Prompt: Elizabeth really wants to be held by Henry on the night of the fight in Ghost Detainee, so she goes to the couch where he's sleeping and snuggles in with him.

Elizabeth sighed, and the sound drifted through the lonely darkness of her bedroom. She'd always loved this house, and this bedroom. It usually felt so much like home to her, but now, she found that it really didn't. It felt empty and cold, and it occurred to her then that what had felt like home about it had been not the room at all, but rather the man that she shared it with. Henry could make anywhere feel like home to her, and now as she sat there without him, her heart ached in her chest. She thought back on their fight, the harsh words exchanged between them, and her retreat to the bedroom. He was sleeping on the couch, and she hated that. She hated being apart from him and the distance it created in more than physical space. Thinking of her horse and the vet visit that was looming the following morning, along with all the stress she was under at work and the romantic weekend that was now in shambles, Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to curl up with Henry and let him hold her. Insecurity crept in n her then, as she wondered how he'd react if she just...went to lie with him. These were old insecurities, but in that moment, all alone in the darkness of the bedroom, they seemed impossible to overcome. She could no more shake the desire to be with Henry, though, so she slipped out of the bedroom and crept quietly through the near-empty house to the living room, where she found Henry sleeping on the couch. She wondered fleetingly if it meant anything about the state of their marriage that he was able to sleep while she was so tormented that she could barely close her eyes. She shook that thought off as best she could, though, and perched herself on the edge of the couch in the half-light, heart pounding as her mind raced with all the things he might say to her if he awoke and found her there. It was irrational, she told herself...but was it? Or was it entirely possible that things really were falling apart and this was going to be the final straw that broke them? She liked to think that nothing ever could, but she remembered the way he'd looked at her earlier and she wasn't so sure.

She reached out and brushed her fingers lightly through his hair. Henry, not normally a light sleeper, stirred at her touch and Elizabeth drew her hand back in slight panic. Without opening his eyes, Henry reached out for her, his uncoordinated, half-asleep touch falling on her upper thigh.

"Elizabeth," he murmured, soft and familiar, not quite awake but present enough to know her, to reach for her, to want to be close to her. Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and she felt ridiculous as she swiped furiously at them when they began to stream down her cheeks. She took a shuddering breath and Henry opened his eyes, blinking at her with concern in the half light.

"Baby, are you okay?" he asked. She shook her head and Henry reached out to her, tugging gently until she was settled on the couch next to him, her head buried against his neck.

"I didn't think you'd want me to-" she began, breaking off in embarrassment. She hated when her old insecurities interfered with the confidence she'd gained.

"Come here," Henry murmured, drawing her in closer. His voice was warm and gravelly with sleep, and the sound of it alone calmed her a little bit. Tears continued to fall though, a combination of her relief that he wasn't sending her away and the stress she was under manifesting itself.

"It's just a fight, babe," he said softly. "It's hard right now, but I always want to be with you. It's okay."

His words, while they made her feel better, seemed to only make her cry more. She wrapped her fingers around the chain that hung on his neck and he ran his hand along her spine.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he murmured in her ear. "I've got you."

"I hate fighting with you," she mumbled.

"I know," he sighed. "I hate it, too."

"Are we still fighting?" she asked in a small voice, and Henry sighed, his breath ghosting over her skin. She shivered and he pulled a blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over her and tenderly wrapping it around her.

"Yes," he began, "but not right now."

She could hear the sorrow in his voice, but there was love there too, and when she glanced up at him, it was that love which prevailed in his hazel eyes.

"It's okay, babe," he sighed softly, leaning in to press his lips to her forehead. "Just sleep for now, okay?"

"I'm sorry I woke you up," she breathed. "I just couldn't sleep up there by myself, thinking about you and Buttercup and work and everything else." Henry chuckled lightly, the sound reverberating through his chest, where her hand was resting, fingers still playing with his necklace.

"It's okay," he said. "I wasn't sleeping too well myself."

"You looked like you were," she whispered.

"I wasn't," he assured her, ghosting his lips over her temple and nuzzling his nose against her hair. "I never do. Not without you."

That in itself was somewhat comforting to her.

"Henry," she began, "we're going to be okay, right?"

"Of course," he said, sounding much more confident than she felt. "We're going to be fine, Elizabeth. It's just going to take some time, okay?"

She nodded against him and he brought his hand up to cover hers on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm, the steady beat assuring her that he was there with her, just as he'd always been.

"Close your eyes, baby," he whispered. "Let's both get some sleep, alright?"

"I love you, Henry," she breathed.

"I know," he said. "I love you, too."

"Do you?" she whispered, looking up at him and immediately regretting having asked. But as he met her eyes, sparkling ocean blue hiding all her insecurity, he understood. He knew her like no one else, and he knew that there was no malice or manipulation behind her question.

"I do," he assured her. "More than anything in the world." He combed his fingers through her hair and she tangled her fingers in his.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

She met his eyes in the dim light and the ghost of a smile flickered over her features.

"For being home," she breathed, and while it didn't really make sense, Henry knew what she meant. She was home to him too; as long as she was next to him, he felt as if he was right where he belonged. Even now, with all the tension between them, he looked down at her and a certain calm washed over him. No matter what was going on between them, that feeling still persisted. It had been how he'd known she was the girl for him all those years before, and it was what kept him at her side during their most intense moments.

"Sleep, Elizabeth," he murmured. "I'll be here."

She closed her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, wrapped in Henry's arms, and feeling like home.