They had both opted to leave their youngest child in the dark of the events that took place in Iran. If it were up to Elizabeth no one would know what she had experienced on her recent trip, but that wasn't a possibility. Stevie, being perceptive as hell, had already known that her mother was where the coup was taking place, and Allison had pieced the puzzle together shortly after her older sister. One thing's for sure, they were certainly Elizabeth's children.
When it came to Jason, it was different. Henry had made the initial decision to keep his wife's whereabouts from his son. He knew that Lizzie would have done the same. He realized he had made the right choice withholding information from the thirteen year old when he held his crying daughters in his arms late that night. They had both eventually fallen asleep, lying in his and Elizabeth's bed, but he had stayed awake, watching the little footage the news stations had of Iran.
When Lizzie did arrive home, the family had rushed to greet her at the door. Ally hurried to their mother first, with everyone else trailing close behind. The middle child had rammed into Bess, so relieved that she was home. Henry was the only one who noticed the wince of pain on her face when their children wrapped their arms around their mom.
The funerals of her DS agents were hard. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact they had died protecting her. She replayed the moments of the explosion in her head over and over. The feeling of Fred's heavy body on top of her, taking the deadly bullets for her. She could hear the screaming…so much screaming. She still saw the blood, the glass, and of course the child. The child yelling as the bullets collided with his father's chest. She felt detached from herself. Numb. She couldn't feel anything, at least not yet. The days after the attack were busy. She was at the office more often than not, but by her own choice. And then she had the funerals, which ripped all the energy she had seemed to have left from her. Her pale face, and shaky frame were noticed by most, especially the President. The older man didn't expect any less from the woman after the tragic events, but it seemed she wouldn't rest if the decision was in her own hands, so Conrad had ordered her home.
The first day was spent mostly in bed. Although Elizabeth was woken by the nightmares of Iran frequently, she had slept. Which was an upgrade to the previous nights. After she had snapped at Henry, her husband had decided to give his wife space. He had made himself busy downstairs by completing mundane tasks, with his children seeming to hover around him. Jason had questioned where Bess was. Henry had told him that she was just resting from the long days she had been spending at the office. Jason didn't give his dad's answer a second thought. He sensed his daughters' weariness of their mother's condition. They didn't know how to handle the situation, and he didn't know either. He didn't know how to comfort the woman made of steel.
The second day was horrific. Henry was grateful the kids had been at school, so they didn't witness the events that took place in their own home. It seemed Elizabeth had finally realized what had happened to her, or what didn't happen to her. She was lucky to be alive. Being so close to death scared the crap out of her. Early that morning Henry had found her, knees to her chest, in the corner of their bedroom, sobbing into her knees. The image was heart shattering. He leaned down close to her, and helped her through the first of the numerous panic attacks. When his children had arrived home, and after Jason had retreated to his room, the three McCords stood around the kitchen island in silence. Allison was too fearful to ask their dad about their mom, so Stevie bit the bullet and questioned, "How's mom?"
The third day was better. Elizabeth had surprised the group by descending the stairs to join her family for Saturday morning pancakes. After Henry, and his daughters wiped the look of initial shock from their faces, they went on normally. The family sat around the dining room table, sharing stories about their week. There were smiles and laughs, but when Henry looked into his wife's eyes he could still see the unresolved pain and conflict behind her facade.
The next day Henry was uncertain on what to do. He needed to run to his office, to pick up a stack of files, and meet with a student who wanted to discuss his most recent paper. He would be gone at most two hours. 'It's just two hours' he kept telling himself, but he kept debating the idea of leaving his wife unattended. It was only her fourth day home, and after Iran he didn't know what to expect from her. One simple action could send her spiraling downward. She was experiencing mood swings, outbursts of crying, or in the worst case, anxiety attacks. And she was unpredictable, which was why he was wary of leaving her. Stevie was out with a friend, Ally at a study group, which just leaves Jason. Jason, the one who was being kept out of the loop from everything going on with his wife.
Ultimately Henry convinced himself it would be okay. It was only two hours. Henry pushed open the door to Jason's room before he could change his mind once again. The teenager was sitting at his desk, typing on his laptop. "Hey buddy." Henry greeted him, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Jason looked up and over his shoulder at his dad. "hey." He responded. "What are you working on?" Henry questioned, doubtful he was actually working on his homework. "I've got some stupid report due tomorrow." He answered. Now that sounded like his son. "Keep on working at it." Henry told him. "I have to go to Georgetown to pick up some papers to grade. I should be back in about two hours. Okay?" Jason merely nodded his head. "Jace?" he questioned, wanting an answer. "Got it." Jason said, spinning around in his chair to face his father. "Do me a favor, and just keep an eye on mom, alright?" the boy nodded his head.
Jason was a smart guy. He wasn't totally oblivious to what was going on around him. He noticed the slight changes going on with not only his mom, but his other family members. He saw the way his dad and sisters tensed when their mom came into the room. He noted the way his father didn't laugh as much since her return. He saw the emptiness behind his mother's eyes. She wasn't the same, but he didn't push the topic.
Elizabeth had gotten antsy lying in bed. She flipped through nearly all the television channels, searching for something that caught her eye. After about an hour of watching an old rerun of the West Wing, she flipped off the TV. She tried to get some much needed sleep, but after about ten minutes she decided her brain was too wired to settle down. So that's how she ended up here, standing on top of a wooden chair running her eyes over the books on hers and Henry's colossal book collection.
