A/N: Hello all! Teaching went well this week. Got the first class under my belt, so looking forward to next week. I was just glad to have today to sit and write for a while.

Hope you enjoy!

June 6, 1989 | Henry

"I know, babe," he said, leaning against the wall with one hand, his other hand pressing the phone against his ear. He was messing with the phone cord until she started saying how much she missed him, and it took all he had in him to stand up straight. He couldn't hold himself any longer and finally had to reach out to the wall to support him as he hung his head down, listening to her sniffles. "I miss you so much." He replied before hearing some other Marines laughing at him from down the hall.

"I wish I could give you a kiss." Elizabeth managed.

"I wish I could kiss you, too."

He picked his head up and looked over his shoulder, trying to see where the laughter was coming from, but he ultimately decided it was from one of the rooms off the hallway and let it go. They'd been making fun of him ever since the day they left and he and Elizabeth almost couldn't let go of each other. It carried over into Pensacola, too.

That conversation is playing on repeat in his mind as he watches the air crew working around him in this darkness of dawn. The voice in his headphones jars him when he hears, "Prophet, this is tower. You're cleared for takeoff."

"Copy that, tower," he says as he pushes the throttle forward, feeling the power of the engines rumble the seat against his back as the jet shoots forward like an arrow from a bow.

Gaining altitude, he looks down at what he knows, but cannot quite see in the darkness, is the Gulf of Mexico stretching along miles beneath him, and he wonders how much Elizabeth would love it here. He hasn't been able to bring himself to go to the beach and relax on his time off because all he can think about is how much he wants her here with him.

The engine roaring in his ears makes him come back to his reality, trying to wipe away Elizabeth's face from his mind for now. This simulation is important, he knows that, but he'd much rather just not do it today.

Nonetheless, he flips the afterburners on and pushes the Hornet to its limits when he looks over his right shoulder to see the simulation's enemy jet on his tail, creating a burst of speed and pushing his head backwards into the seat along with it.

His instincts kick in immediately once his heart starts racing and he sharply banks left, the jet following closely behind him. He barrels down a few thousand feet and then pushes the jet back upwards, tilting the nose almost straight up while trying to keep a close eye on the fighter following his tracks. Trying, however, is the key word since it's pitch black. This part of the training was definitely the worst in his opinion.

The sudden amount of Gs against his body takes the breath out of him, and he feels like he's about to black out, trying to not let the enemy jet get caught up with him while also trying to not go into G-LOC.

"Prophet," a voice in his ears is saying, but he's squinting to focus on the jet's nose out in front of him while still going up. "Prophet?" It says again through the beeping he vaguely hears around him, and he's still unable to fully register that that's his name.

Instead, he's on the brink of unconsciousness.

A grin comes across his face when he sees Elizabeth. She's lying in the back of his Bronco and they're out on the Duquesne Incline at sunset, just like they always do whenever he takes her to see his family. Her shirt is off, but her jean shorts are still on and there's just a little section of skin showing between the top of those shorts and her bra. She's leaned back on her elbows, her left leg bent up as she's looking at him. "Hey, Prophet." She says in a cool tone, giving him a little grin.

"Prophet!" Henry hears finally, and it jars him enough to be able to let go of the throttle and bring the Hornet back to mostly level.

"I'm alright." He mutters, though he realizes he doesn't sound alright. It doesn't even sound like his own voice when he says it. He clears his throat and takes as deep a breath as he can, realizing the jet is still on his tail.

His senses still aren't fully there, but now that he's level, he's pushing the throttle forward again, "Prophet, you're reaching out of speed," the voice says to him, but he shrugs it off.

He knows that this is a low-level training simulation. They've been told that countless times because most of the men here just want to push the jets to their limits. Usually, Henry listens and does what he's told, or what he's told to not do. However, today, he just wants to ease the pain of missing her, and he pushes it forward.

Looking over his right shoulder, then his left, and then up and down as best as he can, he sees that the enemy jet is far behind him as the world around him has become a frenetic blur.

"Prophet!" The voice is yelling at him now, "Return to designated maneuvers immediately!"

