So the website is being temperamental and won't let me reply to any reviews at the moment, so I'll just say a big THANK YOU here until it's fixed. You all make me smile and properly brightened up my Monday!

Also I was asked in the reviews if this is set in season one or season two, which is a very good question without a very good answer, because I actually didn't think about it (oops). Let's split the difference and say it's between season one and season two. Hope this chapter is OK :)

Chapter Two

The trip to see the accountant had been predictably boring, but shadowed slightly with the lingering annoyance and growing guilt that he felt over his little spat with Elizabeth that morning. Henry could admit now that most of the remaining annoyance was directed at himself; he had been the one to pick the fight. He had been feeling put out that she couldn't go with him to the appointment, and he had kept the argument going longer than it needed to. And he had walked away.

So now he sat on the sofa in the family room, idly staring at the TV and waiting for his wife to come home so he could make things right. The kids were either out or safely occupied in their rooms, and Henry was hoping for some decent time alone with Elizabeth so they could talk.

And possibly do some other things, once the talking was done.

He looked around when he heard the key in the lock and heard the familiar sound of Elizabeth's heels striking the hardwood floor before she stopped in the hallway. He heard her putting down her briefcase and hanging up her coat and the scuff of her shoes as she kicked them off somewhere near the door. She was home earlier than he had been expecting.

She appeared after a moment, stopping in the doorway and then just standing there, her mind obviously caught up in something.

He thought that she looked a little off.

Henry flicked off the TV and stood to approach her. "Babe?"

She looked towards him but her gaze was fixed somewhere near his shoulder.

"You OK?" Henry walked over to her, dipping his head to catch her gaze. Her eyes looked unfocused and a little bit… wet? Concern sparked within him. He ran his hands gently up her arms until he cupped her shoulders in his palms. "Elizabeth?"

She breathed out, long and slow, and it was only then he realised that she'd been holding her breath. She took a half-step into him, tipping her head to rest her forehead against his sternum, her body pressed against the length of his. Henry wrapped his arms around her, strong and sure, and pressed his lips to her temple. Elizabeth's hands came up to clutch his shirt at his waist. "Thanks," she said.

He wasn't sure what she was thanking him for. He gave her a minute, feeling the too-fast thump of her pulse against the hand he had placed on her back, and the breaths that were just slightly too shallow. She'd had some issues with panic since coming back from Iran, but it had been months since she'd had anything even approaching a panic attack. Henry wondered what had triggered it but forced himself to stay calm. His getting agitated wouldn't help anything. "Elizabeth, what happened?" he asked softly.

"I'm sorry about this morning," she said. "That argument."

"I'm sorry too," he said, even as he didn't buy her explanation. "I shouldn't have walked away from you." Then he repeated, "What happened?"

She was quiet a long moment and then she snorted in self-deprecation. "It's stupid."

"I'm sure it's not." His wife wasn't exactly known for being stupid – quite the opposite.

"No, really, it is." She hugged him tight for a second and then pulled back, stepping away to straighten her hair. "Don't worry about it."

He loosened his hold but kept his hands on her shoulders. "But I am worrying about it."

That made her look guilty; she knew she couldn't give him cause for concern, however small, and then expect him to drop it. Yet she still seemed reluctant, like she didn't want to share with him whatever was bothering her. She looked down. "It's really nothing."

"Well, that's a lie." And not a very good one. Henry was aware that she could have told a good lie if she wanted to; it wouldn't have thrown him off, but she could have looked him in the eye and made it convincing. She hadn't even tried. So she did want to tell him, and yet she didn't. "Babe, you know you can tell me anything."

That seemed to bolster her a little. "I know." She took a couple of steps back and he let her, gave her space. She ran her hands through her hair, then said abruptly, "OK, so here's the thing. It's silly, really, but this thing happened today and it's... weird, I guess."

He waited her out while she deliberated with herself, opening her mouth a few times to speak but unable to find the words. "Just spit it out," Henry murmured.

"I got a death threat," she said in a rush, sounding slightly defensive and on edge.

Henry felt his blood run cold. He stared at Elizabeth as his mind started to turn her statement over. Sure, he knew in theory that she got threats. Probably quite regularly, given her job and her high profile. But he also knew that her staff and the security guys kept them away from her desk, didn't even usually tell her about them unless…

… unless they thought a threat might be credible. "Oh God." He stumbled a step towards her, stopped, unsure what to do. "For real?"

