A/N: Hello all! Sorry for the delayed update. I'd gotten out of the swing of this story and started on The Professors (which, to be honest, was just lighthearted and FUN to write), so I put this on the backburner for a few. If you read The Professors, you know I'm starting classes this week again and also start teaching this week. Thank you to everyone who is thinking about me and giving me good wishes, I really appreciate it.

Thanks for continuing to follow this story. This is a doozy!

Hope you have a good week.

May 8, 1989 | Henry

Elizabeth didn't sleep much last night, so he tried to stay as quiet as he could so that he didn't wake her. The sun is just peeking from above the horizon, the golden hour of the morning shimmering in through the bedroom window.

His duffle bag had already been pulled out from underneath the bed last night while she was in the shower, trying to not make a scene or make it too big of a deal. "It's only a few weeks," he keeps having to tell himself, trying to not let this affect him too badly—affect their relationship too badly.

When he glances up after folding and rolling one of his shirts, setting it in the bag, he sees a ray of sunshine glimmering through the room and onto Elizabeth. He was sure, then, that angels existed. If not for the fact there is an angel in the bed, glowing from that warm sun, then for the fact that an angel had to be shining that light like a spotlight on her just then. It had to be meant for her. How else could you explain the way the light makes the gold color in her hair look as though she has tiny pieces of real gold weaved in so intricately? How could you explain the way her skin looks even smoother in this soft glow?

He lets his eyes roam down her blanketed body until they meet again with his duffle bag at the end of the bed, and he picks up a pair of pants and folds, rolls, and stuffs them into the bag. About halfway into packing, Elizabeth stirs again, and he winces, just wishing she would stay asleep a little longer. A little more sleep, a little less time to see her so sad. If she's sleeping, she's maybe dreaming...she's maybe not thinking about him leaving like she has been the last five months.

He knew it would affect them (as in them, their relationship. Of course it affected them individually) whenever he found out he'd be gone so long. He had expected them both to be upset about the situation. He knew there would be lots of tears involved—for both parties—and that the day that he left would probably be the hardest. What he hadn't counted on was that over the last five months that they'd known, school would become harder, home life would be harder, and their relationship would be more strained than ever.

He'd never come so close to failing so many tests in his life until this semester. Failing, of course, is being used loosely—he's not a bad student, and he works hard to get good grades. A's and B's have always been acceptable to Henry and even to the rest of the McCord family, but C's and D's were what he had been getting most of the spring. Even in his classes he'd enjoyed, and even the ones with his religion professor Dr. Mitchell, he had struggled more than he ever had. However, he also was taking his last algebra course this semester, and that alone was enough to throw him off. He wasn't sure how he would've survived that course without Elizabeth's love and skill for math, and he had very little faith that he wouldn't have been taking it next semester again if it weren't for her helping him each and every night with his homework and with studying for tests.

But with the hardships of school came the hardships of home life, too. Although they had finished the house renovations over the Christmas break, it's still an older house and needed upkeep that it wasn't getting. Part of the deal for reduced rent with Mark was to keep the house in good shape, and Henry knew it was falling behind whenever he'd notice the driveway needed pressure washing or the things that didn't get replaced or updated, like the front door, was needing TLC. That door started peeling around February, and once it started, it was like it never stopped. It looked terrible, and Elizabeth had mentioned something last month about it and it caused a blowup fight between the two of them. Henry went and slept on the couch, even, which hadn't happened since he'd lost his temper with her last year.

"I was just asking a question, Henry." Elizabeth spat as she walked in the house behind him, throwing her backpack down on the couch.

Henry had stopped in the front door and just watched her walk past him, "You think I don't see that the door is peeling, Elizabeth?" He egged on, "I obviously see it every damn time I walk in the house. I have three tests this week and-"

"It was just a question!" She yelled from the kitchen, coming out with her hands in the air somewhat defensively, yet somehow still offensively too. "All I was doing was pointing out that the door needs fixed."

"Well," Henry huffs, "It's not going to get done before I leave."

He had known when he said it that it would get her quieted down again because they'd been trying to not mention it at all. They'd attempted to make the same pact that they made about talking about her parents' real job, and he knew it would be malevolent to throw it at her then. He did anyway.

