"Everything is more complicated than you think it is right now." -Elizabeth McCord.
"Elizabeth and Henry don't give up." -Téa Leoni
And they won't, I promise. But you have to hang on.
Henry sat on the floor, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door as he tried to make sense of the sudden turn of events. His shirt lay neglected a few feet away, underneath one running shoe. He still wore the other shoe and his shorts. He and Elizabeth had been rolling on the floor, laughing, her arms wrapped around him. He'd unbuttoned her shirt, nibbling a trail with his lips as he revealed each tantalizing inch of her bare skin. But as he'd slid a hand into her unhooked trousers, she tensed, and literally shoved him off her.
Now he watched his wife warily, as she curled into herself next to the bed. The few feet of distance between them felt like a gaping chasm.
Elizabeth tucked her knees against her chest, pulling her shirt tighter around her shoulders, as if to shield her from some unknown danger. Or perhaps her husband, flashed through Henry's mind. Her pants caught at her shins, but she'd made no move to cover herself. She could feel the roughness of the carpet through the satin of her panties.
"Elizabeth, what happened?" Henry asked, tentatively. "Did I hurt you?" His voice was laden with concern.
"Nothing. It's nothing." She shook her head, as if to dismiss the words. "Let's just go to bed," Elizabeth muttered, dropping her head to her knees as she hugged her shins. Not again. She blinked, trying to keep unshed tears from falling, and shuddered out a breath. The edge of the bed frame bit into the skin of her back, but the sting was almost welcoming.
Henry saw her body shake and heard her ragged breaths, so knew Elizabeth was lying. Her response shocked him. Even when they'd been angry with each other, or struggling through the most emotional moments in their marriage, she'd never pushed him away during sex, not so adamantly.
Only their breathing could be heard in the silence of the room as the minutes ticked away. Henry didn't know how much time had passed when Elizabeth finally lifted her head, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.
"I can't… I'm not…" she stuttered, haltingly.
Henry began to understand the source of her distress, or so he thought. "Do you need me to turn off the furnace?" he asked gently.
Elizabeth chewed on her lip, as she stared at the wall, but didn't answer. Her fingers tightened on her legs.
"When did you last take any cold medicine?" he pressed.
"Damnit, Henry." Elizabeth bit out the words. "No Socratic method. Just stop."
"But it works, doesn't it?" His question was more of a statement.
"Not now," she hissed. "Not with this. And don't quote Augustine or Aristotle at me." Her vehemence startled him.
"Aquinas," Henry responded in jest, almost automatically. He shifted his body to lean against the wall, while taking off his other shoe.
"Seriously?" Elizabeth glared at him, those brilliant blue eyes blazing.
"I'm sorry, babe," he acquiesced, holding up both hands in surrender. His wife's obvious distress, such a drastic change from her earlier laughter, unnerved him.
"Your saints can't fix this." The anger in her voice turned brittle. Elizabeth slid her hands up and down her shins, roughly, as if she needed a physical outlet for her emotions. Her pants slid to her ankles, adding to her frustration.
"Fix what?" Henry still struggled to understand why she was so upset. "I don't see anything broken."
"You don't?" Elizabeth flung out her arms, shoving her pants off her legs, kicking them into the bathroom. "We're trying to have sex and my body isn't responding. That's not a problem?" Her movements were vicious and erratic, taking out her anger on her clothes.
"We have a solution, right here." He gestured to the bottle he'd dropped on the carpet when she'd pounced on him.
"No," Elizabeth replied, flatly. "I don't want to use that." She kicked at the bottle, toppling it to roll across the floor.
"Why not, Elizabeth?" Henry asked, his confusion evident in his voice now.
Elizabeth glared at him, silently, tears trickling down her face.
"This is me asking, Elizabeth. Not Socrates." He tried to reassure her. "We've used lube before. You have a bottle in your nightstand. Why is this different?"
"It just is," she seethed through her tears.
Henry cocked his head at her non answer, waiting for her to continue.
