Henry blinked repeatedly and rubbed at his eyes, they felt gritty, as if sand had gathered in the corners whilst the fluorescent lights only worsened the feeling, adding to his already pounding headache. His eyes scanned across Elizabeth's still frame, and he shifted slightly in his seat when he saw suddenly saw her top lip move against the breathing tube; his first thought that he was imagining it. He stared at her intently, the seconds ticking by, until finally he saw her eyebrow flicker, her forehead creasing momentarily and felt her pinkie flex against the white, starched sheet. "Elizabeth, Babe, can you hear me?"

She didn't respond, her expression remaining unchanged, but the nurse looked up, asking, "Is everything ok?"

Henry didn't pull his eyes away from his wife, continuing to watch her for any sign that she had heard him. "She moved, she frowned. I know it, I saw it." The nurse walked across to the bed, her eyes moving between Elizabeth and the monitors. Elizabeth's forehead creased again, her cheek giving a small twitch. Henry leaned further forward at the movement, coming off the hard, plastic seat, one hand gripping hers as the other cupped her face, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone. "Elizabeth, I'm here." He looked at the nurse. "This has to be a good sign," he stated hopefully.

The nurse assessed the slightly elevated heart rate and blood pressure but kept her face steady and her tone level. "I think Elizabeth might be sore," she told him.

Henry felt his heart drop back into his stomach, for a few moments he'd found something positive to focus on. "But, surely it has to be a good sign," he repeated. "They said there might be some brain damage, that she might not wake up…" He swallowed against the lump in his throat as his grip on Elizabeth's hand momentarily tightened and his next words came out in a rush of breath, "But if she's moving, then does it mean that she's more likely to wake up?"

Her eyes were sympathetic as she replied softly, "Elizabeth is doing exactly what we'd want her to be doing right now. She is on a lot of sedation and that is at a dosage designed to keep her unconscious, so right now we have no way just to tell what is going to happen long term. I know you want answers, but we can't give any just now." Glancing up again at the monitor she told him, "I'm going to get another nurse so that I can give Elizabeth some extra morphine and make her more comfortable."

Henry was only just aware of her walking to the door and gesturing for one of her colleagues. He dropped back into and leaned against the hard back of the uncomfortable plastic chair, letting their low conversation about dosage drift over him. His eyes closed for a moment and he heard the beep of the machine and the soft clicks and whirs of it as it delivered its extra dose. He felt his eyes burn as his cheeks tightened and he fought against the rising fear that had gathered in his chest. As he heard the nurse's pen scratch across the paper, he opened his eyes again. Elizabeth's forehead was smooth once more, her face back to the expressionless mask that made him feel that he was sitting with a wax-work of his wife and not the vibrant woman he had spent the last thirty years with. He was being stupid, he told himself, he didn't want Elizabeth to be in pain, but he had just wanted to hope that it was a sign, that she was still in there and that she'd be coming back to him. His throat was dry and his voice sounded harsh when he asked, "All sorted?"

"It is." Her head tilted. "Why don't I see if I can get you a more comfortable chair?" she offered.

Henry shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Well you won't be if you spend all night hunched in that," she told him. "I'll see if someone can poach one of the high-backed padded chairs from the relative's room for you."

"You really don't have to."

"I know," she told him with a soft smile. "But lucky for you I'm going to do it anyway."

Alison shuffled down the stairs and into the kitchen where her brother was clattering about with the plates, a collection of cutlery being thrown onto the counter next to them. She rubbed her nose with the edge of her knuckle as she eyed the chaos. "You haven't put out any forks," she told him.

Jason glanced back over at the pile of kitchenware and shrugged. "Get some in a minute. You tell Stevie about food?"

"Uh huh." Alison shifted on her feet. "Jareth is flying back; he'll be here tomorrow."

"That good or bad?"

"You'd think good, but she seemed pretty upset, so I'm going to lean towards bad." Alison sat down at the kitchen table, twisting on the chair and resting her chin on the wooden back.

"She could just, you know, tell him not to come out."

"I don't imagine that would go down well." Alison shifted, freeing some strands of her long hair from where they'd become trapped underneath her chin as she spoke. "I suppose you never know, maybe him being here will help."

Jason shot her a sceptical look from across the kitchen. "Or maybe they'll be have a screaming break up in a hospital waiting room." He banged some forks on the counter. "I know what one I'd put money on."

"I thought you liked Jareth."

"I don't not like him. I just don't think he's for Stevie." Jason pulled open the fridge, raking through it and extracting a packet of cooked ham, snatching a few slices that he then shredded with his fingers and dropped into his mouth.

