1986
Elizabeth hadn't even known that Will was out of the country until he sent her an email from somewhere in Africa, working out of a medical camp with some NGO. She had thought that he was still living in London, preparing to start medical school in fall after graduating from Houghton, but, alas, her brother's usual irresponsibility had shone through.
"There are people in the world who need my help, Liz," he had explained patiently when she called him in a huff, his voice partially distorted by the poor connection. "I thought I'll head out and do some good before heading to med school to do more of what I've been doing for most of my life."
"Did you just forget to tell me?" she had demanded, not bothering to hide her flustered tone.
"I didn't want you overreacting - which is what you're doing right now, by the way - and it's just for eight months anyway. I'll be back in London just as you start to miss me," he had replied with infuriating calmness.
"Well after this it'll take more than eight months for me to miss you," she had snapped, her knuckles white from gripping the phone so tightly. "What about med school?"
"Deferred entry for a year. Calm down sis, I know what I'm doing with my life."
She had hung up on that because she had no idea whether to laugh or scream at his last statement, and she had been so agitated by the fact that her brother, her closest living family member, had unceremoniously left her without so much as a farewell, that it took her one whole month to regret that move. There was so much that she hadn't managed to tell him - that he was the world's largest asshole, that he was to stay safe and come home, and most importantly, that she loved him so he needed to stay safe and come home.
It was times like this that she was glad she lived in a boarding school, because if she had to come home to an empty house again like that horrible day when she was 12 -
Elizabeth shuddered and focused on the email on her screen instead.
'Hey Liz. Happy Thanksgiving! - Will'
Truth to be told, she had forgotten that it was Thanksgiving. Britain didn't have the tradition of celebrating Thanksgiving as much as they did back in the States and she had been busy with debate competitions and academic work since she had just started 11th grade two months ago. The A-Levels syllabus was much more intense than what she had been doing for the past four years and her insanely competitive self was set on acing those exams while ramping up her involvement in debate. It was only when all the other American students started talking about their Thanksgiving plans that she realised she was to make arrangements to fly back to Virginia too.
The idea had occurred to her almost immediately, but she spent a few days deliberating its merits before deciding not to fly home for Thanksgiving. Dinner at her aunt and uncle's was always miserable and uncomfortable, not least because both Elizabeth and Will were acutely aware that they were not entirely welcomed. After their first and rather painful dinner together, the two of them had learnt to excuse themselves as early into the meal as politely possible during their next three dinners by claiming that they wanted more time to explore their favourite spots before going back to boarding school. The two of them would then grab dinner from somewhere familiar and camp out in their hotel room for the night, flipping through channels on the television.
Her relatives didn't hate them, that Elizabeth knew. Her uncle had coordinated all the legal matters after her parents died in that car crash, from selling the horse farm to settling their inheritance, while her aunt had arranged for them to receive the best education possible. Yet both of them were so adamantly against having their own children to the point where Elizabeth always felt like she was both an intrusive and foreign species around her relatives, and that was when she had her brother beside her, who was essentially the only ties to home she had left.
Her aunt had lapped up Elizabeth's explanation that schoolwork was demanding and that she needed to study with a tinge of relief in her voice, never mind that Houghton had a longer winter break than public schools. Her uncle had transferred over additional money in case she wanted to treat herself to a fancy dinner since she would be alone - she was a little peeved that Will had told them about his gap year plans before telling her, though to be fair, he had to inform them of the deferment - and then they both expressed their wish for her to join them next year, which she gracefully sidestepped.
That was how she found herself alone in her dorm on Thanksgiving, everyone else having cleared out for the month-long winter break ahead. Even Joey had gone back to Manama, eager to escape the winter while he could. They were having an exceptionally cold winter that year so even though her debate teammate usually stayed in school while she took off, their roles were reversed that year.
To be fair, she did have quite some work to clear. Both her History and Philosophy tutors had issued stacks of readings as homework, which Elizabeth was more than happy to throw herself into. Reading up about the conflicts and ideas of the past were a good way to distract herself from the mess that her personal life felt like every now and then. Even the silence in the still air was barely noticeable if she kept humming softly.
By the time she was asleep, however, the night was no longer quiet. Howling wind filled the void created by absence, blanketing the campus and the small town surrounding it in layers and layers of snow. The storm lasted through the night, sending torrents of snow whipping against the windowpanes, burying everything exposed and lodging itself into every crevice.
It was to this snow-cloaked world that Elizabeth woke up to the next morning, when the shrill ringtone of the telephone broke through her sleep. It took her a moment to recall that she had dragged herself to bed sometime in the early morning after falling asleep at her desk and another moment to realise that the ringtone was the school anthem, which meant that the school was calling, which meant that something serious had happened and - oh.
