A/N: Papers are almost finished! Semester is almost over! Woo hoo!

In celebration of finishing another paper today, here's a little bit of angst and romance and all the goods.

Thank you all for loving on this story, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

March 18, 1988 | Elizabeth

Somehow, they'd made it through almost the entire week without Elizabeth witnessing any major blow-ups like Henry had been warning about from any of his family members. It helped, though, that Maureen was sick after Sunday dinner and had been down with the flu all week. Everyone else had been worried about getting it, but it seemed to have only gotten to Maureen. Patrick was gone much of the week on some Union trip that Elaine was telling them about, but Elizabeth was only halfway listening to where he was.

They'd just come back from the Duquesne Incline for the second time—that was on Monday. Since then, they'd been back there every day, and every day she's been shocked at how much control she's had to not ravage him. And truly, she's been shocked at his control, too. That second time they'd seen each other mostly bare, they discussed the implications of taking it to the next level, and they both agreed to wait on that. After all, they'd known each other for a short amount of time, but planned on knowing each other for a long time, so why rush?

But every time he has her on her back with only a blanket to separate her head from the grass, everything in her body is telling her to take it to the next level. Everything. Like now, watching the stars while he was lying beside her underneath their blanket, her body was still buzzing from everything he'd just made her feel. Yet somehow, she managed to lie on her back, cuddled up to his side, and not pushing things further.

"So," Henry says quietly after a while of complete silence, just the sounds of heavy breathing coming from Elizabeth, "The ROTC always does a ball at the end of the year. It's in April."

She turns her head to look at him, "Are you asking me to go with you?" She asks, "Or are you simply telling me about it?"

He laughs and looks down at her, snuggling her body closer to him with a tug of his arm, "I'm not very good at these things, am I?" He asks. When she raises her brows and gives him a knowing look, he continues, "Yes, I'm asking you to go with me. It'll be our first ever formal event."

She smirks and turns her head to look back at the sky again, feeling her eyelids start to get very heavy now that the buzzing is starting to calm down, "Of course I'll go with you, Henry McCord." She whispers, "I would go anywhere with you."

March 28, 1988 | Henry

School was taking away a lot of their time, and Elizabeth had already set some rules again to make them stay apart from each other so they could actually focus on school.

"Neither one of us are going to graduate, let alone get good jobs if we don't stop this." She whispered as she laid on top of him in his front seat.

He sighed, "I know." He whispered, looking over at the clock on the dash, "Do we need to set our curfew earlier?"

She shifted and moved over into her seat, and Henry shivered—he hated when she left his body. "That, and maybe we shouldn't see each other—"

Before she could finish, he interrupted her, "No way." He said, "You're not breaking—"

"Henry!" She snipped, reaching over and slapping him playfully on the arm, "No, I'm not breaking up with you." She said, "I'm saying maybe we should cut back on seeing each other. Maybe we can make Monday and Wednesday our designated study days."

"Mondays you have soccer. I always come watch."

She sighed, "Okay, Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

He smiled at her in a small way, shrugging, "I hate that we have to cut back on seeing each other."

"Well, we tried studying together, and if you remember, that didn't end well."

Henry did remember it well. Perfectly. The idea of making out in her bed had not really occurred to him prior to the event, but it became one of the only things he could think about after it happened. "Okay…" He answered, leaning over and kissing her, "I love you."

"I love you." She answered and got out of the truck.

Since today is Monday, he gets to go watch her last soccer game of the season and love on her for a while after, knowing that tomorrow is one of the days he can't see her this week. Even though he knows it's for the best, it's slowly killing him. So quickly, she became his best friend.

"You're going to kill 'em out there." Henry says to her, kissing her on the head after she stands up from tying her cleats.

She groans, "You know me—go out and get the job done."

Something's slightly off about her tonight, but he hasn't been able to figure out what yet. She's been a little distant, but he doesn't want to ask directly and make her upset with him, so he just leaves it alone.

All through the game, he was cheering her on, but she was making sloppy plays and leaving herself open way too much. The only thing keeping Elizabeth's team, The Grass Kickers, afloat was the fact that the other team's offense was terrible, and ironically their team's name was Goal Getters. Even with that terrible offense, they were still 0-1 Goal Getters.

When she came to the sideline at halftime, he climbs down the bleachers and goes over to her, "You alright?"

She shrugs, "Fine. Just getting our asses kicked out there." She answers shortly.

Henry knew her well enough to know that this was making her mad, getting beaten by another team that they could very well defeat—that Elizabeth could very well defeat. What he didn't understand is why the competitiveness in her wasn't coming out tonight, and why even though she was fuming, she was being blind enough to be open too much. "I know I don't know much about soccer, but babe, you really gotta be a little more aggressive out there."

