Prompt: Henry doesn't take Elizabeth's worry for him seriously until she starts having nightmares and panic attacks again.

Henry knew Elizabeth was worried.

She'd been very open about her concerns with his work; true to form, Elizabeth had been not only honest about it, but brutally so. He was well aware of it, but he couldn't help but feel that she didn't have much room to talk; she may have held what was considered a desk job, but Elizabeth got herself into more dangerous situations than he would like, too. He couldn't help but feel at least a little bit justified in ignoring her concerns, even if it was a justification that he knew was a little unfair. He buried that part deep inside, and continued on living his life, even if it was sometimes just parallel with hers.

She'd stopped mentioning it; she no longer told him how worried she was when they lie in bed side by side at night. She didn't talk about how much she wished she could know he was safe. Now, the only traces of Elizabeth's concern lie in the glances she threw his way when she thought he wasn't looking and the silences that hadn't been there before. They did a good job glossing over it all, with hugs and kisses and teasing dialogue. But it was all there, under the surface. He just pushed it aside, hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to deal with it.

Then, things started to change. He noticed that some mornings, she'd be up before him. He'd find her in the bathroom or sitting silently in the kitchen, and she'd jump a little when he showed up, but she'd always smile and reach out to him and follow her kisses with some flirty remark, and he'd be convinced that she was okay before he even got around to asking. It was a slow buildup that, later, Henry would kick himself for not seeing.

He came home from work one evening, surprised when he saw his wife's detail already posted outside their door.

"Hey, Matt," he greeted the familiar DS Agent. Matt nodded back at him and Henry smiled before he casually headed inside. The Georgetown brownstone was quiet, as it tended to be before the kids got home. They all led busy lives, and half the time not all three of them came home at all. Henry had to admit, he missed the days when he would come home from work and three rambunctious little bodies would race through the house to greet him. Now, he just silently slipped off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door before he walked through the house, thinking maybe he could catch Elizabeth and spend some time with her before either the kids arrived home or her phone rang again.

As he walked into the kitchen, his heart dropped. His wife was curled up with her knees pulled to her chest, backed against the cabinets. Her head was dropped to meet her knees, and her blonde hair was falling over her face, but he could see her shaking even from where he stood.

"Elizabeth," he said, rushing forward to drop to his knees beside her. She was physically trembling, and he could hear the sounds of her ragged breathing, in and out, the struggle obvious.

"Hey, hey," Henry said soothingly. She looked up at him, panic in her eyes and written in every line of her face. He brushed her hair back gently and cradled her cheek in his palm, holding eye contact with her.

"Baby, you're okay," he assured her. "You're okay. Just try and breathe, okay?"

"Henry," she gasped.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Here, just breathe with me, alright? Everything is going to be alright."

Elizabeth was having a panic attack; Henry watched the pain on her face even as he sat with her to ride it out. He watched his wife clutch at her own chest, fruitless attempts to get the pain to stop. He did what he could to keep her calm, or at the very least reassure her that he was there with her and that she was okay. It took a while, but eventually Elizabeth calmed down, and when she did, they sat there on the kitchen floor in silence, each of them waiting for the other to speak.

Henry moved, his intention being to get her a glass of water, but Elizabeth's hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back at her, halfway through getting up, finding fear on her face again. She didn't need to speak for him to understand that she wanted him close.

"Okay," he said soothingly as he lowered himself back to his spot beside her. "I'm right here."

Silence prevailed again; Henry, while tangling his fingers with hers, was racking his brain. Elizabeth had gotten her panic attacks under control, and he wasn't sure where this was coming from. However, as he thought about it, it started to all fall into place. The early mornings, the silences, the way she'd stopped mentioning her concerns for his safety. It was all coming together, and it left Henry feeling physically sick.

"Oh, Elizabeth," he sighed, and she looked up at him inquisitively. His eyes met hers, and he reached out to pull her close. She came willingly, curling against his chest.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he said softly. "I should have realized...you've been having nightmares, too?"

Elizabeth nodded silently.

"I didn't want you to know," she began, and he kissed her head lightly.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry. I- I should have listened to you when you said you were worried. I thought it would fade or that it was not that big of a deal, but it is, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Henry," she sighed. "It's just that every time I close my eyes, I watch you get torn to bits. It's like your deployment all over again. I sit here at night, wondering if you're ever coming home, and every time my phone rings or every time Blake walks into my office, I get this stab of fear that I'm going to get that news…"

"I know," he said. "Me, too."

"What are we going to do about it?" she asked, and he was struck by the note of hopelessness in her voice. He gave her a small smile and kissed her head again.

"Right now? Nothing," he said. "Right now, we're going to go upstairs and take a bath and then we're going to cook dinner together and have one of those nights we used to have." He smiled at her as he stood, reaching out to help her up.

"We're going to tire you out, and maybe knock out those nightmares for tonight," he murmured against her as he pulled her in close with a hand on her hip. She couldn't help but smile slightly, nodding her head.

"Okay," she agreed. "But-" she looked up at him, earnestly meeting his gaze. "We will talk about it, right?"

"Tomorrow, I promise," he said, and she smiled.

"So about that bath…"

Henry laughed as he led her up the stairs, for the moment just grateful to have her there with him, both of them safe and sound.