A/N: Happy birthday Sage! I hope this does your day justice.
This was a very interesting way of looking at Elizabeth's backstory, I hope it makes sense. I tried to separate the stages of her life, from Lizzie to Liz to Elizabeth to Bess and everything in between because to me, every facet of her (and corresponding name) is important in its own way. Also, I think it all worked out, but our showrunners made a mathematically impossible backstory, so bear with me.
And yep, the spaghetti story is true; I was an odd 9-year old.
Reviews make my day.
10
Lizzie Adams was turning ten — double digits, as she proudly proclaimed to anyone and everyone who would listen — and she was beyond excited. They were going to have some of her friends from school over later, for pony rides and ice cream cake (her favourite). But the first part of her birthday she'd celebrate with her family, and honestly, that was the most important part of the day for her anyway. Even if Will had to be there; because deep down, he didn't just annoy her, she really did love her brother. No luck getting her to admit that though.
Adams family birthdays were always special. Lizzie's parents would wake her or Will up by singing "Happy Birthday" to them, and they were allowed to have whatever they wanted for breakfast. For Lizzie, that meant pancakes with a little bit of ice cream on the side; her parents had their bounds, after all. One year, she'd boldly declared she wanted spaghetti for breakfast, but regretted the idea after two bites. She happily ate pancakes instead.
After breakfast, her parents would let her open presents from her family. It wasn't the presents that made this part of the day incredibly special, as much as that she cherished sitting on her father's lap afterward as he told her stories and just let the lazy morning go by. She felt so loved and cared for in these moments — not that she didn't feel the same the other 364 days of the year — but on her birthday, it seemed as though the feeling was amplified.
Then her friends came and the quiet calm of the morning was replaced by a horde of nine and ten year olds giddy about horses, hopped up on sugar, and way too excited about being at a party. Her parents just smiled and took it in stride; she was their little girl after all, and she was allowed some rambunctious fun every once in a while.
14
Two years after the unexpected death of her parents, Liz Adams had finally somewhat adjusted to boarding school. The first year had been positively awful, the grief still so fresh in her mind. She had struggled to open up; too closed off to really connect with anyone, putting up walls to shield in her feelings. In her second year at Houghton Hall, she'd met Joey.
They became fast friends, both on the debate team, both carrying their own demons. Joey was destined to become King of Bahrain one day, and Liz could tell it bothered him more than he let on; he was definitely struggling with his progressive beliefs and the polar opposite he encountered back home. He, in turn, saw just how much Lizzie (he was one of a few people still allowed to call her that) grieved when it came to her parents; she'd opened up to him late one night and practically spilled out all her feelings at once.
Together, they'd found a close circle of friends, and Liz was finally beginning to feel somewhat at home at Houghton Hall. That fall, when she turned fourteen, Joey surprised her on the eve of her birthday, on the roof of Sukaly dorm. He'd gathered all their friends, somehow found a lone bottle of champagne (years later, he still wouldn't admit to where he'd gotten it) and they spent the evening out in the New England cold — talking, laughing and drinking tiny sips of bubbly at the stroke of midnight.
They all felt so grown up in that moment, filled with a false sense of adulthood, like they all knew exactly how their lives would play out. In their minds, Liz, Joey and all their friends had somehow skipped the part of adolescence that was filled with awkward crushes and soul-searching. They were jumping head-first into the real world, determined to make society a better, more forward-thinking place. Little did they know real life rarely followed textbooks and grand, abstract ideas.
So they sat in a circle, sipping bitter champagne they pretended to like the taste of, oblivious to their own naïvety, ready to change the world.
19
Liz Adams turned nineteen in her first semester at UVA. Here, she had neither Joey nor Will to celebrate with, and she was left wondering how she'd become desperate enough to yearn for a brief visit from her brother.
Will left her a message on the answering machine in her dorm the morning of her birthday, explaining that: "Lizzie, I'm sorry, but I can't talk till Sunday, so happy birthday and I'll send you a card soon!" She huffed and deleted the message, lacking the determination to be mad at him, because honestly, it was a waste of energy.
Her roommate Julia (who had a social life and went to parties and kissed boys in dark, secluded hallways and apparently was making the most of college) finally managed to coax Liz away from her books and out for the night. They went to a restaurant with some friends, and Liz wore the perfect façade of excitement and gratitude for the presents she received. In truth, she felt like weeping — but that wasn't something one did on a birthday — so she shoved her feelings aside and pretended to enjoy herself. If she smiled enough, she reasoned, she might just trick her body into actually having fun.
Truthfully, the girls she was out with were all lovely, and they'd managed to put together a fun evening. She wanted desperately to feel free enough to genuinely enjoy herself, but it seemed as though Will's message and her parents' absence had put a damper on her whole day.