"You know that hurts me when you say that." Elizabeth said in a low tone, folding her arms in front of her chest. "Why do you say it when you just know that it makes me feel like I—"

"I just want this conversation to be over." He said abruptly, and she just stared at him as he walked across the room and to the back door. It chilled him to feel her eyes on his back, watching him leave this conversation completely, but he continued to put one foot in front of the other.

They hadn't talked at all the rest of the day. They ate separate dinners. When he came in later, he noticed that she had made a frozen microwave meal, so he did the same. He only saw her when he went in the bedroom to get his pillow and a blanket from the closet shelf, and silently walked back out of the room, shutting the door behind him in a final act of defiance.

This wasn't the only time that the hardships from school and homelife had spilled over into their relationship. They both had been so stressed over the past month that they had completely stopped doing anything that resembled romance, and instead were just trying to tip toe around each other and their feelings. This was not the way he had intended for these past months to be—he'd wanted them to be filled with everything that was good about them, everything that he wanted to remember while they were away. But instead, another fight two days ago had caused them to once again sleep in silence.

This time, though, Henry decided it wasn't his fault and that he shouldn't have to sleep on the couch. She'd never asked him to, but before when he'd done it, he just didn't want to be that close to her. Last month when they fought over the door, he'd been afraid he'd lose his temper once more like he had so many months ago now, and he didn't want to be close to her for that reason. But that night two nights ago, he wasn't as angry, and he just wanted a good night's sleep before leaving for training in a few days.

That night he had mostly gotten good sleep, but there was a niggling feeling that just kept waking him up. He kept having nightmares, something he hadn't done in a long time. When last night rolled around, right before bed, he'd walked in and sat on the foot of the bed, looking at Elizabeth as she was getting settled into her usual lying position—on her back with her arm's up above her head. When she'd stopped moving for a moment, he cleared his throat, "Babe?" He'd said, barely above a whisper.

She pulled her head up a little to look at him, "Yeah?" She asked softly, sounding as though she were about to cry already.

His tongue gently swiped across his lip as he looked down, and then looked back up at her, "Going to bed angry..." He started, not sure where to go from there.

She sat up on her elbows one by one, then took a deep breath, "I know." She provided.

He swallowed hard, "I was—"

"I know," she said again, and after a moment she added on to the short sentence, "You were having nightmares."

He looked down, feeling like he'd just been reduced to not much more than a child, "Yeah," he answered quietly, "How did you know?" He asked, looking back up at her and squinting a little.

"You talk in your sleep sometimes," said Elizabeth, staying still even as she watched him struggle to feel bigger than a little child, "Come here."

Henry crawled over the blankets and over to her, laying down beside her as she rolled to her side and put her hand on his cheek, "No more going to bed angry." She whispered, "I know these past few months have been hard on us, but all we're doing is making it harder on each other."

"You're right."

"Of course I am," she whispered, giving a little mischievous grin. "We both need sleep." She said with a confidence that almost made Henry forget that there was anything wrong or that anything was about to change, "Big day tomorrow." With that, he buried his head into his arm and shut his eyes tight.

He puts a pair of socks in his bag as she sits up and looks at him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, "Why didn't you wake me?" She asks quietly, her voice still groggy with sleep.

"You hadn't slept the whole night," he shrugs, "I figured I could pack my bag on my own." He says nonchalantly, putting another neatly folded pairing of socks in.

She rubs her arm, always chilly when she wakes, and looks out the window. Her eyes squint as though someone just shined a flashlight in her face, and she puts a hand up in front of her forehead to try to see, "What time is it?"

"Early," he says with a little laugh. "I'm almost finished packing, I figured we could go out for breakfast before I have to leave."

May 8, 1989 | Elizabeth

"...before I have to leave."

The words felt like someone had torn stitches out of her and put their hand into the wound, maybe pouring some salt in on the way. She'd mentally prepared for this day ever since the day back in January when he got his orders, but there was no amount of preparing she could've done to see her best friend leave her for two months. And be so far away for two months.

