She had forgotten about the bowl of ice cream that met its end against the fridge. Her foot hurts and the whole thing is just too much, she sinks to the floor and cries. Her hand slips in the melted sticky congealed mess and she finds herself laughing hysterically. Once she can breathe again, she curses herself. Get it together. She manages to clean up the mess and limps to the sofa with the first aid kit. She's exhausted and the idea of doing anything else is too much, even taking care of herself. Instead, she watches the TV and lays sideways watching nonsense until she hears everything and feels nothing, she coats herself in that blissful haze and lets go. It can all wait.
##
He drives back the next morning, determined to fix the mess he has made and praying that she will actually agree to let him. He arrives early in the afternoon, stopping off in the main part of Charlottesville to get supplies. Ice cream, popcorn, chocolates, flowers and ingredients for lasagna acquired, he drives to campus. He finds himself sitting outside their building. Now he is here it all seems too much. A mountain to climb and he has no idea how to start. His mother made it all seem so simple. He's afraid, pain fills him and part of him just wants to hide forever. Come on McCord, you can do this.
Wrapping himself in all the courage he can find, he grabs the bags and heads up the stairs. Each step feels like lava, but he figures he deserves that. Outside their door, he knocks. Nothing. He tries again. What if she's out? Maybe she's already moving on. At his third knock the door opens a few inches and what he sees breaks his heart all over again. She's a mess. Hair in disarray, swamped by one of his ROTC hoodies, bare feet with what looks like dried blood on them. She glares at him. "What?" His words catch in his throat, and he shifts under her hostile eyes. She's just closing the door when he puts a hand out stopping her "Babe I'm…"
" I. AM. NOT. YOUR. BABE."
At that, he gives in to his impulse, drops the bags and nudges the door until she moves slightly. He sweeps her stiff body up into his arms, "You will always be my Babe. I'm an ass. I love you." She's immobile in his arms for a moment and then the trembling starts, she grabs his T-shirt, and he feels water on his chest. She doesn't say anything, and he scoops her up, walking over to the sofa and sitting down with her on his lap.
He's not sure how they move on from this or how he fixes it. Will she ever trust him again or even let him back in? But he promises there and then, whispering into her hair that he will never leave her again and that he will spend the rest of his life fixing the damage he has done. She clings harder to him at every word and eventually whispers "I love you too."
