A/N: Hey friends! First of all, sorry for the delay, been on vacay where I wasn't able to write (cuz I was chilling too hard) and then I was studying for my resits, and work, and more laziness… BUT I'M BACK. AND SO IS THIS STORY. Here's a bit of Henry backstory for you. It's a little shorter than usual, but I just wanted to post something.
Also, thank you SO much for the nice reviews, and keep it up please, they are my fuel.
For Dee. May you have many more birthdays
Chapter 2
"It's very nice to finally meet you," he said.
She was stunned, almost mesmerized, he'd say. She was staring at him, her mouth slightly agape and a small frown on her face.
She remembers, he thought then, and his smile widened even more.
But then she shook her head, just about able to answer him: "Nice to meet you too."
And she smiled. At him. It was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen, to finally have one of her smiles being directed at him.
When he'd seen her with her boyfriend all those years ago after class, naturally, he'd stopped pursuing her – he wasn't the my-purpose-in-life-is-to-break-up-perfectly-happy-couples kinda guy after all. He could still look at her, and think about her, and just wish they'd maybe break up for some reason, somehow, sometime. But they didn't. He had to admit that that semester had been hard on him, really hard. He had to see her every time in class, had to listen to her witty responses and insightful remarks, the ones she made with that nice, raspy voice of hers. He had to welcome her at his office hours – which she frequented quite regularly, not to say always – and answer her questions. It was hard. A burden almost. He used to feel his face flare up at the sight of her, couldn't help himself from looking at her… her everything. Sure her boobs were nice, and her legs, but God, her eyes, her cheekbones, hell, even her elbows made him weak in the knees. Ah yes, her knees too.
But after the semester ended, she'd been out of his class (got an A, no surprise), and mostly out of his eye too. He used to spot her in the library, just like so many times before, or when she was lying on the green with a few of her friends. And then she was gone. She'd graduated. And he'd stayed behind, working for the university while being sent out for a mission here and there. He'd felt lonely.
Not long after though, he'd met Sophie Conroy, a new girl from Vermont who'd come to UVA to get her PhD in French Literature. She was a pretty girl, short, light skin, dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. She'd sat next to him at the bus stop once – reading –, he'd asked her what it was – it was Rimbaud –, and the rest was history.
They'd gotten married a year after, on a crisp spring day on a distant field at her family's pig farm. Two years later, they'd announced the big news that a little girl would be coming their way by putting a big silver bow on one of the piglets and letting it roam the premises freely. They'd asked their families to guess what it was going to be, and the bright pink piggy entered the greenhouse at just the right time – he still can't believe the animal wasn't a pre-programmed robot. Miracles do happen.
Alison had been a quiet baby, a sweet child, and a strong one too. She had to be.
Her Mom had been diagnosed with stage IV ovarian cancer when Alison was only eight. A 17% survival rate. But Sophie hadn't made the 17%.
Henry had been devastated, as could've been expected. His loving, beautiful, literature-loving, family-loving, everything-loving wife was… gone. His daughter was left without her mother, he was left without his partner, his lover, his best friend.
He couldn't even write her a eulogy. So he'd opted for something else. Her favourite poem.
Assez vu. La vision s'est rencontrée à tous les airs.
Assez eu. Rumeurs des villes, le soir, et au soleil, et toujours.
Assez connu. Les arrêts de la vie. – Ô Rumeurs et Visions!
Départ dans l'affection et le bruit neufs!
/
Everything seen. The vision gleams in every air.
Everything had. The far sound of cities, in the evening, in sunlight, and always.
Everything known. These are the stops of life. – O Tumult! O Visions!
Departure in affection, and shining sounds!
- Arthur Rimbaud
Fitting.
They'd had a couple of rough years, tough, on both of them.
Henry had still been teaching at UVA, but it was becoming too much of a struggle, walking through those halls every day, expecting to run into her around some corner, like they used to. Expecting her to drop by his office for lunch or coffee, like she used to. But she never did. Not anymore.
Alison had hated the country life. So much… mud everywhere. And stench. That was what she'd told her Dad, not wanting to admit that their old house still smelled of her, that she woke up at night sometimes, feeling the ghost of her Mom's hand petting her hair. But it wasn't her. Not anymore.
And so they'd moved to an apartment in Georgetown. Close to the city for her, close to another university for him. Away from the memories they'd left behind in Virginia – or had tried to at least –, for them.
They'd been living in Georgetown for over three years. Alison sixteen, already preparing to get a degree in fashion, and Henry… old, he liked to think himself. He still didn't feel like himself again, and he doubted he ever would.
Until a few months ago, an opportunity came along. "A chance to sculpt the great, young international minds, in line to become the next world leaders": a job at the DC War College. He'd gladly taken it, he was ready for the exhilarating discussions with people who had so many different minds from so many different parts of the world.
He began feeling okay again, alive.
And it was then that he'd seen her.
He hadn't thought about her in a long time, years maybe. But then, all of a sudden, there she was, gracing the front page of his Washington Post:
"CIA analyst Elizabeth Hanson appointed new Secretary of State"
And as he'd read the article:
Hanson? She must've married him. Or someone else. Of course she has, look at her. Wow, she's still so beautiful. Oh wait, single mom? She's a mom. Did he die? Oh divorce. Her hair looks so soft. What did he do to her? Who would do anything to her? Wow, Dalton appointing her right out of the CIA. Without any political experience? She must be good. Ah, Dalton was in the CIA too. He must've known her well. Know her well. Wow. She's the Secretary of State. Elizabeth Adams is the Secretary of State.
"Wow," he'd whispered, a hint of a smile on his face. He'd honestly felt proud. One of his students had become the head diplomat of the USA. And not just any student.
The student.
.::.
They updated the Secretary on the state of affairs and on how they wished to proceed now.
"Adil is in a good situation over there, no one suspects anything – not that we know of, at least," Henry said. "We have to consider letting him try and get closer to Abboud, and to more information about Nina."
Elizabeth nodded, "If you think he's in the situation to be able to do that, you should tell him to… do… that."
He frowned at her lack of good wording, just a little, just enough to make her avert her gaze to her lap with a frown of her own.
Well done, McCord.
The meeting was wrapped up, and Elizabeth motioned to stand, and just as he wanted to walk up to her:
"Henry, would you mind making some more coffee, please?" Michaela asked.
He looked up at her, "Sure, no problem, let me get some from… the coffee room."
And he walked off. No talking to Elizabeth today then, he doubted she'd still be in their office when he came back.
He heard the loud clacking of heels approaching from behind, and just as he turned around, he saw a panting, smiling Elizabeth Hanson halting in front of him.
And now it was like he was catapulted back in time to after that first Moral and Political Philosophy class, except now she was the one running after him. Yes. Running.
"Hi," she managed to say, huffing breaths all over the place. "I'm not as in shape as I used to be."
"Oh, I highly doubt it," he chuckled.
"Do… Uhmmm. D–" sigh "Do you by any chance re– remember me?"
She remembers, he thought. And he smiled.