Through the patches of windowpanes that were not covered by snow, Elizabeth could see enough to know that she was most definitely snowed in.
Well, she thought, this is going to be fun, as she answered the phone.
...
More often than not, Elizabeth found herself quiet and alone even in the company of others. Both Will and herself had dealt with their parents' deaths by retreating into themselves, away from the world and each other.
(Will's smile reminded her of the laughters they shared over meals as a family, but now it was just the two of them, them and their quiet dinners at Houghton that always edged on uncomfortable until they gave up and began eating with their own friends.)
Yet she had never been so physically alone. After her parents died, the Adams siblings had stayed with their aunt and uncle for the month before being shipped off to Houghton Hall and there had been old friends and familiar faces dropping in every now and then to check on them, the newly orphaned siblings. This time, the silence was extreme. There was not a single soul in the building apart from her, no other straggler left behind. It was as though she was in a vacuum on her own, sealed off from the rest of the world until the snowstorm eased up, which in a sense was true since the telephone network had gone down by the end of the first day.
(The sound of silence still haunted her occasionally, reminding her of the sinking dread in her stomach when she realised her parents weren't home that morning even though they promised they would be home for dinner the previous night, as she stood in their empty bedroom and dialled their numbers again and again and again -)
Elizabeth spent her time working on her assignments, keeping her mind as occupied as possible to block out the overwhelming silence that engulfed her. After one full day of silence, she resorted to reading the articles aloud and humming when she was not doing work. The solitude was causing her to be jumpy, her head snapping in the direction of any noise on instinct.
(Will came home that afternoon, having spent the night at some camp in school, slamming the door the same way that dad used to and for a split second Elizabeth's heart jumped, until she saw Will in the foyer and her momentary hope crashed into abject disappointment. Neither of them spoke for hours after that, until their relatives started pouring in as news of her parents' deaths spread.)
...
By the afternoon of the third day, she had exhausted her fairly impressive supply of concentration and motivation, feeling the unexplainable need to talk to someone or at least find some way to pass the time that was not on her own. Apart from a brief exchange with the campus staff two mornings ago, she had barely spoken to anyone since her room-mate left for the airport two days before Thanksgiving.
In the end, Elizabeth gave up and took a migraine pill, hoping that it would make her drowsy enough to, for the lack of a better word, hibernate until she could be freed from what feels very much like solitary confinement.
It took another day for the snow to be ploughed and for her to be let out and on a whim, Elizabeth dialled Will's number without pausing to calculate the time difference or the chances that he would pick up. In fact, she had almost decided to hang up when he finally did.
"Liz! Hey, I heard about the snowstorm, you got out okay?" her brother's voice crackled through, carrying his usual distant warmth.
Elizabeth let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. "Yeah, I -" she cleared her throat, her voice rough from the silence, "I got snowed in at Houghton, just got out actually, I'm, um," she glanced at the suitcase she had packed once she realised she was getting out, "catching the first flight back to Virginia."
There was a pause on the other end. "You're still at Houghton?"
Will sighed audibly before continuing, his voice sounding remarkably more chastised. "Look, sis, I'm sorry that I took off like that. I just, just wanted to do this, you know, and I didn't want to be weighed down if you had objected. I'm sorry," he repeated.
Elizabeth considered his words for a moment, which for them was the closest to open and honest communication that they had ever done. "Yeah. I'm fine, I'll see you next year?"
"I'll be back early March," Will's voice reverted to its usual cheeriness before he hung up.
Elizabeth stared at the phone in one hand and her suitcase under another, silence settling in once more. Not for the first time, she dwelled in the muted pain of their fractured relationship and the things they never spoke about, before filing her melancholy away as she made her way to the airport, grasping her nearest connection to home in belated Thanksgiving fashion.
1990
By all normal expectations, Thanksgiving dinner that year should have been fine. It was the first time Elizabeth would be seeing his family after their wedding two months ago ( - her heart still fluttered at the thought of their wedding - she was married to Henry - ) so tensions between her and the rest of the family should have been at a minimum. Of course, Elizabeth was keenly aware that Henry's father and elder sister Maureen weren't her greatest fans but his mum and younger siblings had liked her enough. Even the former two had maintained smiles that only looked slightly strained during the wedding, which Elizabeth was choosing to be optimistic about.
"I'm sorry about Maureen," Henry had said after she met his family for the first time two years ago, once they were in the sanctuary of his room after dinner, his warm and comforting hands resting on her waist. Elizabeth had swallowed and allowed the smile she had painfully kept on for the duration of the dinner to slide, shifting into Henry's embrace and wrapping her arms around him. "I'm fine," she had replied without convincing either of them.
