Day 17 (continued)

Henry McCord was unsurprised to find his wife in her office. He had no expectation that she would be resting. She used to joke that since they both either worked or cleaned, fighting usually resulted in a clean house, and a completed to-do list. It was the only upside to arguments.

She didn't greet him as he came in the front door, or even look up as he stood in the doorway of their shared office. He sighed, deeply troubled but relieved she was at least sitting down and resting her swollen knee.

"Elizabeth . . ." He began.

"You decided to come back, then." Her voice was brittle and the sound of it made him sick to his stomach. He hated any distance between them.

"Yes, I, uh," He swallowed hard. "I am back and . . . Look, can we just . . . Can I talk to you?"

"You sure?" She looked up at him. "You don't want to go for another walk?"

"Elizabeth," He couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice.

Her anger was a wave, rolling toward him - rolling over him and pulling him under, yet he couldn't keep his stubborn heart for feeling angry. She had lied. She had put the distance between them in the first place.

"Henry." She snapped back at him.

He felt helpless and unbelievably frustrated. The entire thing was ridiculous! Yet, her fury was as justified as his. It didn't help that she glared at him with beautiful, bright, blue eyes that were framed by dark-rimmed glasses. She was still dressed in his pajama bottoms and a tank top, and somehow this made her seem all the more vulnerable and adorable. It was an added layer of frustration to him that even when he was wholly irritated with her, he still found her completely attractive. She was so damn beautiful, and it wasn't fair that part of him could never see past that simple truth. He sighed again, shaking his head at her as he did, wishing once again that he could have a do-over. He knew it was wrong to run out like he did. He knew it caused her great pain. It was so stupid! He understood that leaving her - running off like that always triggered dark memories of an empty house and her alone; bereft. He leaned against the doorway.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry." His voice was heavy with regret and she looked up meeting his eyes for a long minute. "You've every right to be furious, I know that! But we need to talk." He studied her his eyes locked on hers. "Please, Babe. Unless, you are going to do your own version of running off?" He raised eyebrow at her. This last statement was a risk and a little unfair but still true. Although she never physically left in an argument, sometimes she left him alone all the same.

"Henry, that isn't fair!" Her response was sharp. "Fine! Whatever! I'm too tired for any of this!" She rose and went into the living room, Henry trailing behind her. She continued her rant as they entered the room. "You want to tell me I was wrong to lie? I know that! You want to say how hurt you are by it? I know that too! You want to tell me how I betrayed you? How I betrayed us? Whatever it is Henry, I already know it! You are right! Okay? You are right!" She paced in front of the couch where he had sunk down into the cushions. "What was I supposed to do? I can't really talk to you sometimes, Henry. You know that! I can't just . . .Listen, I felt trapped! I can't do what I need, or what you need. I just can't!" She threw her hands up, pausing to draw in a shuddering breath. "I feel trapped sometimes! I don't have time to deal with . . I have to be . . . There isn't time or space for me to . . ." She paused in front of him, her hands gesturing wildly, her voice unsteady.

"Baby, sit down." He said gently.

"Don't." She pointed her finger at him, suppressing a sob. "Don't be kind to me, not now. I lied to you! I lied more than once!" She shook her head at him. "Don't be kind, please!"

"You want angry?" He asked and reaching up, grabbed her hand pulling her down to sit on the couch. "I can be angry, but you need to stay off that knee. Please, sweetheart."

She acquiesced and sat on the opposite end of the couch but remained silent.

"Look, Babe, I was angry." He told her. "I mean, you are right. You lying to me like that," He paused a moment, "Listen, I understand the why of it, but it still isn't something I can just . . . And I already knew what had happened! I knew you were lying." She looked up at him at this, her teary eyes wide in surprise. "Babe, I've got nearly as high level clearance as you do, and you know that Blake and I talk! This isn't news to you. If I can't reach you, I'm calling him. I told you this. We accepted it."

"So, then what is this all about? Are just trying to make me feel like crap about lying to you? Because mission accomplished, Captain."

"No, Elizabeth. That isn't what this is about!" He looked down at his hand, spinning his wedding band, absent-mindedly. "Babe, it is just that, I was worried about you. It was really hard. And it felt so familiar in all the wrong ways. And I knew it would be difficult for you to talk to me. I get that. But then you walked in the door, and it was like before, you know. I can't manage how . . . I can't do that again."

She covered her face with her hands, nodding her head, but saying nothing.

"And you are right - I should not have run off like I did. That was wrong. I do understand how much that hurts you. I know that and I am sorry. I made a mistake. But Baby, this isn't . . ." He cleared his throat, his voice suddenly husky. "You don't live in an empty house anymore. You know that, right?"

He moved so that he wrapped an arm around her. "I can manage you being gone. I don't like it but I can manage it. I can even manage when our schedules get out of control and we barely have time to talk - at least- I can manage it for a little while but I can no longer manage you acting like everything is fine when it isn't. I can't do that anymore. It is physically painful to me. I can't manage going backwards like that. I can't bear being cut off from you like that again. And I'm sorry if it feels smothering, I am. But I'm telling you the truth; I need you."

