A/N: I decided to bring this story back to life. I don't know if it's because I like the idea of this whole thing, or because I actually thought the first three were decent (no worries, this one is going to mess it up, it's pretty incoherent I think), but I just felt the need to write more. So yes, there will be more chapters of this in the near future. For now, I have this. And I made a promise to finish the next chapter of Sandcastles tomorrow (hopefully). Holls proofed it, so thanks mate. And this is for Jenny, an early birthday present. Happy birthday gal! I am sorry for the angst! I need reviews, you know that right?
"You're home early." Henry looked up from the book he was reading, smiling at his wife.
Elizabeth nodded, but barely met his gaze. Dragging her feet, she made her way to the bed, sinking heavily into it. Henry examined her. Her shoulders were tense, yet slumped and her slow, heavy breathing. His smile faded, and lines of worry decorated the corner of his eyes.
"Babe," he whispered, resting a warm hand on her back.
He needed her to turn to him. With his fractured knee and the bullet wound, it was hard to move around, especially in bed. It pained him that he couldn't just pick her in his arms and hold her tight; He had to ask her to crawl into his lap for that.
Elizabeth didn't budge. She released another heavy sigh, a shaking one, and he knew that she also shed tears.
With much effort, he managed to move closer, reaching to grab her arm. "Tell me what happened."
Staring at his hand, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes before turning to meet his gaze. She smiled, but tears welled in her eyes and he had to blink at the pain that hit him, more painful than that of his injuries. There were only a few things that could cause her such pain – the kids, her parents, her brother, and him.
"Hey, it's just a fracture. I'm already feeling much better. I'll be up on my feet before you know it."
Elizabeth nodded. Logically, she knew. She was at the hospital, she knew the prognosis. She saw him moving around the house, and although he was still on crutches, it was clear that he was feeling better, that he was okay. But this had nothing to do with logic. It had to do with past events, with weird coincidence, and with irrational fear of being left alone. Again.
Elizabeth checked her calendar on her way home, suddenly well aware of the date. She never missed the anniversary of her parents' death. Not in the past 34 years. But this year… this year she was too occupied with her husband getting shot. Her breath hitched as she realized the cruelty of events. She nearly lost him, on the same day she lost them.
"Come here," he said, pulling her arm gently.
Tossing her heels, she closed the gap between them. Resting against the headboard, he wrapped a solid arm around her and pulled her to him. She let her hand fall to his chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart. Her head nestled in the crook of his neck, her tears rolling quietly down her cheeks.
He placed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, taking a deep breath as the smell of her shampoo filled his nostrils. "We are here. I am here. I promise, I'm not going anywhere."
Maybe on a different day, that would've been enough. But not tonight. Tonight, she needed more. More than just comforting words she knew he couldn't keep. "I'm not ready to be a widow, Henry. Our kids are not ready to be a parental orphan."
"You're not. They're not. I am okay. I know it scared you. It scared me too. But it's only superficial."
"Luckily," she muttered bitterly. "It could've been a rerun. Very easily, it could've happened to me again."
Henry furrowed his brows. Again? He wracked his brain. The only other time she ever lost someone was when… Their anniversary. Lifting her chin, he stared right into her eyes. "Lightning doesn't strike twice," he muttered and then pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss.
With his tongue in her mouth, she breathed heavily into his, her hand moving to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to her. It does, but it no longer mattered. His hand moved down her body, quick and persistent, touching the burning spots that he knew would awaken her senses. There was something about the way he knew her, something about the way he read her. It wasn't just a physical attraction. It never was with him. From the moment they met, it was like every touch of his meant something, burnt a new memory to her skin. Years together, it was still the same, only now he touched those memories, reminding her again of all the things they've been through.
His hand brushed her breast at first, and when he heard her soft moan, he cupped it, grazing the nipple through the chiffon blouse.
"Henry," she breathed, tearing their lips apart.
"I will never leave you," he whispered in her ear when his hand moved into her skirt and panties.
She cried out when he pushed a finger inside, arching her back and pushing her hips towards his hand. Her eyes opened wide, the tears no longer present. They were dark with lust now and the desire of having him, of wanting what he was about to give her.
He twisted his finger inside, pulling gently. He felt her body twitch, reacting to his touch. Noticing her pants, he added another finger, moving faster, pulling harder. She shifted, moving to rest against his chest, her head falling against his shoulder. He wrapped his other arm around her, holding tight to her waist. They both watched the motions of his hand, the way her hips pushed towards it.
"Come for me," he muttered, placing a kiss on her cheek.
"God, Henry," she called, nipping at the hair on his neck.
She clenched her muscles, closing her hips to increase the friction. He added a third finger and she yelped, pulling at the sheet beneath her. He moved fast now, pulling and pushing, pressing against her upper wall. Her hips were twisting, her breaths coming in short pants. She was desperate for release, every part of her on fire. She shut her eyes tight when his thumb grazed her clit. She couldn't help the scream that followed, her muscles contracting and a moment of bliss washing over her.
