A/N: Hi everyone! I feel like I somehow got busier after school ended, so these updates aren't coming as quickly as I'd like for them to, but I'm also enjoying just taking a few days at a time to write them. I love the internal monologues in this chapter...by far one of my favorites.

Hope you enjoy!

July 4, 1988 | Henry

He's been awake for a little while, and he's pretty sure she's awake too, but she's rolled on her other side away from him and he hasn't had the heart to ask her if she's awake. Although he hadn't gotten much sleep last night, he still got more than she did—so if she's asleep now, he'll let her sleep as long as she likes.

They have a sheet draped over the both of them since it's been quite warm here in Charlottesville already. It moves slightly with each breath she takes, the curve in her side rising and falling and pulling the material along with it. This wasn't exactly the Fourth of July he'd had planned before leaving for ROTC training, but he also couldn't complain about the view. However, he could do without the racing mind and fast-beating heart that has come along with her greeting this weekend.

Being a mom terrified Elizabeth to no end, he could certainly tell that much. For her sake, he stayed calm and cool and collected the entire weekend ever since she let him in on her suspicion. He meant it when he said he'd be by her side no matter what—that was genuine. But the calm exterior was such a good façade for the internal fiasco that was going on inside Henry's mind. Has he always loved kids? Yeah, a lot. He's always been good with his siblings and with his niece. Has he always wanted to be a dad? Almost always, yes. When he became old enough—around eighteen or so—to realize that he could be different from his own father, he had wanted pretty badly to be a dad. But being a dad at this age? When neither of them are finished with school yet? When he knows he'll become an active-duty Marine as soon as he graduates? When she's only a sophomore in college, meaning she'll have to put her entire career on hold or even on the shelf? He didn't want that for either of them, but especially not for Elizabeth. It wasn't fair to expect her to leave her desires behind. He's not even really sure how it happened—they've been careful, so he thought.

As he watches the dip between her hip and ribcage, though, his mind does wander away to the "what if." She's terrified now, and probably would continue to be, but he's pretty sure Elizabeth would make an amazing mother. She's thoughtful and loving, and nothing makes her happier than to be with Henry's family. Her concept of family is something he desires for his own family one day, even if she's scared to death of it right now. He wonders who their baby might look like the most—whether they would have Elizabeth's ocean-blue eyes or take after his own genes more. Would their kid have that beautiful honey-blonde hair like Elizabeth's, or would they have his thick, dark hair that curls once it grows out to a certain length? He thinks about what their smile might look like—and he likes to think they both have nice smiles, so the kid would be doubly blessed there.

And then his mind wanders away from the idea of the child itself and into what Elizabeth would be like. He remembers when his mom was pregnant with Shane and Erin both and how miserable she was—especially with Shane. With Erin she wasn't as bad, she and his dad were in a good place in their marriage again (obviously, since his little sister was a total surprise to both of his parents). One of his most striking memories from during those times, though, was when he would catch his mom early in the mornings before she realized anyone else was awake. She usually would sit on the balcony and drink her coffee, rocking back and forth in the chair out there while singing some sort of beautiful melody. Her hand would always be rested on her stomach, and more times than not, she would be singing down to her stomach. At first he'd always thought it was weird, but when Erin came around and he was a little older, he found it kind of endearing—although he never would've told her that. He still wouldn't, most likely.

Would Elizabeth do what she rarely does and sing? Would she rock back and forth in a chair somewhere, listening to her body and letting her mind wonder what their child would be like? Would she wait until the last minute to decorate the nursery, or would she get started on it as soon as possible? All of these things were rushing through his mind like some sort of bumper cars, bouncing off one another and off the walls. Everything comes back full circle, though, because he thinks once more of how much she would have to give up in order for that to happen—and it's just not fair.

She shuffles a bit and rolls onto her back, and he immediately looks for her eyes and sees they're wide open and teary. He reaches out and scoops her into his arms, scooting her body close to his and wrapping his leg on top of hers. There's words he wants to say, but instead he just tucks his face into her hair, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes as he feels her body start slightly relaxing. If she weren't so damn stubborn, she wouldn't be shaking, and instead would just let all her sobs out. Instead, she has to hold it all in even though time and again he's let her know she doesn't have to.

