Los Angeles, Henry, 2014

She goes eerily silent, and her face loses all emotion. She hugs her knees into her chest as tight as she can. Then rests her head on them. I've never seen her grieve before. Only the remnants of it. The day, we got engaged and I called my parents. The day we were married, she had no dad to walk her down the makeshift aisle at city hall. The day she found out she was pregnant with Stevie, and she had no mom to call for advice. There was grief then, but it had been subdued, accepted, and overshadowed by the happiness of those times.

She starts shaking, and I think she's crying. Then I notice she's not. Its fear, I realize. She's terrified.

Los Angeles, Elizabeth, 2014

He's going to kill me. I've made it this far. I've just only gotten the chance a real life again. He must have known, that Henry was here. George must have let it slip, that he sent Henry in search of Lisa. He killed him as a warning. Don't tell anyone, Bess. I can get to you anytime. I have the entire executive arm of the US government at my disposal. He's given me that warning before.

"Elizabeth?" I can't look at him. I know that if I do, I will feel safe. Henry has always made me feel safe. But that sense of safety will be false.

"Babe, it's okay. I can tell you're scared." He has no idea.

"Maybe I can help, if you tell me of what." And I can't stop the laughter, maniacal and humorless. The full emotions of the day finally bursting through my barrier of self-control.

"You can't help." I tell him. And it's true. He can't. I'm not even sure if I was allowed to tell him about Iraq. And I know I can't tell him about anything else. God, I want to get high.

Los Angeles, Henry, 2014

Maybe she's right. Maybe I can't help. But I want to. I want nothing more than to help her through this. I wasn't there, when she needed me the most. I want to be here for this. Her laughter scares me.

"Please tell me." I try again.

"Just sit here with me for a while? Keep me from doing something stupid." She sounds small. I sense there is shame there under the surface. I'm playing eenie, meenie, miney, mo trying to decide whether or not to ask her.

"What would you do that's stupid?" I caught the tiger by its toe. She's quiet for a moment, probably playing her own schoolyard decision making game.

"Use." She says it quietly and won't meet my eyes. I'm a smart man, but she can't possibly mean what I think she does.

"Use what?" I'm begging her to clarify. There is not a world in which I can fathom Elizabeth using drugs. Elizabeth, the straight A student, best of show equestrian, preppy, CIA agent. No, not her.

Los Angeles, Elizabeth, 2014

"Oxy, heroin if I can't find any." George would be proud. It's a night like this where I would usually call him. Beg him to save me from myself. Most people have sponsors who lived close to them, but I had George. I don't know how I'm supposed to keep going in this world without him. But, I can't actually bring myself to look at Henry. I'm not sure if I want to know what his reaction to this new information may be. He's still quiet. He's been through a lot today, too. Maybe this was his one piece of information too many.

"How… How long have you been sober?" He breaks the silence with a very diplomatic question. But it's not the question he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask How could you do that, but he doesn't. And, I guess that's something. I get up from the couch and grab my purse, needing to have the proof. I dig through my bag for my keys.

"Five years, completely clean and somewhat serene." I say making fun of the slogan while handing him the set of keys by the bright orange NA tag. I see his brain swirling with questions. Trying to land on the one he wants to ask most. I decide to offer the information, freely. Maybe that will be easier for him.

"I was on a lot of pain meds when I got home from Iraq. Um, I had about four back to back surgeries on bones that had healed incorrectly. I also had to overcompensate with my shoulder for my arm that had been broken, so that also required a surgery of its own. I was truly just in pain." It's not a lie, I needed those meds in Landstuhl. For every bone that had to re-broken and set. I feel myself flinch remembering the pain. He's nodding along to the story, obviously trying to remain neutral and non-judgmental. But there are tears in his eyes too, thinking about me being in pain.

"It didn't take me too long to realize that those meds didn't just make the physical pain bearable. They made me numb emotionally. I didn't feel anything. And I loved not feeling anything."

Los Angeles, Henry, 2014

I'm taken aback by her usage of the word love. The way she emphasized it. I just can't place her there. I can't imagine her in enough pain that she would not want to feel anything. She's stronger than that, which is an awful thought to have. I know it's misplaced, anyone can struggle with substance abuse.

"How'd you get sober, NA?" I ask figuring that based on the keychain I'm holding. Which also doesn't make sense. A big part of their program is giving yourself up to a higher power, namely God. As far as I know Elizabeth does not believe in God. I wonder if that's changed too. Life altering events can alter faith in any direction.

"George." She has a slight smile on her face, remembering her friend. Her friend that she lost tonight.

"He followed me here, to LA. Waited for me to be ready, and then he got me help, real help. Detox, a good therapist. And insisted on NA Meetings even though I hate them. They make you pray, ya' know." And that make sense, George a devout Catholic and a recovering alcoholic sober for longer than Elizabeth has known him.

"I think Conrad killed him, and I don't know what to do." It's an abrupt change of subject, but her face tells me she serious. And I don't know what to do either.