AN: I'm back! As I said, I am determined to finish this story, but I need to be in the right frame of mind to write this kind of thing, so I don't know how frequently I'm going to be able to upload. Hopefully the wait's a little shorter next time though! Thank you so much everyone for the lovely reviews and response to the first chapter. I did not expect that, and I really appreciate it.

So much thanks goes to lilacmermaid33 for beta reading this chapter, I cannot overstate how valuable that was.

Chapter 2

Elizabeth was exhausted. As soon as she had taken her seat on the plane, all the aches and pains of international travel, which had been temporarily suspended while she had been wired, and later numb, from her encounter with the Filipino president, made themselves known to her. She gazed wistfully over at Blake, who was sleeping peacefully nearby. What she wouldn't give to taste that sweet release of unconsciousness right now. While her body seemed ready to collapse from the moment she had sat, her mind was restless.

When they were being herded to their plane by the military police, she had felt her skin crawl every time one of the men stood too close to her. She was hyperaware of everyone else's positions relative to hers. Outwardly, Elizabeth was composed. She did not startle, and applied a conscious effort to maintaining an easy rhythm to her steps. However her front, though a good one, could not fool herself.

Inside, Elizabeth was a churning mess. Thoughts swirled through her head at a frantic pace, just to fall down on themselves when others cropped up. Elizabeth knew that, in a technical sense, what had happened to her was rape. There had been penetration of her genitalia by another person without her consent. That was, quite literally, the textbook definition of rape. However, she didn't feel raped. This seemed so small and inconsequential compared to what real victims go through. He did not undress her, or himself. His penis had remained decidedly within his pants. She had been fortunate enough to stop it before it got too far.

It got far enough though. She felt so small, and yet at the same time, like she needed to make herself smaller. Compress all of her body together until he couldn't touch her anymore. Or she escaped his notice. Whichever happened first, she wasn't going to be choosy about it. She just needed things to not have unfolded the way they did.

Elizabeth sighed. Dwelling on what had happened wasn't going to do anything to help the situation. Glancing over at Blake to ensure he was still asleep, she rose and walked over to the bathroom, to pile another layer of concealer over the hickey on her neck.

When she arrived home, Elizabeth was wearing a thick, heavy coat. The mark on her neck was well covered by concealer, but bruises had begun to make themselves visible on her wrists where he had held her down with his forearm. The sleeves of her coat hid the evidence of what had occurred from sight.

As she stepped through the door, Henry walked over to meet her. Elizabeth gratefully sank into his embrace.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, you should have seen the other guy." Henry had received the same story as the President and Russell. He knew only that Andrada had groped her. When Elizabeth called Henry from the plane, she had justified to herself that this wasn't something she could tell him over the phone. Now that he was in front of her, though, it seemed like the words were stuck in her throat. Saying them out loud seemed somehow impossible.

"I did. Andrada's been posting all these photos of himself with his nose splint, and his black eyes."

Elizabeth's heart sank, though she was careful not to react. "Really? I thought he'd be embarrassed and lay low," she replied. Elizabeth had hoped for that so badly. Of all things, this was one story that she never wanted to see hit the news cycle, let alone before she had the chance to speak to Henry about it. As they walked into the next room, Henry handed her a bowl of fruit and ice cream. God she loved that man.

"No no. He's very proud of the fact that he got his nose broken at the gym. By his sparring partner. A guy named Cobra." Henry was almost smiling; she could see he was proud of her for defending herself. Too little too late, though.

Elizabeth caught herself as that thought entered her head. Why was she trying to upset herself about this? If that was the story Andrada wanted to go with, she should be relieved. This was perfect – almost. "You're going to start calling me Cobra now, aren't you?" Please don't.

Henry's face lost its traces of humour. "As soon as it's funny." It won't be.

Elizabeth took another bite of ice cream, and tossed her hair back, mentally shaking herself off. "That cover story works for me." Time to stop being emotional, time to be practical. "He doesn't want to admit he got beat up by a girl, I'm not excited for a headline that says I clobbered a world leader instead of saving a major regional agreement."