He realised a second later what that might have sounded like, but Elizabeth seemed to get what he meant. "Don't think so," she said. "Just an email. I sent it on, to security, but… I think it was just a regular crazy person. That's why it's so stupid."

She sounded mad at herself for being upset about it, and Henry wasn't having that. He closed the gap between them and held her face in his hands, made her look at him so she could see the truth of it. "Not stupid," he said. "It's not."

"It's only because Blake was off," she said, not meeting his gaze. "I wouldn't even have seen it usually, but I did and I read it and it turns out that was a dumb move to make." She reached up to hold his wrists. "It was just a crappy day, and I –"

"You don't need to justify it to me." He pressed his lips against her forehead and circled his arms around her back, feeling her band her arms around his waist in return, leaning into him. Something occurred to him. "Do you still have it?"

"Hmm?" She rested her cheek against his chest, snuggling in like she wasn't planning to move for a while.

"The email, do you still have it?"

There was a long, hesitant pause before she answered. "Yeah."

Henry pulled back and took her hand instead, tugging her towards the office where he kept his laptop. "Show me."

Elizabeth pulled back against his hand. "No, babe, you don't need to… Henry."

He got her protest. He did. He got that she had been reluctant to tell him that the email even existed because she must have known how he'd react to it, and he got why she wouldn't want him to see it, especially when it likely wasn't even credible. But he just had to. "Show me," he said again, his words a command but his voice soft and his eyes pleading.

She regarded him curiously and he let her assess him, pleased when she finally nodded and said tiredly, "Yeah, OK."

He was aware of her relief at being able to share it with him even as she still had her doubts. She sat down to log onto her email at his laptop and he stood at her back, a solid, comforting presence as he rested his hands on her shoulders. Elizabeth hesitated for a moment before clicking onto one of the emails in her inbox. Then she stood so that he could take a seat. He snagged her hand as she moved to step away, wanting to keep her close.

He started to read.


Henry thought that the worst thing – correction, one of the worst things – about the email was how well written it was.

It wasn't what he would expect to be typical of the genre – if death threats sent to cabinet secretaries could be said to be a genre. No, the person who had written the email had clearly spent a lot of time on it and put a great deal of thought into the matter of how he'd best like to kill Henry's wife.

And that really didn't sit well with him.

The eloquence made it worse, somehow, made it more real, more credible, even after Elizabeth had protested that it most likely wasn't and the statistics suggested that it probably wouldn't be for real. Still. Those thoughts had been in some guy's head. Probably still were.

Henry slammed shut the laptop and stood abruptly, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He wasn't a man given to violence, but he could feel the urge to do something bubbling inside him. He paced backwards and forwards in front of the desk a few times, fists clenched, breathing deep. It didn't help. He slammed the side of his fist into the bookcase, feeling the burst of pain in his hand as he hit the shelves hard enough to jostle the books noisily.

Elizabeth jumped at his unexpected action, startled for a moment before she darted forward and caught his hand, carefully uncurling his fingers to see if there was any damage. "Hey, hey. Henry."

Shit. "Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –" He turned to face her and stared at her, slack-jawed, the rage softening inside him as she looked worriedly up at him. His astonishing wife. "Come here."

He turned his hand under hers so he could tug her into him. She came, a little warily, reaching up to cup his face. "No need to take it out on the furniture," she said lightly.

He kissed her palm. "I know. I just…" He closed his eyes and sighed, frustrated that the words wouldn't come, that he couldn't quite manage to verbalise what he was feeling.

The man on the email had plenty of words.

"Yeah," Elizabeth said. "But it's OK. I promise. Just a nut job. Just a crazy man on the internet." She swayed into him a little, her hips brushing against his as she slid her arms up around his neck to hold him close.

He was supposed to be comforting her. That was how this had started. She had been anxious, and unnerved, and somehow they had switched. Henry had never hesitated to tell anyone that his wife was the tough one out of the two of them, and he was so proud of her for it, but this was a time for him to step up. He leant his forehead against hers. "It's not OK, babe."

She sighed. "No."

"Even if it isn't a credible threat, he still wrote it."

"Yeah." She nodded, her nose brushing his.

"That guy would never have written that same email to a man."

Elizabeth's hands were fidgeting at the base of his neck, playing idly with his hair as a distraction. He wasn't sure which of them she was trying to distract. Eventually she said, "I know. That pisses me off."

TBC