Alison grimaced at her brother's actions. "We're getting dinner in like twenty minutes tops."

"Yeah, but I'm starving now," he told her, a slight grin on his face and his voice muffled through a mouthful of ham.

Shaking her head, Alison sighed as she flicked the subject back again. "So, why don't you think they're for each other?"

"Because in some relationships, not all, but some, someone thinks they're the star and that's what Jareth thinks." He sucked the remaining flavour of his impromptu snack off his thumb before continuing, "you can tell. I mean look at how he treats Stevie's internship, he doesn't see it as a big deal, not compared to his stuff." He leaned back against the kitchen counter. "I mean do you really see him hanging around if Mom doesn't wake up?"

"Mom's going to wake up," Alison told him forcefully.

"That's not what I meant." He ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick out at odd angles. "I just mean that it'll take away from him."

"He did give up going back to England for her," Alison pointed out.

"Yup, and they've fought non-stop ever since because it meant that he wasn't the priority." Jason levered himself up onto the kitchen island, perching on the edge as his feet clattered against the cupboard doors underneath as he swung his legs back and forth. "He's not a bad guy," he sighed. "But I really don't see tomorrow going well." He frowned and added quickly, "For Stevie."

"If Mom wakes up then Stevie might not care." Alison's nose wrinkled and her lips momentarily pursed as she followed that thought process and then added, "I mean she might not care straight away, I'm sure she'll care eventually."

"And then bam!" Jason clapped his hand off the counter-top. "Hospital waiting room break-up."

Alison rolled her eyes and found a tiny chip of loose paint on the seat of her chair to pick at. "I thought I might sleep down here tonight, just bring my duvet down and put some films on."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Just feel like it."

"Want company? Jason asked after a moment. "We could get the airbeds down from the top of the airing cupboard. Stevie could join in as well. I mean if we're going to wait this out then we may as well wait it out together. I know I'm not going to get much sleep tonight."

Alison smiled. "That sounds really good. I'll go and ask Stevie and get the duvets and pillows. You want to get the airbeds down?"

"Sure. It's either that or just eat more ham."

The new chair was more comfortable Henry admitted to himself, it certainly had eased the aching in his lower back and it was nice to be able to lean the side of his head on the slightly padded wing that curved out at the sides, but not so far that it impeded his view of Elizabeth. She hadn't moved again since the extra medication and although he couldn't shake that feeling of discontent and trepidation, he was relived to know that she was pain-free. His fingertips moved automatically down her wrist and over her hand, in a gentle caress that he repeated constantly, unsure if he was attempting to comfort her or reassure himself. He moved his fingers in a careful arc, around the clear plaster across her wrist that covered the plastic tip of the arterial line that jutted awkwardly out at a slight angle, then avoiding the attached line that looped around her thumb and back up towards the head of the bed again, the line held steady on the bed by small strips of clear adhesive tape. The jumble of wires attached to Elizabeth terrified him, the sheer magnitude of what was needed to tether her to life would hit him at short intervals and he'd force himself to draw back from that terrifying thought before it engulfed him.

There was a stir from outside the room, the low constant hum of the other machines in the ward and the other staff members as they moved calmly from one job to the next was now just background noise to Henry, but suddenly he became aware of the change in pitch. He could hear some, almost excited chatter echo up to the top end of the ward. He turned towards the door in time to see one of the secret service men step into the doorway. "Dr McCord, President Dalton is here," he informed him.

"Send him in," Henry told him, getting to his feet, a rush of pins and needles shooting up his left foot and ankle as he turned to the door.

Conrad stepped in and gave him a polite, if slightly strained smile. "Henry, you don't need to stand." His smile faltered as his gaze fell to Elizabeth. "How is she?"

"Stable." He gestured to the second chair on the opposite side of the bed. "Take a seat, Mr President."

"Right now, Conrad is fine." His tall frame folded into the chair, but he didn't relax, instead he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped so that he could rest his chin on them. "They're hoping to wake her up tomorrow?"

Henry dropped back into his chair. "That's the plan. I assume you've been told about the complications."

"I was updated," Conrad confirmed. "Lydia and I will keep her in our prayers tonight."

"That's kind of you."

There was a prolonged silence, it stretched awkwardly for at least a minute, the normally easy rapport between the two men falling away. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Conrad finally asked.

Henry levelled a stare across the bed, "You can call off your Chief of Staff."

"Russell did mention that you weren't amenable to his suggestion."

Henry's cheek twitched in anger, his fingers starting their trace of Elizabeth's arm and hand once again. "I don't know why you thought I would be."

"I didn't, but Russell thought it might spare some future upset. He won't bring it up again," the older man promised him.

