Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth
"Bess, run." Conrad's voice was sharp in Elizabeth's ear. It prickled up her spine, like needles laced with threads of white hot heat. "Head straight for the elevators."
Omar was still guarding her, Matt and Blake where they sat on the couch, his finger poised against the trigger of the gun, whilst behind him, Hamza and Akeem pored over the screen. Documents flitted here and there, snatched up and tossed away, until—
"I have the file," Akeem said. 'QuickStitch'—the name emblazoned the top of the page. He scrolled down, down, down. Elizabeth's heart pounded, buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom, a flat out canter. Oh, God. Please let it be clean.
"What does it say?" Omar said. "What's the agent's name?"
Akeem shook his head. His frown deepened. "I can't see."
Omar turned and barged his cousin aside. "Get out of the way."
Elizabeth nudged off her shoes and pushed them beneath the coffee table. She laid her hands against Matt and Blake's knees, fingers trembling, and she nodded towards the door. They eased up from the couch, as slow as the sun rising above the horizon, and as they crept across the carpet, Elizabeth urged Matt and Blake in front.
"See," Akeem said, "It just says 'Sandpiper'." And the word hit Elizabeth like a punch to the stomach. Breathless, she stopped. She glanced over her shoulder.
The gazes of the three men turned from the screen to the silver sandpiper atop the desk, to the couch, and then to the doorway where Elizabeth had frozen. Omar's nostrils flared. His eyes glinted like sparks struck from flint. He snarled. "It was you."
"Run," Elizabeth said, and she shoved Matt and Blake through the door.
BLARP. BLARP. BLARP. BLARP. The fire alarm blared. It roared through Elizabeth's ears and pounded her eardrums. Matt and Blake darted down the corridor, past the offices with their glass walls, Elizabeth in pursuit. TCHHEW. TCHHEW. Bullets rang out behind them. Elizabeth clutched her ears. PPSHUH. The glass walls exploded. PPSHUH. Matt and Blake both ducked and shielded their faces as splinters of glass whistled through the air. They dived through the doorway and into the main hall, and then careened around the end of the desk.
Elizabeth chased after them. "Get to the elevators," she shouted, her voice hoarse, the words searing through her throat. "Run!"
SPLLSHH. Water gushed down from the sprinklers. A curtain of torrential rain. It soaked through Elizabeth, until her clothes clung to her like a second skin. Her hair whipped across her face. Still she ran. Shards of glass bit into the soles of her feet like grains of scorched sand. TCHHEW. TCHHEW. Bullets sailed past. Elizabeth flinched as one hit the computer screen next to her, shattered the monitor and toppled it to the floor with a crash. Her heart pounded. Each breath burned her lungs, and the metallic tang of blood filled her nostrils and flooded her tongue.
Matt and Blake reached the end of the desks. They skidded round the corner, past the communications room, their arms flailing as they fought to steady themselves. TCHHEW. TCHHEW. They cowered as the bullets ricocheted off the walls.
Elizabeth glanced behind her. Her sodden hair lashed her cheeks. The men were closing in. Omar and Hamza just strides away. She pushed harder still. Acid burned through her limbs. Matt and Blake had gone. She wasn't going to make it. She wasn't going to—
"Close the doors!" she shouted. "Close the—"
She slipped. She hurtled through the air, her body flung like a rag doll. She smashed into the ground. Every last drop of breath crushed from her lungs. Move, Lizzie, move. She heaved herself up and forced herself to her hands and knees. But the bite of metal found the curve of her neck, and a foot to her spine shoved her back down.
Henry
"Where's Elizabeth?" Henry jumped up from his chair. "Where is she?"
The security footage from the elevator showed Matt and Blake crouched on the floor, their heads in their hands as they stared at the doors. But Elizabeth had gone.
"Her communications have cut out," Director Doherty said. He leant over one of the laptops and pointed at the screen whilst a technician tapped the keys at a furious pace. "We're trying to get them back online."
Oh God. Oh God. Please. Elizabeth. Please. Henry spun around and paced towards the wall, one hand over his mouth. His heart raced so hard that its beats merged into a sickening thrum.
When he turned back to the screen, the footage from the lobby showed Matt and Blake emerging from the elevator, hands on the back of their heads as the Hostage Rescue Team yanked them out of the way. They fought to get back, to get back into the elevator, but four of the men wrestled them from the building. The images from the body camera saw them dragged into the street and escorted away, all whilst the flurry of media watched on.
