Prompt: Elizabeth was out of the country when Henry was shot, and no one told her anything until she walked into the Brownstone and saw him sitting in a wheelchair.

Elizabeth was in a good mood. The trip she was just returning from had been a very successful one, and although her staff had been trying really hard to get her out the door that evening, she hadn't even minded too much. In fact, she'd left a few things incomplete at the office at their insistence, and she wasn't even upset about it. She hadn't even given a lot of thought to it- they were always trying to get her home earlier. And she couldn't complain- she had missed her family, and she was really looking forward to spending some time with Henry and the kids. Henry, especially.

As she stepped into the Georgetown brownstone, she was greeted by all three of her children standing in a line. They looked guilty- like they had when they were children and they knew that they'd done something wrong. Elizabeth took note immediately as she looked between them.

"Hi, guys," she said cautiously.

"Hi, Mom," they chorused. Alison and Jason quickly hugged Elizabeth and then, with excuses that didn't make any sense, they were all but racing one another up the stairs, leaving a bemused Elizabeth and a reluctant Stevie alone.

"What's going on?" Elizabeth asked as she hung up her coat and slipped out of her shoes.

"Okay, Mom, don't freak out," Stevie began.

"That's never, ever been said before something pleasant," Elizabeth replied. Stevie nodded.

"Come with me," Stevie said.

"Where's your Dad?" Elizabeth asked as she looked around for Henry and didn't see him.

"Just- come on," Stevie said. "And keep in mind that I wanted to tell you."

"Tell me wh-"

Elizabeth froze as she and Stevie rounded the corner into the kitchen and she took in the scene before her. It was as if ice had flooded her veins at the sight of her husband in a wheelchair at the kitchen table, both of his legs bandaged in different ways and his skin a little bit paler than usual.

"Henry?" she asked, her voice wavering. Stevie slipped out quietly, glad to escape what she was sure was going to be a complete mess.

"Babe, it's okay," Henry said quickly. "I was shot, okay, but-"

"What?" Elizabeth asked shrilly. "You what? Henry!"

"Elizabeth, I'm fine," he insisted.

"No," Elizabeth argued. She could feel tears building behind her eyes as she spoke. "No, Henry, you're not fine. You got shot, that's not fine. And look at you, you're in a wheelchair, how can you possibly think that's fine?"

"I-"

"Why didn't you call me?" she asked through the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. "Henry, why the hell would you not call me? This is- anything could have happened. You could have di-"

Her voice broke and she covered her face with her hands as a sob made its way from her throat to the air around them. Henry sighed, wondering now if he'd made the wrong decision.

"Whoa, Elizabeth, hey," he said, wishing desperately that he had the ability to stand and go to her. It was incredibly frustrating to watch her cry and not be able to do anything about it.

"Please come here," he pleaded, and she stepped hesitantly forward, letting Henry take her hand. She looked unsure, and Henry understood why; he quickly maneuvered himself so that she had space to sit on his lap, quietly assuring her that she wasn't going to hurt him. A moment later, she was curled into his chest and he held her close.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said softly. "I should have told you, it's just- I knew you would come rushing back and-"

"Of course I would have," Elizabeth said. She moved to meet his eyes. "I would have been here in a heartbeat- and I should have been."

"I'm sorry," Henry said again. "But I'm really okay, I promise."

"Are you?" Elizabeth whispered. She had regained some of her composure now, but Henry could see the fear in her eyes and written all over her.

"They did surgery and I'll be off my feet for a while. But I'm okay" he said again. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"But you might not have been," Elizabeth said. She looked earnestly at him. "Henry, what if something had gone wrong in the surgery and I never even-"

She looked down and Henry felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

"No, you're right," he said. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I should have told you. I just didn't want to worry you."

"God, Henry," Elizabeth sighed. She rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, collecting herself. Then she looked up at him and ran her fingers over his cheek, worry and concern written all over her.

"I'm really glad you're safe, babe," she said softly, and Henry kissed her forehead.

"Me, too," he answered.

"Please don't ever keep something like that from me again," she pleaded. Henry nodded.

"Promise," he said. He attempted a smile. "You can't get mad at me, I've been shot," he said, and Elizabeth shook her head.

"Too soon, Henry."

"Sorry."

And as Elizabeth sat with him, she just took a deep breath and thanked her lucky stars that her husband was home safely with her and their children.

Even if she was still maybe a little angry at him. And that was okay, too.