I'm not sure if any of you follow ezriagame, but it's a tumblr/twitter I run with a few other Ezria fans. I post very short Ezria stories and moments there. This one received an overwhelming reaction, so I decided to change it up and add to it. It didn't fit with the original story, but I think it works here as sort of an epilogue. Enjoy. And please review. :)

The Morning She Said Goodbye

It was a typical stormy day in Rosewood. The rain fell from the sky as quickly as the tears dripped down the pained faces of the mourning. The dark clouds and distant thunder welcomed throngs of grieving family members and friends, students...

...and one soulmate.

Aria seated herself in the first row of the church beside Ezra's family, because according to Wes, she was family. When he noticed her arrival, the young man gave her a sad smile, which she struggled to return. His gaze traveled from her eyes to her stomach—where his nephew resided—and she could almost see the guilt behind his brown irises. He had the same sympathetic stare that everyone had been giving her this past week, but coming from Ezra's brother, it didn't seem so cold.

"Hey," he whispered. Her hands were shaking. She knew everyone was staring at her. He gently grabbed her sweaty palm and said, "He loves you."

Aria turned to look at the casket in front of the church, then took her hand back and instinctively placed it over her stomach. "You mean loved," she corrected. "I'm doing this alone."

"No," Wes said. "Always remember he loves both of you."

She tried to believe what Wes was trying to instill in her mind, but it was just so hard when she knew she'd never hear Ezra's voice again. He wouldn't be able to change his son's diapers, or get up in the middle of the night, or cheer him on in baseball games or spelling bees. Aria thanked him with a forced smile before turning to find her mother taking a seat on the other side of her. A few moments later, her friends sat down in the second row. Or as Rosewood knew them as, the other girls in the newspaper.

She wasn't even sure if she wanted to go to Ezra's funeral, not having the courage to handle the whispers while also dealing with her own grief. What the town thought of their relationship, her pregnancy, of the tears she shed for her former English teacher. Her mother, friends and grief counselor told her she would regret not saying goodbye. She did say goodbye, though, when she kissed him goodnight as his heart let out its final beats in a speeding ambulance. But it was her mother's idea, and Wes's insistence, that Aria do what she did best and write something.

She wouldn't have dared to show off their love several months ago in such a public place. They wouldn't have accepted her. They would've turned it into something wrong. They, as in the police, as well as the judgmental minds that made up her hometown of Rosewood, Pennsylvania. Mr. Fitz was her teacher—but not anymore. Instead, he was lying cold in the casket not ten feet away from her.

So, no one said a word when the petite, yet quite pregnant 18-year-old uneasily dragged herself to the front of the church, her small frame already developing a slight waddle. The black lace dress stuck to her skin in the humidity of the summer morning. She wanted to look beautiful for him, but her glistening forehead, tear-streaked face, and frizzy hair made it nearly impossible. What she seemed to forget, however, was that Ezra always thought she was beautiful. Even with sex hair and morning breath.

By now, everyone in town knew about the tragic love story between Aria Montgomery and Ezra Fitz. Or, they heard what their friends told them while gossiping over coffee and whatever the newspaper said. Aria assumed no one considered it a love story, though. More like the poor young girl who was fooled by her teacher, tricked into loving him, tricked into having his child. And they all probably thought Mr. Fitz had it coming and that the bullet through his chest was warranted. It pissed her off more than it made her sad.

She could feel the tears threatening to fall as she looked at the crowd in front of her. Not that she didn't cry enough today, because she did. When she woke up, when she got dressed, when she first saw him in the casket. He looked so peaceful, like he was sleeping, as if she she'd catch him laughing in his sleep at any moment. Reality took over when she remembered she'd never see his piercing blue eyes looking into her hazel ones. But she needed to give him the eulogy he deserved, and that couldn't be accomplished behind a blubbering mess of tears.

Her shaky hand reached for the necklace that hung from her neck, the one that Ezra wore in every marathon he'd ever run. She needed him today, a thought she found so ironic. She needed him to tell her she would be okay reading in front of the crowded church, that she knew what she was doing, that she was a beautiful writer. She also thought it was funny how Ezra always encouraged her to show off her writing, but she seldom did. And now, she was reading the most personal writing she had, and he wasn't even there to witness it. She knew he would be proud, anyway, if an afterlife existed, which she wasn't sure she believed in before, but now she had to.