"Send in the SWAT team," Conrad said.
"Sir," Oliver Shaw cut in, "the other elevator's moving." He struck a few keys on the laptop and the security camera footage flashed up on screen.
The three men. Elizabeth. The muzzle of a gun pressed to her temple.
"Stand down." Conrad snapped. "Tell the team to stand down."
Elizabeth
"Get back, or we'll shoot." Omar's voice roared through the lobby. His grip around Elizabeth's torso tightened, a vice that pinned her arms to her side. The cold metal bumped against the side of her head. Each jolt sent a shock down her spine.
The SWAT team backed away, a river in reverse as they flooded out the doors.
"You have no idea of the pain you caused." Omar hissed in her ear. The words crawled through her skin and shuddered through her nerves. Grating. Jarring. Insinuating their way into her mind. "We lost everything. Our family. Our friends. Our names. Our identity. Everything we had known—gone. And it was all because of you."
She stumbled as he forced her forwards and shoved her towards the main doors. "I was doing my job. I was protecting people—"
Omar pushed the gun into her temple, and she winced. "He was a great man, and you stopped him from carrying out Allah's work."
The light from outside burned Elizabeth's eyes. They pricked with hot tears, the world rendered to a blur.
"You might have stopped him from saying his final words, but the world will hear ours." A sickening snarl unfurled in his voice, venom poured into every word. "They'll see you kneel down and pay for your sins."
"Please." Elizabeth choked. "I have children. You can't do that to them. Please." She twisted round and searched for Akeem. "If you do this, you'll never see Bella again. But let me go, and you can walk away from here free."
"Get back," Omar shouted as he hauled her out onto the concrete. And at his word, the SWAT teams scuttled away. Chhh Chhh Chhh Chhh. Helicopters soared overhead. Lights flashed in the distance, swathes of reporters angling for a shot. A shot of the shot. The final shot. The end.
Henry
On screen, the men dragged Elizabeth through the lobby, whilst the Hostage Rescue Team retreated through the doors. Henry clutched his brow. He couldn't look. He couldn't not look. "Where are they taking her?" The words were on his tongue, but whether he spoke them or whether they were lost to the blare of the room, he didn't know.
"Get the snipers in position," Conrad said, "and if they have a clean shot, fire at will." He glanced at the footage from one of the news helicopters. The hoards of reporters shoved up against the cordons, cameras aloft. "And for Christ's sake, will someone get the media to back off. I don't want this playing out on national television."
Elizabeth and the three men emerged on the concrete outside the State Department building. She writhed and struggled against them, but Omar grasped her close, her body a shield as he forced her towards the base of the American flag.
"Communications are back online," the technician said, "but they're patchy."
"No clear shot," Doherty said.
"On your knees." The words resounded through Elizabeth's microphone as Omar thrust her to the ground.
"Henry," Elizabeth's voice shook, "I'm sorry. I love you."
TCHHEW. PTCHH. PTCHH. PTCHH. The shots rang out. They crackled through the microphone. They hit Henry square in the chest. The world went silent. Then came the screams.
"Bluebird down. Suspects down. I repeat: Bluebird down."
Four bodies, crumpled on the floor.
Numb. "Elizabeth."
The Day Before
The grandfather clock ticked away in the corner of the office, counting down the seconds they had left before she went inside. Elizabeth tugged on Henry's hand and pulled him up from the armchair. He stepped towards her, until the heat rolled off her and washed over him. He clutched her hips. But it wasn't enough. He wanted to hold her so close that nothing could ever come between them.
She rested her palm over his heart, whilst the fingers of her other hand toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. She smiled up at him, and they could have been back in their bedroom all those years ago, the night before she left for Iran. "I'll be okay, I promise."
Henry nodded, his lips tensed. She couldn't know that. No one could know that. But they had to believe it, or else… "No heroics." His voice hitched. "You're my forever, remember?"
"I know," Elizabeth said, her voice soft. Her gaze drifted to his lips. "I love you."
—
The Day Before
The scent of cherry blossom enriched the air, and the canopies of petals cast the park into a mellow pink light. Elizabeth leant back against the bench and turned her face up to the sky. The sunlight danced over her hair, her skin, her lips. The lips he had kissed just moments before.
"Everything okay with you?" Henry fluttered his fingertips against her shoulder. "You seem a little…" But how to finish that sentence? Distant. Faded. Off.
"Just tired, that's all." Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just hope that these tech guys actually fix the computers. I've got a mountain of work, and I really don't want to stay late again tonight."
