Nonstop
He had forgotten what this had felt like. The last time they had been this way was years and years ago. He remembered that dark time in their marriage vividly. They barely spoke, unless they were screaming heated words at one another. Oh god he had vowed to never let this happen again. The time around that life changing decision, the decision for Elizabeth not to go to Baghdad, her decision to quit, god that time had been scary for him. They went days without speaking. And there were times when they shouted, and couldn't stop the fiery, offensive words from tumbling from their lips. But he would take the ruthless yelling over the never ending silence any day. Back then he really didn't know if their marriage would… could survive. They worked very hard to get to the good place they were once in. But lately… lately it seemed they were headed down that dark, lonely path once again.
She had been different since she had arrived home. Those close to her, and even those who weren't, could see that something was wrong. She had thought she had been hiding her emotions well, and she had. Her face was merely blank at most times, not letting a hint of what she was truly feeling show. She had cut herself off; built her walls around her, and they were high. But it was her actions that gave her away. At most times she was on top of everything, never missing a beat. But then there were the mere moments where she would be caught staring off. Times when she was noticed roaming around The State Department, so caught up in her own thoughts she would forget where she was headed. There were times when Henry would wake in the middle of the night to find her stirring, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. And there were times when she would jump at any sudden loud noises. Her kids had caught on; they knew something had happened, but didn't dare ask. Henry knew something was clearly wrong the moment she stepped through their front door. She was changed. Iran had changed her.
Henry had comforted her. Held her in his arms while she cried herself to sleep her first night home. But the next morning, it was like a switch had flipped within her. She didn't accept his touch. She ignored his words, and she absolutely did not want to discuss what she went through. She didn't acknowledge the pain she experienced. Her second night home he was lying in bed reading a book when he noticed his wife had been in the bathroom for a considerably long amount of time. Henry began to worry. He was trying to give her the space she wanted, but he desperately wanted to help her.
He slowly approached the bathroom, but stopped. Through the opening of the slightly cracked door, he could see Elizabeth's face contoured in pain. "Babe?" He questioned, as he pushed the door the remaining way open. She turned suddenly, startled by his voice. The quick movement resulted in a groan, caused by the ache in her back. "Henry." She said almost in a warning tone. She was shirtless, clad only in a bra. She had been trying to treat the wound on her lower back, but was having trouble reaching behind her without pulling on her stitches.
She had hid her injuries from Henry, not wanting him to know. Not wanting him to worry. Not wanting to show any weakness, even in front of her own husband. His eyes landed on the inflamed, angry looking sewn up cut when she turned to retrieve her shirt. His lips parted, shocked that she didn't tell him, scared that she had kept this from him. He watched as she slowly, but as fast as she could handle without hurting herself, pull her t-shirt over her head. "Elizabeth, what the hell happened?" He couldn't stop the words from falling from his lips. He knew the question was rather stupid. He knew what had happened. Well, he knew that she was hurt in Iran.
"I'm okay." She said simply. She turned back to the sink, fiddling with the bandage that should be on her back. He stepped forward, needing to be closer to her. "You're not okay. You're hurt." Henry argued. She didn't respond. She merely stared ahead looking into the mirror. He gently touched her shoulder, attempting to console her, showing his support. But she tensed, straightening up before taking a step backwards away from his touch. "Let me help you." He told her. "I can do it myself." She replied, avoiding his gaze. "Elizabeth… your back looks infected." He protested. "Henry, please." She pleaded, holding a hand up. "Why didn't you tell me?" He blurted out. "This doesn't concern you." She answered. "Babe." He said, hurt. "I just need some space." Lizzie stated before walking past him, out of the bathroom.
She had gone back to work immediately, not missing a single day. Her staff worried about her returning so soon, Blake in particular, but they went on normally. Henry knew the funerals would be hard for her, although she showed no evidence of her anguish. He could have guessed that she blamed herself for the loss of her DS agent. Since she took the oath of office she had come to know Fred Cole fairly well. Inside she had to be devastated.