"Good."

Conrad sat back slightly, and his knee began to bounce as his foot tapped out an agitated beat on the linoleum floor. "There's going to be an investigation into the FBI, we'll get to the bottom of why Merchant wasn't registered with the service as a credible threat."

A humourless smile crossed Henry's face, drawing his mouth upwards in a tight line. "Possibly because he wasn't a threat until I made him one."

"You had a gut feeling about him, of what he was capable of. The safeguards in place to protect Elizabeth failed and I promise that we'll find out why."

Henry didn't reply, his face set into grim mask as he looked back towards his wife.

The two men fell once more into silence, another few minutes ticking slowly by until there was a knock at the door and a young female doctor in a pair of blue scrubs stepped into the room, a red stethoscope hanging around her neck and her black hair pulled up off her face in a haphazard bun, strands of which were escaping and frizzing around her face. "Dr McCord, I'm Dr Garcia, I'm the registrar on call tonight."

She held out her hand and Henry stood to shake it, clearing his throat nervously as he asked, "Is everything ok?"

"It was just to give you a quick update, although," her gaze slid to the President and back again, "I can arrange to come back."

"No, whatever it is you can say it."

"It was just to let you know that we've had Elizabeth's most recent bloods back. The good news is that her blood gasses that measure lung function and oxygenation are positive however, I'm concerned that her haemoglobin levels are still quite low despite the transfusions given during surgery. So, I think the best course of action is to arrange a further blood transfusion for her overnight, we'll give another two units and then re-assess in the morning."

"Why is it still low?" Henry asked.

"Elizabeth lost a lot of blood before we could get her into theatre, and it's common for multiple transfusions to be needed both before and following surgery in that case. We can estimate how much she lost but can't be accurate in the circumstances. The good news is that her blood pressure and heart rate are stable, so I'm confident that we'll see an improvement following this line of treatment. I've spoken to blood bank and we should be able to start the first one in the next half hour." She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose from where they had slipped downwards. "Do you have any questions for me?"

"If this doesn't work then what next?"

"Elizabeth's levels indicate that two units of blood should make a sufficient difference, although we can't rule out any further transfusions. If there isn't the improvement we expect or if her condition were too deteriorate then we may arrange a CT scan to look for any potential causes." She offered a reassuring smile. "Although I don't anticipate that it will be required."

"Ok." Henry nodded. "If that's what she needs…"

She lingered a moment, her gaze flickering once more to the other man in the room, before she spun on her rubber soled shoes and swept almost silently from the room.

Henry gave a heavy sigh. "It just feels like one thing after another," he told Conrad after a few seconds of charged silence. "Anytime I think that there's a chance she'll come through this, something else turns up."

"I can't imagine how you feel just now, but Bess is stubborn, she's a fighter and if anyone can come through this then it's her."

He wanted to agree with him, he knew his wife was strong-willed, but as this went on he could feel his faith that she could fight this and come back to them waver. His faith had always held before, had stood up to any test put to it, but he could feel it slipping away. If Elizabeth had any control in this then she would come through, he didn't doubt that. His worry was that it wasn't going to come down to her stubbornness or her willingness to fight. His worry was that she had no control and that she was going to slip away from him and all he was going to be able to do was sit and watch it happen.

Russell was lingering outside the door to the ward, his mobile in hand and a frown on his face when Conrad stepped out into the hospital corridor. For once he managed to tear his eyes up and away, falling into step with the President as he asked, "How is she?"

"Holding in there. I'm not convinced that the same can be said for Henry."

"No, he seemed on edge when I spoke to him. Never seen him so rattled and he didn't quote ethics at me even once. It was almost unnerving."

Conrad's gaze slid across to his Chief of Staff as he told him. "He's not happy with your suggestion about Merchant's plea deal, I think that one might be best left in the dust."

Russell gave an irate sigh. "I understand why he isn't happy about it, but it was a viable solution." His glare deepened as he turned his attention back to his phone, jabbing out a message on it. "Could have helped put this whole fiasco into a box and close the lid on it."

"I don't think this is something that will disappear with one news cycle."

"No, not one. But it would have stopped it rearing it's ugly head again in a few months. We know what's going to happen here. We are going to suffer every failing twice, once when it comes out and again during the trial. We could have just ripped the band-aid off and done it all in the one go, something I still think would have been preferable." He waved his hand. "But I get it, I will let it go." He pushed his phone back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "So, holding in there? I think we'll leave that out of the next press release."

"I wish I could be more positive but seeing her like that…" Conrad's lips thinned, and he shook his head. "Seeing Henry brought so low, it's hard to keep the faith."