Elizabeth had gleaned enough from Henry's description of his family to know that her background was not going to go over well with half of his family. After all, his father had been irked by Henry's decision to further his education instead of becoming a steelworker and union member - he was hardly going to be overjoyed by the news that his son had brought home the daughter of a corporate lawyer and a socialite, who had gone to boarding school in London and was paying for her education from a trust fund.
It had been Maureen who had dealt the low blow that night, though. Elizabeth had just explained that she went to boarding school because her aunt hadn't known how to deal with her deceased brother's children when Maureen had remarked, "Well, you seem to have gotten the best out of that situation."
Elizabeth had blinked twice and forcefully suppressed the anger, hurt and hysterical laughter that surged within her. Her hand had darted out to Henry just in time to stop him from rising at the remark while she forced out some meaningless response. Thankfully, Henry's mother Sarah had changed the subject swiftly after that and dinner between the five of them had ended without further incidents.
The next time Elizabeth had seen the rest of the McCords was at their wedding itself. Henry's younger sister Erin had liked Elizabeth well enough, but Maureen had kept her distance in the months leading up to the wedding. Still, Maureen had followed her father's example and given her a fleeting hug during the reception without making any sharp comments, which Elizabeth interpreted as grudging acceptance into the family.
Though in hindsight, she was not sure why she had thought that the positivity would last.
Not to mention, there was the pressing issue that she was desperately willing herself to forget - Henry's looming deployment to Kuwait in two weeks' time, just months after their marriage. Logically, she knew that being in a fighter jet was a lot safer than being on the grounds, but she also knew that it was war and things tend to go wrong in wars.
The possibility of him crashing in a desert halfway across the world made her stomach twist into convoluted knots, but as much she hated the bleak and familiar phrase 'died in a crash', she loved Henry even more for his bravery and commitment in the face of war. The result was that she was constantly oscillating between proud and worried to death, though lately the latter dominated.
Henry noticed her stiff fidgeting from the occasional glances he shot her while driving, when she thought he wasn't looking. He was well aware that his family weren't exactly fawning over Elizabeth, which baffled him especially given how Elizabeth was always her lovely perfect self in front of them and always tried her best to get along with everyone in his family, likely because she saw it as her second chance to have a family after losing her parents so young. Granted, she still had Will but in comparison to Henry's own relationship with Erin or Stane, even Maureen, the fractures in their relationship never quite healed after they became orphans. And now, right after she had started reestablishing a family, he was leaving for combat duty in the Middle East.
He took a hand off the steering wheel to cover Elizabeth's hand, which was curling and uncurling into a fist on her lap, grasping her hand tightly and interlocking their fingers. "Babe. Dinner will be fine. I'll be fine," he coaxed. He hated seeing her in any sort of distress.
Elizabeth nodded quietly but chose not to reply. She didn't speak much for the rest of the trip, choosing instead to play with Henry's fingers to take her mind off her mounting anxiety.
It was just slightly after noon when they arrived at the McCord house as his family had wanted to spend more time with him before his deployment. The moment the two of them entered the house, his mother swept Henry away, who threw his wife apologetic glances for leaving her alone with his father.
"Pat," Elizabeth smiled and hugged her father-in-law, hoping to start the holiday on a good note. "Elizabeth," Patrick returned, waving her into the house. "So, uh, how's the married life?" Patrick asked. So far, so good, Elizabeth thought.
"It's been great, Henry and I are very happy," she answered with a genuine smile.
"You must be regretting it now that Henry's being deployed. Goodness knows how war will change him," Patrick commented, settling on the couch.
Well, maybe not so good, Elizabeth amended in her head as she mentally braced herself for the McCord tendency to speak their minds.
...
"So, Elizabeth. Henry said you're getting your Masters in Political Science at UVA?" Sarah asked over dinner. Elizabeth nodded. "I'm just a few months into the program but so far it's been wonderful," she replied, glad that the conversation was beginning on familiar grounds.
"Henry enjoyed his time there as a grad student, I'm sure you will too," Sarah reassured with a pleasant smile. "Any plans after these two years?"
"Elizabeth's brilliant, employers were already scouting her after her graduation earlier this year," Henry added.
"Seems like they have a good eye for talent. Any tempting offers on the table?" Sarah complimented.
"Well, there's one actually," Elizabeth paused, unsure of how much she could say. "CIA wants me as an analyst."
That piqued the interest of everyone around the table.
"CIA?" Sarah asked. "Isn't that dangerous?"
"She'll be an analyst, mum, not an operative. Besides, she's definitely smart enough for the job," Henry said.