She looks down in her lap and feels tears come to her eyes, and she hears him walking over to her in his boots. She hadn't even noticed he'd gotten dressed already, and seeing him in his uniform made her tip over the edge and let out a sob. Her hand comes up to her face and covers her eyes as her body wracks a few good times, and then she feels his arms around her head and shoulders, his body leaning over her as though he were shielding her from a bomb. This isn't what she wanted for this morning. She didn't want to cry. And now, so early on in the day, she already has gone against everything she said she wouldn't do.

"It'll be okay," he whispers, rocking her a little with his body.

The tears just kept coming down, now falling onto the blanket and onto her arms, feeling as though everything were getting soaked. "How do you know?" She whispers back, "It'll be two months before you—"

"You know I said I'd come visit every chance I got."

"But how often is that logistically?" She asks pitifully, "I mean, I don't think the Marines just let you come and go whenever you want."

She feels him squeeze her a little tighter, and she just stays there with her eyes closed, listening to his heart beating against her ear as he continues to hold her and rock her as though she were a child needing to be soothed. The thought passes quickly through her mind that last night it was Henry who needed held like a child, and today it's her. And really, isn't that just part of being in love with someone?

"It might not be often, but it's something." He whispers against her hair.

She looks up at him and swallows the lump down into her throat a little further, "I'm sorry for being like this." She says, wiping at her eyes, "I didn't want to do this. I told myself I wouldn't do it, even."

He pulls away from her and pushes her hair from her sticky, wet face, "Don't apologize," he whispers, "I feel like doing the exact same thing."

"But you're not doing it." She fires back a little more snippy than she meant for it to be, but just looks at him with a doe-eyed expression.

He sighs a little and nods, "Yeah," he says, "Trust me, I've already done it once this morning before I packed. Getting dressed, I was...I was just watching you sleep and thinking about how this'll be the last time I see you like this for a while."

She laughs sadly and wipes the wetness on her eyes and cheeks, "Oh yeah, such a picture of beauty." She says pathetically.

He lets out a little laugh, too, and he shrugs, "You are to me, always." He whispers and kisses her forehead, her nose, and then her lips.

She leans into him a bit, pressing upwards against his mouth. Her fingers wrap around his arms, feeling the scratchiness of his uniform against the skin on her fingertips. Her fingernails are digging into the material while she closes her eyes, and she feels his hands gently brush her arms before opening her eyes to look into his.

Her gaze drops down from his eyes, pausing at his lips and then falling further down to the patch on his uniform, so boldly stating "MCCORD." She grazes across his chest with her eyes, looking over to the patch above his heart, "U.S. MARINES." Her fingers are digging into his arms now, and she's suddenly aware of a different scratchy material underneath her left fingers. Her eyes slowly float down his right arm, finding that flag patch there. She's never hated the flag, never hated her country, and she's pretty sure she never could—however, today she wants to rip it off this uniform and never give it back to him.

She feels her neck tighten, then realizes it's actually her throat tightening. In an attempt to forget about this biological reaction, she reaches up and grabs him by the sides of his head, pulling him down on top of her. He lets out a chuckle, but she puts her finger to his lips, "Promise to come back to me in one piece," she whispers, not asking, but demanding.

He looks down at her and scoops his hand underneath the arch of her back, the other resting near her hair while his thumb rubs her temple, "I'll promise to do everything I can to come back to you in one piece." He replies.

She looks between them and takes a deep breath, "I need you to give me a proper goodbye," she whispers, her throat trying to tighten up again as she speaks. Her eyes move up to meet his while her leg is wrapping around him, and she swallows that lump down again (or tries to). "We might as well make this tradition, right?" She asks, thinking about the future times when she knows she'll have to say goodbye to him again. Except those future times might not be just across the country, but across a whole ocean.

She's trying pitifully to smile and make the mood light when all she really wants to do is cry. She shouldn't be feeling this dramatic, she knows that, but she knew she'd feel lost without her best friend for two entire months.

His smile is making her feel a little better, but it doesn't stop a tear from escaping down her face. He reaches quickly to wipe at it, wiping his thumb on his hip near her leg, "I like the idea of making this a tradition," he whispers, "It's the only thing that will make leaving seem somewhat appetizing."

Not wanting to waste time, she digs her heel slightly into his backside, making him jump forward against her hips. When he jumps, she pushes her hips up into him and closes her eyes, letting her head relax completely against the sheets. The image flashes through her head of them in just a short while having to do this for real, having to part from each other for something much scarier than training.