But the exhilaration was thrilling, and Henry feels the excitement running through his veins. For an instant, he escapes the torment of missing her, of missing how she kisses or how she always smells like some sort of warm honey. He escapes the thought of how her blonde hair shimmers in the sunlight, especially in that morning sunlight that peeks in through their bedroom window. For an instant, it's just him and this jet in the world.

"Prophet!" More yelling. "I repeat, disengage now!" A moment passes and he hears the final straw, "McCord!"

His smile fades and he reluctantly eases the throttle back, gradually decelerating. The world is back to its ordinary pace once more, and he's steadying his breath after taking the Hornet and his body up to Mach 2 speed. The reality is setting in now that he's about to be in big trouble, but his heartache overpowers the thought of all the push-ups he'll probably have once he lands.

As he lands, readying himself for an earful and God only knows what else, he notices that the sun is rising over the horizon of the opposite the Gulf, and he thinks of how her hair would shine here, too.

June 6, 1989 | Elizabeth

Even the hustle and bustle of D.C. didn't help Elizabeth today as she walks down the street, viewing the sun setting along those ridiculously tall buildings. She was no country girl necessarily, but the stature of the buildings here made her feel like she was just a little weed compared to the rest of the world. She always feels as though the city is changing, much like New York City did whenever she got the chance to visit there sometimes as a kid. The city feels like it's always watching her, like it's always breathing down her neck. And maybe it is—there's enough government organizations here to make that a possibility.

She looks over her shoulder at the building she'd just exited while walking to the parking garage on the corner. Sometimes her boss let her stay a little late—after all, it was free work for them, and free experience for her. She had nothing to go home to, anyway, so why not stay a little late? However, it was dark one night when she'd left, and she'd missed a phone call from Henry. When he called the next day, he scolded her a little for walking alone in the dark to the parking garage, and although she didn't admit it then, he was right. It was dangerous. So she makes it a point, now, to leave before the sun is completely down below the horizon.

The sign is just illuminating on the side of the building, shining "Signet Banking Corp" so brightly into the dusk. All the signs almost compete with the sunset, but she still watches it as it goes down further behind the buildings.

When she gets to the parking garage and finds her car, she sets her bag in the passenger seat and sighs for a moment, leaning down and resting her head on the steering wheel.

This internship with Signet has been so rewarding—it's taught her a lot about financial analysis that she never would learn from her college classes, she's sure. She picked it up quickly. Her supervisor, Mr. Thompson, immediately took a liking to how quickly she could collect their data for them. He'd even made some remarks about hoping to hire her once she graduates with her B.S. at UVA.

But this isn't her. She's so worn out after every day, and maybe she wouldn't feel this way so badly if half of her heart wasn't eleven hours away in Pensacola, but she thought she would enjoy this job much more than she actually does.

When she got the call saying she was selected as one of Signet's interns for the summer, she knew this was a big deal. She had celebrated with Henry that night by going to their favorite diner down the road from the school, the one they went on their first date at. They had the same waitress, Patty, and they shared a tall chocolate milkshake together just like that first time—thanks to Patty both times.

Now, she finds the job boring. She thought she would enjoy mining all this data from trends and financial models and forecasting the results from all her research. The first week or so was great—she was doing what she'd wanted to do. But what was she doing, really, was the question after the first month. Who was she helping? She would never get to directly see the return for all her work. And that, well, is just frustrating.

She turns on to Pine Street and is looking down at her radio, adjusting it away from all the incessant commercials that her rock station has been playing lately. She looks up about halfway down the street from their house and sees a car in the driveway.

Squinting to try and see in this darkness what color or what kind of car it is, she eases back on the gas, staying a little ways away from her home as she assesses the situation. She definitely had not been expecting any company, so why would anyone be here at almost 9:00 at night?

Then, as if her mind was being projected somehow on the top of her car, she sees a body come around the car while waving. "Isabelle…" she mutters, half questioning if that was really her.

She rolls her window down as she pulls into the driveway, "Isabelle?" She asks, still confused and wondering if, somehow, she'd fallen asleep at the wheel and is unconscious and having one of those weird coma dreams.

"Hey," her friend replies, leaning into the window of Elizabeth's car and folding her arms, "Sorry to surprise you, but I brought a friend who wants to see you."

