Chapter 9: When I'm lost, will you keep me close?

Elizabeth's small dining room table was set to bursting with beautiful dishes Henry had whipped up in less than an hour. Green broccoli, yellow squash, red peppers… The man knew how to make a good-looking meal. He showed up at her house after work with a brown bag of groceries, and in no time, it had transformed into a feast.

"Oh my gosh, Henry. This is beautiful. I don't know how you do it." Elizabeth gushed enthusiastically, coming in from the living room where she had been sitting on the couch checking email.

Henry had kicked her out of the kitchen after she had tried to help. He had had her heat up some butter in a frying pan, and she had managed to make it pop and nearly burn herself.

"I put stuff in pans and heat them up." He joked.

"Well, I think it's brilliant." Elizabeth state definitively, sticking her chin out and nodding with finality.

Henry laughed. "Let's eat." He held her chair out for her.

She settled herself dramatically, pretending she was wearing an elaborate floor length dress. "Thank you, sir."

Grinning, Henry tipped an imaginary hat to her and took his own seat. Even though they were sitting in the middle of Elizabeth's home, it was fun to act as if they were in a formal restaurant. More specifically, it was fun to be able to break the formality whenever they wanted. The freedom was welcome to both of them.

"Did you see Russell's hair this morning?" Henry asked innocently.

Elizabeth nearly snorted into her pasta. "Oh my gosh! I almost forgot! Yes! What on earth happened? He looked horrible!"

Spearing a slice of pepper and waving it in front of her face, Henry teased, "Now, aren't you glad you're my girlfriend? Because I happen to have the whole story."

"Tell me!" She demanded.

Henry popped the pepper in his mouth and smiled. "How's the pasta?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "It's amazing, of course. Now tell me what the hell happened to Russell's hair."

"Fine." He bit his pepper, taking time to chew and swallow to create dramatic effect. "He tried to use hair growth shampoo."

"He didn't!" Elizabeth couldn't believe it.

"He did." Henry confirmed.

Elizabeth set her fork down, unable to focus on her food and listen to Henry's story at the same time. "Oh my god."

"Yeah. Turns out he's allergic to whatever is in that stuff."

She barked out a laugh. "That's what the bumps were!"

"Yep."

"How did you find out?"

"I heard him telling the president."

"What did the president say?" She was on the edge of her seat, desperate for the gossip.

"Told him that he would look better bald."

"No." She spoke in disbelief.

Henry nodded calmly. "Yes."

Elizabeth nearly fell off her chair as paroxysms of laughter shuddered through her.

They spent the rest of dinner gossiping innocently about people they worked with. It was work talk, but it wasn't anything stressful. They both enjoyed the chance to unwind. By the end of the dinner, the knot of stress Elizabeth always carried with her had loosened. She had been nervous about telling Henry about her panic attacks and cutting, even though he already basically knew. But now, it wasn't so scary. This was just Henry, who could make her laugh with just a look.

They took their seats across from each other in the living room. Elizabeth curled her legs under herself, and Henry crossed his legs, looking calm and collected.

"So… You wanted to know why I get… Out of sorts… I think that's what you called it."

Henry waited for her, face open but blank.

"Well, you know I went to Iran to stop the coup. I was, um, in the room when Foreign Minister Javani was killed. His house was bombed." That part had all been in the news. She was sure Henry would have read about it. "One of my agents pushed me down… And then he was shot. He died protecting me."

"Were you hurt?"

"Not seriously. I had twenty-some stitches in my back from the glass, but I was fine. Or, I mean, physically I was fine. I still have nightmares about it. There was this boy… Javani's son…" She paused, to take a calming breath. She hadn't told anyone this part, but she had replayed it so many times in her head that it almost seemed as if the whole world knew. In her mind, everyone knew that Abdul had been there and she had done nothing to protect him. In her mind, everyone knew that when it came down to it, she would cave under pressure.

"When the bomb went off, I kinda fixated on him. I wanted to protect him. I wanted to keep him from seeing his father die. But I couldn't. I couldn't do anything." She sniffed, trying to keep the tears back. As long as she had kept the secret, she had expected it to be harder to finally tell. It was in some ways easier to speak about it in plain words, but there was no way to convey in words how much anguish the events had caused her.

"That's really hard. I'm sorry." Henry tried to keep his voice soft and comforting.

