A/N: Hey friends. I've been thinking a lot about Henry and how we're positioned to see him, especially given the events of this season - in particular, the last few episodes. So this covers a few different ones, and it's a little disjointed which is kind of how I thought of it. Hopefully it makes sense. Reviews and comments make me smile. Cheers!
Just one more life. It always came down to that. Just one more. It didn't matter that the one kept dancing between a life saved and a life lost.
"It was part of the negotiation."
She stared straight through him. It felt like her gaze was burning a hole in him. His words came quick and haphazardly. It didn't really matter what he was saying. His word and her word had cost someone a life. He tried to reason with her. He tried to put forward what may have not been considered, he tried with his words. It was a desperate, feeble attempt and he knew that the decision was not taken lightly. It still made him sick. He looked at Elizabeth, seeing the devastating expression on her face. There may have been a part of it that was for Dimitri, but he knew it was for him. For what she knew this would do to him; that face was burned into his subconscious. Betrayal, deceit, vindication; none of it fair to her, but the flames lapped at his mind and he simply wanted it to end.
Henry didn't want this job. He didn't want to be a handler. He didn't want to be in the business of secrecy and deception. His life had never emanated greater irony. It felt like the beginning of the end.
-o-
The dirty bomb had only confirmed in Henry's mind that they could never go back to how they used to be. Some things just couldn't be reverted. Some things weren't meant to be fixed, but he felt like his control had slipped completely. He was barely able to protect his own family. The one thing he'd sworn he would always do.
Once Henry was sure he'd secured his family after the blast, he needed to act. He couldn't stand by again, limp and useless. He felt like he owed something to those people, he didn't know what. He didn't even know them, but he knew he had to help.
Running back into the building, the smell was pronounced. There was blood and debris, the air was thick and stung his eyes. It was loud, but in that moment, Henry found calm within himself. He knew how to handle the situation, he remembered his training; his body moving on auto-pilot.
His stomach dropped when he saw the emergency services in hazmat suits. His mouth dried and Henry could feel his heart pounding in his ears, in his fingertips. He looked down. There was blood on his hands, and he wasn't sure to whom it belonged.
Henry couldn't feel much pain, the adrenaline coursing through him giving him temporary reprieve. Each breath he sucked in felt rough and course, as though he were inhaling very fine sand as the paramedics moved hastily around him. He needed to call Elizabeth, she'd be panicking. He needed to tell her that he was sorry; that he'd never have gone back if he'd known. It didn't matter now, the damage had been done.
After several exhausting hours, his family were finally able to see him. The spirits of their children were easily raised, and the instant relief on their faces obvious. The toll however was clear on Elizabeth's features. She looked tired and broken, holding the pieces together for everyone around her. As she fell into his arms, he felt the tension, the stress, the tears and the fear.
He couldn't protect them from everything.
-o-
"The doctor said that the tourniquet that you applied to that woman leg saved her life." She was trying to comfort him and trying to crack him open at the same time. "What is it?"
"I've decided to rejoin DIA." The words simply fell from his mouth. They were true, but he truly hadn't given it much thought. He'd wanted to rephrase them, maybe to soften them a little, but he couldn't take them back now. He was too frustrated.
"Wow." She breathed, and he knew his words had wounded her. "You know, why don't we talk about this when you're feeling better."
"Babe, don't patronise me."
"You know, a few hours ago I didn't know if you were going to live or die. Can't we just take a minute here"—
"No. Hizb al-Shahid isn't taking a minute." It was still his duty. To his family, to his country. Something needed to come from this. It couldn't all be for nothing.
"You really wanna have this conversation now? Okay, fine. You know what, I don't think that we can handle both of us being in the line of fire again. Look what it did to our marriage the first time."
"We were fine." Another lie.
"We weren't. I wasn't." Her voice shook and she looked down.
Henry shut the conversation down. He didn't want to be talked out of anything, or in to anything. He needed to be busy. He needed less time to sit and wallow in his own reservations. Once having been his refuge, spare time and silence had become his enemy.
When Henry started work at the White House it was a breath of fresh air, for both he and Elizabeth. He enjoyed seeing her, even in fleeting hallway moments during the day. These moments quickly soured him. It wasn't Elizabeth herself, but once again, she became a constant reminder. He'd meet her beautiful smile and for just a second, he'd forget the darkness surrounding them, before reality returned in overwhelming waves. He didn't want to associate this with their marriage, but the constant overlap in their work was beginning to taint it.
She could see the sadness in his eyes, but the more she tried, the more he retreated. He couldn't tell Elizabeth that it was her without having her believe that it was her. How could they ever return to the place where they were refuge for one another. He wondered how that conversation would transpire.
-o-
"You remind me of how I failed!"
The words were painful to say and he cringed, but he had no other way to explain himself. He didn't regret what he'd said, but he regretted the new expression on her face that was burned into his memory. His words had sliced straight through her and placed a sum of his own guilt onto her. Please forgive me.
Henry rubbed his face, desperately trying to dissipate some of the ringing tension in his head. He hadn't meant to yell at Elizabeth. Once again, it'd all happened so fast. She shrank before him, cowering away from his accusation, hiding her face in a subconscious, literal interpretation of his words. She turned her back to him and left the room. He was glad in a way. He didn't want her to see his face as the tears began to stream down his cheeks.
One life ended… Thousands saved…
-o-
"This isn't passion. This is finishing the job we came here to do. You go if you want, I'm staying with Jane." He believed Jose. He wanted to believe him.
He thought of her. Her words haunted him, but for a different reason. They couldn't give it all up now. This served them at a higher level. It was bigger than them. He still hadn't had a change to say he was sorry. Forgive me.
He'd just promised Elizabeth that he'd come back to her, that he'd be there and he would. His mind raced and guilt flooded him. You stayed in the van. He'd made up his mind. He couldn't be a bystander, not again. Maybe, maybe if he could just… Then the thoughts would stop; the suffocating regret would relent. Maybe then he could get a proper nights sleep.
Maybe then he could look his wife in the eye.