A/N: Hello, friends. I know it's been a while, I struggle a bit with progression sometimes. I really hope that this still makes sense and that you'll bear with me, especially given the time hops. I know it's a little disjointed, but it's not exactly plot centred, more of a thought exploration. I will hopefully be able to give them a resolution, or at least put them back together a little bit. Thank you all for your patience, those who read and review, and those who read and don't review, I love you just the same. Pleasant reading!

Elizabeth flopped down into her oversized chair, dropping the wad of paperwork onto the desk in front of her. They were sending Murphy Station to Pakistan. She was frustrated and terrified. This was precisely what she was trying to avoid. She needed Henry out of the line of fire, quite literally. In a way, it was through her own doing. It always comes back around. There was no way Henry would turn the opportunity down; no way he would cop-out now. He needed to finish the job, and she wanted them to, but did it have to include Henry?

She would not interfere again. He was doing the right thing and she did trust him. He'd met her half way attending their appointment with Dr. Sherman, and was pleasantly surprise when he'd said that he thought it was a good step. That had to be a good sign, and they had been communicating better. It hadn't come without further struggles, and sounds did not necessarily constitute substance. They were making noise, but whether they were getting through to one another was another question.

As much as Henry would deny it, a lot of this was about Dimitri, and now he'd confirmed her fears. She wished there was something she could do for Talia Petrov, and it pained her that some of the motivation to help Dimitri's sister was selfish; she wanted Henry back, she wanted to fix him. Of course he didn't want to talk to her about it, it was something that she'd indirectly caused.

Now he was throwing himself into another redemption mission, and he was frustratingly flippant about it. She knew he was not taking the decision lightly, but she wished that he would share a little more; that he could show some sign of fear or at least acknowledge the obvious risk. Henry needed to do this. Elizabeth knew that he was the kind of man that believed in redemption. He believed that his actions needed to be equal and just. This would be no different. They would talk before he left, but it would be the kind where the things that really need to be said would simply not. She rubbed her face and checked her watch. She would leave for home soon, and she wished she didn't have to. The sooner the day ended, the closer they were to being that much further apart again.

-o-

You can tell me not to go, you know.

They lay beside one another, savouring the few quiet minutes before Henry had to leave for Pakistan. Elizabeth rolled on her side to face Henry.

"Please don't go." She whispered, swallowing the tears that tried to surface. Please don't leave me. I wish I never had.

He knew she wasn't blocking him, that she simply needed to acknowledge her fear. He needed it too. The evening had transpired very similarly to when she left for Iran, and she couldn't help but feel a little hypocritical. Henry had required much more coaxing than she, but she was sure that her swirling emotions were similar to what he'd experienced. The night she left for Iran was one of the reasons she knew she had to let him go to Pakistan.

"I will come back."

Henry, come on. I'm gonna be okay.

Those words were familiar. She did come back. She had been injured, but she was right in the end. She returned, and so would he. She only hoped that they wouldn't lose what they'd struggled so hard to regain. Talking had always come so easily, and it was the great strength of their Marriage, but she'd seen what happened when that was taken from them. She didn't want to go back to that place.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her middle. He let a hand trace under the fabric of her shirt, brushing his fingertips over the blemish on her back. Henry kissed her softly, providing her with the closeness she craved, as he had before.

-o-

Elizabeth watched and waited. She wondered how Henry had coped when she was in Iran. He'd had no information, no contact and no way of knowing if she was even alive. She wasn't sure her front row seat to his operation was any better. She was surprised when it was Russell Jackson who suggested the abort the mission.

"Mr President, there are riots raging throughout Islamabad, I'm questioning the wisdom of leaving three high value assets to take out this terrorist in a rapidly deteriorating situation, while we have bigger fish to fry."

"You want to abort the Disah mission?"

"As much as I would love to light that son-of-a-bitch up, Render Safe has to be our priority."

"Elizabeth?" The president turned to face her, asking her of all people to make such a decision.

"I think we should back Murphy Station's play, Sir."

"Walk and chew gum at the same time it is, then. Lets get it done. All of it."

Sometimes you gotta walk and chew gum. She remembered hearing the words, first from Russell. She wouldn't pull Henry out, he'd never forgive her. She trusted him, and she needed him to know that. If Henry was harmed, she'd never forgive herself, but she couldn't live without him knowing that she always had faith in him. He would love her no matter what, and it was something that time nor distance could diminish. She swallowed her tears and held her head high. She knew her husband would return.

-o-

They entered the foyer together, hand in hand. Henry had just arrived home from Islamabad, and naturally, Elizabeth wanted to be present for his arrival. They'd talked a little in the car on the way home, but she was mostly just glad to have him back. As they entered the house, he dropped her hand and continued ahead, as though nothing had changed. It seemed that the safest, most familiar place was where they communicated the least. You stop talking once it's truly you and I. The truth was that when they're were at home together, there was no hope for being saved by an ill-timed interruption. No work task requiring immediate attention to take priority over the things that they should say but never would. They'd grown accustomed to the interruption, expecting it in a way, and when it didn't come, it was just the two of them. She stood in the foyer, alone, watching him disappear up the stairs.

It wasn't in Henry's nature to be avoidant, but he was afraid of himself. He didn't trust his words like he used to, and Elizabeth had always placed such great weight on them, as had he; it seemed wiser to avoid them all together when the risk of hurting the one they loved the most was so high. The last time things had burst through the seems left them both hurt and confused. She wondered if he still saw his own failure in her face; if he could look at her without the tainting regret and betrayal.

She followed Henry up the stairs. Elizabeth wasn't seeking an argument, but she couldn't stand by again, some things just needed to be said. He promised her that they wouldn't do this to one another. He was sitting on their bed, ratting through his backpack, sorting items of clothing and tossing them into the wash-basket. She stood in the doorway for a moment, just watching him. He seemed different, yet another version of the man she loved, another version that she would love unconditionally.

"Henry."

He looked up, meeting her eyes. When she was silent, he held out his hands, offering her his embrace. She moved in swiftly, letting his arms wrap around her as she cradled his head against her.

Come back to me.