Calm had descended overnight, Henry had slept soundly at home, waking early and creeping from their townhouse with coffee and papers in hand, he knew Bess would want to know what she'd missed, how she had been the news for a cycle, how they'd made it passed page 6 of the Times. As he weaved through the now familiar route to the ICU he found Will scrunched at his sister's side drooling into her covers - a talent he mused - being able to sleep with some aplomb in a seat designed for interrogation.

Bess stirred when the door had opened, stretching out her weary muscles her toes curled in the bed clothes. She still had too many tubes and wires weaving around each other to allow for a more comfortable sleeping position to be achieved. Henry smiled as she opened her eyes, despite the oxygen tubing she still looked cute, he could drink in just waking up Bess all day, her slightly clumsy movements endearing. Will woke quickly, habit forcing him to look for a non-existent pager, looking around he stood up, letting Henry in with a promised that he'd come back in later after they had rounded.

They didn't get long for small talk about how she figured they'd shoved something down her IV to help her rest last night, but that she was grateful as the infusion pump kept throwing a hissy fit and alarming. She enquired about the kids and what the latest from her office was. Mid explaining that Stevie had declared it late night pizza night the door rattled open and the two doctors who not 24 hours before had saved her life bustled in, a plethora of junior doctors stopped by the doors slamming behind them, her nurse had slipped in somehow and stood poised to take notes on the day's tasks.

The female doctor, a Dr Weaver, stepped forward explaining they had been pleased that she had been stable and making good progress since the procedure, that no further arrhythmia had occurred was positive but they still had some questions to answer. Henry didn't like where this discussion was headed, it was bad enough they'd already been to hell and back but now more was needed. Perching on the bed Dr Weaver explained that it's uncommon for such an event to occur without good cause, Bess inhaled deeply wincing as she strained her chest. Henry rested his hand on her shoulder steadying her as they spoke about the worst possible causes and the things they needed to exclude. Malignancy was high on the list and they needed to wait another day till they could step Elizabeth out of the ICU and out of the arrhythmia window to do pan-scanning. They also needed more blood tests, markers for tumours and coagulation disorders would be needed. Looking at Bess straight in the eye the doctor levelled with her, explaining they needed to ask some more questions, risk factors so to speak, things like had they had any miscarriages, problems with bleeding, previous leg clots.

It wasn't common knowledge Henry offered, pausing as the memories of watching Bess go through the painful loss of 2 late miscarriages between Alison and Jason, how they'd had to explain to a pre-schooler that she wasn't going to be a big sister yet. The brutality of the births she had to endure without a happy outcome. He saw a silent tear slip from his wife's eye as the doctor nodded, offering her apologies for the loss they had but that it was possible there was a blood clotting thing that might be a more probable cause than cancer. Explaining they planned to get the tests over the next few days they set about reviewing the various interventions she was still on, re-writing orders and promising to find her a room on the general floor by sundown that night. As quickly as they appeared the left, the flurry of rounds continuing as Henry faced his Bess, his mind racing to what they might uncover in the next few days, what they might yet have to go through. He rarely found her speechless but she sat before him, sobbing quietly. He rubbed her arms, brushing her tears away carefully as they took stock, working out a plan for how they could figure the uncertainty out. He mused that nothing was set in stone and they didn't need to read anyone in properly until they had an answer, that the kids would be best kept out of the loop until definitive answers were had. Her nose dry from the oxygen Bess mustered a deep breath, nodding and giving her best I'm going to be okay smile. She felt fragile and vulnerable as the news sank in though, so many more unanswered questions lay before them, and they couldn't get some of the answers until she was well enough to not need the ICU. Like an embassy she felt they were safe whilst they sat in this glass lined room with machines beeping and pinging with little possibility of rest, but that what they needed lay beyond the perimeter.

Will wafted back in, much like the medical team had done, a medical shimmy, born of years wielding unruly equipment into patients rooms. Gulping he figured they'd set about their investigation, arranging for the multiple tests they'd need. The Adam's siblings hadn't ever been one for affection, preferring to spar and spat. But knowing that they could be at the start line of a long and dirty fight for her health he took her hand, rubbing the small area of skin not consumed by medical tape. Regardless of what was found he ventured, she would be okay, and at the very least kept in comfy hospital wear and decent caffeine. She smiled, explaining what he already knew, that she could have cancer and what symptoms might she have missed, too busy behind that oak desk she commanded. With the surgical offhandedness he'd learnt in times of strife abroad he ran down an internal list: fatigue, breathlessness, night-sweats, leg pains, odd pains anywhere, breast lumps. The last had made him shiver, their childless aunt had grown bald and skinny from breast cancer long after their uncle's demise.

