I could not get this idea out of my head after reading a short drabble by nonadhesiveness on tumblr. I don't yet know where this story goes, and I would like to finish I've Been Thinking About the Way Things Change, before getting into writing this out all the way. So here's the first chapter of this one.

Washington DC, 2014, Henry

George Peters walks by me in the hotel lobby guilt written all over his face. He hands me the business card, he wanted to give me yesterday. I take it out of curiosity, but reading it only causes confusion.

Lisa Aldin

Lewis & Lewis, Attorneys at Law; Investigator

Las Angeles, CA

When taking the kids to DC, I was not expecting to run into Elizabeth's friends. But it was fitting to run into George and Isabell while at lunch yesterday. We're here because Stevie wants to feel closer to her mother. She is the only one who truly remembers her now. After all, she's been dead for ten years.

"Dad, can we go by Mom's grave before we leave?" Jason asks. That's surprising, he usually doesn't mention her. He was only 3 when she deployed to Iraq, he doesn't remember her at all. And as much as I tried to keep her memory alive in our home, ten years is a long time. I met Jessica and fell in love, and she and I have raised Stevie, Allison, and Jason, and then added two more, Robert and Andrew. The twins weren't planned but I was ecstatic to become a father again.

"Of course we can kiddo" Jessica answers for me when I failed to provide one. I nod taking one more look at George as he walks away. I slip the business card into my pocket not quite understanding why I need to keep it. It just feels important. I gather all of the luggage and put it into the carrier on top of the Mini-Van. As my family loads into the van I look over to Jessica. I love her, but a wave of grief hits me anyway as she sits in Elizabeth's place. I'm reminded once again that grief is forever.

Iraq, Elizabeth, 2005

Pain. Blinding searing pain. It's all I feel, but I have to get up. I have to go home, I promised I'd make it home. I try to move my arm but it's stuck. I pull harder, my wrist doesn't budge. I try to open my eyes again. I need to see. There's nothing but darkness. I slightly panic at the blindness, but then feel the cloth covering my eyes. There's a bag on my head. I sense I'm moving now. I have to be in a car, correction, the trunk of a car. I can tell by the wrist binds and cloth bag and the trunk that I'm not with friends. The panic increases, I try to push it down. If I have any chance of making it out of this, I have to be smart. My back hits the seat behind me as the car comes to a hard stop. My wrist is broken, I can feel that now as it's pushed between my body and the seat behind me and the pain radiates up into my shoulder. I hear the trunk open. I hear a man yelling at me in Arabic. I can't make out what he's telling me, my head is pounding too hard for me to translate.

He roughly grabs my arm to pull me out of the trunk. He throws me over his shoulder and he walks me into a building, I hear the terrain under his feet change to wood. He throws me onto the ground and I let out a groan. I can feel myself drifting back into unconsciousness. What do I do now?

Washington DC, Henry, 2014

We are walking slowly through the cemetery. I've walked this path so many times. More than Jessica and the kids know. I find myself driving down here from Pittsburgh to visit her once a month or so. I make sure her headstone stays clean and cared for. I like to bring her fresh flowers, hydrangeas, her favorite. I talk to her about the kids and about me. I never talk to her about Jessica, it doesn't feel right. I like to keep the things that would upset her away from her place of rest. We walk down her row, and stop at the fifth headstone.

Elizabeth McCord

Beloved Wife and Mother

1968 – 2005

I notice that Jessica, Bobbie, and Andrew hang back a little. The twins are only 7, Elizabeth is nothing but a concept to them. They know nothing of the life I shared with her. The love I shared with her. They don't know about the discount skywriter proposal. They don't know about the strip scrabble games or midnight mac and cheese dinners. They don't know about the courthouse wedding with the cranky judge. They don't know about the joy we shared when we became parents together. They don't know her.

I hear Allison let out a sob. I pull her in, and hold her tight. Allison has always felt like something is missing from her life. It's not something that Jessica or I can give her. At fifteen now, she asks a lot of questions about Elizabeth, like she's trying to piece together a complete person, using just people's memories.

"Dad?" Jason whispers.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Did she, did she love us?" I look at him with shock and confusion. I don't know why he would ask that question, have I failed Elizabeth, by not making sure that the kids knew of her love for them?

"She loved all of us, more than words can explain." I hope he can read my sincerity.

"Then why did she leave?" Stevie asks, anger clearly present in her voice. I've asked myself that same question, over and over. But in the end I know why.

"There was a job to be done, and it was her duty to do it." I answer. It's the truth. I was a Marine, I know better than to think that she just didn't love us enough to quit.

"We were at war, your mother got her orders and she did her job. She didn't know she was going to be killed over there, just like the other 4,500 American service members who died in Iraq. But she loved you guys, and more than that she loved being your mother." I promise them.