Later that night, lying in bed with a snoring Julia on the other side of the room, she mulled over the past two months. It wasn't like she was unhappy at UVA, far from that. Her classes were interesting, she was finally studying what she was passionate about, and the professors were engaged with their students and the subjects they taught. She also felt close to her parents here, in some abstract sense, remembering how she'd walked the grounds as a little girl, letting her father show her around. She'd been fascinated by the rich history of the place, felt at home in his office, in the libraries, and had so much fun sneaking around the lecture halls with Will, trying not to get caught.
No, the feeling of loneliness was more of a dull ache that didn't let her be fully present, like she was missing something in her life she couldn't define.
20
Elizabeth Adams opened her eyes and yawned as the realization hit her. She was twenty years old; she'd reached two decades of existence. She smiled as the smell of pancakes wafted over to her and she stretched like a cat in Henry's bed. Her boyfriend of nine months was an excellent cook, and he'd apparently made her breakfast. She grinned and rolled out of bed, donning one of Henry's t-shirts and plaid pyjama bottoms that nearly swallowed her whole.
For the first time in years, Elizabeth was actually excited about her birthday. Henry had been dropping hints that he had something planned for the past week, and she was all hopped up with excitement. They'd celebrated Henry's birthday very simply in March (mainly due to the fact that he'd neglected to tell her about it) and she was looking forward to a sweet but simple day with him.
She padded into the kitchen and saw him flipping pancakes, a smile appearing on her face. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind, inhaling his scent mixed with that of their breakfast. He turned around to face her, and kiss her, thoroughly, before he pulled back and grinned. "Happy birthday, babe. I have a little bit of ice cream to go with the pancakes."
"Hmm, you're perfect. I love you," she said, utterly content.
"Love you too."
After breakfast, Henry led Elizabeth outside, ready to show her the surprise he had planned. He'd instructed her to dress for the outdoors, leaving her slightly confused, but she went along with it. He opened the trunk of his car to reveal her fly fishing equipment plus an extra set of waders and a rod for himself. "I figured I ought to learn someday, and who'd make a better teacher than my expert girlfriend?" he said, smiling.
Elizabeth beamed and kissed him, she hadn't had an opportunity to go fishing for ages and Henry was willing to learn. "How did you get my rod and waders up here?" she asked, still in a bit of shock he'd actually coordinated this. He gave her a conspiratorial grin and kissed her cheek, shrugging. Some secrets stayed between him and Frank, the stable manager.
That night, after a day of fishing (with the end result that Henry cursed the rod and blamed it for his inability to catch anything, at which Elizabeth broke out into hysterical laughter) and a dinner with some of their closest friends, Elizabeth was lying next to Henry, sated and spent after a celebration of an entirely different nature.
Tangled together, she took a moment to appreciate how her life had changed over the past nine months, how Henry and his love for her were beginning to soothe the years of grief she'd endured alone, how he was peeling back layers to uncover her soul. "Thank you for making my birthday special," she whispered. "I love you."
"I love you too."
26
Bess McCord was sitting at her desk at Langley, twisting her wedding band nervously as she waited for the call to come through. Henry had been deployed for six months now; he was scheduled to come home in another three, and the distance was slowly becoming unbearable.
They'd done it all before, this was his second deployment, but it didn't make the waiting any less painful, any less terrifying. Her work with the CIA was keeping her occupied at least — watching screens for heat activity in bunkers halfway across the world and sifting through piles and piles of documents and intel gathered by operatives on the ground. It never seemed to end, but she relished in the mounds of paperwork that littered her desk; they took her mind off of the fact that her husband was flying planes in a war thousands of miles away.
CIA work had another perk (or downfall, depending on the viewpoint) — Bess was privy to more of what Henry was up to over in Iraq, and she'd be alerted much quicker if, God forbid, anything were to happen to him. It was a blessing and a curse, and she'd come to rely on the fast intel to keep her heart from jumping out of her chest when his unit was in distress.
Now, the line crackled a little and she heard Henry's voice. She choked up immediately, but swallowed the lump in her throat — it was her turn to be the strong one; Henry was off fighting a war, after all.
"Happy birthday, babe! You're 26!" he said cheerfully. They tried to keep phone calls light, as they were limited, and the heavy stuff was reserved for the piles of letters they wrote one another.
"Thanks Henry," she said, chuckling. "Reminding me how I'm withering away over here."
"I'm sure you're still gorgeous and youthful as ever," he joked.
"But am I still hot? I mean, I've lived for more than a quarter of a century now."
Henry laughed, imagining his impossibly beautiful wife back in Virginia, trying to will himself not to choke up because he couldn't hold her in his arms and kiss her on her birthday.
"Still hot as can be, babe. Don't you worry. Any plans to celebrate?"
"The gang is taking me out for drinks. I'll have a scotch in your honour."
