AUTHOR NOTE: Hello, this is my first fiction for a very, very long time so bear with me, I binge watch Madam Secretary at the start of the year and fell instantly in love with it. This story has been ruminating for a while and is partly written and likely to be maximum 8-10 parts. I'm gonna warn that updates will be sporadic as I'm a junior doctor who's busy but I hope you enjoy…. comments are very much welcomed.

Elizabeth couldn't settle, they'd had a reasonable flight back from Finland, Henry had been relieved, his shoulders not tight with the weight of the world, his warm, strong form snoring lightly for the majority of the Atlantic crossing. They had slipped silently back into the house, wordlessly checking on their family, stripping off the layers of clothes and flopping on the bed. There had still been a barrier, Henry rolled onto his side of the bed put his light out and shortly after his breathing slowed, a sign he was drifting back to sleep.

Her mind swam, things should have been better, they had solved the big barrier, torn down their Berlin Wall and it should have been better. But they weren't completely solved. Whatever was plaguing them has seeded, fractioned and poised to continue the ruin. Her mind flitted to wondering what the next big crisis would be. About the domestic or foreign issue that would consume her till it passed. Sleep, Elizabeth thought, was all that was needed and it sat just out of reach like a kidnapped dignitary. Looking at her with a pleading smile, tied in the vines of distress.

Sleep must have caught her she mused stirring in the small hours, cursing the volume of water she'd consumed in the air to battle dehydration. She sat up, bed clothes drifting toward the floor as her hand reached for her phone, perhaps third world war loomed and she could be excused from the purgatory of rest. Her breathing speed up, catching her by surprise as she crossed from the bed to their en-suit. As she crossed back, her vision faltered, almost slipping on the trail of her scarf, the one she swaddled herself in on flights. Sitting back down she sipped some water, choking as her breathing misaligned with swallowing. Pain shot to her side, consuming her chest and causing her to groan, louder than she realised. Henry slammed a light on as he fumbled to her side, the look of panic evident on her face, her voice a whisper of distress.

He wasn't about to argue with her, explaining they were going to the hospital now and she could protest later. Grabbing some jeans he bundled her up, clattering to the door as she flopped in his arms. He reached the bottom of the stairs, banging his side and her hand against the balustrade, cursing as she groaned again. He managed the first door with difficulty, her detail hearing the commotion opened the outer one. A car sparked to life and he careful placed her on the seat, shutting the heavy SUV door behind her, she was trying to mutter something.

The Kids.

He turned to see if their lights were on as they sped down the street, he took his phone out as the sped towards GW, Stevie took a while to answer but the panic of his voice was enough, he didn't need to ask her to gather her siblings up. They had left an agent who could take them in. He ended with an apology, trying to off set the guilt for his recent attitude at home. He felt her squeeze his hand as the rapidly rounded a corner. His pleasantries were on deaf ears, silent tears crept down her bluing face as she leaned on him for support.

The agents had called ahead, activating plan Delta meaning the department was on standby, a gurney ready in he balmy spring air as they approached. Whispering words of comfort in her hair as they slowed to a stop he gathered his wife up, shimmying out of the vehicle and laying her down supine on the bed, an oxygen mask clamped immediately as she burled into the emergency department with force.

Henry stood, sucking in the night air, wailing quietly as he looked to the sky, whatever was reeking havoc on his wife was almost too painful to bear. An arm landed on his shoulder, he turned to find Nadine Tolliver standing there in jeans and top, a look of great concern on her face. Through sobs he explained what happened, not realising she was leading him into the corridor bringing him outside the noisiest room in the department.

His wife's.

Questions shot at him from all angles, what happened, how had she been, any recent travel, he had to laugh, she had crossed the Atlantic five times since Christmas. Was she on any medication, none that he knew of other than the full packet of Xanax she'd refused to take since the bombing. Had she been in hospital before, his brain swam, figuring the last time she had been in was when the blip post Iran and before that when Jason was born. Between the gowned bodies surrounding the bed he saw her form, slightly more full of colour than it had been, her arm hanging like a broken twig stabbed with 2 huge cannulas.