"Isabelle," she scolds, putting the car in park and leaning her head against her palm as her elbow digs into her door, "I—who? Who could possibly want to see me at this hour?" She asks, "I'm exhausted and—"

"You'll want to see this friend." She interrupts Elizabeth's monologuing, patting her arm and smiling.

Elizabeth is too tired to really go into all the different theories of who it could possibly be, so she just sighs and reaches to turn the engine off, but then she sees Henry walking around the corner of Isabelle's car and she immediately gasps. Her fingers are frozen around the key—she hasn't moved to turn it off, but Isabelle is opening the door for her.

She moves to step out of the car but is stopped by her seatbelt almost choking her, and she quickly unbuckles it and jumps out of the car, hitting Henry so hard after running to him that she thinks, briefly, that he might fall over. "How did you get here?!" She breathes into his shoulder, squeezing him for dear life.

He's rubbing her back and nuzzling his face into her neck, "I drove." He mumbles, moving to push his lips against the side of her neck and pull himself away, "I drove eleven hours."

She looks up and into his face, studying it for any hint of lying. "You drove?" She asks.

"I didn't steal a jet, if that's what you're asking." He teases, giving her a kiss on the lips.

She relaxes into his kiss immediately, her hands linking together behind his neck as she feels like her legs might melt away underneath her. All thought about Isabelle had gone away, even though she was still standing behind Elizabeth watching the scene unfold.

After a few moments of being on his lips too long, she pulls away and looks at him again, "You don't have a vehicle to drive here," she says, questioning her brain and wondering if she really is in a coma.

He shakes his head, "No, but I can rent one if I pay extra for being underage." He says with a little laugh, shuffling in his spot and holding his hands on her hips, "It kind of took all my pay I got from training." He admits.

She shakes her head and smiles at him, bringing her hands up to his cheeks and brushing her right thumb against his chin back and forth, "I don't care," she whispers, kissing him once more, but a little quicker this time, "I'm just glad you're here."

"It's only for the night," he says softly, then looks at Isabelle and smiles, "She helped me with the surprise. My car is parked down the street." He explains.

Elizabeth widens her eyes before looking over her shoulder at Isabelle, finally remembering that her—their—friend was still behind her. "You're a great friend, Isabelle."

She's leaned against her own car now, her hands in her pockets as she shrugs, "I do what I can." She says, pushing herself off the car and walking to the driver's side. "Don't get pregnant tonight." She says as she reaches for her door handle.

Elizabeth feels her face redden a bit, but she just bites her lip because Isabelle, after all, knows they'll definitely not be wasting the opportunity. She decides to not even be argumentative and simply thank Isabelle, "Thank you for bringing him," she calls out to her before her friend sits down.

Isabelle waves her hand out the door, "Yeah, yeah, get back to sucking face." She says with a smile as she shuts the door and backs out the driveway.

Henry looks down at her and smiles, his own face seeming a little red if Elizabeth could see it well enough in the glow of the garage light shining down above the door. "Why would she ever think we would do something so…so dirty?" He says sarcastically.

Elizabeth looks up at him and bites her lip, standing on her toes to kiss just under his ear, "Because she knows I've been so lovesick, and it has to present itself in some way other than just tears, right?" She whispers.

"I don't want to go to sleep," Elizabeth whispers after she yawns, laying there in his arms with just a sheet covering their bodies.

She feels his leg shift to wrap around both of hers as he pulls her a little tighter into his body, kissing her forehead, "You know we need to," he whispers.

"So how did you even manage to leave?" She asks.

He laughs, and when she hears him sigh, she grows a bit concerned. "Well," he says, and she is shutting her eyes now, wondering what he's gotten himself into. "I got in trouble today."

"Henry!" She says, opening her eyes and looking at him, "So you're going to be in even more trouble when they find out you left?!"

"No," he says quickly, "As long as I'm back before training starts tomorrow. Today we had dawn training, tomorrow we have sunset training. I just have to be back by 6:00."

She feels like she's been deflated when he says that, knowing he has to leave her around 7:00 tomorrow morning. "Now I really don't want to go to sleep." She admits quietly, then looks back up at him, "So why did you get in trouble? What did you do?"

He shrugs, "Went to Mach 2." He says nonchalantly.

She squints at him, "I don't really know what that means, Henry, but I'm guessing it's not a good thing."