Henry's grip on her shoulder tightened. Tonight? She couldn't stay late again tonight.
She turned her head to the side and cracked open one eye. "What?"
"Don't tell me that you've forgotten."
"Forgotten what?"
He let go of her, and resting his elbow against the back of the bench, he turned to face her. "Dinner with my family." She frowned back at him, a subtle pinch at the middle of her brow. "We said that we'd meet up for a meal…" Still the frown didn't lift. "We even invited Sophie and Will."
"That's tonight?"
Henry massaged his forehead. How could she—? His hand fell back to his lap. "It's the first time we'll all be together since my dad died." His jaw tightened. "You promised me you'd be there."
"And I will…" Elizabeth said, "…try my best."
"Elizabeth." His tone thistled.
"I'll be there." She took his hand and ran her thumb back and forth over his knuckles. "I'll have to shuffle a few things round, but I'll make it work. I promise."
Henry bunched his lips to one side. Would she be there? Would she really? Or would yet another crisis come up and push their family aside? But then she offered him a small smile, and perhaps all he could ask for was that she tried. He squeezed her hand. "Thank you."
—
2016
The lamps in the bedroom glowed, and their yellow haze diffused through the air. At the end of their bed, Elizabeth sifted through the suitcase they had taken with them to Finland. She stopped, grabbed hold of her makeup bag and then carried it over to the vanity table. She dragged out the stool and sat down, and in the mirror, she caught Henry's eye.
He had been lingering in the doorway, watching in silence, but as her gaze met his, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He swallowed, the emotion thick in his throat again. "What you did, getting Dmitri back…" He shook his head to himself, lips pursed. "I'll never forget this…"
She held his gaze a moment longer and then let her own drift away as she picked up the pack of face wipes. "It was the right thing to do."
He shrugged. "Still."
"Henry—" She spun round on the stool. "—I will move heaven and earth for you." Her hair wisped around her shoulders as she shook her head. "I can't take back what I did, I can't take back the pain I caused you…" Her voice cracked. "This is the least I can do."
"It's a lot," Henry said, and he crossed the room and perched on the edge of their bed. He reached out, his fingers itching to touch her, but he stopped. His hand retreated to his lap. "Thank you."
Silence strained between them, until it felt as though it might snap. Elizabeth's gaze faltered as she fought to meet his eye. "This job's changed me, Henry." And her shoulders slumped, as though the weight of everything they had been through over the past two years had suddenly hit her. "We might have scraped through it this time…but what about whatever comes next?" She winced. "What do we do when something happens that we can't get through?"
"So long as we're committed to each other, to this marriage, we'll make it through. You're my forever, remember?" This time he did touch her hand.
She stared down at where his fingers rested over hers—and perhaps she would push him away, retreat into that shell he had forced her to build; and could he blame her?—but then she turned her hand over and laced their fingers together.
He squeezed. "I'm sorry, and I love you."
—
2014
The motorcade sped away down the track. Clouds of dust bloomed into the air, until only the flashes of blue and red lights burst through. Henry waited in the doorway to their kitchen whilst Elizabeth stared out of the window. When she turned around, her brow was furrowed. She leant back against the countertop, her fingers curled over the edge. She took a deep breath and then said, "He wants me to be his Secretary of State."
Henry's mouth hung open. "Babe, that's huge." He walked over to her, and placing his feet on either side of hers, he rubbed her arms. But she flinched beneath his touch, and his hands stilled.
She winced as she met his eye. "Henry, I can't say no."
Henry's heart sank. If you go to Baghdad, I don't know what things will look like when you get back. Even now the words haunted them, the wounds still smarting after everything he had put her through. His grip on her arms tightened. "And I won't ask you to."
"Are you sure? Because it's massive, everything's going to change, we'll have to move, the kids will need to go to new schools, you'll have to find a new job, it'll mean me being away from home—" Her hands flailed, her gestures getting wilder and wilder as her pitch rose.
He caught hold of her hands and dipped down to find her gaze. "Babe, I support you."
She paused, lips parted. And in a moment, he might have to remind her to breathe. Her eyes narrowed, blue honed. "Don't you want time to think about it?"
"Do you?"
She shook her head, and wisps of hair escaped her pigtails. Her lips quirked, an almost timid smile. "If I think about it, I'll just talk myself out of it."
Henry shrugged. "Then that's that—decision made."
