Prompt: Henry is angry with Elizabeth, and he wants to make that clear, but he keeps having horrible nightmares, and when he wakes up he needs to touch her to make sure she's really alright.

Elizabeth knew Henry was angry; she'd made a decision at work that put him in a tough spot, and this time it didn't look like he was going to let it go very easily. She knew that he just needed time; he'd move on eventually. However, that knowledge didn't make it any easier to weather the awkwardness that persisted as the two of them got ready for bed. When the lights were out and they were both lying on their backs on their respective sides of the bed, Elizabeth sighed.

"I love you, Henry," she said, glancing over at him.

"I know," he replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

For the moment, that was enough for her.

When Elizabeth fell asleep that night, she was half-expecting to wake the next morning and find Henry's side of the bed empty. What she certainly was not expecting was to be stirred awake in the middle of the night by her husband's restlessness. When she opened her eyes, she found him watching her in the darkness. When she glanced at his hands, she found them trembling.

"Henry?" she mumbled.

"Can I have your hand?" Henry asked abruptly. Elizabeth stared at him, slowly extending her hand to him. He grasped it in his own and she continued to watch him.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth asked. Henry nodded.

"Yeah. Go back to sleep."

Elizabeth watched him for a moment, taking in the way he was struggling to regulate his own breathing and how, even though he didn't look at her, he held tight to her hand. Silently, with full understanding of what was going on, she lowered herself back to her pillow and squeezed his hand lightly.

The next morning, Henry was gone before Elizabeth woke up, and when she joined him and the kids in the kitchen, the conversation was light, but a little forced. Throughout the day, they discussed only the kids and shared a minimal amount of contact.

That night, the same thing happened twice.

Two days after their fight had begun, Elizabeth was really tiring of it. Yet, they went to bed again with little discussion and tension in the air around them.

Henry awoke with a gasp from a dream in which his wife never made it home, and instinctively reached out to touch her, desperate to know that she was okay. However, his outstretched fingers met empty air, and Henry sat up quickly, his head spinning at the sudden movement. He looked around, his heart hammering when he found the master bedroom empty.

No. This couldn't be happening.

Visions of cold morgues and Elizabeth's lifeless body danced before his eyes and Henry suddenly couldn't breathe.

"Oh god," he breathed. He couldn't move, could barely think. In the darkness of the bedroom, all henry could think of was that if something had happened to Elizabeth, the last thing he would have said to her was a petty "I know" in response to her "I love you."

Elizabeth stepped back into the bedroom from her three a.m. trip to the en suite bathroom to find her husband struggling for breath in their bed, his panic evident.

"Henry?" she said, hurrying to his side. Fighting or not, it was clear that he needed her.

"Elizabeth," Henry gasped, reaching for her. She came willingly, letting him take her into his arms. She curled up in his lap, taking note of the way he clung to her. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

"Hey, take it easy, babe," Elizabeth murmured. "It's okay."

"I thought-" Henry's voice broke, and Elizabeth shook her head. He didn't need to finish that sentence for her to understand where it had been going.

"Henry," she soothed. "I'm right here. It's alright."

"Elizabeth, I'm so sorry," he whispered against her skin.

"No," she said. "It's okay, honey."

Henry took a shuddering breath and Elizabeth slowly pulled herself from his grasp so that they could lie side by side. He curled against her, resting his head on her shoulder as she held him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here, baby," she murmured. "Must have been scary."

"Don't apologize," he said hoarsely. "I'm the one who started this whole mess."

"Oh, Henry, come on," she murmured. "Let's not play the blame game, okay? It's over now, yeah? We can let it go."

"Elizabeth," Henry whispered, pulling back to meet her familiar gaze. "I love you so much."

Elizabeth smiled softly at him, cradling his cheek in her palm.

"I know."