She was still then, her chest rising quickly with her short breaths, her blouse damp with sweat. When she didn't open her eyes, he placed soft kisses to her neck, a subtle reminder that he was there.
"I will always be here to catch you when you fall," he whispered.
She looked at him, the sadness appearing again in her eyes. "I can't fall into that pit-hole again. You promised me, when you saved me the first time, that I will never have to again."
Tears fell from her eyes again and he sighed with frustration. It wasn't that he thought his previous actions would make her forget, but he could only hope it will be enough for now. He hoped it would show her that he was there, that he wasn't her parents. That he didn't mean to be in danger again.
His thumb dried her tears, and he looked into her eyes. It always amazed him that her eyes could consume him. He wondered if it was their unique color, or was it the fact that she allowed him to see right into her soul. He was probably the only one who knew not only what every look means, but what every minor change to those eyes was. And he knew, it was because he saved her.
He tugged at her hip, pulling her to him. With his hand under her knee, he managed to pull her to sit on top of him. He groaned when he finally settled back against the cushions, feeling the pain in his knee and his ankle.
She lifted her weight, ready to move, to get off of him, but his hands gripped her hips, grounding her back to him.
"I'm hurting you," she frowned.
Dragging his hands up her thighs, he took hold of the hem of her blouse. She lifted her arms when he did, allowing him to remove it.
"Henry." she stilled against him, holding onto his hands as they wrapped around her torso, locating the clasp of her bra.
"I'm okay."
"Henry, you're injured. You got shot." Her voice trembled at that last word. It was still painful to even say it out loud.
"I am. I was. But I'm here with you now, and I am okay. And I want to be with you. I want you to see, to feel, that I am here, that I'm alright."
He freed his hands from her grip and his fingers grazed her skin as he reached for the straps of her bra. Pulling it down her arms, he felt her shiver to his touch and goosebumps covered her skin. He pulled her to him, kissing her slowly, his hand tangling in her curls. He kissed her neck then, and her collarbone and then his lips were on her nipple, sucking gently. She moved her hips, rubbing against him, releasing a faint groan from him.
Her eyes were on him then, her body tense again, ready to move from him. "No," he mumbled. "I want you to…" his eyes moved to where they were almost joined, a silent request to release him from the confines of his pants.
Elizabeth lifted her hips, shifting her weight to her knees. She reached for him and pulled him out, her hand stroking gently. His hands lifted her skirt, hooking it around her waist, his fingernails leaving a mark against her pale skin. He pushed her panties to the side and she guided himself to the right position. Slowly and carefully, she slid down his length. She let out a breath the moment he was buried inside of her, closing her eyes. She took a couple of deep breaths before she met his hazelnut eyes again. He nodded – I'm okay, and his hands settled on her hips.
She moved, lifting her body just enough before sliding back down slowly. Henry moaned, digging his fingernails into her skin. He tried to urge her on, needing her to move faster. But Elizabeth was too afraid to make a wrong move and injure him more; too afraid that if he made another wrong move, he would be gone for good.
"Hey," he called, forcing her attention to him. "It's just my knee and my ankle. I swear, I'm fine."
She nodded and moved again, harder this time. When another sound of pleasure left his mouth, she began to pick up a pace, his hands holding onto her waist and guiding her on. She threw her head back, her hands resting on his chest as her body kept moving up and down his length. Their moans filled the room, growing louder as they both neared their peak.
"Tell me how it feels, Elizabeth."
"It feels…" she tried to catch her breath, to increase the speed of her body. She needed more, she wanted more. But she ached in every bone for his touch, and he couldn't move much to provide her with it.
He pushed his hips upwards, wincing at the pain that washed over him. Taking her by surprise, he made her screech and moan.
"Does this feel real? Do I feel real?"
She couldn't finish that thought. She focused on his eyes, never looking away as she managed to find the last bit of her strength to move faster.
He cried out her name and she tightened around him as they both reached their climax, their bodies contracting against each other. She collapsed onto his chest, her arms moving to wrap around his neck. His hands trailed her back and then he wrapped solid arms around her and pulled her to him. It was as close as they could possibly be with his disability and he refused to let her go.
He waited for her to catch her breath, but her pants soon turned into loud sobs that rang in his ears. He tightened his hold and said nothing more. She needed to get it out, and he was there to hold her. He would always be, that's what he promised.
It was hours later that she finally moved to look at him. Her eyes were puffy, her nose red and swollen. She looked like a mess, with her skirt still hanging around her waist, but she was beautiful, and he needed so badly to protect her.
"You will never be alone ever again," he said as he tucked her hair behind her ear.