"What about the kids?" And there was that wince again. That guilt that he had burdened her with, because he had demanded that she put their kids first. Every echo of it rippled through him and twinged in his heart.
He entwined their fingers, bringing them palm to palm. "We'll have a family discussion, but babe, it really is down to you."
"And you're really okay with this?" She tugged at his hands, as if trying to shake loose any doubts.
"Yes," he said. Then he smirked. "Madam Secretary…has a ring to it, don't you think?"
—
June 2005
"Faster, Daddy, faster!" Jason dug his heels into Henry's sides as Henry crawled along the living room floor. How was it that his kids always roped him into giving them horsey rides? Thank God Stevie and Alison were too big now, though that didn't stop their squeals of laughter as they wriggled on the couch.
"Look who's still wide awake at eight o'clock." Elizabeth's voice came from the doorway.
At that, Jason scrambled down. "Mommy!" And he threw himself into Elizabeth's arms. He wrapped his arms and legs around her in a koala hug as Elizabeth lifted him up from the ground.
"When did you get so big?" Elizabeth said, and she peppered their son with kisses.
Henry eased up from the floor, knees aching, and he stretched out his back. Elizabeth lowered Jason down, and then hugged Alison and Stevie too. Henry watched his wife—their family—and his heart filled with warmth for the love they shared, and twinged for the distance between them. "They wanted to say goodnight to you," he said.
But Elizabeth avoided his eye and spoke to the kids instead. "Teeth and into bed, and I'll read you a story." She waited in the hallway until they had said goodnight to Henry, and then she ushered them upstairs.
Half an hour later, Henry was in the kitchen fishing a teabag from his cup when a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind. He froze. Elizabeth had barely spoken to him since she had quit, and even then it was only for the sake of the kids—and she certainly hadn't touched him. He tried to turn around, but her grip tightened, hands clutching the front of his shirt. She buried her face between his shoulder blades, and her warmth spread through him like a candle flame lighting the darkness.
"Henry," she said, her voice muffled, "I do love you."
And all the tension melted. Henry reached behind him and fumbled for her waist. "I'm sorry."
She shook her head against him. "I don't want to talk about that, not now."
Her hold loosened, and he twisted round. His hands found her hips, and his thumbs rubbed circles through her silk blouse. "We'll make things work."
She met his eye with an almost pained gaze. "Do you want to make things work?"
"Of course I do." He frowned. How could she not see that? "You're my forever." He kissed her forehead. "I just want us to be together, as a family."
Elizabeth slid her hands up his chest, her gaze fixed on the top button of his shirt. "I've been thinking about what to do next—and this is going to sound crazy, but hear me out—I was thinking maybe we could move to a horse farm. And I know you're probably thinking 'What? A horse farm?' but I loved being around the horses as a kid—those are some of my happiest memories before…you know—" A flicker of pain stung her features before she swept it away again. "And it would be good for our kids too…It would give us a fresh start…"
"Babe, you don't have to sell it to me." He brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen into her face and tucked them behind her ear. "Anything with you and the kids, and I'm in."
"Really?" The corners of her eyes crinkled, and her brow pinched as she met his gaze. "We're going to do this? We're going to move to a horse farm?"
"Yeah." He smiled down at her. "And it won't hurt that they'll have real horses to ride. My back's killing me." He stretched out his spine again.
Elizabeth grinned. "You're a fantastic father, you know that?"
He shrugged, and his lips quirked. "I think we make a pretty good team."
—
May 2005
"The kids are asleep," Henry said. The words echoed through the darkened living room and accentuated the silence that gloomed between him and Elizabeth, a thundercloud waiting to burst.
If you go to Baghdad, I don't know what things will look like when you get back. He should never have said it. But why couldn't she just put him and their kids first? Why couldn't she see that changing the world started from home?
Elizabeth drained the rest of her beer and then stood up from the couch. She brushed past Henry on her way to the door, but he caught hold of her arm, her pulse heavy beneath his fingertips. "Elizabeth, are we at least going to talk about this?"
She yanked her arm free and spoke over her shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen. "I've handed in my resignation, so what's left to talk about?"
Henry's mind reeled. He frowned. "You what?" He followed her into the kitchen. The lights were off, but the glow of the street lamps flooded through the window and tinged the room with a blush of amber.
Elizabeth leant back against the counter, arms folded across her chest. Her lips were curved down, and the surrounding darkness had seeped into her eyes. "If you're telling me it's a choice between the career that I love or you and the kids, I will always choose you."