"So she'll be a professional liar, huh," Maureen remarked.
"In service to the country, yes," Henry responded evenly, masking his irritation. Nonetheless, Elizabeth rested her hand on his knee, which was turning into a tradition for them.
"Does it pay well enough to cover your lifestyle?" Patrick asked, nodding at Elizabeth.
"Well I don't spend much and I haven't smoothed out the details yet, but I imagine that it would, yes," Elizabeth answered cautiously. The McCords had never asked her about finances.
"Thought you'll want to go into the private sector to fund all your, ah, extravagant interests. Marines don't pay that well, if that was your plan," Patrick replied non-committally.
"If you're referring to the horses, I'm quite sure the salary covers their boarding fees at the stable, no worries," Elizabeth replied, ignoring his implication at the same time Henry protested, "How dare you say that about Elizabeth?"
"You want to reconsider that tone, son?" Patrick demanded, frowning at his eldest son.
"Want to reconsider your words, dad?" Henry shot back with extra emphasis.
"Siding with your wife over your father already, Henry?" Maureen injected snidely.
"I side with whoever's being fair," Henry snapped.
"Watch that temper, son. Losing your head won't bode well for you out there," Patrick replied hotly.
"Patrick!" Sarah McCord exclaimed immediately, her face paling a little at her husband's words. Erin and Shane watched the exchange nervously, their discomfort evident on their faces.
Elizabeth tensed, her anxiety returning in full force. For a moment all she could hear was the humming in her ear, her mind still reeling in shock at the abrupt reminder that Henry was going to war. She snuck a glance at Henry, who was opening glaring at his father. "I thank you for your well wishes," he replied coolly.
No one spoke for a moment afterwards. "I think it'll be a cool job," Shane finally said, breaking the uncomfortable moment and ignoring the exchange that had transpired between Henry and his father.
Erin jumped in and started asking Elizabeth about school work, discussing her own undergrad coursework in history and Elizabeth heaved a sigh of relief as quietly as she could. Familiar grounds was a comfort, but in that moment, she would have given anything to end the dinner right there and then so that she could curl up somewhere and wait until her skin stopped crawling with worry that in two weeks' time, she might be seeing Henry for the last time.
...
Henry returned to her safe and sound four months later and Elizabeth was so overwhelmed that her first instinct was to burst into tears. He had wiped her tears away lovingly and worriedly, but Elizabeth just shook her head at his unvoiced question, drinking in his touch at the same time.
"I'm just glad that you're back," she managed, burying her face in his chest, breathing him in.
"I promised, didn't I," Henry whispered into her hair, his arms locked around her waist.
She nodded against his chest. They stayed like that for a moment, until Elizabeth looked up and commented wryly, "At least I don't have to pay for the horses on my own."
Henry let out a loud sigh, which only made Elizabeth laugh. "Still too soon?"
"Insults directed towards you? Always too soon."
Oh, her lovely, lovely Henry. Elizabeth let her eyes flutter shut again, absorbing the realness of Henry in her arms, leaving the memory of that uncomfortable dinner behind her.
1998
Eight years laters, the world had been in such a mess that Elizabeth almost didn't realise that Thanksgiving was approaching.
She had been on the ground in Sarajevo for the past two months, running ops from their base. Operation Broken Kingdom had gone well, but in a war as brutal as this, gone well meant that only three of their soldiers of the 15 sent out were dead. She had flown back to the States just in time for Thanksgiving, of course, but just in time literally meant that she touched down at Dulles on Thanksgiving morning itself.
Even so, she had enough time to get to Pittsburgh where Henry and Stevie already were in time for dinner with a few hours to spare, but then and again, life tended to screw plans over, she thought as her phone rang and Dalton's name flashed on the screen.
"I know you're on your way home for dinner, but this takes precedence," her boss's voice was terse, much like all the other agents on an Eastern Europe desk at the moment. Elizabeth didn't even bother asking what this was before hanging up, redirecting her cab in the opposite direction to Langley instead of Pittsburgh and hoping against hope that she wouldn't be late for dinner.
This turned out to be a fresh batch of intel that had to be processed immediately in time to coordinate with an ongoing op on the ground, and even though she skipped the supposedly mandatory debrief that followed, hijacked a colleague's car and blatantly flouted speed limits from Langley to Pittsburgh, she ended up arriving an hour late at the McCord house anyway.
By the time Elizabeth stumbled up the stairs to the porch, she was stressed and starving with too much edginess and too little energy, especially if she was about to head into dinner with her in-laws.
