2022

She makes her way back to DC, the next day. They made plans for him to come down to see her in three weeks. Plans for him to come down and for them to go bowling. She's nervous about seeing him. She's unsure of what to expect. But she's glad they agreed to this. Glad that they're giving it another shot. At least that's how she feels right now.

Her house feels so empty when she walks in. This house has never felt like this before, this empty feeling is why she moved out of the Georgetown brownstone. It's why she chose a house that was intended for her to live alone in. But now that the door has been re-opened to the possibility of her and Henry. This house feels lonely too. She doesn't know why, maybe it's because she always feels lonely when she's away from Henry.

She's working hard at trying to get her research papers graded on time. She's been putting in extra hours. But it's proving difficult. Her mind keeps drifting back to Henry. To Henry and the life they once shared. Henry and how far New York City is from DC. How different their lives have become since their separation. How much things have changed. Elizabeth thinks about what they've lost and what they have left behind. She's scared about what they could lose again if they try and get back together. But she loves him. She loves him more than she can put into words. And despite everything they've gone through, she still believes that there's something worth fighting for. That he is someone worth fighting for.

Elizabeth finishes grading her last paper for the night. She collapses onto her bed and stares up at the ceiling. The lights are off and the curtains are closed, but she's still awake. Wide awake. So she calls him.

"Hello?" Henry answers after the second ring. She takes a deep breath. She's trying to hold herself together. Trying not to break down into tears. Because she will, because if it's possible she misses him more now than she ever has before. Maybe it's because, now the feelings are on the table. The possibility of a future with him is real once again.

"Hey." She doesn't remember a time when it wasn't easy to talk to him. So the feeling of awkwardness that washes over her surprises her, making her heart start to beat fast.

"Hey yourself," he says. She hears his smile. He sounds so happy to be talking to her. He is relieved to hear her voice. "I'm glad you called."

"I wanted to check in with you," she starts. "See how you're feeling." He can feel her nerves on the other end of the line. The hesitation she has in her voice. He knows he shouldn't be surprised. Elizabeth doesn't do well when she hasn't thought things through. He knows that she can react quickly to a crisis, but this isn't that. This is a long game, one she can't map out. He can't either. Neither of them know where all of the pieces on the board are. Only that they want the same thing.

He's glad to hear her voice. He's glad everything is finally out in the open. Even though this is scary and hard, it's better than continuing to be alone. They both need each other. Not in the co-dependent unhealthy way, but in the way that you just feel better when the other is around.

"I'm doing alright," he tells her truthfully. He hears her exhale. He wants to tell her that he misses her. That he wishes she was here. Instead he keeps his mouth shut. There's no need to rush things. "How have you been?" He asks instead.

"Oh, um grading undergrad term papers. So not great. But I guess that's pretty typical for me." She laughs nervously. He smiles, Elizabeth would never admit that she doesn't truly like being a professor. She thinks it's boring. He knows she likes the idea of the job better than the job. Though, he supposes that most things are boring in comparison to being in the CIA or the Secretary of State.

"You're bored." He states with a smile. He hears her laugh and his breath hitches. He loves that sound. The sound of her laughter. It's beautiful. He thinks briefly about the accident, and how he almost never got to hear that sound again.

"Yes, okay? I'm bored. I'm tired. And I miss you," she admits, because it's true. She misses him so badly, that if they were in the same city, she would go to his place and jump his bones. She would bypass all of the work they need to put into this, to put into healing them and she would fall right into his arms. But she won't. Because it's too soon. So it's a good thing that they are geographically separated while they work through this. Because her impulses that she's having right now, on a cold and lonely night, won't actually solve anything. And she wants them to be okay, to build back the trust, the right way. And the only way to do that is to slow down.

"I miss you too," he tells her honestly. He still remembers the last time he whispered that phrase to her. What he was thinking about at the time. The way her lips felt against his. The way she felt in his arms. He remembers the taste of her kisses and the way her skin felt under his fingertips. He is just as lonely as she is. Just as desperate for her as she is for him. Just as thankful for the distance in this moment.

"Henry?" Her voice is shaky. He knows that her emotions are running high. He holds his breath. He waits to see what she will say. He hopes that he has done enough to make this easier on her. He hopes that she will forgive him for the mistakes he made. That she'll let him back in.

"You promise, you're coming here to take me bowling next week?" She asks tentatively. He can hear a slight note of desperation in her voice. He can hear the fear, that he will let her down once again. He can feel her hoping that he'll give her a reason to believe in him, to love him. To trust him.

"I promise. I'll be there." He assures her. He can almost hear her exhale on the other end of the line. He knows he did the right thing. He knows he has given her something that she needs desperately.

Good." She sighs.

He lays with the phone to his ear, wondering what she's going to say now. But neither of them say anything, and neither of them hang up. They sit on the line listening to each other breathe. Listening to the silence. They are so comfortable with one another that they don't have to fill the space. They can be comfortable together in the quiet. In the dark. With nothing more than their breathing. He listens as her breathing evens out, as she falls asleep. He can't believe that it took him so long to come around. But he's glad to be here. Glad he's so close to being home.

