Will was more than used to hospitals, in fact he felt strangely comfortable in them. After all he'd spent more time in some variation of them, than he ever had anywhere else, so the eeriness of them at night didn't phase him. The quiet buzz of the artificial lights didn't nip at his head and he wasn't perturbed by the odd silence in what would normally be a bustling building. He steadied the strap of the leather overnight bag on his shoulder as he meandered towards the intensive care unit, taking a large gulp of his coffee, timing finishing it with passing a bin and dropping the paper cup into it.

He pressed the buzzer at the entrance to the ward and waited until he heard the small click of the door lock being freed. Intensive care was an odd place at night, they now dimmed their lights unless they were needed and so most beds were shrouded in gloom, a singular nurse moving silently around the slow, quiet beeping machines. This was in stark contrast to the one of the beds where they were lit up, multiple staff moving busily to the sharp cacophony of warning beeps and alarms. Will quickened his pace to a brisk march down the ward in place of his previous casual stroll outside of it. He didn't want what was happening to catch his attention, after all that patient deserved their privacy just as much as his sister did.

Elizabeth's room was quiet as he approached it, with only a dim glow emanating out into the main ward and he felt a small rush of relief at the lack of activity. Her security detail stood by the door, stiff backed, hands clasped in front of them and Will couldn't help but wonder if they ever so much as slouched, he suspected not. Henry on the other hand was slouched, his body angled towards Elizabeth, his hand over hers with his head resting on the wing of the chair. He looked as though someone had deflated him, he sagged at the middle, slumping to the side of his chair, and for a moment Will thought he had fallen asleep where he sat. Then he saw Henry's hand flex and move over Elizabeth's and he realised he was awake.

Will cleared his throat, drawing his brother in law's attention, he nodded his head to the bag he carried and lifted up the carrier bag clenched in the same hand and announced, "I brought back some supplies."

Henry's hand stayed where it was, but he pulled himself up straight, like a marionette being lifted by their strings back into action. He managed a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "How were the kids when you went back?"

"They were ok, took them some Thai food and they were tucking into that when I left. Although your sitting area looks like an explosion of cushions, they've decided to camp out downstairs together overnight and watch some films. I left just as the debate over what films started to heat up. Alison was pushing for some romantic comedies, and Jason was pushing for the Fast and the Furious." He placed the holdall on the floor next to the chair opposite Henry and sat down, adding, "Stevie was mediating though, so I'm sure they'll reach some form of compromise."

"She's her mother's daughter," Henry remarked, this time his smile lighting his eyes for the briefest of moments. "I always tried to tell Elizabeth that's why they used to clash so much."

"It also explains your Stevie whisperer nickname, you've always had the knack to calm Lizzie down, so being able to transfer that over to Stevie makes sense." Will let his gaze drift across his sister, noting the pallor of her skin, his eyes then taking in and assessing every number on the different machines. "I see they've started her on some more blood," he remarked, as he thought that might hopefully improve the waxy, white paleness of her colouring.

"Yeah." Henry rubbed tiredly at his forehead with his free hand as his head and shoulders bowed. "They said her haemoglobin was low, they think this should fix it."

Will gave a nod. "It should help." His clear, unwavering gaze turned to Henry. "And what about you? How have you been holding up?"

"As much as I can," he admitted.

Leaning back in his chair, Will looked him over assessing him in the same way he had his sister. Henry's clothing was rumpled, his tie long discarded and his top shirt button was undone, whilst his hair stood out at odd angles. His chin was darkening from his five o'clock shadow and his eyes were red rimmed and heavy, his cheeks and jaw pulled tight and his neck muscles slightly corded. In short he looked damned awful. "You look like Hell," he told him bluntly.

Henry gave a humourless chuckle at his words. "Yeah, well I've had better days."

"Hmmm. Well Sophie sent you some food and you look like you need it."

"I'm not really that hungry."

Will ignored him, pulling up the carrier bag and rummaging through it, talking as though Henry hadn't said anything, "Nothing hot I'm afraid, but a couple of wraps, some crisps, biscuits and even though I tried to stop her she's thrown some fruit in there as well." He pulled out a foil wrapped cylinder and held it across the bed to Henry.