"Look who's here!" Sarah exclaimed as Elizabeth stepped across the threshold to find the rest of the family just about to eat. Elizabeth exhaled softly. Henry's mother was the warmest towards her among her in-laws and her wide welcoming smile could usually soothe her nerves regarding meeting the rest of the McCords.
Henry walked over to her, pulling her into a brief embrace. "Hey stranger," he whispered.
Elizabeth smiled and let some of her tension in her muscles drain away at his soft touch. "Sorry, do I know you?" she asked in response. Henry grinned and tugged her over to the empty seat beside him while she greeted the rest of his family, noting the two empty seats between Shane and Maureen's husband, Tom.
"Sorry I was late by the way. I was caught up at work," she explained as the dinner conversations resumed.
"Oh don't worry, we're just glad that you made it. Somehow I doubt CIA analysts have the most regular working hours," Sarah McCord laughed from her seat across the table.
"I guess no union wants to look out for them," Patrick remarked beside Sarah, eliciting a slow exhale from Henry. Upon what Elizabeth highly suspected to be a nudge under the table from his wife, he added, "Given the high risk and classified nature of your work, I mean."
"You're right on time for the food, at least," Maureen called out from the kitchen, emerging with another dish on her hands and a younger woman on her heels. Elizabeth resolutely dismissed the snark in her voice and focused on the new addition to the McCord dinner instead.
"Oh, and this is Catherine," Maureen added, nodding her head at the other woman, "Shane's wife."
The petite brunette smiled shyly at her. "Nice to meet you, Elizabeth," she greeted softly.
"Hey Catherine! I'm so sorry I missed the wedding last month, I was out of town that week," Elizabeth apologised. She had briefly considered flying back for the occasion, but thought about Conrad's probable reaction to that request and the amount of work left on the ground and sent her best wishes instead.
"It's alright, you're probably really busy. Shane told me you work in the intelligence community," Catherine replied, her eyes widening a little towards the end.
"Yes well, busy doing what exactly is anyone's guess," Maureen commented under her breath though everyone at the table heard it anyway.
"For the last time, it's classified, Maureen," Henry shot back sharply, his loudness cutting through all other exchanges. The dinner conversation fell silent as every pair of eyes focused on either Maureen or Henry. It was an open secret that Henry's relationship with Maureen was often strained, whenever the latter makes a pointed comment at Elizabeth, though this was the closest their exchanges came to confrontation. It took almost a full minute before everyone else continued their conversations, determinedly ignoring the sudden tension in the room, in which time Elizabeth deduced that her job secrecy had been a source of discord prior to her arrival. She highly doubted that Patrick and Maureen appreciated the standard company line of 'it's classified' and sighed, placing a reassuring hand on Henry's knee, all the while willing the stress of her work to not catch up with her right in the midst of an already stressful meal.
Elizabeth spent the rest of the dinner ignoring the friendly interactions between Catherine and Maureen as well as the occasional affirmation that Patrick offered the brunette. Her head was angled subtly away from them while she conversed with either Henry or Erin instead, or three-year-old Stevie when she came over from the children's table. She didn't necessarily care whether Maureen and Patrick accepted her into their family, but she couldn't deny that watching Catherine integrate seamlessly into the family had stung. The CIA in her pointed out that there was a 30% chance that they were playing up their approval to get at her, but mostly, Elizabeth was sure that they genuinely liked Catherine. She focused on her plate instead, forcefully quelling her insecurities and taking the time to enjoy her break from the field.
...
"I'll help with the clean up," Elizabeth offered when dinner finally came to an end two hours later. Maureen and Catherine were already busying themselves carrying the plates to the sink but they were working in such tandem that Elizabeth felt obliged to ask.
"Oh, nonsense Elizabeth. Come over and keep the old woman occupied, she hasn't seen you in forever!" Sarah beckoned her forward from the otherwise empty living room, the rest of the family having chosen to stay by the sitting area.
Maureen set the plate that she had been carrying down on the table with a loud thud. "Go ahead, Elizabeth. If you're exempted from food preparation you're out of clean up too," she said loudly.
Elizabeth caught Henry's eye across the room and saw her own carefully hidden exasperation reflected in his look, taking a moment to deliberate her response. "Oh Maureen, I don't think anyone wants to eat anything I prepare," she joked, moving as casually as she could manage to sit beside Sarah on the couch.
They talked for a long while until most of the family had either left or gone up to their rooms. Elizabeth suspected that the older woman wanted to talk to her in relative privacy, which was confirmed when Sarah paused mid sentence as Erin disappeared up the stairs before changing subjects.
"I'm sorry about my eldest daughter and husband," Sarah began, holding a hand up to forestall Elizabeth's assurance. "They like Catherine better because she bends more to their will and she's from a humble background. But I think you're perfectly fine and more importantly, perfect for Henry, so don't let it bother you, alright dear?"