Henry shifts a bit and clears his throat, "We're supposed to stay at Mach 1, which is a speed up to about 800 miles per hour, give or take." He explains and she widens his eyes when she thinks about him up in the sky in that little tin can of a jet flying at the speed of sound.

"Wait," she says, almost growling when she realizes he said "supposed to stay." She squints her eyes at him with her mouth hanging open, "You did not, Henry McCord! Do not tell me you went faster than 800 miles per hour!"

His teeth scrape on his top lip, his own tell that gives him away every time.

"Henry James McCord!" She scolds, smacking him a little too hard on the chest.

"Elizabeth!" He whines, still holding onto her body, "It was just Mach 2! It could've gone faster—"

"Do not tell me ever again that you—" she stops and realizes something again, "Henry, the speed of sound…" she's doing the math in her head and closes her eyes when her stomach sinks, "The speed of sound is about 767 miles per hour. You're telling me you went faster than the speed of sound?" She asks carefully, trying to not absolutely yell at him and make this a miserable night for the both of them.

He just squeezes her body a little, though, and it makes her want to punch him. "Mach 2 is actually double the speed of sound." He admits after a few moments of silence, being quieter than he had before, seeming much like a child who was just admitting to stealing cookies from the cookie jar.

"Henry!" She gasps, "God, please don't ever tell me what you do up there anymore."

"Okay, one more thing." He says, "And then I won't tell you anymore unless you want."

She looks at him and searches his face, looking at an excited little boy in front of her. "Go on," she says reluctantly.

"I got in trouble for that, but my instructors kind of left me off the hook because I almost went into G-LOC."

"I don't even want to know what that is."

"Good," Henry says quickly, breezing right on past that subject, "They told me I needed to get my head cleared and put back on straight because I was one of their best pilots in this group." He says proudly, his chest rising just an inch or so more. "So I told them that the best way for me to do that was to come home for the night. They didn't disagree, so I left."

"You drove eleven hours straight?" She asks, a bit baffled.

He nods, "I did. And I'll do it as often as I can." He whispers, pressing his lips to her nose. "I was so…I was lovesick." He admits with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head, "I was so lovesick."

"Me too," she admits. She looks up at him and then over his shoulder at his clock on the bedstand, realizing it was only 10:30. They still had plenty of time before they had to go to sleep. "I also realized that being a financial analyst just…isn't for me."

"What?" Henry asks, clearly shocked by this announcement.

She nods, "Yeah," she replies timidly, shrugging her shoulder and looking at him again, "It's…it's not rewarding, if that makes sense."

He thinks for a moment and finally nods, "It does," he replies, then furrows his brows and shifts a little, "Then what do you think you might like doing?" He asks.

She shakes her head and shrugs again, "I have no clue." She admits with a nervous laugh, "That was the…the plan. The path." She says shakily, "I'd planned on doing that since I was a freshman in high school." She admits.

He's rubbing her back now, and she realizes she must look a lot more worried than she means to. He's using his soothing tactics, his calming maneuvers that he knows work on her. "What else did you like to do?"

"In high school?"

"Yeah," he replies.

She shrugs, "I was on the debate team." She says, "But I can't see myself being a lawyer or something. I can't see myself doing that at all, actually."

He nods, "Me either." He says quietly, "You don't have to figure it out tonight." He whispers.

"I know," she admits, "I just…it's gotten to me. My future feels…fuzzy, now."

He brings one hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip and dragging it downward just a bit. "I know something that can take your mind off it for a while."

"Oh, do you?" She coos.

"I do." He whispers, rolling over on top of her and holding his body above hers, looking almost as if he were about to do a push-up over her.

She smirks and brings her hands to rest on his biceps, noticing that they're protruding a bit more than they were a month ago. "The Marines are making you quite the muscle man." She notices.

He smiles and literally does a push-up over her, hovering himself just above her body so that they weren't touching yet, but she feels her nipple brush against his skin and it sends a shudder through her body. His lips are just right above hers, too, "Do you like it?" He whispers coyly.

She bites her lip and runs her fingers down his arms, gripping onto his forearm a little naughtily, "I think it makes you even sexier." She whispers, looking up into his eyes before he lets his lips crash down on hers.