She gives him a look, "I am being aggressive."

"You are letting them run all over you." He answers, not taking the time to think about how that may sound before it came out of his mouth. He immediately regrets it, but he couldn't take it back now. It was too late.

"Well, since you know so much about soccer…" She says, "How about you just go on out there?" She gestures out to the field with her arm, and he's suddenly aware that people are probably watching now. It doesn't just look like a normal conversation anymore.

"What's going on?" He asks quietly, trying to sound less defensive than he did.

She huffs, "I told you. We're getting our asses beat—"

"No, that's not it." He says, "You're too competitive to be this lax about getting beat like this."

"Henry, I get that we've spent a lot of time together over the past two months, but you don't know everything about me."

He wants to take a step back for a moment, but he stands his ground and just stares at her, wondering where all this is coming from. "Fine," he says, "I don't know everything about you. But something's off with you tonight and I don't know why you won't tell me."

"It's nothing." She says again, taking another chug of her water bottle. "And I just don't appreciate you telling me to be more aggressive. There's a difference between being assertive and being aggressive, and I don't think you always have to use force to achieve something."

He frowns, shaking his head, "I'm not saying you—listen, all I'm saying is that you—"

"Need to be more aggressive. Got it." She answers, looking him in the eye now, "What do you want me to do? Kick her in the shins?" She asks, "So I can be ejected for foul play?"

"That's not it at—"

"Then stay out of this." She snaps, tossing her water bottle down into her duffle bag and heading over to the team huddle.

Henry just stands there, feeling like he was spinning or in some weird nightmare. "What just happened?" He thinks to himself, staring at her as she jogs away to the circle of other women. "What the hell did I do?"

For the rest of the game, she still left herself vulnerable too much, and he just sat back and watched in confusion as everything was happening. The Goal Getters won the game 0-2, and when Elizabeth came over to get her duffle, he walked over to her.

"Elizabeth, what's going on?" He asked, no longer able to control his tone. He was annoyed with her for snapping at him for no apparent reason. He's sat on the bleachers for this last half of the game slowly fuming as he scraped his brain for anything that possibly could've made her mad. All that time led him to the conclusion that she snapped for no reason.

"Just leave me alone tonight, Henry." She says, flinging her duffle bag strap over her shoulder and starting to walk off.

He knew he shouldn't, but he grabbed her by the arm just above her elbow, "Don't just walk away from me," he orders, "We don't do this with each other. We talk. That's what relationships do."

She was staring at his hand on her arm, finally jerking it out of his grasp. "Did you really just grab my arm and tell me what to do?" She asks, moving her gaze up to his eyes.

It wasn't a pleasant gaze, that's for sure, and he almost drops the anger immediately just from the fear he was feeling when she looked at him. He's never seen this expression on her aimed at him, it's always been toward John whenever he's around. She couldn't stand him—and Henry couldn't blame her. "I'm just—yeah, sure, I told you not to walk away from me." He admits, "But I'm asking you to tell me what's wrong so that instead of yelling at each other we can just talk about it."

She scoffs and starts walking off, and he's in such a shock that she's acting this way that he doesn't go after her until she's almost made her way to the parking lot. She's walking so fast, anyway, that he's surprised he could catch her. "Elizabeth!" He yells as he jogs up to her, "What the hell?"

She whips around and stares at him again, somehow angrier than before, "I don't need you to tell me how to play soccer, Henry. I don't actually need you to tell me how to do anything unless I ask." She explains, her voice getting more and more heated. "You and your military tactics for aggression might work great to get you places in the ROTC, but it's not a tactic I want to use. And I didn't ask for your help—why would I when you don't know anything about soccer?"

"I was just trying to help." He says, narrowing his eyes whenever she starts about the ROTC. It finally hits him. "Is this something to do with the ROTC and that training I told you about?"

Yesterday he had been telling her about training that he would go to in the summer, conducting flight simulations that would train the other ROTC members and himself how to operate and fly F-18s. He noticed then that her demeanor changed, but he didn't think much of it—he had decided it probably made her uncomfortable to think about him being in a war situation of any kind, even if it was just simulations.

"Just leave me alone." Elizabeth says, turning to walk away from him again.

He stands there for a moment, then shakes his head, "People who love each other don't do this, Elizabeth. Tell me what's going on so that I can understand." He says, then sighs, "Please." He adds begrudgingly, not wanting to beg her for much of anything since he feels this is all a little bit dramatic.

She turns around again about twenty feet away from him, holding onto her duffle strap with one hand and holding her arm underneath her chest, tucking her hand up underneath her other arm. "Yeah, it's about the training thing. It's about the idea of you learning to drop bombs on innocent women and children." She seethes, "And it's also the anniversary of my parents' death today, so if you would just get off of my back, I'd really appreciate it."