Her arms bend, her hands reach around his forearm and her fingers dig into his muscle a little. He picks his head up and looks into her eyes, and she opens them and lets them drift upwards to lock in with his. "Today's the day." She whispers.

He gives her a little smile, nodding quickly and reaching with his other hand to run his fingers through her hair, pushing it backwards and away from her face. "Today's the day." He repeats quietly, laying down on his pillow beside her. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrified." She admits, "And exhausted just thinking about going over to Isabelle's for that party."

He nods and twists his lips, "We don't have to go if you don't want to," he says, "We can stay in."

She shrugs, "Isabelle's my friend." She says quietly, staring up at the top of the tent again and sighing.

July 4, 1988 | Elizabeth

They've gotten home, unpacked, and eaten breakfast already since they decided they should get going back to the house in case the doctor called early. She's been holding this book in front of her face as if she's actually reading, but she hasn't been able to read one line of it. She just keeps scanning the two pages, never turning it over or anything. She's not sure how long she's even been sitting here, but when the phone rings she jumps up and grabs it in a hurry. "Hello?"

"Hello, I'm looking for a Miss Elizabeth Adams?"

"This is she," Elizabeth replies, turning to look at Henry nervously. He'd been painting a shelf in the living room with a tarp down and was waiting for this coat to dry, and now he's wiping his hands off and walking over to her.

"I was calling to inform you of your test results you had done on Friday." The woman says over the phone.

Elizabeth nods, taking a sharp breath and shutting her eyes, reaching back and immediately finding Henry's hand waiting for her there. She gives it a tight squeeze, "Yes, those would be good to have." She says, immediately kicking herself for sounding so ridiculous. "Those would be good to have? Really Elizabeth?"

"Your pregnancy test came back as negative, Miss Adams."

Elizabeth lets out a breath of relief, opening her eyes and turning to look back at Henry. The little bit of tears in her eyes makes his face blurry, but she's pretty sure he looks relieved, too. "Thank you so much for letting me know." She breathes, "Really, this is a weight off our shoulders." Again, she shuts her eyes and thinks about how stupid that sounded, but all she wanted to do was get off this phone call and hug Henry as tightly as she could. And she did as soon as she hung up. The irony of finding this freedom on July 4th is a little too much to handle for her, and she only briefly thinks about laughing over that.

"No babies for us yet." He whispers as her face is buried in his chest.

She nods a little, letting her cheek scrub against his tee, "I think we should have a conversation about kids, Henry." She admits after a moment, swallowing hard. "So that we're…clear."

He pulls away from her and is looking at her in confusion, "It's negative, right?"

"This test was, yes." She says, "But I mean for in the future."

He frowns and sits down in the lawn chair, holding her hand and tugging on it slightly to silently ask her to sit with him. She doesn't though, and instead lets go and wrings her hands together, "I know you want kids." She starts, turning to begin pacing across the living room floor and avoiding the other lawn chair and the tarp in the floor, "And I…am not sure I do." She's scared to look at his face, but she feels the disappointment from beside her. She can't bring herself to look at him at all, so she continues pacing once more and wringing her hands, "I told you before that when my parents died, it left me so…it left me so helpless, yet I couldn't be helpless. I had to be the one there for Will. I had to be the one who had to take care of their estate along with my aunt and uncle. I had to be an adult because I just lost my parents at fifteen years old." She says shakily, shutting her eyes as she pauses her pacing. Before beginning again, she takes a deep breath and glances at him, "I've always felt like that's going to be me, too, Henry. Like I'm going to die young…like it's some kind of generational curse or something stupid that I don't even know that I believe in. I just…I can't stand the thought of my own kids losing me, too, at a young age."

Henry's staring at her wildly, and he finally blinks and shakes his head after a few long, almost painful moments of silence. "Elizabeth," he stammers, "I—you're…" he leans over and places his elbows on his knees, running his hands quickly through his hair, "You're not your parents, babe."

"How can you know that, though?"

"How can you know that you are your parents?"

She shakes her head, "I'm not saying it'll happen just like them. I'm not saying I'll flip a car or something and die that way. I'm saying…anything could happen. What if I'm blown up!"

"At your cushy desk job on Wall Street?"