She had been experiencing headaches these past few days, so when a pang of discomfort ran through her head she wasn't entirely surprised. What did surprise her was the dizziness that followed. She wobbled on her feet, and before she could reach out to grab hold of the built in bookshelves, she and the chair tipped over. She fell backwards, hitting her back on the edge of the chair, landing on the ground. She hissed in a breath of air as her eyes shut harshly due to the pain radiating from the very tender spot on her back. "Oh god." She groaned. It felt like the piece of glass slicing her back open all over again. Elizabeth rolled over onto her stomach, hoping to relieve some of the pressure on her backside. But the pain didn't subside. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt the familiar rush of wetness on her back. She carefully stood up from the ground, and slowly made her way into the ensuite bathroom. She turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder, trying to get a good look at the cut, but the action sent another jolt of pain through her body. Not being able to see she brought a hand behind her and fingered the wound, wincing at the agony it caused. She brought her hand back around, and just what she suspected. Blood, and a lot of it.
Jason was just beginning his second page of his paper, when he had heard the loud thud sound through the house. He paused his music he was currently listening to, expecting to hear something else. But when he didn't hear another sound, he rose from his desk chair. "Mom?" he questioned.
She pulled a small hand towel from the rack, lifted her blood stained silk pajama shirt, and slowly pressed the towel against the now open wound. She groaned in response. This couldn't be good. Her heart started speeding up, sweat began to bead at her hairline, and her legs began to shake slightly. She knew what was happening; she was on the verge of another panic attack. She had been doing better, but this all brought her back to the place she prayed to forget. Iran. This was all too much. That's when she lost it. She let the tears roll down her face freely. She let go. Her hand holding the towel to her back fell to her side, as her other hand came to clutch the front of her shirt not being able to breathe.
Jason slowly approached his parent's bedroom. His heart sped up as his ears filled with the sounds of his mother's cries. He turned the corner, and his stomach dropped at what he saw. Blood. His eyes went to the towel that was now covered with patches of red, and then to the blood soaked shirt. His eyes ran over her body, her trembling body. She stood there in the middle of the bathroom, sobbing.
"Mom?" he questioned, drawing closer to her. She froze hearing his voice, or at least tried to. She couldn't let her kids see her like this, especially her youngest. It was to protect him, to shield him from this tragic experience. She wiped at her eyes before she whipped around to face her son. "Jace." She whispered. She tried to steady her breaths, but her chest still heaved. "What's wrong?" he asked her, concern written all over his face. She waved him off. "I'm fine." She said simply. She shook her head, and swallowed. The panic began to rise in her once again. She needed him to leave and fast before she completely lost it. "Jason I need you to go downstairs." She commanded, with her voice cracking at the end. He took another step towards his mom. "No I'm not leaving you." he told her. "Jason." She cried, her face withering with pain. Jason took the towel from his mother's hand, and set it on the countertop. "What happened?" she heard him mumble.
She could answer that question a thousand different ways, but she didn't want to. She shook her head, not being able to give her son a response. Instead, she chocked out a cry. "This is about Iran isn't it?" he looked up, meeting her eyes. "You were hurt." He proclaimed. Oh god he reminded her so much of herself at that moment. That instant the only thing she could do was nod her head. Jason gently placed his hand on her arm, and asked, "Can I help you?" she slowly nodded.
Elizabeth bit her lip, and gripped the counter in front of her as Jason cleaned and bandaged the wound. After she felt him tug down her shirt, she muttered a 'thank you'. "I know…" he began. Elizabeth turned towards him. "I know you've been hurting, and I'm sorry." Jason commented. Elizabeth let out a sigh, and slipped to the bathroom floor, leaning against the cabinets. Jason followed her lead and did the same. "And I've been hurting you guys." She admitted, looking at her son. She shifted her gaze downwards focusing on her hands in her lap. "I didn't want to bear any of this on any of you, but I guess…I hurt you all anyways." She mourned. She turned her head to look at Jason. "You know I saw some things…in Iran." she stuttered on the painful word. "I don't know how to get through this." she muttered aloud to herself. There were a few moments of silence until, Jason placed a comforting hand on her arm and proclaimed, "You've always told me you've never met a situation where you don't have a choice in the matter. This is your choice mom. Decide to be stronger than this. Make that decision."
A few silent tears trailed down her cheeks, while her gaze was still fixated on her son. "When did you get so smart?" She inquired, lightening the tone of the conversation. Elizabeth wrapped an arm around the shoulder of the young boy. "All from you." he answered simply. She gave a quiet laugh at his statement.
Henry became worried when he peered into Jason's room and didn't see his son working at his desk. He quickly walked the short distance down the hallway to his bedroom, and opened the door. Henry's heart quickened when he didn't see his wife in their bed. He looked from left to right glancing over the room again. He was about to call her name, when he heard the faint voices seeming to come from their bathroom. He turned to the left, and saw his son and his wife sitting on the tile floor, backs against the cabinets. He couldn't decide if he was relieved or scared to see them sitting there. He swallowed hard as he approached the bathroom doorway. "Lizzie." He breathed. They both looked up at Henry, and she gave him a sad smile. He could tell she had been crying. Red eyes, and puffy cheeks. Oh god what had happened, and what had Jason seen? But he looked at his son, and surprisingly he looked rather calm. "What are you two up to?" She could see the worry lining his face, and the stiffness in the way he held his shoulders. "We were just…talking." She reassured him.
"Well how about we all head downstairs, and I can fix you two something to eat." Henry suggested. Jason looked at his mom, and seeing no signs of declining the offer, he nodded.
After the two on the ground stood and Henry had exited the bathroom, Elizabeth called "Jace", and touched her son's arm to catch his attention. He turned back around to face his mother, and she instantly pulled him to her and enveloped him in a hug. She kissed the top of his head, and told him, "I'll always make that decision."