OK. REVIEW. THIS ONE. THIS ONE IS EMOTIONAL. PLEASE REVIEW.
Gazing up at the grandiose steeples, stained glass windows, Henry hesitated at the steps up to the grand cathedral. "Please tell Elizabeth where I am if she needs me…" Henry instructed the security guards stationed outside.
"Of course, Dr. McCord."
Henry knew they'd already swept the inside. And they'd informed him that other than the parish priest, there was no one else in the church.
Even so, Henry made sure the door shut quietly behind him before he walked to the holy water font. After performing the sign of the cross, he found a seat quietly towards the back. A slight kneel before he entered the pew, he could not take his eyes off the cross at the altar.
He wondered whether his thoughts could be classified as prayers. Yet, as he knelt down in the pew, and folded his hands to prayer, all he could think of was the pain.
The weight of the cross fell heavily upon Henry's soul, like a knife finding the pain and piercing it – prodding it – pain to find the pain.
But he could find no words – nothing.
Nothing but the anger. And out loud he whispered, "You take her from us, make us grieve, tear our lives apart and then throw the possibility of seeing our little girl again back in front of us only to maybe let her die in her rescue."
He knew he'd get no answer. What else was he expecting? He didn't know why he was here in the first place.
He sat back in the pew – the position of prayer no longer something he cared to be in. Instead he stared at the cross and said, louder, "Why give us hope and then strip it from us? Are we simply toys in your grand game of pretend?"
All the fear he'd felt – all the terrible things he'd imagined those animals had done to his daughter – all the pain he'd felt watching Elizabeth come to him and tell him that they'd lost track of Isabelle – and they didn't know if they'd all been killed. "To get so close only to have…" He pounded his fist on the pew in front of him, "What are you doing? Why can't you make this right? What could you POSSIBLY be doing with this?"
From behind him, a soft-spoken voice of a man jarred Henry from his angry tirade against the cross. "If only that was how God worked."
Henry turned around to find the priest there, a few rows behind him.
Apologetic, Henry said, "I'm sorry." He stood up to leave, "I can be angry outside – I didn't mean to…"
The old man's hand reached up and settled on Henry's arm. Henry found the man's eyes to be compelling – soft, kind – deep.
"What better place to question God than the church?" The priest whispered, gesturing to the pew, "Please stay."
Henry sat sideways on the pew, looking back at the man. The silence felt deafening for Henry, while the man seemed to take sweet bliss from the quiet. From the space where Henry's questions still floated in the air.
After a few minutes, Henry broke the silence, "I don't know why I came. Why I thought I could pray at a time like this. I don't know what I was thinking…"
Almost as if he'd not heard a word of Henry's questioning, the priest looked up at the cross. "I've read some of your work." The priest said. His words were spaced, quiet, and pointed. "So I know you are familiar with C.S. Lewis."
Henry nodded.
"When Lewis was asked why he kept praying for his sick wife who was dying of cancer – a cancer that had spread so far, there was no hope for recovery. His friend asked him why he prayed when it seemed as if God was never changing his mind." The priest leaned forward, touching Henry's shoulder. "Lewis said, 'I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time."
The priest stood up – as if leaving – and said, "'It doesn't change God. It changes me."
Henry felt his heart breaking as he again turned to the cross. He heard the door behind him shut as the priest left the room. Leaving Henry alone.
Maybe his prayer wouldn't change God. Maybe it wouldn't change what was going on. Maybe it wouldn't make everything better. But Henry knew there was nothing else he could do.
"Father…"
Everyone gathered in the Situation Room – the video feed chopped up to show both the camera from the commander's vest from the helicopter – to the command center. Gathered in the room around the table were all the heads of state – the NSA – the FBI – the CIA – Secretary of Defense.
Each one stood up as Bess walked into the room.
"Rendezvous time: 90 seconds." Admiral Hill informed. Then she connected with Bess – her eyes attempting to hold out hope, "Isabelle's a skilled agent."
Bess knew this. But radio silence for thirteen hours since the shelter that they'd tracked Emma to had blown up.
