A/N: In case you haven't noticed yet – I'm starving for anything that involved the Iran storyline. This is no different. This one takes place at 1x18. Hope you'll like it! Hopefully I'll post a new chapter for I Got Nothing Left In Me Tonight when I come back from my vacation next week! Comments mean the world to me!

Recollection

"We do not learn; and what we call learning is only a process of recollection"

–Plato

"Can we please get my husband out of there?" Elizabeth called. She was trying to obtain herself, to concentrate on her breathings. When she suggested Henry should get involved in the situation in Bolivia she thought it was a smart move. Henry was charming and convincing and his knowledge could provide the required answers. A phone call couldn't hurt, that's what she thought. But when President Delton said Henry should go there she felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She wanted so badly to say no, but she couldn't. When the President asks for something you can't refuse. She was secretly hoping Henry would refuse for her – that he'll find some excuse not to go. But he was the man she fell in love with after all, and just like she sacrificed without blinking, it was only too obvious he would do the same.

She was sitting at the Situation Room, listening as Admiral Parker said they got Henry, as he saw him being led out of the tent – safe and sound. She let out a breath as she sat back down in her chair, but she knew fare well it wasn't over. She was still trying to regain control over her breathings, still feeling her heart bursting out of her chest.

She was able to stay intact until the situation ended, until she realized they had the poison and it proved to be too much for her. She jumped up from her chair and ran out of the room.

"Bess!" President Dalton called, but she didn't turn around. She had to get out of there. He wanted to chase her but Russell stopped him, knowing far too well why she fled. He was probably the only person in the room to know about Elizabeth's panic attack, about her breakdown, and he knew the last thing Elizabeth would want was for anyone else to see her in this state.

She ran through the bathroom doors, right in time to throw up. She slid against the bathroom wall and tried to regain control of her breathing, but the image of Henry with a knife at his neck kept appearing in front of her, and she couldn't calm down. Her heart was beating fast, her breaths short and hollow. She tried to close her eyes but the room was spinning and her head was pounding. The room was so quiet but after the shouts and gunfire her ears were still ringing, reminding her of when she was in Iran, when bullets flew above her head, killing Fred and Javani. The thought of Henry being in a place with gunfire and poison was constantly in her head, making her pant. She was familiar with what she was feeling, it wasn't her first panic attack, but she was unable to calm down, unable to breathe normally again. She left her coat in the situation room, her anxiety pills still in her pocket; she should've taken them with her.

"Madam Secretary" Admiral Hill said as she entered the bathroom "Here, breathe into this" she said and handed Elizabeth a brown paper bag. Elizabeth didn't hear her. She didn't see her when she was standing right next to her. She jumped at the sound of her voice, at her presence.

Elizabeth took the bag and nodded. She was in no condition to argue or ask why she was there or how did she know. Admiral Hill slid down beside Elizabeth, taking her hand in hers. "Just breathe, it's okay. We have him" she assured her.

They sat there in silence, the only sound coming from Elizabeth's short breaths. And then Admiral Hill broke the silence, speaking into her earphone "Yes, put him through" she said.

"Dr. McCord, Hi"

"Admiral Hill, where is my wife?" Henry called, despair and fear in his voice.

"She's right here next to me, don't worry".

"I want to talk to her, why can't I talk to her?" Henry tried to remain calm, but when he heard Admiral Hill's voice instead of his wife's he knew something was clearly wrong with her. And these days it could only be one thing.

"She can't really talk right now Dr. McCord. But you can, I'll give her the headphone so she can hear you. Is that okay Madam Secretary?" she asked, now looking at her, asking her permission.

Elizabeth nodded, though the last thing she wanted was to worry Henry. But his voice might be able to calm her down, and she needed so badly to hear him and know he is okay.

"Liz? Baby?" Henry called, his voice so broken, so scared. He heard her breathings and understood she was in the midst of a panic attack, that she was so scared of losing him that it drove her right back to Iran. "Okay, okay babe. I'm right here, I'm okay. Just breathe, slow and easy. I'll be home soon babe, I will. I'll be home to hold you and kiss you. I'll be home to comfort you. Soon, okay baby? Just… Just breathe, I need you to breathe for me, okay? I love you Elizabeth, I'm coming back. It's alright, it's going to be okay". He was frustrated. He wanted to be with her, he wanted to hold her. It was one thing that he was unable to stop the massive suicide, but to have his wife, 10,000 miles away from him, having a panic attack because she was so scared of losing him, was too much. He couldn't help her being that far away and he wanted nothing more than to hold her close.

"Dr. McCord? It's Admiral Hill again" she said, taking the headphone from Elizabeth as she began to sob.

"She's crying, isn't she?" He asked, chocking down a cry himself.

"Yes, Sir".

"Listen, I know it's asking too much, but I need you to take care of her, please" he begged. He had no idea what else to do. He couldn't call Blake and he certainly didn't want to call any of his children, since it would require an explanation as to why their mother was having another panic attack.

"I will, of course, don't worry Sir".

"If she doesn't return to normal breathing soon, she has a bottle of Xanax in her coat pocket. She'll refuse to take it, but you're a strong woman, find a way to make her".