He winced as he was pushed towards her, someone explaining they needed him to calm her down, her other arm he noticed was swatting away defensively at the team trying to stabilise her. He took her hand, holding it tightly as he brought the other one in close, asking her firmly to focus. Her eyes, glazed and clouded with tears tracked on his face, flitting from side to side in panic. She was gulping in air frantically. It didn't need a medical professional to tell him she was in extremis. The longer he focused with her the more she settled, her body slumping slightly as she continued her fight for air. He let her hand go, dabbing away the tears.

From the corner of his eye he saw a machine being shuttled in, like a diplomat he hoped they could at least get an answer for what was going on. A hand was slowly moving her gown up, the pyjamas she had on in the car lying in tatters on the ground, she moved to swat them away but he pinned her down, letting the medical team blob jelly on her chest, peering at the screen as she lay half naked on the gurney. The conversation didn't look promising as the commotion started again, a tiny syringe stabbing in her abdomen as they covered her up, the click of her bed break being lifted. He attempted to follow her, a hand stopping him in his tracks.

The most senior doctor held back, looking gravely at him, man to man. He started with an apology, explaining that his wife was gravely ill, dammit, he had already guessed that. They were suspecting that she had a pulmonary embolism, most probably caused by the flying but also possibly from an underlying something. Henry wasn't enjoying the direction of this conversation, he ventured what they planned to do about it. There was the possibility a procedure could be performed. It was relatively new and wasn't without risks but would remove the clot and buy them time to assess her fully. He pointed to the machine they'd been yielding at her in the room and explained her heart was now under strain and regardless of what the scan showed she would be admitted to the intensive care unit.

Henry stood up straight, feeling the power drain away from his grasp. His wife was being placed on the critical list and he was powerless to help. As the attending tried to explain the procedure they could offer Henry felt himself zone out, focussing on what the last few weeks had been like and how his actions were possibly partly to blame, if he hadn't been so upset she wouldn't have chased Dimitri and gotten on that flight, the flight that could end up being her killer. He caught key words, stroke, haemorrhage, heart attack. They didn't sound like fun either. When she took the job they had sat down with a lawyer drafted wills and advanced directives, he knew she wouldn't want to end up a burden on anyone.

Henry stepped out of the room, pale and clammy from the news, watching his three children, their three beautiful humans hurtle towards him. Nadine and Blake who had appeared immaculately dressed as always, hovering back as Henry quietly explained what was going on, how Bess was fighting for her life and the options they had. Alison sobbed, Jason reeling back sinking into the wall. Stevie clung to her dad, feeling his heart break as they stood dumbstruck with terror, waiting.

A few minutes passed in silence, the dim noise of the department soothing frayed edges with distraction. A door banged down the corridor, the team re-appearing with slightly more aplomb. The frail looking figure surrounded by monitors and fluid bags. The same senior doctor beckoned Henry and his family forward, explaining that she was a little more awake but they were about to put her under anaesthesia in the department before going ahead with the procedure and if they wanted to say anything they had a few moments.

Henry grabbed her wavering hand, reaching out to nothing in particular. He saw her smiling behind the mask, her I'm being really brave smile, he asked how she felt and got a garbled good back in response. Stevie laughed nervously, her mum was trying to put a brave face on the biggest crisis they had ever faced. She let Alison and Jason in, both planting gentle kisses on their mamas forehead, shrinking back to the corridor as Henry was left, he nodded to the team, watching someone remove her mask and force a bigger on over her mouth and nose, pausing to let him kiss her properly. He was sobbing silently now, holding onto her hand as they pushed white liquid down her IV. He felt her squeeze his hand before going limp, her body sinking into the bed as they removed the mask and went about intubating her, pushing the hollow plastic tube down her throat. Shortly after the whirr and hiss of a ventilator could be heard, reminding him of the hum in a chinook. The monitors bleeped in a cacophony of slow and rapid beats, crescendoing into alarms intermittently. They pulled her top down, exposing her and pasting two huge pads onto her chest. Attaching them to a defibrillator. His gut wrenched again as they rolled out of the room, the defib monitor bleeping in unison with the ventilator. An odd guard of honour followed her up the corridor, body guards flanking the bed, Henry clutching his kids as they walked up towards the elevator, ready for the tidal wave of whatever was incoming.