"Sounds perfect. Listen, I gotta go. I love you so much, Elizabeth McCord, don't you ever forget that."
"I love you too baby, so much."
So she went out that night, with Conrad, and Isabelle, and Juliet and Munsey and George, and she drank a scotch (and some wine as well) and celebrated and had a good time. But the familiar feeling of loneliness still plagued her, only this time, she knew exactly what was missing — it was half her of heart, stationed thousands of miles away.
39
Elizabeth McCord woke to the smell of pancakes wafting up from downstairs. She smiled, Henry was up, and as tradition called for, she'd eat pancakes with just a little bit of ice cream for breakfast today, even if she was turning 39 years old. She also knew that despite it being her birthday, she and Henry had three kids to feed and clothe and put on school buses before they themselves headed to work at UVA. She sighed and plastered on a smile, forcing herself to be ready to face the day.
When she walked down the stairs, she was greeted with an onslaught of "Happy birthdays," from her children, even Stevie, who as a newly minted teenager usually acted too cool for anything of the like. It warmed her heart. Ali and Jason were still adorably enthusiastic, especially because her birthday meant they were getting pancakes on a school day.
After she hugged her children, Elizabeth walked over to Henry, who pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled into the kiss, which was swiftly interrupted by a chorus of "eewws" courtesy of their daughters. Jason, barely six, was blissfully oblivious. She and Henry broke apart, still not leaving each other's arms. They surveyed their little family, so blissfully happy and carefree. The bucolic life had been the right decision.
As their lunch break neared, Elizabeth was about to text Henry to meet him when the door to her office opened to reveal her husband with a smile on his face and a paper bag of what she assumed to be her favourite takeout in his hands. God, he really was perfect sometimes.
"Hey," he said, walking over to peck her lips. "Got a little time for lunch?"
"Always," she replied, smiling.
They ate together, making easy conversation, occasionally brushing up against one another and grinning at the contact. When the food was eaten, and the containers thrown away, their contact increased — more specifically, they found themselves making out on the sofa in Elizabeth's office. After a little while, Henry pulled away, breathless, and she let out a disappointed groan.
Henry just chuckled and rummaged around in his briefcase before pulling out a little box. Elizabeth grinned, her husband was always the best gift-giver. She settled back on the couch in anticipation. "So, we've been together 20 years now, but I saved this for your birthday. I love you, Elizabeth McCord."
She opened the box gingerly to find a gold, open oval ring with a stone in the centre connected with a vertical bar. It was beautiful, and she couldn't stop the tears that were pooling in the corners of her eyes. She looked up at a still-smiling Henry. "I had the girls help me design it and a jeweller made it for you."
She flung herself at him then, her searing kiss conveying her thanks to him — for the ring and for his love over the past twenty years and nine months.
47
As Secretary of State, Elizabeth McCord had quickly learned that her job was all-consuming — it made no exceptions for holidays and birthdays, because alas, the world never stayed quiet for too long. It was how she found herself, on the eve of her 47th birthday, texting her husband that she wouldn't make it home that night — again. They were stuck at the office, deep in yet another crisis, and would have to pull an all-nighter to make sure the world didn't spontaneously burst into flames.
She sighed and headed back to the conference room, not having realized the clock had struck midnight before she left her office (she'd given them all a ten minute break). When she opened the door to the room, her senior staff were all assembled with a cake and balloons, wearing those ridiculous pointy hats she remembered from kids' parties.
"Happy birthday, Madam Secretary!" they exclaimed, and she grinned. Despite their initial struggles, she really wouldn't trade her staff for the world.
"Thank you guys," she said wholeheartedly, and accepted the congratulations before digging into the cake with them. The sugar was bound to give everyone a bit of much needed energy to pull through the night.
As the next morning rolled around, Elizabeth and Nadine cautiously predicted they'd all be able to go home that night. So they worked through the day, finishing treaty details, and she nearly missed the phone call from Henry to wish her a happy birthday.
At seven, Elizabeth told everyone to go home, for her sake, and she herself got into the motorcade and headed home. The sight she was greeted by melted her heart. Her family had made her pancakes (with just a little ice cream) for dinner, seeing as she'd been holed up at the office that morning.
She enjoyed dinner with Henry and their kids, they were becoming few and far between. After, she and Henry flopped into bed, dead-tired, and she snuggled up against his warm and solid form. "Thank you for making my birthday special every year. I love you," she said.
He kissed the top of her head. "Of course, babe. I love you too. And I know how much you love pancakes."
She laughed, and turned to face him again. "My staff surprised me at midnight, they had a cake and everything," she mumbled, "it was really sweet."
Feeling sleep begin to take over Elizabeth, he pulled her close and turned off the light. They sighed a collective sigh of exhaustion, and tangled together, succumbed to sleep like they had so many nights before.
Fin.