She said nothing, instead, turning into him, burying her face in his shoulder. He pulled her in closer, his arms strong around her, as she quietly wept. He rubbed soothing circles on her back, pulling her as close to him as could, while still being careful of her knee, so that she sat with her legs draped over her lap.

Elizabeth rarely cried. It was one of the most surprising things he'd learned about her for she had a very tender heart. She felt things very deeply, her eyes would grow bright with a shine of tears, but very rarely did those tears fall. He'd asked her about it during their first year of marriage.

"I've only seen you cry once." He told her one rainy afternoon.

"And?" She looked up at him from behind the Scrabble board.

"Wow, at least you aren't defensive about it." He said grinning at her.

"I'm not being defensive." She said a little too sharply. "I'm just . . . do you have a question?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "I guess I thought it was because you thought you couldn't - that it would scare me or something, but we talk about everything. I think you know you can trust me."

"I certainly hope so." She said smiling at him. "I don't plan on getting married twice."

"You are trying to distract me." He furrowed his brows at her. "What is it?"

"Henry, geez, let's just play Scrabble. Okay? I mean you don't think I'm a hard-hearted monster, do you?"

"God, no!"

"Well, then what are we talking about?"

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . ." He realized he had somehow wandered into deep waters.

"No," She sighed, loudly. "Look, I just . . . I don't know. Crying is ineffective. It doesn't change things. And it makes me feel really helpless - you know? I hate that." She looked down at the board and added softly. "Crying won't raise the dead."

It had hit him then - really hard. He could see her in his mind's eye so small and completely alone. He'd looked it up when he'd first been dating her, and it was all over the papers - complete with a picture of her and Will. Poor Little Rich Kids the headline had cruely stated. The outside world far too interested in the wealth they'd inherited to realize they were two kids left alone. He'd been far too young then to explain the powerful force of love and empathy that had washed over him in that moment, but it felt it every time she cried. Every. Single. Time.

"I'm sorry." She said moving back from him, and wiping her eyes. "You must think I'm a big baby."

"No." He told her. "I've never thought that of you." He reached out and brushed her hair back behind her ear. "So, you want to talk about it?"

She leaned in against his shoulder. "I guess. I mean it sounds like you already know everything."

"No. Blake just said that there were some pretty violent protesters. He said you had to hide out in a bunker, and then had to wait out more protesters after you finally made it to the airport. He was pretty light on details - other than to explain to me, repeatedly, that he was the reason you were hurt."

"Poor Blake!" She sighed. "I don't know. It was all pretty stupid. We were on our way, and had pulled into a nearby base because there were far too many protesters where we were planning the meeting. And then all of the sudden it was . . . it was loud and there were explosions, and I couldn't . . ." Here she paused again crying into his shoulder.

"Did you have a panic attack?" He asked her, anxious of the answer.

"No, there wasn't time, and Blake was . . .I thought he was going to have a panic attack. I was so focused on keep him calm, that I didn't have time to flip out, I guess." She sighed resting against him.

"And the knee?"

"Oh, well, we were running and like I said, Blake was pretty close to panic. It was just a bad combination of events. I lost my balance at the same time he tried to push me to safety. It's a pretty dumb injury, and then I reinjured it getting on the plane because I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Sounds like it was pretty scary."

"Don't baby me. It was maybe fifty protesters with homemade molotov cocktails, Henry." She looked up at him. "They basically put firecrackers into a mason jar."

"You didn't know that until afterwards. You aren't overreacting." He leaned in kissing her forehead.

"I'm sick of this doubling back on us. I'm good. And we probably would've laughed about this if it wasn't for . . ."

"Hey, that's enough." He interrupted sensing her body become tense with frustration. "Nothing is doubling back on us. It's part of who we are, now. And it isn't weakness, okay? That was scary, babe, but so was this. I don't like being away from you, and I especially don't like being away from you when people are trying to harm or scare you."

"That weren't trying to harm me . . ."

"Yeah, they were! Imagine how much attention their cause would gain if they put the United States Secretary of State in the hospital. You are right to be frightened after something like that, Elizabeth. It has nothing to do with Iran."

She nodded, her blond hair bouncing as she did, but saying nothing turned her face back into his shoulder, clinging tightly. He kissed the top of her brow repeatedly, grateful that the awful distance between them had dissipated.

"So, you want to yell at me for being a jerk?" He asked, but she shook her head.

"Maybe later." She said looking up at him through red-rimmed, tired eyes.

"Well, unless you want to explain to me some more how being a world leader, dealing with three back-to-back crises, and safely bring home three American kids makes you a candyass weakling, maybe you should try and get some sleep?"

She nodded at this, and unfolded herself from his arms, and rose awkwardly, but even before she took her first step, he had risen, and lifting her up in his arms, carried her up to their room.

"I can walk, you know." She said feistily.

"Yep. I just like carrying you around. I missed my workout the last couple of days, and although you don't really weigh enough to do me any good, hauling you upstairs is better than nothing." He set her down on the bed, and smiling leaned in and kissed her. She kissed him back pulling him down toward her.

"You need to sleep." He said pushing himself back from her.

"I will." She said, her arms around him. "Later."

"What about the knee?" He asked her.

"We can manage." She said winking at him.

He surrendered then, grateful that she was finally, and truly home at last.