"Is there any point in even asking what the guy was thinking?" Henry's voice finally betrayed that he was pissed off, if only slightly. He must have been holding back for her sake. While she appreciated the gesture, it likely wouldn't have mattered. The numbness from the plane had yet to dissipate.

"When he tried to grope me, or when he ordered the US military out of the Philippines?" She stared at her ice cream when she mentioned what Andrada did to her, looking up at Henry only at the end of her sentence. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the face. Hopefully Henry didn't read into that.

"He is a psycho." Henry looked as defeated as she felt.

"What about you, did you hear anything from the dead drop?" She couldn't keep talking about this.

He shook his head. "I just wish we had more time."

"Well, I'm familiar with that feeling." She looked up at him, "But right now, I have to shower and get back into the fight, so…" She stood and left the room, leaving Henry looking sadly after her.

After she stripped off to get in the shower, Elizabeth inspected her body. It was a strange sensation; as her eyes travelled across the familiar skin, it didn't seem like hers anymore. It was the same as it always had been, but different somehow, brand new.

The bruises on her wrists had developed a bluish hue. There was also bruising that had bloomed on her legs, where he had put the weight of his body onto them with his knees to hold her down. Thankfully, her breasts bore no evidence of the assault his hand made against them.

Elizabeth knew she should check inside of her. Andrada had scratched her and she had felt it twinge on a few occasions since her adrenaline high wore out. However, she could not bring herself to touch herself there, however clinically. That could wait until tomorrow.

When she stepped into the shower, and felt the water cascading over her face and down her back, she felt like she should be sobbing, crying for what had been taken from her. But she was comfortably numb. She should be heading back into the office to try to untangle this mess that she had inadvertently gotten them all into, but right at that moment, she just didn't care. That could wait until tomorrow too.

Henry was still downstairs when Elizabeth got out of the shower. She used the opportunity to dress in long sleep pants and a sweatshirt to hide the bruising on her wrists and legs. There was nothing much that could be done about her neck while she slept, so she applied another layer of concealer and hoped it would last until morning.

She was already bundled up in the blankets in bed when Henry joined her. He put his arm around her and she nestled into him, contemplating the absolute safety she felt in his embrace, and that it didn't feel quite as absolute as it had the week prior. His touch caused cognitive dissonance, where she felt both more and less secure at the same time with his body wrapped around her.

Elizabeth barely slept. She managed about half an hour somewhere between 2:00 and 3:00am, but she slept fitfully and her body seemed to be fighting against it. Elizabeth did not remember what happened in her dream, but she woke with an overwhelming sense of foreboding and unease. Nothing was right, and she wasn't safe. She and Henry had shifted during the night, and he now lay slightly away from her. Elizabeth wanted to reach over and pull Henry's arms around her, but she wasn't sure that that would help. She felt disconnected from her body, like she could take it off, hang it up in her closet, and put on a new one. God she wished she could do that; this body just wasn't hers anymore, in ways that were impossible to explain.

Elizabeth looked briefly over at Henry, before her gaze shifted back to the ceiling. They were mere inches apart, but there may as well be oceans separating them for how connected she felt to her husband right now. Or to anyone else, for that matter. Holding this information within her about Andrada and what had happened and the nothingness she felt, Elizabeth seemed to be looking from the outside in, as if she was no more than an observer to her own skin. Her body was one entity, and herself, her being, was another entirely, sequestered away from life around her.

Contemplating Henry's warm embrace worried her. If Elizabeth was separate from her body, then would Henry holding her have the same effect? Physical comfort seemed superficial. Who could say if it would perforate through this alien body that housed her, to her person that was only in theory inside of it. It seemed like too much of a gamble to take, to test whether she could glean any benefit from Henry's arms tonight. Right now, she could still live under the pretence that they were the walls that could protect her from all harm, be that external or internal. If that was no longer the case, she did not need to know yet. She could weather this night alone.

Upon reflection, Elizabeth thought, it was probably for the best that she had been awake through most of the night. She hated to think what would have happened if she had slept longer. Would she have cried? Screamed? Become violent, and tried to push away some threat that only existed in her mind? If any of that happened, Henry would worry, and then he would ask questions, and Elizabeth wasn't ready for that. She knew she needed to tell him what had happened; she just needed time.