Elizabeth continued, without really noticing Henry. She was caught up in telling the story. "Afterwards, when I got back… I guess I thought I could move on, but I couldn't. I couldn't sleep. I'd hear shouting and gunshots and glass breaking when there was nothing there. Then I had a panic attack at work. In the middle of talking to the Chinese. I felt like I was having a heart attack. It was terrifying. I couldn't breathe, and I thought the world was closing in on me. I thought I was going to die."

She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was in her home with Henry, not in the middle of her office having a panic attack in front of Minister Chen.

Henry could see her getting agitated. He got up and got her a glass of water.

"Here. Drink some water. It's just me. Take your time." He tried to be calming as he handed her the glass.

She took the cup gratefully. "Thanks."

When she was ready to continue, she set the cup on the end table beside her and swallowed.

"An ambulance took me to the hospital and they told me it was just a panic attack. After that, it seemed like the panic attacks happened practically every other day. I was so worried someone would see me out of control like that. They'd think I wasn't capable of doing my job anymore. The panic attacks just started getting awful. I'd end up huddled in the corner shaking and crying. Sometimes I'd be able to keep them from getting that bad. I'd just get out of breath and nervous, but I could keep things together..."

"That was what happened outside the Sit Room?"

She nodded.

"How do you control it?" He asked gently, keep his tone quiet and free of judgment. "That's the only time I've seen you like that. And even then, if someone didn't know you, they wouldn't have thought anything of it."

"I think you already know." Elizabeth looked down, ashamed.

"Tell me, babe. It'll help to say it." Henry coaxed.

She took a deep breath. She wasn't sure if she wanted to find out what Henry's reaction would be. "I… I cut myself."

Henry closed his eyes to give himself a minute to process. He had already known, at least suspected. But hearing it confirmed was another thing. He almost couldn't imagine feeling so bad you wanted to mutilate your own body. The idea that someone as capable and authoritative as Elizabeth needed to resort to that was difficult. If his feelings for her hadn't been so strong, he might have not have been so devastated. But as it was, it was a huge blow. He knew how strong Elizabeth was. He had seen her in action working to solve international disputes. The woman in front of him was not weak by any stretch of the imagination. So the trauma of what she had seen must have been almost unimaginable, and she had been dealing with it on her own.

He wanted to help. He wanted to do anything that would make Elizabeth feel even the slightest bit better. Thinking rationally, though, he knew the only way he'd be able to really help her was if he understood the problem. And while he had known a few guys who had done it, he hadn't been close with them, and he had never asked about the cutting.

"Can you explain a little about how that works and why it helps you?" He had a lot of questions, but he didn't want to ask something indelicate.

Her words were timid and quiet. "…You aren't disgusted?"

"No. I'm not disgusted. I'm sorry you feel like hurting yourself, and I'm sorry that you have to live with that pain. But I'm not disgusted."

Elizabeth let out a breath. His words made her feel a little better. At least he wasn't mad at her.

"I keep razor blades with me in my purse… I make sure everything is sterile." She tried to keep Henry from worrying. She wasn't trying to scare him.

Henry nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"I guess the cutting gives me something else to focus on. When I'm having a flashback or something, the pain keeps me present… The endorphins calm me down and get my heart to stop racing."

"It stops the panic attacks?"

"Yeah."

Henry could understand why Elizabeth would cut herself if it kept her from having to live through panic attacks and flashbacks. It worried him, though. If her hand slipped and she accidentally cut too deep… He didn't want to think about how easy it would be for her to bleed out. He had to know how dangerous it was – how deep her cuts were.

"Will you let me see?" He asked quietly.

"Why?" Elizabeth jumped slightly. She hadn't been planning to show Henry her cuts.

"I want to know how deep they are. I don't want you to accidentally hit a blood vessel…"

She crossed her arms over her stomach and hunched her shoulders defensively. "I'm not going to do that…"

"I'm only asking because I care about you," Henry said, honestly.

Hesitantly, Elizabeth nodded. She looked into Henry's eyes and saw no reproach, only concern, so she pulled up her left sleeve just a little, hoping that Henry wouldn't look much further. She could show him some of the shallow cuts near her wrist and at least get him to stop worrying.

He got up and knelt in front of her and slowly rolled her sleeve up to her bicep. There were cuts and scars crisscrossed over her entire forearm. Henry didn't touch the cuts, and his surprise didn't register on his face, though mentally, he was reeling at the sight. He had known it would be bad, but he hadn't known how bad, and he hadn't known how much it would affect him to see the physical evidence of her pain.

