A/N: Happy 2018! I hope everyone's New Year has got off to a great start, and I also hope you enjoy this chapter :) Thanks as ever to everyone reading this story and for all the comments; I always love hearing what you think! x

Chapter Six

Next time, the bullets won't miss.

The brevity of the note, Henry thought, was part of what made it so chilling. It was so clear in its intent, and yet left open to interpretation a whole world of torturous scenarios.

The words were running around and around in his head, layering with the memory of the footage of the shooting and adding another coat of terror to the ones that had already been applied since Carl first rang the doorbell earlier in the evening. The culmination was an eruption of anger, which was contained only slightly by his lingering concern for Elizabeth, who was sitting eerily still and calm on her uncomfortable hospital bed.

Standing toe to toe with Matt the DS agent, Henry was mid-rant: "Next time? Next time could be two minutes or two months from now, what are you –"

"Dr McCord," Matt tried to cut in.

Henry wouldn't allow it. "There shouldn't even have been a first time."

"I don't disagree –"

"That gun should never have made it into the crowd in the first place." Because that was part of it, wasn't it? Protocol may have worked perfectly once the shots had been fired, DS may have got Elizabeth into the car and to the hospital in record time, they may have reacted as exactly as they were supposed to when faced with an attempted shooting, but somewhere along the way there had been a monumental screw-up.

Somewhere along the way, Justin Wallowski had got a gun past security and it was only through luck and his crappy aim that his bullets hadn't hit Elizabeth.

"And now we're just what?" Henry said, dropping the volume from his voice but losing none of the menace. He could bring a few threats of his own when his family was in danger, and especially when his wife was sitting on the bed with a concussion and her thoughts were no doubt a jumble of panic and scenarios of sinister, faceless gunmen emerging from the shadows to target her. "Waiting to react to the next time this happens?"

He was aware he was glaring at the DS agent, who was only trying to do his job and who had valiantly put his body between Elizabeth and a gunman only a couple of short hours ago, but Matt was currently the only one available on whom he could take out his frustrations. Henry watched the twitch at the other man's jaw and his uncomfortable swallow. Then he broke the glare to turn to look at Elizabeth, who was sat stock still on the bed, the note promising next time lying face-up on the unused blanket in front of her.

It was obvious that she had disappeared inside her head and probably wasn't really hearing anything that he was saying, or else he knew that she would have jumped in to defend her DS agent. A trickle of worry made its way through him at how quiet she was being; it was joined by a flash of annoyance at the unwelcome disruption caused by the shooter. He and Elizabeth were supposed to be home now, eating the dinner he had cooked for them and enjoying some time alone together. He was supposed to be apologising to her for the way he had snapped at her earlier that morning. He was meant to be holding her close.

All he wanted right now was to hold her close.

"Dr McCord," Matt said calmly. "DS is investigating this threat against the Secretary as a top priority. We're also increasing her level of protection until we can be sure that the threat is neutralised."

"That's great," Henry bit out. "But they managed to get to her in the hospital. If they can get to her here, where else might they show up? Where's safe?"

"Henry."

Elizabeth's quiet voice broke through Henry's hard accusations and he turned back to her to seek out her gaze, the little crease between her eyes suggesting that she was feeling the effects of hitting her head and the general stress of the day. She shook her head slightly, silently telling him to dial it down.

How the hell was he supposed to dial it down when it turned out that the shooter they had been told was working alone apparently wasn't working alone after all? He couldn't just sit idly by and wait for something to happen. He couldn't stand to have this be a drawn out replay of what had happened with their stalker the previous year.

He was just about to try another tack when there was a sharp, single rap at the door before it swung open and Frank came into the room.

"Madam Secretary," he greeted Elizabeth, "how are you feeling?"

Henry waited, eager to hear what answer his wife might give her DS agent, to see if her response tallied with the look of beaten exhaustion on her face and the concussion and the queasy stomach and the slightly bloody bandage that was wrapped around her arm.

After a moment, Elizabeth shrugged. "I've had better nights." No doubt she had meant the words as a jokey quip, but they fell flat, thudding heavily on the air between them and clearly exposing just how she was currently feeling – uncertain, and hurting, and vulnerable.

Henry stepped back towards the bed to stand at her side, hoping that having him there would bolster her a little. He slid his hand warmly over her back and let it rest there.

"Well, that's true enough," agreed Frank. His gaze flicked to Henry. "Dr McCord." From the way he said his name, Henry figured that the DS agent had heard at least part of the tirade he had unleashed on Matt.

He thought maybe he should feel contrite. Maybe he would, later. When there was no longer the threat of bullets hanging over his wife's head.

"What's up, Frank?" Elizabeth asked, like she wasn't entirely sure if she actually wanted to know.

"Given the situation, I thought you'd appreciate an update, ma'am."

"Have you caught the guy yet?" Henry couldn't help the acerbically pointed question; his fear was currently manifesting as angry bolshiness, which was preferable to the only alternative of flailing silently in distress.

To his credit, Frank didn't rise to the bait. "We're talking to the courier who was sent over with the note, ma'am, to see if he can give us any information about where it originated. We have an extra security unit here at the hospital and an extra unit at your home, and we're conducting checks on anyone who enters your street."

"The neighbours won't like that," Elizabeth said quietly.

"I'm sure they'll like it more than the potential alternative," Henry said, flexing his fingers at her waist and dropping a kiss to her hair. Of course their neighbours would hate the inconvenience, but he couldn't give a damn right now about what was convenient for them. And an assassin walking boldly up the street surely wouldn't be good for neighbourhood convenience, either.

Frank paused before continuing. "We've also sent agents to have eyes on your children."

Elizabeth stiffened beneath Henry's hand and he didn't need to look at her face to know it would be creased with anxiety. "You –"

"It's a precaution, ma'am," Frank reassured her. "We've already got Stephanie at the White House and Jason at his girlfriend's, and campus security are watching Alison's dorm until DS get there."

"Are you bringing them in?" Henry asked, unsure as to what he hoped the answer would be. On the one hand he was desperate to see the children, to have them all together where he could keep an eye on both them and their mother and be certain that all his family was safe and whole. But on the other hand…

"We don't think it's necessary at this juncture. We're hoping this thing is going to be over fast, and we're as confident as we can be that there's no threat to the children, but we can bring them either here or back to your house if that's what you'd like?"

Henry forced himself to stay silent, his hand moving slowly over Elizabeth's back as he waited for her to answer. He wondered how feasible it would be just to pick her up and run away somewhere to hide until this whole sorry mess was over and done with. He thought about how in their lives there was always something for them to worry over.

He thought about how he couldn't lose his wife.

"No," Elizabeth eventually said, the look on her face making it plain that it was paining her to make the call. She looked down at the note that rested on the mattress in front of her and traced one finger over the words that could be interpreted as both a threat and a promise. Her voice was sad and hollow as she went on reluctantly to explain: "I think right now they're safer away from me."