"It just wasn't such a production before," Elizabeth offered, in explanation.
"Or you'd distract me," Henry continued for her, when she wouldn't. "You'd take me in your mouth and keep me from touching you." He paused. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
"No. Yes." She stopped, and changed tactics. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"You obviously didn't want me to know," Henry stated, as he suddenly realized her omission had annoyed him.
"That's not true." Elizabeth contradicted him. "I didn't want you to think I didn't want you. Or that it was your fault somehow."
"Now we're talking in circles." Irritation seeped into Henry's voice. "You've never been shy about telling me what you want in bed. At least I didn't think so," he concluded.
"So you're mad I used lube?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as she flung her accusation at him.
"No," he stated firmly. "I didn't…"
"Or gave you a blow job?" Her snarky tone dared him to challenge her.
"I didn't say that." Henry snapped back, before she could interrupt him again. "Stop twisting my words so you don't have to talk."
"I am talking," she huffed at him.
"No, you're not. You're throwing everything back at me," he pointed out, smacking his hand on the carpet in emphasis.
Elizabeth crossed her arms at her chest, as much in defiance as anger. "What do you want me to say, Henry?"
"I want you to talk to me," Henry replied, emphasizing each syllable. "We were just laughing about this massive amount of lube," he reminded her, in a less harsh tone.
"It was funny earlier, when we weren't trying to have sex. It's not funny when my body won't work right when we are." She blew out a breath and scrubbed her face with her hands. "That's happened a lot lately. That's why the bottle was empty."
"So?" Henry crossed his legs, settling his forearms on his knees and folding his hands, as if he were preparing for a debate.
"So?" Elizabeth threw back at him, exasperated at his attempt to rationalize her emotions. "You don't understand. This isn't happening to you." She dragged her fingers through her hair, pulling at the blonde strands.
Henry considered her a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Remember when I came back from deployment?" Confusion flickered into Elizabeth's eyes. "We didn't have sex, for a long time."
"Why the hell would you bring that up, now?" Elizabeth visibly deflated at the memory. "You didn't want me."
"I did," Henry corrected her, quietly. "I was so angry, and confused and...," he trailed off. He took a deep breath, then another, before he continued. "I did want you. But I couldn't get hard."
"What?" Shock momentarily replaced her anger.
"I wanted to make love with my wife. But I couldn't get an erection," Henry explained, visibly embarrassed, running a hand through his hair distractedly.
His revelation deflated some of her temper. "I didn't know."
"I was afraid if you knew, you'd give up on us," he admitted, begrudgingly. "We were struggling so much. I didn't want to add one more problem. And yet, I inadvertently did."
"I can't believe you never told me." Elizabeth was astonished he'd kept this secret from her.
"Can't you?" Henry asked. "You're having a hard time talking to me now, after all these years together. Do you understand why I couldn't tell you then, when we weren't even sure we loved each other anymore?"
"Maybe it would've helped if I knew. Maybe," she conceded, when he raised his eyebrows at her statement. "But I wouldn't have given up because we couldn't have sex." She threw a hand up, adamantly, halting any attempt he might have made to contradict her. "I just wanted my husband back. I didn't care how I got him."
"Then why do you think I'd give up on you just because we need more foreplay?" Henry wondered. "Or a little help sometimes? I'll still get pleasure from making you feel good." The sexy smile on his face gave her a thrill, amidst her misery. "Don't get me wrong, I want you to touch me, and I enjoy it. But knowing what I can do to you, how you let yourself go when I touch you? I crave your reaction to me." Henry's eyes darkened as he spoke, boring into hers.
"It's not you, Henry. It's not." The despair in Elizabeth's voice broke his heart.
"Then what is it?" he encouraged her, shifting to his knees to close the distance between them.
"I'm scared." Her words poured out, as if a dam had broken. "Scared I'm getting older and my body is changing. That the stress from work is affecting me. That it's not just the medicine. That I won't be attractive to you anymore and sex will just become work."