The words should have brought warmth, but instead filled him with a bitter chill. He swallowed. His throat clunked. "Do you still love me?"
She held his gaze, but it felt as though a wall of ice stood between them. "I'm committed to this marriage."
Henry shook his head. "That wasn't the question."
"I know that, Henry, but I don't think I should answer that right now." She pinched the bridge of her nose, and then shaking her head to herself, she pushed herself away from the side.
A simple sentence, but it cut so deep that it carved its mark on his heart. His gaze darted after her as she retreated from the room. "Where are you going?"
"To bed."
"Elizabeth—"
"Goodnight, Henry."
Her footsteps trudged up the stairs. Henry bumped his forehead against the cool wood of the doorframe, jaw tight, fists clenched. What on earth had he done?
—
2001
In the crib at the side of their bed, Jason's brow pinched, his lip quivered, and then he let out an almighty bawl. Henry shuffled to the edge of the mattress and scooped up their son, whilst Elizabeth groaned, the sound muffled by her pillow as she lay face down beneath the covers.
A moment later, a high-pitched wail screeched through the baby monitor, followed by Alison's sobs of, "I—" sniff "—want—" sniff "—Mommy."
And then came a shout. "Mommy!" That shook down the hall from Stevie's bedroom.
With Jason still crying into his shoulder, Henry rubbed Elizabeth's back. "Babe—"
But she swatted his hand away. She rolled over onto her back, eyes closed, her hand pressed to her forehead. "I can't do it, Henry, I just can't…" She bit down on her bottom lip, and her body trembled. "I can't…"
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Henry said, his brow furrowed into a deep frown. "I've got it." He eased out the side of the bed and carried their howling son away as Elizabeth pulled the covers over her head.
In the morning, Henry awoke to the sound of Elizabeth's voice. "Hey." He blinked in the harsh light as the sun filtered in through the living room blinds. He was sat on the couch, Jason snuggled against his chest, Alison and Stevie nestled on either side.
Elizabeth held her hands out for Jason. A smile crept onto her lips as their son cracked open one bleary eye. "Hey, baby boy." She sat down in the armchair opposite and then rested her feet on the stool as she leant back against the cushions. She lifted her top and cradled Jason to her chest. And without so much as a whimper, he latched on. She looked up and met Henry's eye. "I'm sorry—"
He shook his head. "You're my forever, remember?"
—
1990
"Mrs McCord." Henry smiled as he whispered in Elizabeth's ear. One hand clutched hers, the other rested against her waist as they swayed in time to the music. In the background, the thunderstorm rumbled and cracks of lightning flashed through the dimly lit hall. He pulled her closer, her body flush to his, and his hand skimmed lower.
A blush blossomed on her cheeks. "Henry, your family—and Will—are watching."
"Don't care," he said, still smiling, and he brushed his lips over hers. He sucked gently on her lower lip, and her mouth sighed open, allowing their tongues to meet.
A wolf-whistle trilled from the edge of the dance floor. Elizabeth pulled back and glared over her shoulder at her brother, who just smirked in response. "God, I could kill him," she muttered under her breath, just as another flash of lightning cast the room into its eerie white light. She looked back to Henry, a slight furrow in her brow. "Isn't it bad luck if it rains on your wedding day?"
Henry pursed his lips. "I thought it was good luck." He trailed his fingers up and down her waist, over the white lace of the bodice. "It represents unity and fertility; a sign that the marriage will last and that we'll have children." But Elizabeth gave him a skeptical look. "Luck aside, we'll make things work." And at the slight wince and the hint of pain in her eyes, he rested his forehead against hers. "I'll be home again before you know it. I promise." He kissed her, just a flutter. "You're my forever, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth's lips quirked into a wry smile. "I'll remind you of that when we have four screaming kids and we haven't had sex in six months."
—
1989
Elizabeth frowned up at the puffs of smoke that dotted the crisp blue sky. "What, exactly, is that meant to say?" She turned back to Henry, looking for him where he had stood just a moment before, but he was now down on one knee, and it took her a moment to find him. Her gaze met his, and her eyes widened. One hand rose up to cover her mouth, barely concealing the smile that swept across her features.
"Marry me, Elizabeth," Henry said. And boot camp didn't make his heart pound half as hard as this. "I know that I got all freaked out and messed up—" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at him, as if to say: No, really? "—but nothing terrifies me more than the thought that I won't get to spend the rest of my life with you, proving to you that I'm worthy to call myself your husband."