Elizabeth glanced at the alarm clock next to her bed. 5:46am. Deciding that it was reasonable enough that she should be getting up now, Elizabeth rolled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. Her body felt heavy, and every step seemed to use up more energy than it should. While she showered, Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to sink down to the tiled floor and sit while she washed herself. Elizabeth would not allow herself that though. She couldn't. Feeling sorry for herself was for yesterday; today was for moving forward. Today would be a normal day.

She hurried through the rest of her shower, scrubbing herself hard and with little care, trying to avoid looking at the skin that was no longer hers. When she finished her shower and moved to the sink to brush her teeth, Elizabeth could hear Henry moving around in the bedroom outside.

Reaching for the doorknob, she caught sight of the bruises on her wrists, and stopped dead. They were still mostly blue and purple, though some parts had faded down to a sickly green colour. Panicking, Elizabeth removed the towel that was wrapped around her and looked down at her legs. Purples, blues and some strands of red danced together on the inside of her thighs, vivid and appearing painful to touch. She didn't know how she had missed it when she washed herself. She hadn't been gentle. Elizabeth turned to the mirror, and in her harried reflection, a mark still sat upon her neck. Shit.

Henry couldn't see this. She wasn't ready. But she hadn't brought any clothes in with her, she hadn't thought to because she always dressed in the bedroom. Elizabeth briefly entertained the idea of waiting Henry out, and only exiting their en suite bathroom when he was no longer on the other side of the door, but quickly dismissed the thought. That would still cause him to worry, simply for a different reason. And she did not know how long he would be. Elizabeth took a deep breath and steeled herself, before opening the door and stepping back into the bedroom.

"Hey babe." Henry kissed her good morning as she walked passed him towards the closet. He was standing on the wrong side of her to see the hickey. So far so good.

"Elizabeth," he said softly. His hand reached out to gently touch her wrists. Crap. "What happened, are you okay?" He pulled her around to face him, delicately as if she might break, and Elizabeth saw his eyes go to the mark on her neck. When she did not respond, Henry added, "I thought you just said Andrada groped you, did he do this?"

At this, Elizabeth turned away. "I don't want to talk about it, Henry." She opened the closet, and began rummaging through for something to wear. Something normal. As much as her hands longed to reach for long pants and a turtleneck, which would leave only her hands and faced visible, she was determined not to. She wanted that because she felt exposed. But, more than that, she did not want to let him influence her life or her choices any more than he already had, even if those choices were as inconsequential as the clothes she was wearing for the day.

"Look at your wrists. This seems like something you'll need to talk about." Henry sighed as Elizabeth remained resolutely silent. "At least tell me there are no more bruises."

Elizabeth pulled out a dress and some underwear, and threw them onto the bed. As she dropped the towel from around her, she looked pointedly anywhere but at Henry. She heard him gasp, and discomfort gnawed at her insides. He let her dress before he tried to talk again, and she was grateful for it.

"Elizabeth, hey," his tone was gentle. Elizabeth looked him Henry in the face for the first time since he saw the mark upon her neck. His eyes were pleading, his whole face was open and raw. He hovered close to her, but made no moves to hold her, to touch. Of course not, though. Why would he want to touch her now? "Talk to me."

"Henry, unless you want this," she gestured to her neck, "on the front page of some magazine, I've got to finish getting ready and then head in to the office. After everything that's happened, there's going to be a lot of work to do." Her voice was resigned and weary.

"Babe, please."

"Henry…"

"Please."

Elizabeth sighed. He sounded pained and hurt, and knew that now that he had seen what her body looked like, he wouldn't let her live in some fantasy world where her skin was clean and Andrada had never touched her. It would lie between them until she had told him what happened, or at least as much as she was willing to say. "Fine. We'll talk tonight, though. I really do have to go, as soon as I put my face on." She wrinkled her nose. Her eyes felt dried out after spending most of the night awake, and putting on mascara was not an enticing thought. As she walked back towards the bathroom to apply her makeup, Elizabeth turned back to look at Henry. "I'm fine, Henry. You don't need to worry about me."

She wished she believed it.