She nervously cleared her throat and unfolded the wrinkled, damp lined notebook paper. She began to read, unable to make eye contact with the crowd.

"Most of you heard that Ezra Fitz died a hero. He died saving the lives of his pregnant girlfriend and her three best friends on a deserted gravel road a few towns over. The newspaper was right. Ezra was a hero, but taking that bullet is not the only reason. What the newspaper failed to tell you was that he was a hero before that, too."

"He was my hero."

"I met Ezra on Labor Day in 2010 and fell in love by the time I said goodnight. Throughout our time together, he gave up everything he thought he wanted so that he could have me and so that I could be happy and safe. And eventually," she gently placed her hand on her stomach, "so our son could be happy and safe, too."

"Ezra was the smartest, kindest, most loving man I've ever known. In a time when I didn't want to be alive, he made me happy to be breathing. He was a listener when I needed someone to talk to, a comedian when I needed a laugh. He held me when I needed to be held. For almost two years, he was my hero.

"B-26. It's a number. It's a song. It's a girl.

"The moment I found the poem written about the day we met was the day I knew he loved me. Ezra was definitely a romantic. He liked to kiss me in the rain, and then write something so beautiful that the raindrops were jealous of his poetry."

The silence of the church was only interrupted by the occasional cough and the pattering of raindrops on the roof. Aria inhaled a deep breath and lifted the back of her hand to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. She looked over the people in the church to the pouring rain falling outside, causing her to smile for a brief moment.

"On the first day of my first photography job, I was incredibly nervous and unsure of myself. I didn't have to tell him how I was feeling before Ezra made me photograph him in silly poses. He said 'I want to remind you that you know what you're doing.' We laughed, and then we kissed until we couldn't breathe, and I forgot that nervous feeling in my stomach.

"But he wasn't only good to me. He was kind to everyone—his family, his students, his colleagues, the guy at the Rose of Sharon takeout counter. He was kind to his son before he had the chance to meet him.

"When we found out we were expecting, Ezra immediately proved to be an incredible father. He made infinite promises to his child, and while he won't be able to keep most of them, at least I know he'll keep one. He'll love him forever and always."

A sob finally broke from Aria's throat as she remembered that Ezra would never get to meet her son and her son would never get to meet his father. Her eyes found her mother and Ezra's family, all of which had wet eyes and red faces. Wes smiled through his cloudy eyes, hoping to give Aria the push she needed. Even with the salty tears cascading down her face, she took another breath and continued.

"I admired his passion for life, for writing, for everything he cared about. He taught me that passion wasn't meant to be easy, but it was worth it.

"On our first anniversary, we recreated the day we met in the same bar we exchanged our first words—and our first kisses. And this Labor Day, I will go back to that bar and remember that day again. He may not be sitting on the stool three away from mine, but I know he'll be with me. Ezra will be with us forever.

"When he was here, Ezra made me happy to be alive. And now that he's no longer with us, he's the reason I'm alive. In the days following that night, my heart was heavy with guilt and sadness that I'm the reason he can't be with his loved ones. But if Ezra were to be taken away from us so soon, I'm glad the entire world knows what I've always known: He's a hero."

She looked towards the ceiling and swore the pattering of the raindrops intensified at this moment. With her eyes closed, she whispered three more words before folding up the piece of paper in her sweaty palm.

"Love you, babe."

No one said a word when the petite, yet quite pregnant 18-year-old brought herself back to her place in the front row. If Rosewood doubted the love between herself and her former teacher before, she doubted they did now. Wes gently squeezed her knee before he made his way to the front of the church. Ella draped her arm around Aria's shoulders and pulled her into a side hug, placing a kiss on her daughter's temple. "I'm so proud of you," she said softly.

Aria smiled through her tears, then looked down at her stomach, once again placing her hand over her bump. "I know what I want to name him," she said, confidently.

Ella lowered her eyebrows. "What?"

"Rainn."