"Got it, don't worry, I've got this, I handled this kind of thing before. You stay safe. Have a safe flight".

"Thank you Admiral Hill. Really".

She tuned to Elizabeth and smiled softly. She had just promised the Secretary of State's husband that she would do anything in her power to get her to calm down, to help her through this panic attack, and she'll be damned if she broke that promise.

"I was only 19 when I was recruited to the army you know? I left home knowing this is what I want to be, this is what I want to do. I was 32 when 9/11 happened, and even 13 years in the army couldn't prepare you for what happened that day".

Elizabeth listened carefully, trying to concentrate on what Admiral Hill was telling her, rather than on the feeling of suffocation and shortness of breath. But the thoughts of 9/11 events had only made her cry harder – thinking of all the people who died, of how miserable she felt for not predicting it, for not stopping it. She was powerless to the situation, just like she was powerless when Fred died and when Abdol had to watch his father murdered on their living room floor. And in spite of her best efforts to never be so powerless again, she found herself in the situation room, watching a screen that held a picture of her husband with a knife at his throat, unable to help him, barely able to help herself.

"When the first plane hit I felt myself falling to the ground. I was in charge of some mission, I had my crew with me, I had to stay standing. But when the second plane hit, it was too much for me and I had to excuse myself and ran to the bathroom. I sat there for hours crying, panting, unable to breathe. I'm so used to being in control of everything all the time, that's how I got to where I am, but at that moment I felt helpless, I was unable to do anything – the worst had happened and I was broken, crying like a child. I was unable to calm down either, which only frustrated me more and made my attack more severe than it was already".

Elizabeth nodded. Her crying died slowly, her heart beat slowing down. Her breathings were still hollow, but the attack was coming to an end. She listened as Admiral Hill described her own feelings, and she was so grateful for someone who understood her. Because in her mind she seemed crazy, as if she'd lost her mind the minute she lost Javani and Fred in Iran. And even though Henry must've heard about PTSD, he must've known about it since it was common among troops, she was still unable to explain to him what she was feeling that made her heart race and her breath rapid.

"I do think it's good that your husband is involved. It took me months before I was able to tell my husband what had happened. Dr. McCord seems to be very attentive and aware. He truly cares. You should rely on him".

"I do, believe me, I do" Elizabeth whispered, her voice raucous.

Admiral Hill nodded and smiled. Standing up, she reached her hand to Elizabeth, helping her back on her feet.

"Go, get some rest. I will pick you up when I have word that the plane is landing" Admiral Hill said.

"Thank you. For everything".

Hours later she was standing at the waiting room of the base. She looked around her at all the families waiting for the return of their loved ones. She was lucky enough to know hers was coming back. When she laid eyes on Henry she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She saw him being led outside of the compound but after everything that had happened, it wasn't enough. She needed to see him walking, breathing, alive. She needed to feel the warmth of his body, the beating of his heart. He walked over to her, taking her in his arms. She looked so pale, so broken, so afraid. He held her tight and she refused to let go, pulling him closer to her, breathing his scent.

"Hey" he whispered as she entered their bedroom, carefully closing the door behind her.

"Hey! I thought you went to sleep, what are you still doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep". He said, reaching out for her hand and pulling her to sit on the bed next to him.

"Henry, you did your best, and for so many people that means the world. You brought their loved ones home. I know it hard, but you have to look on what you did accomplish, it's more than we ever thought we could have".

Henry smiled and caressed her cheek. Ever since she met him earlier that day she was trying so hard to console him, to make him feel better. But truth was there wasn't much either of them could do – it was what it was, and she was right – his presence there did make a difference. But it wasn't what was keeping him awake. With everything that had happened, he never got the chance to talk to her, to ask her how she was. He never got the chance to apologize for leaving, for scaring her to death.

"Babe, that's not why I'm up… I wanted to talk to you".

"Henry… there's nothing to talk about. Really".

"Elizabeth".

"What? Henry, what do you want me to say? That I freaked out because I thought something will happen to you? That I lost it when I saw the knife held tight against your throat?"

"If it'll make you feel better, then yes. But I wanted to apologize".

"Oh Henry, you have nothing to apologize for. After what I put you through when I left for Iran, this was nothing. I had my eyes on you every second of this damn thing, I knew you were okay. I mean, logically I knew you were okay" she said, smiling.

"And still. After everything you've been through, that's the last thing you needed. I'm sorry".

She moved closer to him and he opened his arms to let her fall into his embrace. He pulled her to him, rolling them on the bed so he lied on top of her. He looked into her eyes, not daring to leave her gaze. He brushed her hair from her face, and leaned closer. She smiled, anticipating what was coming, excited as if she had only met him. Even after years of being together it was still as if they had just fallen in love. And then his lips were on hers and he kissed her so gently. His tongue playing with hers as his hands roamed her body.

"God I'm glad you're back" she breathed on his lips.

"Never leaving you again" he whispered and his lips were on hers again.

Come morning, the events of the past day will become a recollection, and he had every intention of making sure they'd have something good to remember from this.