"Henry." Elizabeth dragged out his name. And—Oh God, what if she said no? She took hold of his hand and tugged him back to his feet. She stepped closer to him, toe to toe, and looked up into his eyes. "You're more than worthy." She cupped his jaw and brushed her thumb over his cheek. "All you had to do was ask."
His heart felt like it had stopped. "So…that's a yes?"
Elizabeth chuckled. "It's a kinda—" She pecked the corner of his lips. "—maybe—" She pecked the opposite side. "—definitely—" She smiled against him. "—yes."
"Really?" His pulse surged back to double time.
"Yes." She held his head in both hands and kissed him. Her lips parted—. But then she jerked back and looked him hard in the eye. "But pull that stunt again, and I will kill you." The blue of her eyes softened, ice melting into water. She toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck and pressed her forehead to his. "If you get freaked out, just tell me, okay?" She nuzzled his nose. "We're in this together."
—
February 1988
Their breaths puffed before them as they ducked beneath the spiked branches and crunched over the snow-laden lawn. The cold air burned through Henry's lungs. He stopped, and Elizabeth's hand slipped from his. "Elizabeth." She turned around, and when their eyes met, he said, "I think I'm falling in love with you." The words tumbled out into the silence, as stark as the first footprints to mark the snow.
Elizabeth stepped towards him. Her eyes shone from the cold—and dare he hope, something more. "Good." Her hands found his waist, the touch muffled by his thick duffle coat. "Because I like you okay too. Like, a lot." She pecked his lips, but as she drew back, her gaze lingered there. The barest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks. "How about we go back to your place—" She met his eye. "—for coffee?"
His pulse thrummed. He swallowed. "I'd like that." He cupped her cheek, chilly noses bumping as he leant in and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. Then he paused. "Just making sure we're on the same page…there's not going to be any coffee, right?"
Elizabeth grinned at him. "Maybe in the morning." And God, if he hadn't already been in love with her, that just about pushed him over the edge.
—
October 1987
The red and oranges leaves that had tumbled down from the oak tree littered the quad, and they rustled as they tripped over and over one another in the breeze. Smoke lingered in the air, the memory of a bonfire from the night before. Henry took a deep breath. His palms were clammy, despite the chill. He strode over to the bench where Elizabeth Adams had stopped to riffle through her bag. "Hi," he said, and Elizabeth spun around. "I'm Henry."
Elizabeth eyed him, and if his palms weren't sweating before, they were now. "Elizabeth."
"I was sitting in on the seminar just now." He tilted his head towards the classroom he had followed her from. "Your argument was impressive." He rubbed the back of his neck. Stay cool. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to discuss it more over coffee."
She quirked one eyebrow. "Like a date?"
He shrugged. "Maybe." The corners of his lips lifted, tentative optimism.
Elizabeth shook her head, and her blonde hair shimmered in the hazy afternoon light. "I'm not really looking for anything…" But there was the flicker of a smile.
"Sometimes the best things happen when you're not looking for them."
Elizabeth laughed. A sharp bark that hit him in the chest—an arrow of white light—and what he wouldn't give to hear that sound again. "God, what a line." She glanced down at her watch and then met his eye again, still smiling. "I'm late for class." She backed away a couple of steps. "It was nice meeting you, Henry." Then she turned on her heel and headed towards the throng of students that flowed along the path.
Say something, anything. "This could be the greatest love story of all time just waiting to happen," he called after her. Maybe not that. Too much…definitely too much.
Elizabeth stopped. She turned to him, her smile now a grin. "Oh my God." She laughed, and it struck him just as hard as before. "That's so bad."
"Yet it's working." Henry flashed her a smile of his own.
Elizabeth bit her lower lip, as if trying to suppress her grin, but it still danced in her eyes. She shook her head and then chuckled. And maybe it was working. "Only because I feel sorry for you."
"Pity coffee?" Henry gave a stilted shrug. "I'll take that." And she studied him again, slowly this time. "Come on," he said. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Present Day
"On your knees."
"Henry," Elizabeth's voice shook, "I'm sorry. I love you."
TCHHEW. PTCHH. PTCHH. PTCHH. Silence, as perfect as the untrodden carpet of snow. Screams, like shards of ice through the spine.
"Bluebird down. Suspects down. I repeat: Bluebird down."
Four bodies, crumpled on the floor.
"Elizabeth." Her name escaped Henry's lips as soft as the final breath.
Time slowed. He glimpsed forever. Then it was gone.
