A/N: This one's sweet. I feel like we need some sweetness after some of these heavier chapters I've been working on. Also, if anyone can remember what episode this last part is from (the words, I mean), please let me know what it is! I've been desperately searching through episodes but can only find it where she says it in jail. I know there's a whole story to it, though. So if anyone has that info, I'd love it if you could pass it along!

Thanks, and hope you enjoy, as always :)

"What do you think he'll look like?"

Elizabeth takes a breath when she feels his warm hand on her skin, her own stomach feeling so stretched as though it's pushing against his hand even without trying. Her eyes are still closed and her hands are linked behind her head, adding an extra inch of incline between her pillow and her hair while her palm is cradling her skull. "Mmmph…" she mumbles, "I think she'll have your eyes, but my hair color." When she lets out a quiet snort, she peeks one eye open to see him smiling down at her, his hand still resting there, "Why are you so set on it being a boy when I keep telling you there's no way, and that it's definitely a girl?"

He gives her a little grin before leaning down and pressing his lips beside his hand, letting them linger there for a moment before lying beside her, never moving his hand away from the spot that is now becoming very warm. "Honestly?" He murmurs, and she can feel him staring at her, "Just because I like to rile you up."

"Riling me up is how we ended up in this situation anyway, Henry McCord." She retorts, her voice low and raspy with sleepiness. She'd love to go to sleep, but she knows she won't sleep for long—she hasn't been able to for the past two weeks. When he lets out a soft little laugh, she turns her head and looks at him. "Are you sure you have to go?" She asks, the rasp turning into a whisper instead now.

He swallows thick, his tongue is sliding across his teeth somewhere in his mouth, "Yes." He whispers, "We both know I can't back out now."

"Surely there's a loophole." She counters.

"In the Marines?" He asks with a hint of sarcasm.

She rolls her eyes and lets her head fall back into her palm again, staring at the ceiling through blurry and wet vision, "I just don't want to be alone," she whispers, "And you're going to leave me alone. Alone to do this by myself."

"I know." He whispers, sliding his hand across her belly to the other side of her, pulling his body to hers before letting his hand slide side-to-side just below her ribs where her waist used to be. "If I could stay, you know nothing else would keep me away. You know that, right?"

She stays quiet and blinks a few times, trying to keep her tears from falling down her cheeks.

"Elizabeth?"

"Yeah." She whispers, "I know. I just didn't want this. This isn't how I wanted this."

"I know." Henry repeats snuggling his face down into the side of her chest and closing his eyes.

November 24, 1988 | Elizabeth

She sits up suddenly, taking a sharp breath when her eyes fly open to see complete and total darkness surrounding her. Her head whips to the side to look for Henry, but she realizes he's not here—not because he's gone, shipped off by the Marines somewhere, but because he's in his childhood room down the hall. She's in Maureen's childhood room. She's at the McCord house. Her next move is to look as best as she can down at her body, checking to be sure that it's the normal body she fell asleep with last night. Not that foreign, alien-like body that she was just dreaming of. Even with the sweet brushes of Henry's hand, the thought of having a bowling ball for a stomach makes her cringe still.

With a quick sling of her legs, she's standing up out of the bed and looking over at the clock, seeing that it's 2:33 before she quietly pads to the door and turns the knob slowly, tiptoeing down the hall to Henry's room and opening his door in the same stealthy way she opened hers. Thinking all the while that if someone catches her, her "Queen" nickname might change from righteous "Elizabeth" to the more wanton "Cleopatra." When the light floods into his room, Henry's eyes flutter open and his hand comes up to his brow, shielding his pupils from the sudden invasion. "Elizabeth?" He murmurs in confusion.

"It's me." She whispers, silently closing the door behind her and padding to the side of his bed. She suddenly feels ridiculous. What is she doing here? Telling him she had a nightmare? Something she hadn't done since she was, what, five? She folds her arms over her chest, feeling incredibly self-conscious. "I—sorry." She says before turning on her heel, making her way to the door.

He grabs her by the wrist, shocking her and startling her at the same time. She whips around and sees him on his way to sitting up, rubbing his eye with the other hand, "What's wrong, babe?" He asks groggily.