Elizabeth took in the warmth on the older woman's face and smiled with a nod.
"Now go to bed, you must be exhausted," Sarah gave her a gentle push off the couch before retiring to her own room, leaving Elizabeth to make her way up the stairs in a much better mood than she had during the dinner itself. No matter how messy Henry's family could be, there were always pockets of warmth to be found.
She was halfway up the stairs when she heard the familiar tone of Maureen's voice drifting from the kitchen, but it was the content that gave her pause.
"... always so superior, like she's better than us. Just waltzes in here, late I might add, and sits down to eat the food that we prepared. Never cooks, never helps, like she's so special. Elizabeth the Queen," Maureen's voice dripped with disdain on the last word, dragging it out for emphasis.
"She seemed fine to me during dinner though, and your brother was very protective of her. Surely she's not that bad?" A soft voice she distinctly recognised as Catherine's replied.
Maureen snorted. "My brother would protect her no matter what it is. He's all wrapped around her little finger, his rich and important wife."
Neither spoke for a moment. Elizabeth weighing staying to find out more against running up to Henry's room as silently and quickly as she could to hide in the comfort of his presence, but before she could come to a decision she felt Henry's familiar touch on her hand, which had been gripping the handrails so tightly that her knuckles were white.
"Babe," he whispered, his eyes searching hers and she knew that he had overheard their conversation too. Elizabeth didn't reply, simply leaning into him, tilting her head to rest against his chest and allowing Henry to pull her up the stairs and into his room.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered over and over again, holding her in the sanctuary within his arms on his bed while she tried to bury everything she was feeling from her job to his family, all the tension from the past two months crashing over her like waves and waves of seawater pulling her under, stinging her eyes and making them water.
Then Henry kissed her hair softly and her breath hitched, her tears leaving wet stains on the front of Henry's shirt as she let his kisses coax the stress out of her because it was Henry, her Henry and it was safe because the world couldn't touch her while she lay in his embrace.
She cried for a while longer because in that moment she could afford to let go then shifted to bury her face in the crook of his neck, needing to feel the warmth of his skin directly. They stayed like that for some time, Henry wishing he could at least share the weight that Elizabeth carried on her shoulders, Elizabeth simply letting his soft murmurs of I love you wash over her.
Then Henry spoke. "Want to talk about it?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "Classified," she mumbled into his neck but paused and continued, "People died. Soldiers. Civilians. I'll keep going, but I don't know when it'll end, and I just wanted to come over and take a nap with you by my side before the dinner but I had to go off and save the world again and now you're on edge with Maureen because of me -"
"Hey, hey," Henry shushed comfortingly as her voice got agitated. "I'm here now, babe, just sleep, I'll handle Maureen later," he promised, pressing his lips to her temple. It took a few more minutes for her to fall asleep and for the first time in weeks Elizabeth slept through the night, leaving behind her the Thanksgiving holiday and the pain that came with it, if only for a few hours.
She left early the next morning before Maureen was up, with only brief goodbyes to the rest of the family and a promise that I'll be fine Henry and if I'm not I'll call before heading back to Langley, convincing herself that if she could handle geopolitical conflicts, she could handle tensions in the family.
2005
Much as Elizabeth loved her work in the CIA, she felt an immense sense of relief leaving the company to live the bucolic life, as Isabelle had phrased it. The weight on her shoulders dissipated as she assimilated into life without the company and only then she realised how much 9/11 had changed her - the gripping fear and the constant urge to do more for national security were gone and Elizabeth finally remembered to breathe. She had been angry at Henry when he disapproved of her going to Baghdad but in hindsight, he had known before she did that she was in too deep and had pulled her out for her own good, no matter how much she tried to resist.
Elizabeth had just started teaching political science at UVA a few months ago and the combination of returning to her alma mater and being so near to Henry all the time was working out great. Henry's office was two levels below hers in Gibson Hall which meant that they could actually see each other whenever they were both free instead of communicating by text, and being on her old school grounds reminded her of simpler times when terrorists in Iraq were issues on the news and not on her desk. Not to mention, she missed political science and the thrill of being analytic without lives hanging in the balance.
It was how Henry found her that afternoon, sitting behind a desk stacked high with assorted books and scribbled notes, editing and proofreading her lecture notes for the umpteenth time.
"Babe, we need to head up soon or we'll be late," Henry reminded his wife gently, aware that she was easy to spook when intently focused. Elizabeth jumped anyway, her head snapping up to meet Henry's eyes.