She starts walking toward the direction of her dorm again even though they usually would always go out to eat after a game, riding in his truck to go to the diner down the road just like the first time. "Wait, Elizabeth…" Henry says, jogging again to reach her. More gently this time, he reaches out and grabs her arm in the same place, but lightens his grip when he tugs on her, "Please just talk to me." He breathes, "I had no idea that it was the anniversary today. How long has it been?" He asks genuinely.

Her eyes are looking away from his, looking down at the ground beside him, "Five years."

He sighs and relaxes his grip again, just letting his fingers rest on her arm gently, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You know I don't like talking about it." She says, still not looking at him.

He wants to reach and take her chin, or even hug her, and it takes everything in him to stop himself from doing either. He can tell by her body language that she doesn't really want to be touched, let alone hugged or tugged at. "I know, but…you have to tell someone about these things. Especially the someone you love."

She shakes her head, "Why start now?" She asks, finally looking at him. He could see the tears in her eyes first before one slipped out, but she wiped at it so quickly he didn't even see it run down her cheek yet. "I never had anyone before to talk to about it. I just dealt with it, Henry. I dealt with it. You have to just deal with things sometimes, and this is something I have to deal with."

He shifts his weight to lean on one leg, still holding her arm gently. He's thinking carefully about his next choice of words, but finally he just says them even without the eloquence he wants, "Elizabeth," he whispers, "You have me. You do have someone to lean on now. That's what—that's what this is about, isn't it? What's the point of having a best friend if you can't even tell them about the hard parts of life?"

She looks away again as though he'd just slapped her, sniffling and shaking her head, "I don't want to do this here."

"Come on," Henry says, nodding toward his truck.

She surprisingly walks with him to his Bronco, and just like always, he opens the door for her and she climbs in. He gets in on the other side and without wasting time, he starts the truck up and starts driving.

March 28, 1988 | Elizabeth

He doesn't tell her where they're going and she doesn't ask, but he just drives. When he finally stops, she looks around to see that they're at the lake, "What are we doing here?"

"I just wanted something around us that's calm." He admits.

She wants to smile at that, but she feels like all the energy has been sucked out of her. So instead, she just sighs and looks out over the water before her eyes become too blurry to notice the way the moonlight reflects off it.

Her breath shakes as she inhales, and she clenches her eyelids shut as her body starts to tremble. Even though she was trying her hardest, a sob still managed to slip from her lips. Before she realized what was happening, he had her wrapped in his arms, letting her head rest against his lap in the driver's seat. "Shhh…" he whispers, pushing the hair away that was stuck to her forehead.

She shivers again, letting herself sob one more time. This time it was free—and freeing. Somehow it felt nice to have this cushion of a human underneath her, having his fingers swipe at her forehead, "Henry…" she whimpers, "I don't know if I can do this."

"Do what?"

She opens her eyes and wipes at them to be able to see him clearly, "This." She states, "As nice as this is…it's just…it's really hard for me to even admit how much I'm hurting."

"I'm not saying you have to talk about it," Henry whispers, continuing to stroke at her hair, "I'm just asking for clarity. You don't have to keep going. I just know enough now to know what's going on."

"It's not just that." Elizabeth admits, closing her eyes again and letting her body hitch from a sob she was repressing, "I've never brought up your ROTC involvement, but Henry, I don't know that I can consciously…that I can be with you knowing that you…"

The silence felt deafening for a moment, and she's grateful when he finally takes up where she left off, "That I will be dropping bombs on people?" She looks up at him and sniffles again, not saying anything else and just shifting in his lap. "Yeah, I gathered." He says, "I know that you don't agree with the tactics that—"

"It's taking a life, Henry." She whispers, "How can you justify that?"

She watches as his jaw clenches, the muscle protruding in his neck and that vein starting to stick out underneath his chin, "Because it's to save other lives. To save people from getting slaughtered without cause."

She closes her eyes and thinks for a moment, still unable to support it. "You know that it's not just killing people who deserve it, Henry. Those bombs take innocent lives, too."

"I know." He says, and his voice is so calm and cool that she has to open her eyes again and make sure that he wasn't about to blow up. "It's not exactly easy for me, either, Elizabeth, but I do it because that's what my country has asked of me and because I know that's the only way to save thousands of other innocent lives." He explains, "Taking twenty guilty lives and fifty innocent lives to save hundreds—I can live with that."

She swallows hard and looks at him, wanting so badly to disagree, but simply unable to. Her body felt like it was exhausted, so she just closes her eyes again and turns her head away from him and toward the steering wheel.