She sighs, knowing she's told him a multitude of times that's not where she wants to work, but also knowing she couldn't ever give him a solid answer on where she does want to work. She hasn't figured that out yet. "You never know."

"And you never know, either. You might live until you're a hundred-and-two."

She shakes her head and laughs tiredly, crossing her arms and stopping her pacing finally, giving him a look, "Henry, you're not understanding—"

"I'm understanding it perfectly, Elizabeth," he says, standing up and walking over to her. "You're scared, and you're running away from that fear."

"I'm not scared."

"You are," he says, "I see it every time Amanda is around. I get it." He says, "I'm not saying you shouldn't be scared. But I'm asking you to reevaluate whether this is your decision you're consciously making, or whether it's a decision that's being driven from fear. Fear of dying young, the fear you felt when you lost your parents, or your fear of babies—whatever it is, I don't truly believe that you don't want kids. I can't believe that in my heart, Elizabeth, when I know all you want is a family."

She bites at the inside of her bottom lip, still standing with her arms folded over her chest as she glares at him. Thinking about the way his loud, borderline-obnoxious family of at least six is, she feels like her chest is warming inside. She shuts her eyes and lets her mind go to the way she feels seen and heard, even though she almost never gets a word in edgewise and even though Maureen obviously can't stand her and calls her Queen Elizabeth. Even through all of that, she's a part of something. And when Henry's not in Pittsburgh and neither is she, she might still be a part of them, but she's not a part of them. She's not an integral piece on the anatomy of their family—she's something they mostly seem to like (sparing Maureen and Patrick), but she's something they also could live without.

When she thinks of Henry as her family, she thinks of him as being the very air that she breathes—as cheesy as that may sound and as much as Isabelle may make fun of her for it. Henry is an integral piece of her, and she's pretty sure she's an integral piece of him, too. And even though this is what she's wanted, and what she's happy with right now, will she always be happy without the loudness? Without the rushing to get everyone settled at the dinner table or without the big Easter egg hunts (that she's still never gotten to have, thanks to the whole Queen Elizabeth incident Easter morning). She'll always be happy with Henry, she's almost sure of it, but will she always be fulfilled when it's just she and Henry sitting in their chairs after work in the quiet, reading the choice of the day?

She doesn't want to admit anything yet—she's not even sure of it herself. She also doesn't want Henry to think he won this argument, so she simply walks away after unfolding her arms and throwing them to her side. Through the front door and down the sidewalk, she decides to take her frustrations out on a nice little run.

After she's gone down the sidewalk, she starts thinking back to her parents again. Although it's only been almost five years, it feels like it's already been a lifetime of living without them—but the five years between being fifteen and twenty is always so transitional and life-altering that it's no surprise she feels as though she's lived so long without them. She's lived more life in the past five years than she probably had in all her fifteen years. Going off to boarding school might not have been her dreams from childhood, but she met so many amazing people from many different cultures and backgrounds there. The education she received was way more rigorous than the public school one she had been undertaking, and she often wonders if her academic life would be any different had she not ended up going to Houghton.

Although the past five years have been chaotic and ever-changing, the first fifteen of her life were almost picturesque. Her mom had quickly fallen into the role of soccer mom when she was pregnant with Will, not long after giving up her role of dance mom once they all understood Elizabeth wasn't going to be a ballerina. Not by always running from one end of the room to the other because she was bored, then whenever she was doing the actual moves, she didn't even have the rhythm that the other three-year-olds had (very little to begin with).

She started playing soccer in 1971, and Suzanne would take her to practice each Tuesday night. Although it was her mother bringing her to practices, her father would also join in on the Saturday morning games and they would both cheer her on from the sidelines. She doesn't remember the feeling of making her first goal, but she does remember the way her parents cheered for her and showered her with affections after the game—and that alone made her want to make goals over and over again.

When Will was born later that year, Ben took over the "soccer mom" duties and carted Elizabeth to practice each Tuesday night, and he would always let them stop and get ice cream on the way home. She knows now as an adult that he always let them stop after practice because he wanted to bring a treat to his wife who was stuck at home with a fussy baby, but back then, it felt like Elizabeth and Daddy's delicacy. They would sit at the same table each week while Elizabeth would jabber on about her practice or any other part of her day, sometimes she would talk about preschool being too easy and other times she would talk about playing soldiers with her friends. Either way, Ben would sit and listen to her, always throwing his two cents in so that she knew he was listening, and then they would go home, and all the attention would be poured back onto Will. Again, looking back as an adult, she knows that it was required of them to give most of their attention to a newborn baby, but back then it was hard watching them both fawn over a baby brother that she wasn't even sure she liked.