She swallows thick and reaches between their bodies, unzipping his pants. She doesn't want him to have to undress, she's not sure she'd let him re-dress if he does.

With a sense of urgency, her eyes look up to find his as a tear falls from the corner, trailing down and tickling her ear on its way to her neck. She sniffles a little and brings her hands back up to his shoulders, giving a good squeeze, "Take me, Henry," she manages to get out even though her throat is tightening once more. She feels it down in her chest, and she thinks she might even feel it throughout her whole body. This unexplainable sadness is radiating through her entire body, and she just wants to feel him one more time before she loses her best friend to the Marines for the summer.

She'd ripped herself out of bed as soon as their heartrates had gone back down, making herself roll out and walk to the bathroom without taking even one look back at him. As she's cleaning up, he's trying to talk to her, but there's a buzzing in her head and she finally just looks at him and shakes her head, "It's already hard enough," she whispers, "Let's just...let's get going."

They get dressed and Henry does a final check of his duffle bag, loading it into his Bronco before opening the passenger side door for her. She climbs in for the last time this summer—only May and it's already the last time for the summer—and he shuts the door behind her and joins her on the driver's side moments later.

She looks out the window as he backs out of the driveway in silence, and the radio host is talking to the otherwise noiseless cab: "Here's Bon Jovi with their number one hit this week, 'I'll Be There For You.'"

While the guitar starts ringing out its chords, she notices another sound: raindrops spattering against the windshield. She briefly looks forward to confirm, then looks back out the window and lets her forehead rest there, knowing she'll leave a smudge mark. He won't care, though, he won't be here to know.

You say true love, it's suicide

You say you've cried a thousand rivers

And now you're swimming for the shore

You left me drowning in my tears

And you won't save me anymore

Elizabeth feels a tear stroll down her cheek again and she doesn't even move to wipe it. She just lets its final destination be her shirt, soaking it up to leave a little round stain there.

When they arrive at the drop-off, Henry's the first one to get out. He doesn't even look at her, but she can't bring herself to look at him, either. She just watches him in the sideview mirror as he walks around to the back and grabs his duffle before rushing over to throw it underneath the covered area. He walks to her side of the truck and opens the door, and the raindrops get her arm wet while she stares at him and the drips coming off his brow.

"Elizabeth," he whispers, "It won't be long."

He takes her hand and squeezes it, and she just finally nods, letting her body scoot and face him, leaning down to rest her forehead on his. "I love you, Henry James McCord. Don't do anything stupid—it's just training, remember?"

He looks at her with a little grin, and she hopes he's not thinking as mischievously as his grin tells him to be, "I won't." He says, moving his head to press his lips against hers, "I'll come back to you. I'll always come back to you."

She nods a little and slides out of the truck, letting herself be wrapped in his arms for one more time. She has to make this hug last for two months, otherwise she'll be driving herself to him and sneaking on to base somehow to see him.

"I love you," Henry says to her, rubbing her back up and down as though he were warming her up, "I'll see you soon, and I'll call you as soon as we're there. Okay?"

"Okay," she musters, nodding and taking his keys when he hands them to her. She looks down at their hands and the jingle of the keys makes her want to crumble a little, but she takes them and puts the key ring around her finger. "I'll take care of your baby while you're gone."

He looks down at her quickly, "My what?"

She snorts and pats the truck door behind her, squinting her eyes as the now-heavy raindrops fall down into them, "Your baby."

"You had me so scared." Henry breathes, widening his eyes and finally coming around to a smile, "Good. I'll be back for her." He says, giving her one last kiss on the lips and patting her on the sides with his hands, nodding and stepping back. He swallows thick, "I'll see you soon."

"See you soon." She says, watching him as he turns away from her and heads to the group of other Marines.

She makes herself walk around the car when she hears them laughing and making fun of him, and she knows they're probably grilling him about his girlfriend and him making a total show of themselves. But damn it, they don't know love like she and Henry do, apparently.

The Bronco turns over quicker than it normally does, almost as if it were ready to get the hell out of here, too, before one of them do something stupid. She drives off and only glances in the rearview mirror one time, getting a look at him before she turns and heads down the highway back to their empty home.