She swallows thick, looking down at where her feet would be if she could see through all this darkness, "It's dumb," she whispers. She crinkles her nose up at herself when she realizes that even though she'd like to talk this nightmare out, she also had just gone to him instinctively, wanting his comfort. That thought pushed her independence further and further away from who she is as a person. Dependence was never her thing, but it sure seems to be nowadays.

"It's not dumb," he mumbles.

She laughs quietly, shaking her head, "You haven't heard it yet."

He pats the bed, at least she's guessing that he's patting it right beside him, if she could see further than a few inches in front of her face she might know. "Come here," he whispers, "Tell me."

She sighs, standing there defiantly for a moment before finally giving in and sitting beside him, practically on top of his thigh because she couldn't see. She scoots over with a quiet snort, then lets another breath out slowly, "I had a nightmare." She starts, "Which sounds ridiculous, right?"

His hand is searching for hers, but instead he finds her thigh and rubs his hand over her sweatpants a few times, "It's not ridiculous. I get them too."

She laughs pitifully, "Yeah, well, I feel like a toddler." She admits quietly, "Kids." Her brain couldn't think of how to start telling him about her nightmare, so she starts there.

"Kids?" He mumbles, "Babe, I get that they're scary to you, but a whole nightma—"

"No," she says quickly, "That's not—no. I had a dream about…well, we were having a kid." She says, feeling her face get hot. She furrows her brow, making a mental note to address why she is blushing over the thought of kids at a later time. "No, we were…I was…"

"You were…?" He asks, reaching over to turn the light on.

She squints a little, rubbing her eyes and trying to get them to adjust to that sudden intrusion of brightness. "I was pregnant." She says, "And you were about to leave."

"Leave? I'd never leave you."

"Not that kind of leave me." She corrects, "Deployment, I guess."

"Oh." He says.

The way he says that one-syllable word makes her heart sink. She knows that he's well aware that he'll likely be deployed right after graduation. She's well aware, too, but she's been trying to push it away, to become blissfully ignorant, but it's been impossible. He's only a junior in college right now, but the closer that graduation inches toward him, the more she worries. "Yeah." She whispers, laying her cheek on his shoulder and sighing, "I want kids with you."

"You what?" Henry asks in shock, raising his voice a little too much.

"Keep it down," she hisses, "You know I want kids with you."

"Now?"

She pulls her eyes up to him, unable to keep a slightly promiscuous grin from surfacing on her face, "No," she says playfully, "In the future. After there's no risk of you being sent off to deployment."

"Oh." He says. Damn that one-syllable word.

"I'm going to need you to stop saying 'oh.'" She instructs.

He sighs a little and turns his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead before leaning back with her, laying sideways on his twin bed. "And this is what your nightmare was about?"

She shrugs, "Yeah," her hands are folded on top of her abdomen, twiddling her fingers around with each other, "It's scary thinking about losing you, Henry. And it's scarier thinking about losing you if we have kids."

He shakes his head, "That won't happen. You're not going to lose me."

"You can't know that." She reminds him for the thousandth time. He's so stubbornly optimistic. "I want us to promise to be extra careful until you're finished with deployments." She finally blurts out, "I can't risk being alone for all of that."

"You're not going to be—"

"I mean for the pregnancy. For the…" she scrunches her nose up again thinking of the word "birth," still unable to completely think of herself as someone who might do such a thing. "For the labor." She finally says.

He turns and lays on his side, "Promise." He whispers, rolling over a little more and pressing his body on top of hers, kissing her lips.

When his lips leave hers, she smiles when she opens her eyes to see him smirking down at her. "What?" She asks through a soft laugh, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

He bites his lip, "You've never laid in my bed."

"I've laid in your bed plenty of times, McCord." She says in a low tone, her brow raised.

"Not this one." He says and chuckles, "A twin bed means less space."

The tip of her tongue strokes her bottom lip once, retreating back into her mouth before her teeth gently clamp down on that same lip, "Almost as much space as your Bronco," she reminds quietly.

He raises his brow, swinging his leg over her waist and straddling her. He's about to say something when she shakes her head, pushing him off to the side. With confusion, he rolls back off her and lays on his side, staring at her wildly.

