Los Angeles, Lisa, 2014

She's galloping fast, I have her going so fast I can barely hold on, and the saddle is slipping. She loves to run as much as I do. Riding her is the closest I ever feel to Elizabeth. I want to see if maybe I can find her today. She is the most beautiful horse I've ever seen. She is a solid black Mustang, fifteen hands tall. I named her Suzanne, trying like hell to keep myself grounded in some sort of reality.

"Whoa" I tell her as I pull on her reins. We are approaching the barn now, I hop off of her to walk her back in.

"He called me, you know?" I start to tell Susie as I'm removing her tack. "I don't really know what to do."

*Iraq, Elizabeth, 2005

My body no longer belongs to me. I held out for two more days I think, and then he started withholding water too. The human instinct to survive outweighed my dignity, and I let him do it. I tried to disassociate while he was inside of me, but he kept bringing me back to the present. He wouldn't stop talking. I tried to think about Henry, but that was too painful. I tried to think about my kids, and just surviving to get home to them. But the fucker wouldn't stop talking. I was thinking just fucking finish already. They haven't tied me back up. I don't have any windows, so keeping track of time is getting harder, but I think it's been two hours that I've laid on this floor alone, unable to eat the food I begged for. I did manage to choke down the water. I need to get my shit together and eat the MRE, I need the calories. I can feel myself getting weaker.

I gather my strength and sit up. I open the Chili Mac and eat it cold, no need for the heater. It's not like I'm eating for enjoyment. If I were at home right now, Henry would've cooked me my favorite pasta dish, Penne alla Vodka. He would've given me a huge serving and poured me a glass of Sangiovese. We would be sitting at our table with all of our babies, as Stevie and Allison talked about their day at school. And sweet little Jason would have a face full of sauce. I can't stop the tears as they come this time. I want to go home. I just want to go home. How did this all go wrong? I was never supposed to be in a safe house. I was never supposed to be out on an OP. Please God, let me go home.

United Airlines Flight 257, Henry, 2014

I've been a bad husband this week. I know that. I've just been so preoccupied with thoughts of Elizabeth. She had been gone for about eighteen dead for eleven of them, when I met Jessica. One lonely night in a bar, and voila I was tied to her forever. I wasn't truly done grieving, when I had to push it all aside to welcome the twins into my life. I've been mostly good about not letting my grief break through to my new marriage. I open a new text to Jessica "I'm sorry for how I've been acting this week. DC got to me. I love you"

As I wait for her reply, I find my thoughts drifting back to Lisa Aldin. I want to know why there seems to be some kind of divine work at play, to get me to this woman. I want to know who she is, well was to Elizabeth. I need to know everything I can find out about the last few months of Elizabeth's life. The CIA was never very forthcoming with that information, but I guess in some ways that is to be expected.

Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, George, 2006

I knock to announce myself before re-entering her room. This time she does look up at me, but won't quite meet my eyes.

"I got you a Reese's" I hand it to her and I swear I see a slight smile. I don't know what I'm going to tell her about Henry. I decide to put off talking about it until she asks for him, then I'll play it by ear. I really need more information from Conrad. I'm trying to figure out what angle he's trying to play.

"He doesn't want me anymore, does he?" She is speaking so softly, her emotions staring to peak through the numbness. I decide that I'm not going to lie to her.

"I don't think he's been notified yet. I'm sure that'll happen soon." She looks up at me, teary eyed and sad.

"It's okay if he doesn't. I get it. I'm too broken, now."

"You're not broken." I try to reassure her. I don't know what she's been through, though. And right now, I'm too afraid to ask. I just sit with her willing her to believe me, willing her to be okay. After a few minutes, she wipes her eyes with her good arm, and hands me the candy, silently asking me to open it by pointing to her slinged arm. I open the package and pull the paper wrapper off of one cup, then hand it over to her. When she takes a bite, she does smile a little.

"I never thought I'd see you again, you know?" She tells me.

"Same here, kid." I make a silent promise to make sure that she will make it through this part. If she could make it through on her own for a year, I will get her through the recovery.