A/N: For the prompt "whenever she's in difficult situations, Elizabeth plays with her wedding ring to help her remain calm and focused"- a series a moments where Elizabeth plays with her rings over the years. Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
She's still getting used to the weight on her left hand- the feeling of two rings on her finger. Elizabeth likes it- likes the two bands on metal against her skin; likes the feeling of Henry's ring against her skin when her fingers twine with his. It feels safe and grounding and real.
She's standing on the tarmac, watching him leave her for the first time when her right hand drops to her left, fiddling with the diamond as her heart beats out of her chest.
The metal is cool under her touch, and her heartbeat starts to slow as she thinks about the kiss Henry had pressed to them before he'd left her standing on the pavement, his bag slung over his shoulder. She allows the memory to calm her, twisting the rings around her fingers as the engines start, and she watches half of her heart take off.
A line of white plastic sticks lay face down on the bathroom counter as Elizabeth paces in the bedroom, unable to watch as the kitchen timer ticks down. Henry lounges on the bed, watching her- torn between amusement and his own apprehension, their future ticking away on an egg timer.
Elizabeth fiddles with her rings, trying to count her breathing- in through her nose, out through her mouth, hold for five seconds. She lets her focus move to the metal on her finger, twirling the diamond back and forth, the motion familiar and soothing.
"Babe- come here," Henry says, patting the bedspread beside him, and Elizabeth blows out a breath, flopping down beside him. He lifts a hand, smoothing away the wrinkles between her eyebrows and dropping a soft kiss there. "Stop thinking so much."
Elizabeth chews on her lower lip, looking up at him- before she can reply, the timer goes off, and the whole room goes still for a moment as their eyes widen before both their heads turn to look at the sticks on the bathroom counter.
"We should go look at them," she whispers, and Henry nods.
"Yeah. We should," he whispers, and Elizabeth fingers reach for his, feeling the press of his ring against her skin.
She's appallingly late- late enough that she knows she's missed Stevie's ballet recital, and she doesn't know how she's going to make this up to her four year old. Elizabeth had promised she'd be there, and she's leaving the office at 6:23 for a 6:30 recital with a twenty minute drive ahead of her.
She fiddles with her rings above the steering wheel, breezing through a slew of green lights and possibly breaking a handful of traffic laws on the way to the dance studio. She arrives at 6:42 by sheer force of will and illegal parking, and she's entirely out of breath when she finds Henry in the middle of the sea of seats. The room is still dark, and she frowns in confusion as she bends to kiss him.
"Sorry I'm late, I lost track of time and a briefing ran late, and-"
"Hey, babe- the show's running late, they haven't even started yet," Henry assures her, stopping the fiddling of her rings by covering her hands with his own and squeezing gently. "I won't even tell Stevie you were late."
Elizabeth elbows him, but leans over and kisses him once more- a little longer this time, smiling against his mouth.
Stress locks her shoulders, and she grips the back of the chair as she watches the agents talk to their suspect through the interrogation room.
It's been hours, and they're still no closer to an answer- Elizabeth has been away from her family for over a week, and she just wants to be home. This mission was supposed to last two days, tops, and instead she's missed a parent/teacher conference for Stevie, broke her promise to call Alison every night, and she can tell Henry wants to know when, exactly, she was coming home.
Her fingers move to her rings, the metal familiar and comforting under her fingertips as she twists them. The motion conjures up the image of Henry standing behind her, hands rubbing at the tension in her shoulders and presence warm and soothing. Some of her anxiety dissipates, and she takes a breath, thumb stroking the underside of her wedding band as she contemplates her options.
An idea forming, she beckons to Isabelle, who comes to stand beside her as Elizabeth quietly tells her how to question the suspect to get the info they needed.
Six hours later, Elizabeth's on a redeye back to the States, and all she can think about is sinking under the covers of their bed with Henry, and likely two little girls as well, all jammed in together. She plays with her rings, brushing her thumb over the diamond and letting out a full breath for the first time in days, knowing she was finally going home.
Being Secretary of State meant Elizabeth was supposed to stay as collected as possible- and over the years, she'd learned to control her facial expressions- especially in front of foreign dignitaries. In particular, ones who refused to work with her and her team in an attempt to reach a common goal- like the French minister at that current moment, as he berated her over Skype.
Her head pounded, and the fingers of Elizabeth's right hand drifted to her left, rubbing over the stone as she forced herself to listen to the man on the screen.
She keeps her fingers on her rings as she grits her teeth and finishes the conversation, hanging up the phone and sitting back in her chair- she closes her eyes, though she only has a moment of silence between someone speaks.
"You know, I've always wondered- the ring thing. Do you intentionally do it?" she smiles at her husband's voice, and when she opens her eyes, he's standing in front of her, sitting on her desk and smiling down at her.
"Now I do," she answers, and Henry lifts an eyebrow. "At first, it was just a way to feel close to you while you were gone and I was all alone in that big apartment. Then it just…became a comfort. It makes me feel close to you when you're not there."
Henry's hand comes up to cup her cheek, brushing over her jaw with his thumb as his gaze softens. Elizabeth leans into the touch, sighing heavily, and Henry strokes her hair out of her face.
"C'mon. Let's go home," he says softly, and Elizabeth nods tiredly- she allows him to tug her up, wrapping an arm around her waist. She sank into him, picking up her purse and stopping to grab her coat.
"Go home, Blake," Elizabeth told her assistant gently, smiling as they headed for the elevator. Once they were inside, Henry picked up her left hand, and pressed a soft kiss to the warm metal of her rings before kissing her palm.
"I told you I'll always show up for you," he reminded her, and Elizabeth nodded, cupping her face in her free palm. "And I always will- even if it's not in person."
Elizabeth smiled, lifting to kiss him softly, hand slipping into his hair as she allowed his strength to hold her up- just like always.