"Mm mm." She chides, getting up to her knees and pushing her clothes down from her body, straddling him this time, "I think I should do the service," she whispers, hinging her body down at her hips to just barely graze his chest, her lips almost touching his as she keeps talking, "Will this make all your boyhood dreams come true?" She whispers hotly, her eyes slowly opening to meet his while waiting for his response.

His own tongue is grazing his bottom lip now, just like hers was moments ago, "It might." He whispers.

She smirks before leaning the rest of the way, closing the gap between her lips and his.

"Elizabeth!" She hears a frantic, hissing voice off to her side somewhere. One eye slowly flutters open while she's trying to get her bearings and understand why the bed is moving so wildly.

"What?" She mumbles, suddenly noticing a lot of sunlight coming through the window.

"My mom is at the door." Henry hisses, putting his boxers on before answering her knock, "Just a minute, Mom."

"What are you doing in there, Henry?" Elaine asks on the other side of the door.

Elizabeth's eyes shoot open in panic, sitting up and looking at him while accidentally holding her breath, "What do I do?" She whispers but doesn't give Henry any time to answer. She rolls out of the bed, trying to be as stealthy as possible so that the old floors wouldn't creak below her and Elaine wouldn't have reason to become even more suspicious. Shimmying underneath his bed, she pushes boxes of old junk away while trying to not stir up enough dust to make her start sneezing. A sneezing bed would be enough to make Elaine come in and inspect, and that's the very last thing she needs for her to find. This carpet on her bare skin isn't exactly what she wants to feel, but she's suddenly glad Elaine is a bit of a clean freak—she knows it's probably decently clean under here. She hopes it is, at least.

"Good morning," Henry's saying after opening the door, "Sorry, I was getting dressed."

"Hmm," Elaine says, and Elizabeth wonders if she's buying the story. "Elizabeth still asleep?" She asks.

"Not sure." She hears him reply.

"Well, Thanksgiving breakfast is ready." Elaine says.

"The usual?"

"The usual."

"Thanks Mom."

She hears a smooch on skin before the next sound of the door being shut, and then footsteps walking down the hall and the faint sound of footsteps down the stairs.

"I think it's safe." Henry whispers.

Elizabeth groans quietly as she shimmies her way back out from underneath his bed, contorting her face when she sees a sock on her way out, "Please don't tell me that sock underneath there has—"

"Let's not think about that." Henry says, his eyes wide as she's standing up.

She glares at him, and he's sheepishly holding her clothes in his hands before tossing them at her, "Better hurry. We always watch the Thanksgiving Day parade on TV while Mom cooks."

"Don't think we're not addressing the sock thing at a later time," she says while stepping into her underwear, "She doesn't like to watch the parade?" She asks after sliding her bra on.

Henry laughs a little, "So this tradition started when Mom was pregnant with Shane and Dad was in that really good mood, when their marriage was going well for the first time in their lives," he snorts, "And Dad decided he'd pull the TV from the living room to the kitchen so that she could watch with us, but also to keep her cooking our Thanksgiving dinner."

Elizabeth's eyes widen as she pulls her shirt over her head, her jaw almost slack, "Are you for real?"

"Yep."

"A TV in the kitchen?"

"Yep."

"Just because he wanted her to keep cooking?"

"Yep."

She laughs and shakes her head, walking around his bed to him and pressing a kiss to his lips, letting her hand drag across his chest, "Well," she whispers, "I'm no cook, but I'm glad I can find other ways to entertain you in the kitchen."

His eyes follow her as she walks past him, "You're cruel." He teases.

She smirks as she has her hand on the knob, waiting to turn it, "What? I'm just saying I can drag a TV into the kitchen for you any time you want." She replies before turning the knob and walking out quietly and carefully.

November 24, 1988 | Henry

"Seriously, Gene, if you would just stop breathing so loudly—"

"Maureen," Gene breathes, all but rolling his eyes while sitting in the chair next to her. She's sprawled out on the couch, causing Henry and Elizabeth to have to share the oversized chair while Patrick sits in his recliner. Elaine is still putting the finishing touches on her lunch, and Erin and Shane are outside playing in the snow. "I can't breathe any more quietly."