Well…she's not sure she liked him, really. She liked the idea of him whenever Ben and Suzanne sat her down and told her she would be a big sister. The thought of having a little sibling to play with had excited her, and she would often go up to her mother throughout Suzanne's pregnancy and press her ear to her mom's belly, saying, "I'm listening for my baby." Once he was actually in the world and soaking in all Ben and Suzanne's attention, though, Elizabeth changed her tune about him. Right there in the hospital, even. "Put him back?" She'd asked her mom, snuggled up beside her in the hospital bed while Ben stood beside them both. They'd laughed, and Elizabeth didn't find it funny then, but now as an almost-twenty-year-old, she can laugh about the entire situation.

She thinks of the times when they would ask her if she wanted to hold her baby brother, and she would vigorously shake her head more times than not and run away somewhere. Sometimes, though, she would agree to it and sit on the couch next to her mom or dad, and they'd carefully slide Will over into her arms. Each time she would hold him, she couldn't stop herself from just staring at him, wondering when he would finally be old enough to play with her and stop soaking up all her parents' time and attention.

When Elizabeth was seven, she joined her first travel soccer team. Her mom took her to practices once more just like before Will was born, and her mom and dad both would be at the games every weekend, toting an unwilling toddler around with them to everything. By then, Elizabeth liked her brother a little more because she'd at least trained him to bring her soccer ball back to her whenever she would kick it in her net in the backyard. He was good for something, finally. Between soccer practices and games, her mom would cook breakfast and dinner for them every morning while her dad would dutifully go off to work. When Will was in kindergarten, Suzanne got a job as a bank teller, but still would cook dinners for them each night when they all got home. Breakfasts became a bit more spotty, but Elizabeth and Will both were fine with whatever sugary cereal their mom would buy for them.

Although her childhood had been really good, she now recognizes why Suzanne had treated her so differently after Will was born, and even for a year after. Her mom wasn't the same person, Elizabeth knew that much even at her young age back then, but she didn't understand why her mom was this sad, emotional person all the time anymore. She used to be happy and laugh with Elizabeth over the silliest things. She used to sing with Elizabeth and sometimes even dance in the backyard with her. But for a long time after Will was born, all she would do was sit with the baby, or if she didn't have the baby with her, she would sit and stare a hole into the wall. Ben's little "treats" for his wife, bringing her ice cream whenever he'd pick Elizabeth up, was nothing less than a bribe to get through the rest of the week for her. She now understands that's sometimes what happens, but the very thought of going through that herself makes her want to never even think of having kids.

But Henry. God, Henry. She really loves that man, but she can't stand him for making her want to reconsider her thought on kids.

She's dripping in sweat, now, but her mind is wandering away from her once more, so she continues to run. Her foot is wanting to cramp, but she makes herself keep going.

Henry's smile flashes in her mind, and she can't help but crack a tiny little grin as she runs up this hill. She wonders, if she ever agreed to having kids, what they would look like. Would they have Henry's eyes? His eyes that feel like autumn whenever she looks in them? Maybe it's their color—that mahogany with the slight hues of oranges and reds that you can't see unless you're up close to him—but something about his eyes makes her think of her favorite season. The calmness of the breezes during that time of year, the beauty in slowing down right before the holiday season…Would their kid have that? Or would they have Elizabeth's long nose that she'd always felt so insecure about? Would they have her hair color or his? What would they be like? Definitely stubborn—they wouldn't be able to be made from the same genes as Henry and Elizabeth otherwise.

She thinks of him holding Amanda, and how much her heart soars every time she sees him tend to her. She knows what that burning in her stomach was over Easter whenever she was watching him coo over the baby—it was desire. She just wasn't ready to admit that to herself at all. Even though she hated to admit it, Henry was right—she does want a family. She wants to be that integral part of someone. She wants to be the someone that someone else relies on for everything—for food, for love, for care, for trips to and from soccer games or baseball practices. She wants to immerse herself in the chaos of having people buzzing around her always. The idea of having a messy house strung with toys all over excites her more than she cares to say, but the reality is that she's terrified of it all, too. Terrified of becoming the shell of herself like her mother had, terrified of leaving her child motherless (or even motherless and fatherless), and simply terrified of being that integral part of someone's life that she so badly wants to be.