Conrad added, "If they're alive, Isabelle will get them there."
The words haunted Bess' mind. "If." She said, cold. Hard.
A tech's mechanical tone broke the silence, "Sixty seconds."
Please find her. Henry prayed. Please let her be safe.He wrung his hands together, the wishes of his soul crying out.
God, you know how this will destroy Elizabeth if she finds out Emma's been alive this whole time… only to lose her in the process of getting her out.
He felt tears falling down his face, warm, wet – and desperate.
She can't handle that pain. That loss. Of knowing the desperate suffering our daughter must have gone through only…
"Commander, is there any sign of them?" Bess asked over the telecom. She held her voice strong, as if she was asking for any other mission. Not asking if there was any sign of the daughter she'd lost years before.
The warbled reply over the radio came, "Nothing yet, ma'am."
Admiral Hill added, "We have thirty seconds before we have to pull out – before the insurgents may fire on the team."
Elizabeth kept scanning the treeline on the video – willing for any sign of movement. Begging the trees to move and Isabelle to come out with…
"Fifteen seconds."
Please. God. Henry begged. I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't come home. Please. God.
"Five…"
Bess could count the seconds in her head – like a track that wouldn't stop playing despite all the other thoughts in her head.
Come on, Isabelle. Just get through those trees.
Sounds of rapid fire striking metal erupted on the screen. The video feed began to shake as yells from the soldiers on board filled the room.
"Taking fire from the southwest side."
Elizabeth's heart began to break even more. She couldn't take her eyes from the screen. Both because of the action going on, but because she knew the look from Ellen Hill would be to pull everyone out.
"Looks to be insurgents."
Into the headset, Ellen asked, "How many?"
"Ten to twelve."
"Fire back." Elizabeth instructed. And then asked, "Captain, any sign of the…"
"None."
The yells from the soldiers as they carried out the fighting filled the room. But Elizabeth heard Ellen's voice, "Ma'am, we need to get out of there."
Elizabeth stared at the screen. Knowing that every moment she kept the troops there, she was putting them closer and closer to death.
But pulling out sealed the fate of her daughter.
The seconds ticked by. One. After. The Other.
She leaned over the table, her hands holding her up as she bowed her head to think. Her fingers tapped on the table – as if unable to settle the conflict inside of her.
"Bess." Conrad's voice echoed. "You're endangering the lives of the soldiers."
The line of trees stayed completely bare. No sign of movement.
Wringing his hands, Henry felt the weight of the world hit his shoulders. Nothing entered his mind except the words he prayed. And yet – words were nothing but vehicles. A vehicle for his pain. For his desperation. And nothing could make him stop. As if the words were not his own. But the groaning of his heart.
Father, give them time. Protect them. Bring her back. Keep her from harm.
"Madam President." Ellen's voice held severity. And concern.
Elizabeth look to her advisor. Her advisor who was also a mother. Who would move heaven and earth to protect her children.
The look said everything.
They'd tried. Everything had been done to keep them from getting to this point. They'd sent agents in. They'd staged a rescue. They'd made everything clear for the meeting point. Soldiers had been sent in.
Elizabeth couldn't move. She knew what her duty was. She knew that the radio silence from Isabelle meant only one thing if she wasn't at the rendezvous point. Bess swallowed hard, nodded at Ellen.
God. Bring her back to us. Henry prayed.
"Tell them to abort the mission." Her voice sounded presidential. Commanding. Despite the fact that her heart's broken pieces shattered even more than they'd been before.
Ellen nodded, and informed the captain.
As the helicopter began to lift higher into the sky, the treeline moved.
Elizabeth stepped forward as she called out, "Wait, is there…"
Ellen jumped up and into the headset yelled, "Captain. At the line."
Warbled, through the microphone, she heard the captain command the pilot to stop the ascent of the helicopter.
"Affirmative, ma'am." The captain called out, "Agent Barnes and the President's daughter…"
Elizabeth yelled out, "Retrieve them."