After a moment of initial panic, Elizabeth almost felt relieved that the cuts were exposed. She spent so much time every day worrying about making sure they were covered and unseen that letting them get some air was a weight off her shoulders.

"That one looks like it hurt a lot." Henry gestured to a particularly thick, raised scar.

"It did. That one bled a lot." She remembered the particularly terrible nightmare that had woken her up. Half asleep, she had started to cut, and she cut a little deeper than she meant to.

Henry nodded and moved slightly to kneel in front of her other arm, lifting it into his lap and looking into her eyes for permission. When she nodded slightly, he rolled up the sleeve to match the other side. The number of scars and cuts was just about the same. Some cuts were clearly fresh and just barely scabbed over. Others were a week or two old. Then there were the scars that were colorless, raised lines.

Elizabeth hadn't been expecting Henry to think to look on her other arm. She wasn't really upset. She figured once he had seen the cuts, he had seen them. Seeing both arms was really no different from seeing one. It impressed her a bit that he expected to find cuts on her other arm. It seemed that he understood her in a way. He seemed to know that the cuts on one arm wouldn't have been enough for her.

Henry didn't look up from where he was examining her injuries. He was looking for signs of infection, but he didn't find any. "Are there any cuts worse than the ones here?"

Elizabeth opened and closed her mouth, surprised that Henry would think there were other cuts. She saw him look up at her, and his face was matter-of-fact. He didn't look appalled or disgusted at all. He looked like he did this every day.

"They're all about the same."

"Okay. You okay?" He wanted to hug her and try to soothe the pain she carried around with her – the pain that had been so much it overflowed onto her skin. But he didn't want to scare her. She still hadn't sought out his touch, and he wouldn't force it on her. Still, he knew that showing someone her cuts would probably be an emotional experience, and he wanted to know that it wouldn't cause her more anxiety.

"I'm okay." She smiled tremulously. Of course she wasn't okay. That was the whole point of their conversation. She was telling Henry that she hadn't been okay since Iran. But she knew he was asking if she was okay that he had seen her cuts. If anything, it was nice to know her secret was out and Henry hadn't reacted negatively.

"Alright." He gave her an encouraging smile.

Henry moved back to his chair and settled in, crossing his legs again. A small chuckle escaped his chest.

Elizabeth was busy pushing her sleeves back down, but she looked up. "What are you laughing at?"

"Us. The pair of us. The amount of effort we go to just to keep up appearances."

In spite of herself, Elizabeth joined him in laughing. They were two powerful, successful, government employees. And yet they needed their crutches just to get through the day.

After a moment, she grew serious again. "Henry, I don't want you to keep up appearances around me. I want to know when you're not okay. When you told me everything last night… I get having unresolved feelings about your parents. I get that Bolivia was traumatic. I…I want this relationship to work… I want you to be able to trust me."

Henry sat forward and matched her sober expression. "Elizabeth, you're the most amazing woman I've ever met. If you're ready to give this relationship a chance, I'm all in. You never need to put up pretenses with me. I know how scary it is to go to another country and nearly get killed. You don't have to be strong for me. I don't want you to bottle it up and feel so bad you want to hurt yourself."

Elizabeth was quiet for a minute.

"Are you okay?" Henry asked her after she didn't speak for a while.

"Yeah. I guess I thought you'd get mad at me and tell me to stop," she admitted.

"I know it's not that simple, babe. If it were that simple, you would have already stopped. You wouldn't have even started in the first place."

Those words surprised her. Henry seemed to get it. She knew she shouldn't be surprised that he understood, but part of her had thought no one would ever understand what she was going through. That was why she had to cut, because she was the only one she could take out her frustration on. Because no one would ever be able to help make it better. No one could fix it.

Henry continued. "You're not going to be ready to stop cutting until you find something else that's more satisfying. Some kind of alternative that actually works."

She looked at him slightly in awe. He definitely got it.

"I assume the same goes for your drinking," she needled, giving him a playful wink.

"I guess so, yeah." Henry smiled ruefully.

"Henry, I'd like you to call me when you want to drink. I want to try to help. I'm worried about the long-term effects of the drinking. I don't want you to feel like you have to drink, and I really don't want you to have a heart attack when you're 60." Elizabeth couldn't help but think that neither of them was particularly young. If she were going to start a relationship with this man, she wasn't going to be okay with him dying from something preventable.

Henry thought about it for a moment. He had to be honest. She deserved that from him at least. "I can't make any promises. But I'll try if you'll try. Try to call me before you cut yourself. Deal?"

"Yeah. Deal." Elizabeth agreed.

