Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, George, 2006

"I'm going to go make a phone call, kid. Be back in a minute." She doesn't acknowledge me. It's as if she is scared to move, or breathe even. I get nauseous as I think about what she must have been through to end up like this. I take my phone out and dial the directors private number on my way to the snack machine to get Bess a chocolate bar, hoping it will help pull her out of the fog a bit.

"Did you get there?" I'm a little taken aback by the lack of pleasantries but I don't mention it.

"Yes, sir."

"Good, how's she doing?" he sounds a bit anxious, and maybe a bit guilty.

"Not great, I'm hoping Henry will be able to help her when he gets here."

"Henry's not coming." I would've let out a laugh if he didn't sound so serious. There is no way that Henry wouldn't be coming here. I remember Elizabeth's funeral, and how devastated he was.

"He doesn't know, does he?" I know he would be here in an instant if he knew.

"No, I sent you. I need you to take care of her." I will. I have no problem with taking care of a woman I see as my little sister. My little sister, now back form the dead. But I'm not who she needs.

"Why aren't we telling him?" I question.

"Because we aren't, Agent Peters."

"Yes, sir." I respond, knowing better than to question the tone he used. I hang up the phone and gather the Reese's cups I just bought. I make a mental note to call him back later to continue to push the Henry issue. In the meantime I prepare myself to go back to Bess and help her in any way I can.

*Iraq, Elizabeth, 2005

This time when I awake, it's sudden. All of my senses are alive and on fire all at once. I'm still tied to the chair in this godforsaken room. But this time, I'm alone. I look around the best I can looking for my escape options. There is one door and no windows. One way in, one way out. I don't like my odds of being able to get out of here.

"Good Morning, Elizabeth." The British guy says as he walks into the room. I don't like the way my name rolls off of his tongue. I think about the only other person in my life who calls me Elizabeth. Henry was never one to use a nickname for me, I was never Lizzie, or Bess, or Beth to him. Always Elizabeth. I love the way my name sounds coming out of Henry's mouth, the respect and love he carries for me coming out every time. I have to stop thinking about him as I feel the tears beginning to form, I don't want to show this man anymore weakness. I notice he's holding an MRE, the irony of him to rob my safe house of its food, before he blew it up with me almost inside of it is a little astounding.

"Are you hungry? It's been a few days since you've eaten." He sounds nauseatingly sweet. I want to hit him, it takes all of my self-control not to pull on the binds on my wrists. But I am hungry, starving honestly. It's been three days since I've eaten, so I nod. He smiles, and my skin runs cold.

"You're going to have to do something for me, if you want the food." I shake my head, I know what he's implying and my stomach churns.

"It's the chili mac flavor, highly coveted in the US Military." I shake my head again.

"Eventually, you will get hungry enough, Elizabeth," I swallow, knowing he's right, eventually I will.

Washington DC, Henry, 2005

Today is the day, the day I have to put the love of my life into the ground. I haven't woken the kids up yet, I need this little morning pocket of time to pretend that she could still walk in the door any minute. That she could climb into our bed, snuggle up to me. I can almost smell her hair as I would give her a kiss. I try to hold the tears back but they come, full force down my face, sobs quickly following. How am I supposed to go on?

"Daddy?" I look up to see my toddler waddling the way a three year old does towards me on the couch. I wipe my eyes and take a breath.

"Morning, buddy." He climbs into my arms and snuggles into my chest. I wonder how much longer he will do this. When will the last time I hold him like this be. Elizabeth is going to miss it, she's going to miss all of it.

"Call mama?" He's asked every day since she deployed. I had taken to telling him she'd call soon. And she did, she called every two days at 8 AM EST like clockwork. Until she couldn't.

"No, baby. Mama's in heaven. Remember what we talked about?" I remind him once again. I read that I'll have to remind him of this fairly often for a while, toddlers don't understand death. Then again, apparently, neither do I.

Pittsburgh, Jessica, 2014

I'm watching him pack his clothes for this impromptu symposium. He's been distant since our trip to DC. He won't kiss me, he won't hug me, and he definitely shows no interest in having sex with me. He's been fine with the kids, but every time he looks at me there is some kind of disdain in his eyes. It reminds me that we were never supposed to be married, if Elizabeth had not died, if I hadn't gotten pregnant, we wouldn't be. Henry is a good man, albeit a little old fashioned. One night of loneliness and the absence of a condom, and here we are. I know grief can come in waves for the rest of one's life, and that is completely asinine to be jealous of a dead woman, but I've missed my husband this week.

"Why does it have to be you again?"

"I told you honey, Don asked me for a favor." I nod, because he did tell me, and I do believe him. I walk up to him and hug him, he takes a moment longer than I'd like to hug me back, but he does hug me back.

"I love you." I whisper into his chest.

"Me, too." My chest tightens.