None of this made them feel better, Henry gripping her hand tightly. Their children would be in after school and staffers could be kept at bay whilst they figured the whole thing out, planning their coping strategies and readying their game faces. A lab tech appeared to do bloods, stumbling slightly when he put a face to his patient's name. Fortunately she didn't need a needle test as they had lines in her neck that could provide the blood they needed, somehow she still winced, squeezing Henry's hand as the tubes clicked into the tubing, her privacy invaded by someone other than her husband touching her neck. He whispered pleasantries, holding her steady as the test finished up, making sure he got in close after, adjusting her pillows and making her smile with a bad joke.

Slow and steady turned out to be the motto of the day, scans at her bedside revealing no leg clots that could have provoked the lung problems. The tech again having to invade her privacy to look at the veins in both legs, her nurse kindly helping to get her freshened up, helping her into her favourite robe. They had agreed to let the President and Russell Jackson in, rather they knew the DS wouldn't be able to stop them.

Carrying an unnecessary large bouquet of flowers the President looked more relieved than Henry to see his old friend conscious and talking. They enquired about how the team thought she was doing and got only guarded pleasantries about the promise of a general room by sundown. Figuring visitors were a welcome distraction in small doses Henry had let Blake in later that afternoon with a severe warning to only reassure that her office was under control. His gift made her chuckle, a plush eye mask, thick socks and luxurious hand cream, necessities to ward off poor thread count hospital sheets. He explained the deputy secretary was now up to spread and ready to cover her for a few weeks at the President's request. They'd delayed important decision making meetings and that her health was the biggest priority.

Henry was grateful that the day, interluded with tests, had passed without ill event. They still had no answers but she had been stable and content to snooze easily, listening to Will and Henry debate the news headlines and disagree with mutual respect about all things political. As sundown approached her nurse had been in to remove some tubes, explaining they had readied a corner room in the private floor agreed with her security. The wrist line came out, a good sign Henry ventured. He stayed close as the medical team worked to get her ready for transfer, holding pressure on the dressing in her wrist, making her giggle as he tried to kiss it better.

Without much notice orderly staff appeared along with a junior doctor, ready to escort her off the intensive care unit, a similarly bizarre guard of honour as the one in the emergency room, an odd cacophony of medical staff, suited security and her family, Henry staying close to hold her hand as she strained to see the other patients of the intensive care. Had she looked so awful with the tube in her throat? How much was Henry putting a brave face on things? Instinctively he leaned in whispering that even when she had been intubated she wore it well. She chortled which unfortunately led to a coughing fit and more pain.

The Mccord kids were waiting outside her room, greeting their mama with hugs as she was settled into her abode for the next few days, a light and airy space more conducive to recovery than the ICU. More gifts littered the room as her extended family settled to join her for movie night, not allowed out of bed she managed to shimmy over enough to let Henry lie out, grateful of his support as they passed more time, waiting for their unanswered questions to be yielded.

As sun lit the room in pinks and then purples they wound up the movie, the younger Mccords reluctant to leave for the night. Will promised to feed them all espresso and pizza for the evening, threatening a kegger to wind his sister up, glad she had managed a laugh and one of her threatening glares. Henry followed them to the door, asking if Will would fetch some breakfast in, knowing Elizabeth would prefer one of her favourite pastries over hospital bacon.

He found her almost asleep, still wearing the thin oxygen tubes to help her lungs heal, laughing at how they made her glasses crooked. Sliding them off her face he stroked her hair, studying her face as she felt him stare. He felt emotion building up as he felt the weight of her illness fall on his shoulders. It was impossible for him to picture a world without her, left with only their family photos and media clips of her. They had so much left to offer the world, places they wanted to go, milestones they wanted to pass, tasks to achieve. Their family was young yet, longing to hold his children's children and see her grow old and more beautiful. Closing his eyes as tears threatened he felt her petit hand cup his cheek, weakly smiling as she promised she wasn't going anywhere. 'But you nearly did' he choked, flashes of her bluing face haunting him as he fell into her lap, careful of the unseen wound on her thigh, the small cut where they'd threaded medical plumbing kit up to unblock her pulmonary artery.

'It's okay' she soothed, drawing circles on his back, the oxygen monitor catching his shirt, 'whatever's about to happen, whatever the reason this happened… we're going to figure it out.' He grabbed her gown tighter, balling it up in his hands as her essence soothed him. 'Team Mccord, right?'

He sighed, they levelled each other well and complemented one another perfectly, he could predict her coping strategy once she was better. She'd push the nurses limits, pester to get home and back to work and then crumple in a heap of emotion down the line. He'd be ready, firmly at her side, winding in her unrealistic expectations and ensuring she healed properly. Will had already suggested the farm for a few days, unplugging the entire family together till she processed things and recovered.

But for right now he was content to know that she had made it through the worst, that they would figure her health out and cope with the outcome. As their reverie was disturbed by the night nurses, checking observations he was grateful of the pull out chair waiting for him, one night away like this had been bad enough. Promising to try and rest Elizabeth wasn't up to arguing as the nurses gave her something through the IV, the medication soothing her own anxiety about the scan planned for tomorrow.