At some point, she'd turned and started to go back the other way toward their home. By the time she gets back, she realizes she's been gone for almost two hours and does the math in her head to realize she ran over fifteen miles.

By the time she got in and showered, it was already time to leave for Isabelle's party. The car ride was mostly silent there, with the exception of Henry briefly asking her if she went for a run the entire time, to which she answered yes.

When they got there, they went their separate ways. Henry went off with some of his buddies to start grilling hamburgers, and Isabelle was inside cutting watermelon and other fruits, as well as preparing the drinks. "Can I help?" Elizabeth says after giving her friend her usual greeting and a hug.

Isabelle gives her one look over and frowns, "What's wrong with you?" She asks, pushing a watermelon in front of Elizabeth and handing her the knife before going off to the other side of the counter where all the drink mixes were.

Elizabeth just sighs as she starts cutting into this watermelon, watching as she saws away somewhat mindlessly at the rind, "Henry and I…we didn't get into a fight, really, just a disagreement." She explains halfheartedly.

"About what?" Isabelle urges, pouring some sort of blue drink into the bottom of a pitcher.

She never looks up from the watermelon at her friend and just keeps cutting the watermelon up into smaller, more easily-handled pieces, "Kids." She says simply, shrugging her shoulders. "I thought I might have been pregnant over the weekend—" The sound startles Elizabeth and she knicks her finger with the knife, dropping it immediately to the counter and grabbing her index finger. "Ouch! What?" She asks, looking up at Isabelle who had clearly dropped a glass bottle.

"Elizabeth!" She scolds, "That's not just something you casually mention." Isabelle says, sweeping up the glass mess with her shoe. "I take it by your total calmness that you're not actually pregnant, right?"

"Right," Elizabeth states, sighing as she looks at her finger, "Test was negative, and I even went to the doctor to find out. I guess it's just stress that has my body out of whack or something, I don't know." She says, shrugging as she grabs a paper towel and makes sure her finger wasn't bleeding too badly before washing her hands and getting back to the watermelon, "The truth is that I'm scared to have kids, and Henry knows that somehow."

Isabelle scoffs and smirks up at Elizabeth, "Somehow? You act like he's not always in your mind." She says, grabbing the broom and sweeping up the glass more carefully into a dustpan.

"He isn't." She quickly snaps back.

Isabelle is carrying the pan to the trash and looking up at Elizabeth with one brow raised, "It's borderline creepy, but seeing how in love you two are…it makes sense."

"Okay, fine," Elizabeth breathes, now chunking up the watermelon and tossing it in the giant pan Isabelle had started, "He says I shouldn't run just because I'm afraid of it, and that he knows I want a family more than anything." She murmurs, slowing her chopping down as her memory wanders away from her again.

Isabelle tosses the remains of the glass bottle into the trash and sets the broom into the closet again, letting the room be covered in silence for a few moments before she walks to the counter beside Elizabeth, leaning her elbows on it and looking her in the eye, "And do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Want a family more than anything?"

Elizabeth presses her lips together as she finishes this last slice, cubing the meat into little pieces and tossing them into the pan one by one. Too much time had passed, but she sighs and replies anyway, "What if I die and leave my kids behind just like my parents?"

"You didn't answer my question, Bess." Isabelle prompts, tilting her chin forward and raising one brow at her.

She sighs and shifts her weight to one leg, finishing the last piece and tossing it in the pan. Her hands are resting now, and she's just staring down at the juice dripping from her fingers and the knife onto the cutting board, watching as it runs into a puddle. "I want to be a part of something bigger than myself, but part of something that needs me as much as I need it." She whispers, still staring at the juice, "A career…I'll be a part of it, sure, and I'll need it. But it doesn't need me. I'm replaceable…we all are in this corporate, capitalist world." She admits, finally blinking and shaking her head. "I want there to be a piece of Henry and I out in the world, but I also am so terrified of that." She says, laying the knife down and rests the base of her palms against the edge of the countertop, leaning over a bit. She shakes her head and looks over at Isabelle finally, "I want those little moments…the moments of being woken up on Christmas morning with the excitement of Santa Claus; those moments when Henry and I just have to look at each other and not laugh because our kids are doing something inappropriately funny. I want those." She says, "I want the sports practices and the homework after school. I want to be a part of it."