Washington DC, Elizabeth, 2004

"I got new orders today." It's the first thing I say when I walk in the door. I don't want to delay this conversation. He looks up from the book he's reading. It's something about Aquinas. He raises one eyebrow in question.

"I'm forward deploying to Iraq. It'll be a yearlong tour." I notice the fear in his eyes, but he just nods. This isn't the first time we've had this conversation, although this time it's reversed. I think about how scared I was when he got his orders to deploy for Desert Storm. I think about the sleepless nights I spent praying to a God I'm not sure I believe in that he would make it home to me.

"There's nothing I can do, I signed the contract at the beginning of the war. Uncle Sam owns me for three more years." He nods again. "I got the kids a calendar, so you can keep track of the deployment and count it down. I will write them, and we can talk on the phone. I've been assured that I will mostly be on base, running ops, not doing them." I look at him, begging him to speak.

"When do you leave?" There are tears in his voice.

"Friday." That's the word that finally breaks through my shock at the information Conrad gave me two hours ago. I let the tears fall.

"I don't want to leave you and the kids, but I don't have a choice." He raises his hand to wipe the tears from my face and smiles at me.

"We'll be fine. I love you" He pulls me in for a hug and then a kiss.

Washington DC, Henry, 2014

I want to be able to re-assure them of her love better than that. I remember the calendar. Elizabeth had worked on it all night on the day she received her orders. She had marked in her deployment date and her homecoming date. Then she filled the months in between. She cried as she put in "Buy Halloween costumes" and "Santa Comes tonight". She laughed at my demise as she added trips to Chuck E. Cheese. She gave me instructions when she wrote in "first day of school" I can hear her so vividly in my head "You have to take pictures, Henry." And "Make sure their outfits match, babe."

I can't hold it back anymore. I let out a heartbroken sob. I feel Jessica behind me, rubbing my shoulder, her touch so different than the one I'm longing for in this moment.

"It's okay, honey." She whispers as she pulls me in for a hug. I feel the need to apologize, when I open my mouth to do so she shakes her head.

"I know you still love her. I wouldn't have married a widow, who had no love for his first wife." I love this woman. It's different than what I had with Elizabeth, but different doesn't mean better and it doesn't mean worse. It just means different.

"I love you." I tell her. I hope Elizabeth would be fine with that. I hope she's not rolling over beneath our feet. But I don't think she is. I think she would be happy to know I found someone, and that I'm not alone. She would be happy to know that our kids had someone, too.

US Air Force C-130 Transport Plane, Elizabeth, 2004

I try not to let my emotions show. I'm surrounded by kids playing dress up. They are all trying so hard to not be scared, laughing and joking with each other, the way that soldiers do. But there is unspoken tension in the air. It didn't take me long to realize that I'm the oldest person on this plane.

"Those your kids ma'am?" the private next to me asks pointing to the picture I'm holding. I look him over. He's one of the older one's on the plane, and by older I mean about 21. I give him a nod and a slight smile.

"My girlfriend's due in 3 weeks. We both thought I might actually be there when the baby was born, but the little one didn't want to come early" He laughs.

"Get used to that! Kids never do what you want" I decide to join Private Miller in conversation, we have a long flight and I have a feeling no one will catch any sleep before we land.

Los Angeles, Lisa, 2014

"Another day, another dollar." Archie jokes, as he does every morning when I walk into the lobby of the Wilshire Center. I nod and give him a small laugh, like I do every day before proceeding to the elevators. My office is on the 47th floor. It's a lot of stop and go today on the way up because I'm a half hour later than usual. I spent the morning interviewing an investment banker from New York, for info on a case. When I get to my office, my secretary hands me my messages, well one single message.

"You're quite popular today." She states sarcastically.

"Yes, well we can't all be you, Ash," I joke back her, taking the message. "I'm working on tracking the financials for the Miller case, leave me alone today with the math if you can help it." She nods, and I head into my office.

I set the message down on my Desk and catch a glimpse of the caller, Henry McCord. My breath catches in my throat. I put my hand in my pocket to retrieve the last remints of the life I left behind. Two rings dangle on a single key chain. One is a wedding band, the other has three birth stones on it. I sit in my chair and fiddle with the rings for a second. I hesitate, questioning whether or not I should read the message, but curiosity wins out.

Caller: Henry McCord

Message: George Peters gave me this number and told me I should give you a call. He said you knew my wife, Elizabeth. He said you might want to talk to me.

I read it and re-read it, over and over again. I think George is playing games, trying to draw me out. He should know better. He is the one who helped me come here, he helped invent Lisa Aldin, and he doesn't get to bring Elizabeth McCord back from the dead.