Cliff's stomach was in knots by the time he showed up at Annie's the next day, bringing along leftover casserole and some of Dawson's latest pastry batch for a lunch that he had no appetite for. How could he face her and confess to being not only a failure, but a liar--and not just to her, but to the family that she cared so much about?

When she opened the door and greeted him with a warm smile, somehow the knots loosened--then immediately tightened again when he realized he'd be losing that easy peacefulness he always felt around her.

"Hi." She leaned in to place a short peck on his lips, but he reached for her before she could pull away, just to hold her there for a second in a gentle kiss that would undoubtedly be their last. He'd never touch her again, never hold her. His heart sank as he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers, the weight of reality settling on his shoulders.

Annie's hands came up to cup his face. "Is something wrong?"

Her touch was so gentle, the question so earnest. And her thumb stroked over his scarred cheek without any hesitation, soothing enough to cause a lump in his throat.

"Yes," he admitted, struggling to get the word out.

She pulled back, brows furrowed, eyes trailing over his face. "What happened?"

"I..." he sighed, shaking his head. "I have to tell you something, Annie."

"Come inside," she said, reaching for his hand and guiding him through the doorway. She shut the door behind them and Cliff went to the table to set down the bag of food. Pacing, he ran a hand through his hair as she asked, "Are you okay?"

He stilled, nodding. He was making her worry. He just needed to say it, to rip off the band-aid. "I haven't been honest with you," he started, though the words clawed at his throat.

Blonde hair fell over her shoulder thanks to the confused tilt of her head. He wanted to reach out and run his hands through it, wanted to touch her while he still had the chance. The blue sweater she had on matched her eyes and only made the concern in them all the more clear. He balled his fists and kept his hands at his sides. He didn't deserve the concern, and he certainly didn't deserve to touch her.

"I don't know how to say this, Annie. There's something I haven't told you--or anyone--about the night of the accident." Because looking at her made him ache, he cast his gaze away. "I don't think you'll want to be with me anymore, and I won't blame you."

"Cliff..." Her voice was soft, and she walked the room to reach him, taking his hands in hers. When he finally looked at her, he could see the worry, the genuine care, written all over her face. "Don't worry about that, please. You can tell me."

And he had to. He had to admit, finally, that the night of the accident was nothing like she was picturing. He'd gone to the audition, bombed, and gotten into a wreck on the way back to his hotel. And instead of telling everyone the truth, he was such a coward that he lied, lied and let them all believe he'd been a victim of bad luck rather than lack of talent.

"I..." He met her eyes, watched them trail over his face. How could she stand the sight of him? Marred and wrong, the perfect show of what was on the inside. She liked him because she thought he was good. Thought he was talented and honest. Someone she could trust.

When he told her the truth, she'd never look at him like this again. He'd have to face her disgust every day and live with the knowledge that she never would have liked the real him to begin with. There would be no more comfort. No more warmth. He'd still love her, but he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

"I can't have children," he blurted. The words surprised him almost as much as they clearly did her. She blinked, lips parting to no sound.

He needed to say what he came there to say. Instead, he started rambling. "The accident made me infertile. The doctors told me I was lucky, and that it was almost a lot worse. Everything else... I mean, I still..." He flushed, embarrassed both by the topic and the fact that he yet again had avoided the whole truth. This was a grain of sand on the beach that was the truth about that night, even though he knew this too could mean the end of their relationship.

"I just can't have kids," he finished. "I know we just started dating--maybe it's seems... presumptuous that I'm even telling you this. But I thought you should know. And I understand if... if that's important to you--"

She shook her head, letting out a shaky breath. "Even if it was, Cliff, you're more important."

Relief spread through him, tainted by regret. Why was there a small part of him that had been hoping it would be a dealbreaker? He was trying to take the easy way out, the coward's way. Trying to avoid the confession he so desperately didn't want to make.

"Are you sure?" How could she be? Things could change. If they stayed together, ended up married and settled down, the way he'd pictured so many times since they'd met, who was to say she wouldn't want a family, biological children? "I don't want you to settle, Annie. You deserve--"

"Settle?" The word came out as a laugh. "Cliff... I don't deserve a man half as wonderful as you are. You're... You're brave, and honest," the words cut through him, "Open, kind. I'm sorry that it happened to you, but it doesn't make me want to be with you any less."

He looked in her eyes and nearly drowned in guilt at the knowledge that he was none of those things. His qualities were the opposite of what she thought. He was a liar, plain and simple. And he was a coward, because he couldn't even admit to it.

He reached for her, and even as he told himself not to, pulled her into a kiss in an attempt to soothe the pain. They could be happy. They could end up together, married and settled in a house by the river. He would love her as much as any man could love, and do everything to make her happy. 

And if he told the truth to her, to anyone, it would never happen.

It was he who had to bear the weight of the lies. Everyone else got to live in ignorance, believe the easier story, the one that painted him as someone they liked to have around. If he told the truth, it would hurt them. 

Maybe it would only make things worse. Maybe it was better to be the only one who knew, the one who had to deal with it.

Everyone could be happy that way. His family wouldn't be embarrassed, wouldn't wonder what they did to deserve a failure for a son, a brother. Wouldn't have to live with the knowledge that they'd been lied to year after year.

And Annie would be loved. Loved the way she deserved to be. Maybe not by a man who deserved to do it, but she'd be happy. He'd do anything to make sure of that.

He pulled away, and let himself relax into a smile as he watched her do the same. "Come on. Let's eat."