Isabelle is smiling at her now and laughing quietly, shaking her head and standing up, "I think you have your answer then."

"I wasn't looking for an answer, necessaril—"

"But you were." Isabelle reminds, contorting her lips to the side and giving her a knowing look, "You were asking yourself if you wanted it bad enough to overcome your fear, and I believe you just told me your answer right there." She states, pushing herself off the counter and putting her hands up in the air being dramatically innocent, "But if you want to give into your fears, fine. It's nothing on me." She says, "But I know that Elizabeth Adams doesn't give into fear, and that, unfortunately, Henry McCord is right in this situation. You're running from fear."

Elizabeth sighs and picks up the knife, grabbing another watermelon and chopping into it again but saying nothing.

All night, they'd mostly avoided each other. Some of it was purposeful (at least on her part it was, she just didn't want to talk to him yet. She had things to work out in her head). Some of it was just that they both had people they knew here and were busy talking to their social circles, even if they normally would rather be just with themselves instead. It was nice to catch up, anyway, even if it was with people she didn't really care for. Whenever she'd see Henry, he was smiling, and she knows he is probably enjoying the catch-up too. Everyone was here from the soccer team, and a lot of Henry's buddies showed up because they're in the same fraternity John is in—even though John was explicitly not invited thanks to his last ordeal at a party. Isabelle knows how to throw a good party, that's for sure.

Now it was time for the fireworks, though, and people were starting to gather around on blankets outside in her back yard to watch. Elizabeth walks over to find Henry unfolding the blanket, "Hey," he says and flashes a quick, small smile at her, "I was just coming to find you."

She lifts the bowl of watermelon and smiles at him, "I brought us a bowl of snacks." She says, waiting for him to smooth the blanket down before she sits.

He sits next to her, but not as close as he normally might. She wants to look at him and tell him to move closer or don't sit here at all, but she knows somewhere in the back of the sensible part of her mind that he has a right to be upset, too. It probably wasn't an easy conversation for him to have, either.

A few fireworks started making their way up into the sky, and they were leaned back watching them with their legs spread out in front. Elizabeth's legs were crossed over each other at the ankle, and her cheek was resting on her shoulder as she was slightly looking up to see the big booms. After the first few, there was a little bit of a lull, and she lets her head fall over further and looks at Henry. The fireworks were starting to light the sky again, lighting his face up as well and flashing reds and blues against his skin. She takes a deep breath and clears her throat, and that grabs his attention enough that he looks over at her and frowns. "I am only going to say this once, so listen close." She says.

He laughs and shakes his head, "You don't have to say—"

"No, I need to." She says and sits up, turning to face him and sitting crisscross with her hands in her lap. Her gaze is fixed on her fingers that were twiddling with each other, "You were right. I am—was—I don't know—running away from my fear." She says and takes a deep breath, looking up at him and tilting her head a little, "It's a big fear, and it stems from a lot of things, I think. But…you're right, too, in that I do want a family."

"You don't have to say that, babe, we can talk about it later—"

"I do want a family." She repeats more sternly, tilting her head down and looking at him straight in the eyes. "Not yet, obviously. I want to wait until you're not active duty anymore for one thing, which means we wait for a while after graduation if we…" she sighs and thinks about the future, wondering if she should even say anything or if she'll jinx it. She decides to anyway: "If we get married…we're going to hold off on kids. That's my one request is that we just hold off. I want to start my career and get that going before I am raising a child. I want there to be very little risk of you dying in some…in some field somewhere overseas where I won't even know what to tell our potential kid what happened." She says, her voice starting to shake a little. She clears her throat and takes his hand, which causes him to sit up and cross his legs, too, "It terrifies me more than anything, Henry, but the thought of dying without getting to see a piece that is formed from you and I together in this world…" Her voice trails off and she narrows her eyes, squeezing his hand and swallowing hard, "I can't even bear that."