A/N: hi! i found this in my google docs and i'm almost certain I never posted it so here you have it! I am not absolutely sure I didn't post it before so if you've read it already let me know! otherwise, enjoy :)

Prompt: After Iran, Elizabeth doesn't allow Henry to comfort her- she feels like she doesn't deserve it when he didn't want her to go in the first place.

Elizabeth sank onto the edge of the bed, the mattress beneath her feeling both familiar and foreign all at once. She couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that she'd even made it out of Iran alive, let alone that she was home and safe with her husband and children, not to mention her comfortable mattress and luxurious Georgetown house. She pressed her fingers into the soft surface of the mattress and felt tears prick her eyes. She didn't deserve to be here- not when people had died, when a child had lost his father. And for her to escape from it, to come back to this- something about that didn't feel right.

And yet, Elizabeth was not unscathed. She had suffered too, hadn't she? And she was suffering, still. She was pretty certain that she would be for quite some time, but as she listened to Henry's approaching footsteps in the hallway, she hastily swiped at the tears on her cheeks. She didn't want Henry to know that she'd been crying, although a part of her was quite sure that he would be able to tell anyway. As Henry stepped into the bedroom, he spoke softly to her, calling her name.

"Yeah?" she asked in a bold attempt at a normal voice that still wavered.

"Can I help?" Henry asked timidly.

Elizabeth looked up and met his eyes, but the warmth and love that stared back at her was too much, and she quickly looked away.

"Help with what?" Elizabeth asked evasively, still trying desperately not to cry.

"Elizabeth," Henry pleaded. "Don't shut me out."

He sat down next to her, and Elizabeth reflexively tensed. Henry sighed, looking over at her, watching the way she shifted ever so slightly away from him as his heart ached in his chest.

"Elizabeth, let me help you. You don't have to do this by yourself, babe."

Elizabeth shook her head, finally looking up to meet his gaze. The anguish in her familiar blue eyes reached some deep place of Henry that he would have preferred to keep hidden. He hated to see her like this, and to see her so determinedly weathering it alone was ten times as hard.

"No," she said. "I do have to do it alone."

"Why?" Henry asked, a little desperately.

"Because you told me not to go," Elizabeth admitted through her tears. "Because you knew it was going to be bad and you told me not to go, Henry, but I went anyway and I don't deserve-"

She broke off and Henry shook his head.

"Babe, listen to me," Henry said, his voice soft and patient. "It's not your fault."

Elizabeth scoffed but didn't speak, and Henry pressed on.

"It's not," he repeated. "You did what you thought was right, and you know what?"

"What?" Elizabeth asked reluctantly.

"You did what you went to Iran to do. What happened was terrible, but you did save lives here Elizabeth."

"At what expense?" she asked, and her question hung in the air.

"I don't know," Henry ranswered. "I don't know that it makes any difference, Elizabeth. It's tragic, and it's hard, and it's going to be hard. But it happened, and it's not your fault." He reached out and tenderly rested his hand against her cheek, tilting her head with light pressure so that he could meet her eyes.

"It's not your fault, Elizabeth," he said, and something about his repetitive insistence got to her; Elizabeth blinked and tears fell from her eyes, sliding along her cheek until one stray tear hit Henry's hand and he could no longer hold himself still. Hesitant, but determined, he reached out and drew her in close. She didn't resist, rather folding herself into his open embrace. Henry shut his eyes as he tugged her close to him and held her tight.

"I'm so glad you're safe, sweetheart," he breathed.

"I'm not sure that I'm so glad," Elizabeth admitted in a whisper quiet voice. Henry's breath caught, but he nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"That's okay," he murmured. "For now, that's okay."

And while Elizabeth wasn't sure that any of it was okay, she took that one singular moment to try to believe him, to trust that, as he often had been before, Henry was right. Maybe just for now, that was okay.