A/N: Thank you once again for all the wonderful support for this story; I'm so glad that people are enjoying it so far. I hope you like this next chapter :)

Chapter Three

The video was shaky, filmed on a camera phone with poor picture and sound quality, but the content was clear enough.

Henry watched as it opened on a shot of Elizabeth standing on a platform at an outdoor podium, her hair blowing slightly in the breeze as she gave her speech to the assembled crowd. From the look on her face and the way she held herself, Henry figured that she had been getting to the end; he had seen enough of her speeches to know the signs.

"… and it surely has to make us stop and think," she said as she cast her gaze over the audience, and for a moment it looked as though she was looking directly at the camera that had filmed the video, sending a jolt through Henry's chest as he watched her face intently. "It has to make us stop and consider exactly what it is that we –"

The gunshot cracked loudly on the air, cutting her off, the distinctive noise of the shot and the ricochet all too clear despite the poor sound quality of the video.

At the same time as the shot, Elizabeth's head whipped to her right, and Henry figured that the bullet had flashed right past her. For her to make a move like that, it must have been close enough for her to feel the rush of air as it went by.

Close. So close.

Too close.

It must have missed her by only inches.

Nausea riled up inside him as he watched his wife stand frozen on the podium for one second, two seconds, before her DS agents started to rush the stage at the exact same moment as another gunshot sounded and the bullet slammed hard into the podium, making Elizabeth jump, the polished wood and the seal of the State Department the only things stopping it from slamming straight into Elizabeth instead.

But Henry didn't have time to digest that horror, because in the very next second, the crowd started to part and scream as they realised what had happened, and one of Elizabeth's DS agents shouted "Madam Secretary!" and reached out to shove her hard away from the podium, no doubt acting on instinct to get her away from where the bullets were. She stumbled but was caught by two other agents who shouldered her between them and started to hustle her away down the short flight of stairs at the side of the stage. It was difficult to get a clear look at her face but Henry could imagine the white heat of terror she must have felt.

"Oh, my God," said the person holding the camera phone. "Oh, my God."

Henry hadn't been expecting the third gunshot.

It took him by surprise and, it seemed, Elizabeth too as it smashed into the stage only a metre or two from where she was standing, splintering wood and sending smoke up in its wake. Her agents pressed closer around her at the sound of the shot so that she was barely visible to the camera as they pushed her quickly down the stairs. She tripped on a stair, and Henry thought that her agents must have been so busy scanning the area to try to work out if they should be expecting further incoming fire that they had forgotten to check someone was keeping his wife upright. She buckled and vanished from sight for a second, blocked by the bodies of three DS agents who formed a solid wall between her and the camera.

And, in turn, between her and the gun in the crowd.

Thank fuck.

A moment later, Henry caught a flash of her blonde hair as one of her agents hauled her up and then together they ran her away from the stage. He couldn't see clearly, but he thought that her feet weren't even touching the ground.

The footage cut out then as whoever was holding the camera was jostled by someone from behind and Henry found himself desperate to know what had happened next, desperate for a conclusion even as he already knew that her agents had put Elizabeth in the car and brought her to the hospital where he had just arrived.

The whole thing from the first shot to when the video cut out had been maybe fifteen seconds.

They were already etched indelibly on his memory.

He let out a shaky breath and let his head fall back against the leather seat. Adrenaline was churning through him as though he had been there. His palms were sweaty. His heart was racing.

One of the agents in the front seat of the car turned around to face him. "Dr McCord? We're here."

Henry blinked to try to clear his mind of the images of bullets being fired at his wife by a gun that should never have made it through security into the crowd. He looked up at the agents. "Yeah."

The images stayed with him.

He was grateful he had an agent with him so he didn't have to worry about finding his way, but it turned out he didn't need to worry about it, anyway.

Given the situation, there was a significant security presence already at the hospital, the entrance marked by the flashing lights of police cars and staffed by armed guards, and all Henry had to do was follow the trail of officers with guns all the way to Elizabeth's room.

He was waved right on through without question, whether because of the DS agent at his side or because they knew his face he wasn't sure, but he didn't give a damn. All he wanted was to see Elizabeth.

He knew, logically, that she was mostly okay. The bullets hadn't hit her. He'd seen it with his own eyes. They'd come close – way, way too close – but they hadn't made their target. They hadn't managed to get her.

But, damn it, they'd tried, and that was the thing that wouldn't leave him.

It had been so close, and only that morning he had been terse with her and if the bullets had hit her like they were so obviously meant to, that could have been the last time that she had seen him.

And that was unforgiveable. Henry felt awful.

His face was mask of grim shock and barely-contained grief as he marched purposefully through the halls, aware of the violent tremors shaking his hands as he struggled to keep his composure.

Then they turned a corner to a room guarded by familiar agents and Henry's heart rate kicked into overdrive as he heard voices through the door.

"I'm fine. Please. Just tell me again. Everyone is accounted for? You're sure?"

He stopped dead just outside the door at the sound of Elizabeth's voice. He could hear the panic and the stress, and clear as day he could hear the lie that she was fine. She sounded like she was about to shatter.

He glanced at Frank, one of the agents on the door. "Can I..?"

He didn't know why he was asking. There was no way he wasn't going in that room.

Without waiting for a response, Henry reached out and opened the door, stepping quickly through, oblivious to everyone else around them as he finally laid eyes on Elizabeth.

Her head snapped around as the door opened, frustrated rage in her expression at the interruption that softened immediately into desperate, silent need when she saw him. She stood in the middle of the room, tears filling her eyes, and Henry crossed the space in three long strides to hold her, wrapping his arms around her carefully, in case she was hurt, but securely, because he had to. He had to feel her against him.

He felt her arms slide around his waist and her cheek pressed against his chest like she was seeking out his heartbeat and he wanted to tell her no, you don't need to check that I'm alive. But as he opened his mouth to speak no sound came out and so instead he buried his lips in her hair, pressing kisses to her head, and let his tears blur his vision and just stood there with her held in the circle of his arms, his body curled in around hers so that if any more bullets came flying her way that night, they'd first have to get through him to get to her.