"Yes, you can." She argues, and Elizabeth glances over at Henry, trying to keep herself from laughing.

Gene shoots Elizabeth and Henry a look as if to say, "help me," but Henry just bites his lip and shrugs, essentially telling him he's on his own and he got himself into this situation.

Elizabeth leans over and wraps her arms around Henry's neck, laying her head on his shoulder and positioning her lips near his ear, "She looks miserable." She whispers.

"And she's still got halfway to go." Henry replies quietly.

She cringes in his lap, her teeth pushed together, "Yikes." She whispers.

"Would you two like to share with the class?" Maureen snips.

"Nope." Henry retorts, "This is a private matter." He teases. Elizabeth smacks him lightly on the chest and he looks over at her, "What was that for?" He asks with wide eyes, his voice on the verge of a laugh.

Maureen smirks, "I like her a little more." She says, settling her gaze back to the television and the long stretch of parade.

Henry taps Elizabeth's thigh, silently asking her to get up and walk with him. She gets the hint, standing to her feet and waiting for him to stand. He takes her fingers gently in his, leading her to the front door. "Where are you two going?" Gene asks, neither of their gazes leaving the TV.

"For a walk. We'll be back in time for dinner, don't worry."

Elizabeth looks at him, her eyes asking "what the hell" without saying it. Henry just shrugs and grabs her coat from the rack, tossing it over to her while he puts his own on. When they walk outside, she bumps into his arm hard, "What are we doing out here?" She asks.

He turns before they reach the next step down, wrapping his arms around her waist, "I just needed to breathe some air that Maureen hasn't." He admits, laughing lowly and shaking his head, "I was feeling her negativity enter my lungs with each breath."

"Very poetic, McCord." She says and raises her brow, "Those religion classes are really speaking to you."

He snorts, "Religion and poetry are two very different things, Miss Math Major." He teases while she's rolling her eyes, trying to defend herself. "Nope, nope." He says through a laugh, "You already said it. Can't take it back."

She grits her teeth and playfully pushes her palms against his chest, "Get out of here." She groans.

He lets their laughs finish ringing off the snow before he nods toward his truck, "Let's take a quick trip to the incline."

"Henry," Elizabeth argues, "Your mom is about to have dinner finished."

"Just a quick trip."

"What kind of quick trip?" She asks suspiciously.

He makes a face at her, trying to suppress a chuckle, "Not that kind of quick trip. I want to show you the snow."

"There's snow all around us. I grew up seeing snow. I know the snow very well." She says, looking around while he holds her body to his. He's suddenly glad that he's holding her body so close, otherwise he's thinking he might have started shaking already. It's awfully cold.

He shakes his head, "The snow on the incline is always way prettier," he says, "Come on, babe…" He's almost whining, and he knows he sounds a little too much like a child, but he's hoping it works.

And by the look on her face, it is working. "Fine," she gives in, biting her lip and turning her chin up in the air, pointing her index finger on her cheek twice, "First," she instructs.

He laughs, leaning in and pressing his lips to her cheek, "So demanding." He teases, rushing down the stairs before she has a chance to retaliate.

"Hey!" She yells, rushing after him. He already is opening her door, though, and she just glares at him while stepping up into the truck. "You're lucky I love you." She seethes.

"I am." He agrees a little too seriously, closing the door and going over to his own side, climbing in.

When they get to the incline, he looks over at Elizabeth's face. When she sees the icy lake, her jaw drops just a little, and he's pretty sure he sees a sparkle in her eye. Even though she hasn't said anything yet, he can tell that she's in awe of the snowy scene in front of her.

He wonders while she takes it all in if she has any idea that he has a ring in his pocket, if she has suspected anything is coming. If she's going to say yes. If she's going to say no. If she's going to laugh or cry or look at him wildly and run away. If she knows that their lives, hopefully, are about to change forever. And he wonders if the damned skywriter will ever show up, or if she'll be telling him they need to get going because Elaine's dinner will be ready in time now.