"Elizabeth," Henry began, as she paused to wipe her tears on her shirt sleeve, snorting inelegantly into the fabric.
"No, don't," she replied, indignantly, shaking her head at him. "I know what you're going to say."
"Do you?" Henry doubted that very much. "I was going to say I'm afraid of the same things. I still remember feeling impotent. I'm getting older, too."
"Has it happened since then?" Elizabeth wanted to know.
"No, but I've had occasions where I've worried," he confessed.
"You never told me then, either," Elizabeth accused him.
"No, I've not told you." He mulled over that decision a moment, then relented. "Maybe I should have. But it's not affected us."
"Until now," she retorted, sarcastically.
"I'm not placing blame." Henry reached out to gently touch Elizabeth's foot while he spoke, making the connection between them. "I'm trying to tell you I understand. I don't want to not be able to pleasure you, or show you that I want you."
"But you won't," she reassured him softly, her demeanor changing slightly as Henry rubbed her toes gently with his thumb. "That's just biology, Henry. I know what's in your heart."
Henry's hand stilled as realization dawned in Elizabeth's eyes at the meaning of her own words.
"Why can't I think that rationally when it's about me?" she wondered, a hint of irony in her voice.
"I'm sure Aquinas has an answer," Henry ventured, his lips twitching in a grin. "You're only human, babe."
Elizabeth nudged his hand with her foot, and managed to return his smile. Then her expression sobered again. "I just can't get it out of my head. And worrying makes it worse."
"I don't want you any less because biology can be screwy. I'd rather you tell me, Elizabeth. Then we can work through this, together."
She shifted slightly against the bed, suddenly trying to straighten the shirt that had become hopelessly twisted around her upper body. "Why are we having difficulty talking about sex? We talk about everything else."
"We've had to learn to communicate," Henry reminded her. "We've grown up from those newlywed kids." He paused, thoughtfully. "We haven't really had problems in bed, since then, so we haven't needed to talk about sex. Not like this, anyway."
"I feel like my body is betraying me, and I just want that to stop," Elizabeth admitted, with a deep sigh. "If we don't talk about it, maybe then the problem will go away." Her voice lightened with hopefulness.
"Maybe," Henry offered. "Maybe it doesn't happen for a while. But if it does…"
"When." Elizabeth frowned, and twisted her hands together in her lap.
"If it does," Henry admonished her interruption by squeezing her big toe, "and we don't talk, it'll eat away at you. I don't want to lose the intimacy I have with my wife." He paused until he caught her eyes again. "We thought this whole situation with the lube was funny, didn't we?"
"Yeah," Elizabeth conceded his point.
"And you don't have any problem using it?" Henry asked her, in confirmation. Elizabeth shook her head 'no', in lieu of an answer.
"So why does it matter if we need it? If I use it on you?" he continued.
Elizabeth responded with a sheepish shrug.
"Do you still want me?" Henry's eyes searched hers, his love evident in his expression.
"Yes." Of that she was sure; she would always be sure.
"So why does it matter how we get there, as long as we get there together?" Henry crawled to meet her on his knees, settling between her outstretched legs as he wrapped his hands around her bare calves. "Let me show you."
"You want to have sex now?" she asked, surprised.
"Yes." Conviction rang through that one word.
"After all of this?" Elizabeth gestured, arms wide. Henry grabbed her hands and pulled them to his lips.
"Elizabeth," Henry implored, "let me fix this for you. Let's figure this out."
"But what if I can't?" Her voice was timid.
"If you really don't want to have sex, I'm perfectly fine with that decision," Henry reassured her, firmly. "But if you're afraid you can't, well, that's why we have Amazon."
Henry could see the pain in her eyes, swirling along with unshed tears, but he could see the trust, as well. He gained his feet, and reached out to his wife, waiting patiently for her, as he always would. Elizabeth knew, above all else, she would never turn away from her husband. So she grasped his hands, and let him pull her to her feet.