Elizabeth is worried about Henry, but uncertain that he wants to see her right then, so she sits on the floor outside his office, where he finds her asleep later that night or the next morning.

"Where's Dad?"

It was Alison who asked, and Elizabeth could have predicted as much; her middle daughter was the known worrier of the family. Elizabeth offered her a small smile and a one-armed hug.

"Dad's fine, Noodle," she said reassuringly as she pressed a kiss against Alison's dark hair. "He's just in the office, caught up with work."

Elizabeth did her best to assuage her daughter's fears, and did a decent job; Alison maintained a worried look in her eyes, but nodded and went on about dinner. Elizabeth, however, was not as sure as she made herself out to be. She tried to focus on dinner with her kids, but she couldn't stop herself from lingering on thoughts of Henry; he'd come in earlier in the day, and gone straight to the office and shut the door. She'd called to him- of course she had- but had gotten no answer and decided to leave it be, thinking he would come out when the hands of the clock had circled and dinner time drew closer. Then, she had convinced herself that the scent of the dinner that Stevie was making with assistance from Alison would draw him out.

By the time the kids went to bed, she was beyond concerned. It was unlike him, and she didn't know what to do. She cautiously approached the door, and rapped on it lightly with her knuckles.

"Henry?" she called through the wood. "I, um...I was just checking to make sure you're okay."

There was a moment of silence, just a beat longer than was comfortable, long enough to make Elizabeth think he wasn't going to answer, and then he did.

"I'm fine," came Henry's voice through the door, but his tone was far more distant than the space between them.

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe for a moment, and then she pushed away from it and turned toward the stairs. In the bedroom she shared with Henry, she glanced at the empty bed and sighed again.

She knew she wouldn't be able to do it; the idea of sleeping in that bed with Henry avoiding her for an unknown reason in the office downstairs made her feel nauseous.

Elizabeth, resigned to what her night was going to look like, reached for her pillow and a blanket, and headed back downstairs. She slid to the floor outside the office and leaned her head back against the doorframe as her lashes fluttered closed against her cheeks. She pulled the blanket up under her chin and forced herself to keep her eyes closed, even as she wished the door would open and Henry would emerge.

It was nearly three in the morning when Henry McCord padded across the office floor and opened the door, rubbing his tired eyes, only to find his wife asleep in an awkward position on the floor. She was curled up with a blanket only half-covering her and one of his shirts draped over her shoulder. He felt his whole self soften at the sight, but his love for her was undercut by a feeling of guilt. He knew he should have taken time out of the day to explain everything to Elizabeth, but he'd been so caught up in a creative storm that he just...hadn't. Seeing Elizabeth asleep there on the floor, he realized quite suddenly that there had been no excuse for it.

He knelt next to her and smoothed his hand over her hair.

"Elizabeth, babe, wake up," he said softly. He shook her gently and she opened her eyes, squinting up at him in the half-light that was filtering in from the next room.

"Henry?" Elizabeth mumbled. As she moved, a groan escaped her lips and Henry frowned in concern, lines forming between his eyes.

"Ow," she breathed.

"Hey, let's go to bed," Henry said softly.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth asked.

Her blue eyes were as earnest as he'd ever seen them, and it hurt. He knew he'd hurt her, and he couldn't help but feel remarkably guilty. He reached out and brushed a gentle hand over her cheek.

"I'm okay, honey," he said. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

Elizabeth slowly sat up, and he watched her wince at the stiffness from sleeping on the floor even just for a few hours.

"Too old for this," she laughed, and he couldn't help but smile.

"You're indomitable," he murmured, and she shook her head, looking over at him with the same warm eyes that had caught his attention across classrooms and library tables so many years before.

"Henry, what's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he said. "I- it wasn't anything major, I just got caught up in writing and the time honestly slipped away from me. It's...inexcusable, but I really didn't mean to worry you."

Elizabeth nodded.

"Everything hurts," she admitted.

"Maybe because you slept on the floor?" he suggested.

"Yeah, for you," she rebutted, bringing a smile to his face for a moment at her quick wit. He stood and helped her to her feet, and then they both traipsed up the stairs, Elizabeth dragging her blanket unceremoniously behind her. They climbed into their bed in silence, and then, in the dark, Henry reached out to brush a strand of his wife's blonde hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I never should have disregarded you like that."

Elizabeth shook her head.

"Henry," she sighed. "It's three o' clock in the morning. I just slept on hardwood floors for you. I think we've established that I love you very much; now can we please go to sleep?"

Henry couldn't help but chuckle at her response, leaning in to press his lips against hers.

"Whatever you want, babe," he said.

"Good," she muttered, and then she was asleep, leaving Henry to marvel at the wonder than was Elizabeth Adams McCord.