Although he hates to break this magical moment for her, and selfishly hates to break it for himself—watching her enjoy the hell out of this snow and ice—he takes her hand across the seat, laying his on top of her fingers. She pulls her eyes away from the lake, looking down at his hand and then up into his eyes, giving him a little smile. "This is beautiful, Henry." She coos. "Really. I'm glad you brought me up here." She says, turning her head to look out the passenger window.

He smiles and opens his door, climbing out and going to her side, helping her out. He warns her about the ice, and how it can be slick, and how she obviously already knows that since she grew up in Virginia. He feels the butterflies in his stomach and he's blaming them on his inability to speak properly, and then he hears the plane in the sky. He glances up over her head and watches as it starts to make out the letters, and he holds her attention for as long as he can so that she doesn't turn around and look at the lake.

She's looking out over horizon on the opposite side of the lake, her arms folded over her stomach and her shoulders up near her ears, trying to keep them warm. "Honestly, Henry, I'm always stunned any season you bring me up here."

When he doesn't answer, she turns her head to look at him slowly. She lets out a little laugh when she sees him staring off behind her. He knows somewhere in his head that his face must look terribly contorted, and he thinks briefly about distracting her and pretending none of this happened and try again another day. However, it doesn't take her long at all to figure out that he's looking at the sky behind her, so she turns and gasps. "Oh," she says, and the confusion in her tone makes him cringe. "Mar…" she's trying to sound out what it says. He's groaning behind her. "Mar…okay, mar…me? Mar me? What's the next…Eli…Elbert? No…" Her voice is getting high pitched and he can tell she's struggling, and all he wants to do is melt in the snow. "Elibet? Mar me Elibet…" She says, tossing it around on her tongue a few times in an almost-whisper. "Wait…" she says, turning around with another gasp.

She doesn't see him right away, and it's because he's dropped down onto one knee, holding the ring his dad gave him in his hand. She lets out a laugh, her gloved hands coming up to cover her mouth. He laughs, too, when he sees the breath coming from her mouth, "Henry…" she breathes, and he thinks he can see tears in her eyes. Maybe they're his own tears, though, he can't really tell.

"That's not really what I'd planned out," he starts with an exasperated laugh. He has to pause and clear his throat, his voice cracking from the lump in there. "Elizabeth Marie Adams, When I first saw you out on that soccer field, it was like a magnet pulling me to you." Henry says, swallowing hard when he becomes acutely aware of his hand shaking, "I had to talk to you. I had to be around you. I had to know you." He says, "I had to love you."

When he says the last line, she looks down at her feet and wipes a tear from her eye. He wants to jump up and wrap her in his arms, wants to know if she's upset or if she's happy. When she looks up and smiles at him, he gets his confirmation: this is happiness.

"Through everything I've done and through all this crazy life we've lived in the last few months, you've stuck with me. You've loved me on my bad days and my good days. And I want to love you for the rest of my life, Elizabeth." He says, unable to keep his hand from shaking. He laughs when they both realize at the same time that the ring is basically vibrating between his index finger and thumb. "So…mar me Elibet?" He says, trying to keep a straight face even through his tears.

She falls to her knees in front of him in laughter, wrapping her hands around his and kissing his lips, "I would love to be your wife, Henry McCord." She breathes, kissing him over and over again.

He finally laughs and they break apart, and he looks down at the ring in his fingers, "This ring is my grandmother's ring. The grandmother on my dad's side." He explains, biting his lip. "She was an amazing woman, and I think they had a pretty great marriage. She and my granddad were married for fifty-eight years before he passed away, and she passed a month later."

She smiles as she takes her glove off her left hand and looks up into his eyes before he slides the ring onto her finger. She sniffles and clears her throat, giving a little grin, "That's the way I want to go." She whispers.

"What?" It catches him off guard and he's looking at her wildly.

She smiles a little, kissing his lips once more, "I don't want to spend time apart from you. If you go, I don't want to be here much longer."

He gives her a little smile, leaning in and kissing her, "I don't want to live a moment without you." He whispers, pressing his forehead against hers.

After a few quiet moments, she finally laughs and bites her lip, "I'm freezing."

"Me too." He says and stands up, helping her to her feet since they both look like the Michelin Man. "Mom's going to lose her mind, you know that right?" He asks.