"Thanksgiving dinner!" Elizabeth exclaimed, dropping the sheet of notes in her hand. "I totally did not forget," she added hastily at the amused expression on Henry's face.
"You did, but that's fine. We have half an hour before we need to leave, go get ready," Henry tugged her away from her desk. She let herself be led away by her husband, allowing herself to soak up the holiday cheer that her family had been radiating all day.
...
"Hey Elizabeth, how's teaching working out for you?" Erin asked as she descended from the stairs in the McCord house. Elizabeth smiled. Erin had been teaching history in the local high school for a decade and they could usually strike up a conversation about the subject.
"Pretty great, actually. I think I'm going to like academia," she replied
"Mm. You look like you do, much more relaxed than you were last year," Erin commented as they both headed into the kitchen. Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt - if the job had such an obvious strain on her, how must Henry have felt watching her every day?
Having arrived early for the first time in years, she busied herself helping out with everything except for the actual cooking, enjoying the wafting scent of a traditional Thanksgiving feast that spelled family and home. Maureen hadn't said anything beyond the initial exchange of pleasantries which in Elizabeth's book was a very good thing. She briefly wondered if Maureen's impression of her would change now that she was out of the company - she knew the older woman despised the secrecy of her CIA job for the sense of superiority that having access to classified information exuded.
Overall, it was turning out to be one of the better dinners in recent years, she decided as she set the pot roast on the table.
The front door clicked open and a gust of cold air alerted everyone to the newest arrival. "We're here!" Shane called from the front porch. An unfamiliar figure followed him into the house. Elizabeth recalled everything she'd heard about Shane in recent months - his divorce from Catherine half a year ago and the relationship he began a month later - and deduced that this was the new girlfriend whom Henry had approved of after visiting his brother earlier in the year.
"Everyone, this is Stacey. Stacey, this is everyone," Shane announced as they stepped into the living room, gesturing in the generic direction of the couch and the kitchen.
"That's really specific, Shane," Henry joked from the couch as their mum gave Stacey a light hug and the signature warm Sarah McCord smile.
"Hi Henry," Stacey laughed as Elizabeth stepped into the living room. "And you must be Elizabeth," Stacey greeted, approaching her. "How could you tell?" Elizabeth asked, fairly certain that Stacey had never met any of the McCord women.
"About that," Stacey lowered her voice conspiratorially, "I did my homework on all of you." Then she laughed. "Your hair colour, actually," she explained. Elizabeth grinned. She liked Stacey too.
...
"You're teaching at your alma mater? Won't you feel as though you've never left school?" Stacey asked over dinner later that night, when everyone else had introduced themselves.
"Not quite. I actually just started this job, I was in government work before that," Elizabeth explained.
"She worked for the CIA, that's what she means," Patrick corrected.
"Really?" Stacey asked, surprised. She hesitated. "So when I made that joke just now about doing my homework," she trailed off.
"Felt right at home," Elizabeth replied in the same conspiratorial tone the other woman had adopted previously and both women laughed. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Maureen frowning into her food and felt the slightest bit of smugness that their newest addition appeared to favour her. She was, after all, competitive by nature.
"How is it like to work in the CIA?" Stacey asked, her curiosity evident.
"Honestly, I was an analyst so I spent most of my time staring at documents and trying to make some sense out of them," Elizabeth replied, consciously sticking to her official job description, never mind that she had started out as a field analyst, ventured into intelligence gathering and even operations command before settling for a desk job in her twelve years.
"Did you finally leave because you saw them for what they are?" Maureen interjected, her voice dripping with snark.
Elizabeth bristled, both at how close it hit home and over a lingering sense of loyalty to an agency she swore by for over a decade. "Depends on what you think they are, I suppose," her voice remained neutral with a detectable trace of amusement - spy training truly was such a great tool in daily life.
"Let's be real, we've all seen the photographs from Abu Ghraib. And wasn't there that article three weeks ago in the Washington Post about CIA having secret prisons?" Patrick demanded, jumping in.
"Well I'm not saying that we didn't do anything wrong, but I do think that characterising the whole agency based on its operations in one region -"
"Look at you, defending your precious agency which is currently known for torturing people - son, aren't you an ethics professor?"
"I would think that the CIA is known for a lot more than torturing people -" Elizabeth tried to reason at the same time Henry stood up and warned, "Dad!"
"Like its contribution to national security instead -" Elizabeth continued
"National security!" Maureen mocked. "What dangers exactly are you guarding against - "
"Planes crashing into buildings in Lower Manhattan, maybe," Elizabeth snapped curtly, pushing her chair back forcefully as she stood, chest heaving, glaring at both her father-in-law and sister-in-law. A moment passed as she redirected her glare at the opposite wall until she could compartmentalise her emotions.