He shook his head. "I appreciate the thought, but I really-"

"I'm not really asking," Will told him, shaking the wrap at him. "The kids need you and Lizzie needs you, and you're off no use to them if you starve yourself. Now eat it." He gave a smile of satisfaction when Henry reached out and took the proffered item. "Also I'm not telling Sophie you rejected her care package, it's not worth the earful I'll get for not looking out for you."

Henry picked at the foil, slowly peeling it back. "We can't have that."

"Absolutely not." Will handed him a bottle of water to go with his food.

"How are Sophie and Annie?"

Will's smile widened. "They're good, worried about Lizzie of course, but Sophie is keeping herself busy by keeping you fed and keeping Annie distracted."

"You told Annie?"

"Can't exactly keep away from the news, so felt it was best just to deal with it. She's actually dealing with it pretty well," Will admitted. "You can see she's worried, she's given me strict instructions to fix Lizzie and make sure that I'm home in time to take her to school, but she'll be fine."

"Good." Henry took a bite out of his wrap, chewing it slowly and swallowing, his shoulders visibly tightening as he then asked, "What's being said in the news?"

"There's some ongoing speculation about the enquiry into the FBI and some guesswork about what their role in it was, and they've named the guy of course."

"Anything about him?"

"Nothing yet, just his name." When Will heard Henry give a shaky sigh, he couldn't help but ask, "What is it?"

"President's Chief of Staff came to see me earlier. He thinks that press are going to twist that fact that he was Elizabeth's former student. Wanted to offer him a deal to get him to plead guilty, save a court case and cut the media off at the knees, and I told him no."

"What was the deal?"

"He hands over the name of a dealer along with entering a guilty plea and they take the death penalty off the table."

Will watched the muscle that twitched in Henry's cheek. "I thought you were against the death penalty?"

"I was…am…" Henry shook his head agitatedly, his eyes flickering to Elizabeth, fixing on her as he spoke, his voice taking on a hard, abrasive edge. "I know that it won't happen, even if that's his sentence, it won't happen. The last time they carried out the death penalty in DC was in 1957, and it's a year at most before they remove it from state law altogether. So even if I'd suddenly had a change of heart about my stance on it, it wouldn't matter, it would never really come to that."

"Then why not let them offer it. If you've said yourself that it won't happen then I don't understand why you've turned them down."

Henry's expression hardened; his eyes colder than Will had ever seen them. "Because I want him to suffer. The reason they think he'll take the deal is because he's afraid to die. I want him to feel fear. He shot my wife, he went to that park with the aim of killing her and in those moments after he fired that gun, she must have been afraid. I want him to feel that I want him to be scared."

Will felt his spine stiffen at the venom behind Henry's words. "This isn't you."

"I don't care if this isn't me. I won't let him feel like he won, like he has the power in this situation and we'll all dance to his tune. I know that whatever he says about Elizabeth will be a lie, designed to save his own skin and I won't let it work, I won't let him win," he repeated again.

Considering his words carefully before he spoke, Will's voice was soft and low as he implored Henry. "Don't let this eat at you, this will destroy you if you let it."

Henry's grip tightened on his wife's slack hand. "I promised Elizabeth that I would always turn up for her and I didn't The least I can do is make sure she gets justice."

Will sucked in a deep breath. "Look, I know the way guilt can eat at you. I let it gnaw away at me for years. Wishing that I had been able to find a way to go back and fix it. I would play the crash over and over again in my head, trying to play out how I could have saved my Mom. Then, when I was sixteen they made us read a Brave New World and there was this line in it, 'If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrongdoing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean.' Now I can look back and know it wasn't my fault, but that's not how I felt then. So, I read that line over and over again, mulling over it. Wondering what I could do that would right the wrong I felt like I'd done and that's when I decided that even if I didn't save my Mom, I could save someone else's, I could fix my mistake by learning what I could have done and doing it. And so I became a trauma surgeon" He leaned forward and managed to catch Henry's gaze, his voice dropping to a quiet calming imploration, "You ran late for a lunch, you didn't let her down. If you need to, then find the thing you can improve and do it, but if you let this change you, let it define your principles and who you are, then Henry; he's won anyway and you know it."