He continues stroking her hair, but his other hand moves to her stomach and is rubbing it gently. The motion makes her think of when her mom used to do that for her whenever she was upset, and she has to bite her lip to keep from letting a sob out.

"I know," Suzanne had told her, laying on her side and facing her daughter. Elizabeth had been laying in Suzanne and Ben's bed for the last hour. Her dad was gone for the weekend to go to some conference for his job, and Will had been asleep for a while now. "I know it's hard, honey, but you have to remember that one day some love of your life will come along and surprise you. He'll sweep you off your feet if you're not careful." She said with a smirk, rubbing Elizabeth's stomach gently, just as she always had done since she was a baby.

Elizabeth shifted to try to get out from under Suzanne's touch, feeling that fourteen was too old to be petted like a baby, but Suzanne persisted and laughed, "You're never too old for this, sweetie." She said, "So just get used to it."

Elizabeth sniffles and cranes her head to look back at Henry, "I don't want to go back to my dorm tonight, Henry." She whispers.

He looks down at her and shrugs after a moment, "We don't have to, then." He replies softly, scooping his hand underneath her shoulder blades and helping her sit up. He jumps out of the truck without any warning or telling her what he was doing, and when the back doors open it startles her a little. She looks back there in time to see him hop into the back floorboard, spreading a blanket out. He reaches underneath the backseat and pulls out a pillow, smirking at her before reaching in and grabbing another. "I put these in here when we got back from spring break." He explains, "The grass under my head—well, and under yours—was too hard."

She smiles tiredly at him, opening her door and crawling out of the truck. When she gets to the back, he's extending a hand from the back floorboard to help her up. She takes it and climbs up into the back, immediately laying down. She looks out the side window and smiles, "The moon is so bright tonight."

He lays down beside her and tucks her to his side, placing his chin by her neck and looking out the same window.

"Henry?" She whispers, and after he makes a hmm noise, she continues, "Do you believe there's a God up there?"

She feels him nod, moving his chin against her skin, "Yeah."

She sniffles, "Why do you think that He took them so early? From me? From Will?"

He sighs and it almost tickles her neck enough to shiver, but she's too focused on the moon to really think about that. "There are things that my mom has always said are unexplainable, and that we will never know the answer to for as long as we live. But my mom always used to tell me this quote from Saint Thomas Aquinas whenever I'd go through things and want to blame God for it. He said, 'Now, because we cannot know what God is, but rather what He is not, we have no means for considering how God is, but rather how He is not.'" He says, and Elizabeth furrows her brow trying to figure out all the words he just gave her. "Basically, what I finally figured out after finally asking mom one day, is that humanity has limitations in knowing why God does things the way He does."

She turns her head to look back at him, "And that doesn't drive you crazy?"

He laughs quietly, "Well, yeah. I don't know who wouldn't be driven crazy by that." He says, "Even my mom who has the faith…she has a faith like no other. But even she goes crazy from time to time wondering why things happen the way they do."

Elizabeth just blinks a few times, then turns her head to look back at the moon and relaxes into the pillow, letting her body sink into Henry's, "I miss them a lot." She whispers, "Sometimes I wonder if they can see me down here—if they can see Will."

Henry brings his hand up and begins rubbing her stomach, and she shudders before looking back at him again.

"You know," she says, "My mom used to do this whenever I was upset. She always said that I'd never be too old for it, even though I tried to shimmy my way out from under her hand most of the time. She'd done it for as long as I can remember, and she said she used to do it when I was a baby because—" she pauses and lets out a little laugh, feeling her face redden for a moment, "Well, because I had gas." She admits, and Henry smiles at that, "And that she thought I seemed to like it even whenever I was just upset. So she kept doing it and…" she turns to lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling of his Bronco, "It's just…I don't know how to explain it."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" Henry whispers.

She shakes her head, "No, it actually is the opposite." She admits, taking a shaky breath. "Do you believe in angels?" She asks distantly, suddenly feeling like she was drunk—the exhaustion from the day was starting to take over.

Henry smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead, "Why do you ask?"

She sighs, "I just wonder sometimes," she whispers, blinking slower and slower, about to fall asleep, "If my mom sent you." She says, "And I just…you should know, Henry, that I don't see myself getting old."

He frowns and stops rubbing her stomach for a moment, propping his head up on his arm, "What?" He asks, "Why?"

She shrugs, closing her eyes, "Just look at my parents. They weren't even forty."

He shakes his head, "That has nothing to do with you." He whispers, kissing her head again, "Get some sleep, babe. You sound exhausted."

She lets her eyes close, thinking about her mom and dad's faces in her head as she falls asleep.