The next week was quiet. That was the best word he could come up with to describe what was currently going on. They hadn't spoken much. Their conversations were mainly one sided, with Henry attempting to talk to her. Trying to get her to open up. At one point he had made progress, but it seemed they would take one step forward and two steps back. One mention of Iran and she would be completely withdrawn from him once again. Quiet. The word rang through his mind again. Over the past week she was barely home. When she was she would hide away in their home office, doing god knows what. She did try to keep up appearances for their three children. On most days she made it home for dinner, making small talk with the kids. Henry simply studied her during the meal, watching on as she pushed around the food on her plate. After the table was cleared she was off in her own world once again.
He wasn't surprised when he went to sleep without his wife in their bed. She wasn't sleeping much, he knew that. But she had fallen into a routine, usually coming upstairs around one. Henry typically waited up for her, but he was so drained that he unknowingly let his eyes fall shut. His hand slipped to her side of the bed, searching for her. But he was only met with cold sheets. Realizing she wasn't in bed, he opened his eyes and checked the clock. Three thirty four, and she still hadn't come to bed.
He ventured to their office first, expecting to find her sitting working at her desk. He was shocked to find the room empty. The side lamp illuminated the small room just enough. Her laptop was open and on, while a cup of still steaming tea sat on her desk, telling him she was just here. He checked the kitchen, but no luck. That was until he noticed the door to the basement was open.
They never came down here, so he was curious to see what she could be doing wandering around the dusty basement. He found her bent over, rummaging through the boxes littered around her. "Liz." He called. She looked up at the use of her nickname. It only slipped out on rare occasions, typically late at night. His body was tense, concern written on his face. "What are you doing?" He asked confused, voice still hoarse from sleep. Her gaze fell back on the cardboard boxes. "Looking for a report." She answered, beginning again to root through the piles of papers. "Something specific?" He dropped to his knees to help her. "One from back in the CIA." She said nonchalantly. "Aren't those classified?" Henry questioned. "I'm The Secretary of State." She mumbled, too caught up in what she was doing to comprehend what he was asking. "God! I'm never going to find it!" She shouted, throwing down the files in her hands. "It's almost four am, babe. You're exhausted. You need to come to bed." He declared. "I can't." Bess fought. "Elizabeth, you need to rest." He argued. "I need to work." She countered. "You're sleep deprived!" Henry yelled, trying to break through to her. "I'm fine!" Her signature line. "You're not fine. You've been nonstop since Iran. You need to stop and just… be." He told her.
She sighed. "I've been working to secure the peace talks with Iran." Lizzie tried to justify her actions. "That doesn't mean you need to be working through the night." He criticized. "Well god help and forgive me. Is it so bad I wanna build something that's gonna out live me?" She asked her husband. "No." He confessed. "But if you live like this… living in the future and dwelling on the past, you'll miss the present. You're working like you're running out of time, but babe you deserve to live without worrying if tomorrow won't arrive." Henry went on. "How? How do I know that there will be a tomorrow with… with what happened in Iran?" Lizzie looked to Henry, hoping he had an answer. "I guess we don't, but Elizabeth you're doing the best you can. You deserve to be happy. You can't put yourself through this pain every day." He explained.
She was silent. Lizzie glanced at the boxes that surrounded her, before her head fell into her hands. "What am I doing?" She cried. Henry scooted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her middle. After a few moments, she glared up at Henry, tears making their way down her cheeks, and said, "I'm sorry I was such a bitch." He placed a soft kiss on her temple. "Given what you've gone through, I think you get a pass." He joked. "What do I do?" He didn't really understand her question, but he answered anyway. "You take a break. I think it would be a good idea if you talked to someone. And when you're ready you get back to work." He stated. "I can do this right? Go back to The State Department, and be okay?" She wondered, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Public service seems to be calling you." He teased. "Of course you can do this. You've come so far, and already made huge differences in the world since taking your post. I'm very proud of you." Henry looked down at her. "You'll keep fighting. You're nonstop. It's a blessing and a curse, but you won't stop until you're finished. You're making history babe."