"Okay." Henry glanced down at his watch. It was nearly 9:30pm. "I should really probably head home."

Elizabeth stood up and walked him to the door. "Thanks for dinner, by the way. That was amazing. I'm so glad you can cook."

"I'm glad you liked it." He smiled, accepting her compliment.

They stood in front of the door awkwardly. Henry wasn't sure how to say goodbye. Elizabeth was just as unsure as Henry.

Henry decided to ask. "Can I kiss you?"

The question surprised Elizabeth, and she felt tears pooling in her eyes. It was probably just from the amount of emotional energy she had had to expend in telling Henry about Iran and her cutting. She though Henry was so sweet, asking for her permission to kiss her. His concern for her was obvious, and it was a new experience for her. No one had cared about her that way since her parents died.

"Oh, baby…" Henry was distraught at having made his girlfriend cry. She had managed to keep it together during their conversation, but he had finally pushed her too far. "It's okay. No pressure. It's okay."

"No. It's not that." She could tell Henry had misunderstood. She tried to reassure him through her tears. "I'm not upset."

He looked at her skeptically. There wasn't much use in trying to convince him that she wasn't upset.

"I mean… I just didn't think you'd even want to kiss me after I told you everything. After you saw the cuts…"

He resisted the urge to push her hair back and wipe away her tears. He desperately wanted to comfort her, but he knew he'd only do more harm than good if he touched her when she didn't want him to. "I've wanted to kiss you since our first date. That hasn't changed. Seeing the cuts didn't change my feelings for you."

"I didn't know you wanted to kiss me… But thanks for asking before you just tried it. No one's ever asked my permission before. Hell, even my first kiss as a teenager… The guy just forced himself on me, and he was terrible anyway." She remembered back to the bumbling attempts her high school boyfriend had made. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but he never bothered to ask her if she wanted to do anything. He had it in his mind that it was his job to initiate things, and then if he were good enough, she'd let him continue. She had kicked him to the curb once she realized he was only after sex.

"This isn't like that." Henry shook his head. "I'm never going to force myself on you. I promise. It's up to you. If you'd like for me to kiss you, I'd love to. But only if you want it."

She nodded. "Kiss me."

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Each was making sure the other was ready and willing. All they saw was eager, if slightly nervous, anticipation. Their mouths met slowly with all the tender potential and hope they felt for their relationship. They had spilled some of their secrets and been encouraged that the other wasn't scared off. For the first time in years, they both felt like they had someone they could trust.

Henry was surprised at how soft Elizabeth's lips were. He felt her lips caress his with a simple grace that took his breath away. She wasn't being demanding or pushy. She was just exploring and taking her time. Henry had thought she might be just as authoritative while kissing as she was when she talked to world leaders in her role as Secretary of State. Instead, she was allowing him to have equal input into their kiss. He tried to show her with his lips and tongue that he thought she was the most valuable and precious woman he had ever met. He wanted to comfort her – soothe away her pain. He used his lips and tongue to caress her sensitive skin and slowly, calmly, explore.

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Henry's neck, and allowed Henry to put his hands on her hips. She could feel his five o'clock shadow rough against the edges of her lips, but Henry was gentle enough that it didn't hurt at all. She felt Henry massaging her lips with his own, and she relaxed, letting the tension drain from her body. When their kiss was over, and they broke apart for breath, she sank into his embrace and rested her cheek against Henry's shoulder. It was calming in a way she hadn't felt in years.

"You wanna bring me lunch tomorrow?" She asked softly, rubbing her nose and cheek against his muscular chest.

Henry smiled. It felt so right to hold Elizabeth in his arms. She fit perfectly against his chest – her thin frame complementing his broader one. Keeping one hand on her hip, he let the other glide up her back to gently hold her to him, wrapping her in his love. He felt himself relax as he held her. She was such a wonderful, vibrant, and intelligent person, and she wanted him to hold her. He couldn't resist that.

"I'd love to." He kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Elizabeth."

They shared a smile and another quick kiss. With that, he left to go back home to his dark and silent apartment. Tonight, though, it didn't seem so lonely. He could still feel the trust and comfort of holding Elizabeth.

As Elizabeth climbed the stairs to her bedroom, her body was still tingling with the feeling of Henry's arms around her. She wanted to hurry up and get to bed before the memory faded. Normally her thoughts were so jumbled as she was trying to sleep, but tonight, she was glad she would have time to replay the moment downstairs with Henry over and over in her mind.