…

She spends her time getting ready. The ironic part being that the last time she made sure she looked this good for Henry was the day they signed their divorce papers. She spent an hour trying to get her hair perfect. She chooses jeans, specifically Levi 505s, Henry's favorite. Henry might not know these are his favorite, but he does complement her every time she wears them.

Henry feels equally ridiculous. He hasn't been this nervous to take a girl out, since he was sixteen and doing it for the first time. This is different though. He's not worried about impressing her. He's not worried about making a good impression on her parents. He's not worried that they'll have a good time. He knows they will. But he's terrified of messing this up. Afraid that everything he built between them will go down in flames. He's afraid he'll lose her. He's afraid he'll ruin what they've worked so hard for.

The significance of bowling is not lost on either of them. When they were young, Henry always insisted on paying for dates. And bowling, is the only thing he could afford. In fact their first ever fight was on their one year anniversary, Elizabeth had made reservations, and Henry spent the entire dinner absent from her and the conversation, because he didn't know how he was going to pay for it. And then, she paid. She paid with her black AMEX and it was the first time he realized just how much money she actually had. It was the first time he understood why she was able to spend so freely.

Bowling is also, where he was supposed to take her when she was trying to save their marriage. When she was desperately trying to get him to open up to her. He remembers how hard she tried. How she pleaded with him to tell her what was wrong. To explain himself. What she wanted, he couldn't do. He was suffering with undiagnosed PTSD and he let himself fall into a hole of depression, and he still hates that. He's never been able to figure out why he quit leaning on her. Why he felt so averse to letting her support him. His shrink, says he was just depressed. That he was protecting himself. But he doesn't think so. He thinks he was afraid that if he let her help him, she'd realize he wasn't worth saving. He's since learned that no one can live by a perfect value system, because there isn't one. And while he's not sure how he's going to get through the night, he's sure as hell going to try. Because he loves her. He loved her then, and he loves her now.

They meet at the bowling alley. She didn't want him to pick her up. She said friends don't do that and this isn't a date. And he agreed. So he walks in alone. He stands at the door and watches her walk across the parking lot. She looks beautiful, that's the first thought that crosses his mind. Its more than the way she looks, it's in the way she carries herself, in the confidence, in the grace. It's the way she moves. He's watched her move for years and he still can't believe that such beauty exists.

He waves at her and she smiles. Then he waits until she reaches him to open the door for her. She thanks him and he gestures for her to go ahead of him. He steps inside just after her. His nerves are gone. Spending time with her has never made him nervous. The conversation always flows. Laughter always on the horizon. She's the person he wants to be around all the time. She makes him feel like he's capable of anything. Even things he's not.

She looks him over. His bruises are gone, but his hair still isn't grown enough to fully cover the scar from his surgery. She swallows at how close she came to losing him forever. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His smile falters.

"Are you alright?" He asks her softly.

"You almost died." She says it like it's the first time she acknowledged that. Like she's only just realizing how close he came. She rushed to New York, when Jason called. She sat with him and her kids, while he had brain surgery. Brain Surgery. He survived. And now he's standing before her looking so much better than he did a few months ago.

"I'm right here. I didn't die." He tells her. He knows the trauma she has surrounding car accidents. He knows the grief they've caused her. Her parents, George. And almost, him. He reaches out for her hand. She takes it. He squeezes tight, and looks into her eyes. His eyes are sparkly, she's always wondered how he does that. How he looks at her like that. How he loves her like that and expresses it in a single look.

The words I love you are on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't say them. She only wants friendship right now. And he refuses to push down her walls and cross her boundaries. He's fighting an uphill battle of regaining her trust. He knows that it will take a while, and hell it may never actually happen. But he's willing to try.

"Let's bowl," he suggests.

She smiles. She's always had a competitive streak. They agree to three games, and while they bowl, they talk. They talk about nothing of consequence. They catch each other up on their careers. They talk about their children. They talk politics, and religion. Which some say you should never do, but those things are ingrained in who they are.

When the time comes to say goodnight, neither want to leave each other. So they go to the bar and drink a couple of beers, the conversation still easy and non-consequential. He tells her jokes, which are only funny to her. He laughs along with her, which makes her laugh even harder. He holds her hand under the table and she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wants to wraps his arm around her, but instead he says they should call it a night. She agrees and he waits with her for her Uber, because one thing Elizabeth never does and drink and drive. Even if she wouldn't consider herself drunk. Because she knows, that if she got behind the wheel after drinking, she could kill someone. Someone's parents, or husband. And she'll never do that.

When her car pulls up, she kisses him on the cheek.

"Thanks for showing up." She whispers to him.

"I'll always show up for you." He smiles and opens the doors for her. And they leave their non-date lighter. Freer. Happier.

And for that moment, everything is perfect.