Henry grimaced at his words and then shook his head; he could feel the sting of tears prickle behind his eyes. His voice was thick, his words catching in the back of his throat "She didn't deserve this."

"I know," Will acknowledged. "It's not fair, but don't let Lizzie wake up to find you like this."

The fear was back and clawing at him. When Henry looked at Elizabeth, he couldn't see the indomitable woman he'd married, instead he could just see her frailty, her vulnerability and he was scared. He had suffered loss before, but not like this. He knew life was unfair, had seen his friends fall in battle, but she'd always been there, and he'd thought she always would be. He never once thought she'd be ripped away from him with her life half lived. He couldn't even voice what worried him, afraid of what might happen if he did. Afraid he'd breathe life into the idea and it would take shape. He simply shook his head, turning his face away from Will's.

Will watched him, he looked bone weary. "You should go and get a few hours of sleep."

"It's only half past ten," he replied. "And I promised I wouldn't leave her."

"You promised she wouldn't be alone," Will pointed out saliently. "And I'll be sitting right here. Come on Henry, you need to rest. It's been a long day and I can promise you that the night's going to feel even longer."

"I don't think-"

"Sophie's even put in a travel pillow and blanket for you." Will interrupted, not waiting for him to give another excuse. "So, go and put your head down."

"What if something changes?"

"I will come and wake you. Henry at least go for a walk, get some fresh air." Will looked up at all the monitor's again. "The numbers are all fine, she's stable; you can go."

Henry hesitated, he wanted to stay, to be there for her, but a selfish part of him found sitting here a brand of torture. He couldn't do anything, couldn't help and he could feel his frustration mounting. He gave a nod. "Ok," he replied on a sigh. "I'll go for a bit."

"Go for as long as you need."

Will watched Henry lumber slowly and awkwardly towards the door, looking back as he went. Will waved him out encouragingly, belatedly realising that he hadn't made him take the food with him. He rolled his eyes at himself as he reached into the bag and pulled out the packet of Oreos. Waste not, want not.

The night air was cold and nipped at the tip of Henry's nose as he stood in the small portico next to the main entrance. He pushed his hands deep into the pockets, breathing deeply, feeling his headache ease. A lone smoker stood a few feet away from him, the smoke from their cigarette curling upwards in a long, white plume. The air catching it and carrying it across. It caught the back of Henry's throat and he coughed, earning himself a glower from the smoker.

He shifted out of the covered area and onto the main path, tilting his head so that he could look up at the sky. Large dark clouds covered any stars and he could hear the busy rush of the city, the tyres on the wet road and the distant squeal of sirens hanging in the night air. He felt a sudden yearning for their horse farm, for the quiet starry nights, where he and Elizabeth would sit on the porch, mugs of hot chocolate warming their hands. Elizabeth's head would press against his chest and he would sit with her in utter contentment.

A raindrop hit his cheek, the coldness startling him out of his thoughts as another drop landed in his hair. He drew his shoulders together, hunching momentarily as the wind began to pick up. Slowly, he turned back into the hospital. Not ready to go back, he just kept walking, letting his feet carry him until he found himself at the door to the hospital chapel.

The door was open and yet Henry hesitated, unsure if he'd find solace here or if it would just worsen his already flagging faith. Taking in a deep breath, he stepped inside. It was warmer, the air almost stuffy and perfumed by incense. The alter was set into an inlet at the back of the room. The only lights in the room situated above it, set into the ceiling, lending the room an ethereal glow. The wood of the cross attached to the back wall, gleaming in the soft light.

Henry ran his hand along the smooth edges of the pews as he walked towards the alter. Out of habit he crossed himself before dropping into the front pew. He sent up a silent prayer, choosing Jude Thaddeus, the patron saint of desperate causes to address his plea too. It's what he was, desperate, desperate for his wife to recover, desperate for his anger to subside and desperate for his faith to see him through this challenge.

The quiet, warmth of the chapel sunk into his bones and even after his prayer he kept his eyes closed, his head beginning to drop, his chin coming to rest on his chest as he gave into his tiredness and sleep claimed him.