Elizabeth cleared her throat and sat back down, nudging Henry with her foot to follow suit. Stevie and Alison were peeking from the living room where the children ate, eyes wide. Thankfully Jason had fallen asleep early into the meal and had gone upstairs to rest; she did not need her three-year-old watching a family meltdown.
"Regardless," she said, her voice thick and hollow, reverberating against the anger that was almost tangible, "I'm out of the company now, and this is all in the past."
"And back at UVA, where it all went downhill," Maureen muttered, shooting a dark look at her brother.
This time Henry stood up with enough force to send the chair skidding across the floor. "Okay, that's it. We're leaving." Ignoring Erin and Sarah, he pulled Elizabeth out of her seat, who acquiesced willingly, leaving her to manage their daughters while he went to get Jason.
They were on the road in ten minutes, Henry gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary, Elizabeth staring listlessly out of the window while their three kids sat stiffly in the back, confused.
By the time they had exited the highway, all three of their children were asleep and if Henry didn't know better, he would have mistaken Elizabeth's complete lack of movement for sleep. "Babe I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice at its softest for that night, turning to face her as the car slowed to a stop at a traffic light.
Elizabeth didn't respond, only shifting her gaze from the night sky outside to her hands in her lap. The light glinted off the tears in her eyes but her cheeks were dry, her expression impassive.
"It's fine," she replied equally softly. Henry shook his head. "No it's not. It was uncalled for and unprovoked. I am so sorry," he repeated.
"Wasn't your fault," Elizabeth whispered in the same soft voice that was vulnerable yet detached at the same time. Henry sighed, recognising that Elizabeth needed to retreat into herself for a while. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence, with only the hum of the engines and the breathing of their children in the background.
...
Elizabeth stayed quiet for the rest of the night, wordlessly preparing for bed when they reached their horse farm. She was half tempted to just sit with Buttercup in his stall, but knew that it was rationally a bad idea, not to mention uncomfortable. So she settled for curling into her side of the bed, wrapping the blankets around her like a cocoon.
Henry had been watching her while keeping his distance after they reached home, waiting for a sign that would prompt him to intervene. He waited for the entire time until they went to bed before deciding to draw her out.
"Talk to me, Elizabeth," he whispered, scooting over to her side of the bed and wrapping her up in his arms from behind. Her body was tense, though it relaxed fractionally under his touch.
Elizabeth turned around to tuck her head under his chin. "I'm sorry about making a mess," she mumbled into his chest.
Henry pulled back. "Why are you sorry? I should be the one feeling bad."
"I was the source of the argument."
"Elizabeth, that's on them not you. You were rational every step of the way," he said firmly, his anger at his side of the family resurfacing at the thought of how his father and Maureen had in essence attacked her.
She exhaled slowly. "I know, I just," she paused and swallowed before continuing, "everything was going well and I really liked Stacey too, and I, I thought things would be better with Maureen, god knows she hated my job, but I couldn't just let her paint the whole agency with the broad strokes of evil, I can't, and then your dad joined in and -" she broke off.
Henry sighed. 15 years of marriage and Elizabeth was still trying to weave herself into his family, even though Maureen made her disapproval clear, time and time again. Then something his dad said echoed in his mind.
"Just to be 100% clear, I don't think you're, in any way, to blame for what the company did, not even for whatever it was you did on your trip to Baghdad," Henry whispered. Elizabeth couldn't give him any details about that trip, but based on her edginess after returning from Baghdad and everything about the CIA that had been in the news lately, he had a feeling that torturing prisoners was involved.
"You don't know what I did over there," she replied, terseness creeping into her words.
"No, but enough to know that it was unethical. Then and again, I also know you, and I know how the burning thirst for justice feels. I may lecture on ethics, but I probably would have made the same call as you," Henry justified.
He kissed her hair lightly. "You're a good person, Elizabeth. Now sleep," he coaxed, feeling his wife snuggle closer to him, her breaths becoming even in a matter of minutes as she gave in to sleep.
Henry took his time falling asleep, preferring to stare at Elizabeth instead. Family was always a sensitive topic with her, and the rejection that Elizabeth faced from his side of the family was his greatest regret. Nonetheless, come tomorrow she would be up and figuring out how to fix the newest falling out with Maureen and Patrick and come next year, she would face Thanksgiving dinner with an undercurrent of hope again. His gaze lingered on the peaceful sleeping face of his wife as he waited for fatigue to take over, pressing light kisses on her eyelids which shielded him from her brilliantly blue eyes, through which shone the tireless, unbeatable and ever hopeful spirit of Elizabeth McCord.