Ellen took over, instructing the captain to fire on the insurgents while the helicopter hovered over the tree-line. Once the insurgents were retreating, the helicopter landed.
Elizabeth couldn't take her eyes from the screen. Waiting.
The two figures ran into the copter. Both wore scarves covering their heads, which promptly blew off from the wind from the blades. The captain moved to help them in. And the camera cut out for a second.
"Subjects received safely."
Ellen looked at Elizabeth.
And Elizabeth leaned over the table, toward the microphone. Waiting.
Suddenly she heard Isabelle's voice over the microphone. "Bess, we got her."
The tears began to flow down Elizabeth's cheeks. And she struggled to say, "Izzie, is she safe?"
The whirl of the helicopter blades could be heard in the background as the video feed showed the helicopter pulling up and out over the horizon. The video feed cut out as the captain prepared to return home, but the radio feed continued.
"Do you want to talk to her?" Isabelle asked loudly.
To hear her daughter's voice? To hear with complete confirmation that she was coming home? To hear that she would soon get to hold her in her arms? To hear for sure that they'd beaten the grave?
The headset must've switched heads – because then she heard it.
"I'm coming home."
Elizabeth let out all the air she'd been holding in her chest. For years. She covered her mouth as she closed her eyes. "We've been waiting for you." She managed to choke out.
When the captain took back the radio, he gave an ETA of about thirty minutes to the Air Force Base. Elizabeth knew from there it would be a thirteen-hour flight to the landing strip in DC.
"We'll be waiting, Captain." Ellen signaled before ending the radio call.
Just then, Elizabeth looked up, around the room.
Not a face was dry. Not one of the advisors, well acquainted with war, suffering, and politics, could keep from wiping the tears of happiness from their eyes. A few did it discretely, blinking back tears as if to try and keep from the room that they'd been moved.
"Russell, I need to speak with…"
Russell was halfway out of the door, "I'll have him on the phone…"
Elizabeth stood to follow him. And she saw Conrad. Wiping his eyes. Or struggling to stop the tears that continued to flow.
But there was only one person she wanted to share the news with. Only one she wanted to hold her. Only one she wanted to tell about their daughter's return.
And she turned to the room. And, with every fiber of her body, she said, "Thank you, everyone. You don't know what this means to me."
Ellen met her gaze, and nodded, "Congratulations, Madam President."
Elizabeth hurried out of the room, ready for the phone that Russell handed her.
"Henry?" She called out the minute the phone was to her ear.
"Babe? Honey. What's wrong? Did they…"
And the words tumbled out. Words she'd longed to say. "Henry, she's coming home."
"Oh… Oh…" And she could hear Henry's voice breaking as he whispered, "Thank you, God. Thank you…"
Elizabeth closed her eyes, tears falling down even farther. "Henry. She's coming home. Our baby… she's really coming!"
"Oh, Elizabeth. She is." Henry exclaimed. "I'm on my way to the air-strip now."
Through the tears, Elizabeth smiled and choked out, "Henry, it'll be at least 13 hours until she's…"
"I don't care." Henry interrupted her. "I'm going to sit there and wait for her. I can't stay anywhere until I see her – so I'll be there."
Elizabeth smiled and said, "Henry, I'll be there as soon as I can."
"I'll bring the kids." Henry said, "I'll wait to tell them until you're there."
Elizabeth nodded and then whispered, "I love you, Henry." Then added, "She's coming home."
"I love you too. Also, babe?" Henry called out before she hung up, "You've got to talk to Russell. I think he might need…"
At that moment, Elizabeth turned to see her chief of staff next to her. The man who could talk anyone down – who ran people away from him like he was the plague – had slid down the wall, and had his face in his knees. His shoulders shook as he sobbed there.
And she said, "I will, Henry." And she hung up.
Elizabeth knelt down, setting her arm around Russell's shoulders, and said, "Russell?"
And he squeaked out, "Oh, Bess…" And he looked up at her, face streaked with tears. "That crazy pipsqueak is coming home."
