PROMPT: Elizabeth is waiting to hear back from her doctor on the results of a biopsy, and she's not even a little bit worried, but Henry begins sobbing when it comes back negative. (prompt by lilacmermaid, of course)
Elizabeth fiddled absentmindedly with the peeling edge of the bandaid on her arm, flicking the thin plastic back and forth against her skin. A little anomaly, discovered by way of her annual physical, and a quick and easy follow-up biopsy. She had experienced nearly the exact same thing once before, much earlier in life, and it had turned out to be nothing, a common small flaw in her bloodwork that could've been attributed to any number of causes. She wasn't worried, was the long and short of it. Elizabeth, frankly, had too much on her plate to be particularly concerned, especially before there was anything to be concerned about. Besides, she was the President of the United States; she was quite sure that if there were cause for concern, her team of excellent doctors would care for her well. Sitting in the Oval Office on that, a sunny and warm September afternoon when she was really wishing she could be out enjoying the weather with her family, she decided to give Henry a call.
He picked up quickly, his voice warm.
"Hello." Not a question like the typical way one answers the phone, just a greeting, just for her. It brought a smile to her face just by the sound.
"Hey, handsome," she answered, and she could see in her mind the way it made him smile, an image which gave her great joy even if she was imagining it. She knew her husband better even than herself, so she could envision the softness of his hazel eyes and the gentle way his skin crinkled with age around his cheeks. What pleased her even more was the certainty that he was exactly the same; they were, and had always been, equals, as familiar and close with one another as they could be, and always willing to be more so.
"So, what's happening at the helm of the office of the President?" Henry asked lightly.
"Nothing much," Elizabeth replied, and Henry laughed.
"What are you avoiding by talking to me?" he questioned knowingly. Elizabeth breathed a laugh, caught as usual. She leaned back in her chair, spinning slightly as she gazed up at the ceiling. Some days, it was astonishing and humbling to her to occupy this office, but on this particular day, she really just wanted to be outside.
"I just really don't want to be inside on a day like this," she complained. "It's so pretty out." Henry could practically see her gazing longingly out of the window, and smiled to himself.
"Oh," she added casually, "and this morning I had the riveting privilege of my physical."
"Right," Henry replied. "How did it go?"
"Fine," she replied, shrugging her shoulders even though he couldn't see her. "They found a little thing and did a biopsy, so I'm waiting on that, but otherwise all good."
There were a few measures of silence on the other line.
"A biopsy?" Henry asked. Elizabeth normally would have heard the shift in his tone, but at the same moment the door to the office opened and Elizabeth suddenly remembered the meeting she had scheduled.
"Yeah," she answered. "It's no big deal."
"Well-" Henry began, but Elizabeth cut him off.
"Henry, I'm sorry, I have to go," she said, gesturing to the phone and to Blake with an apologetic look that Blake, as usual, took in his stride.
"Oh- okay," Henry sighed. "I'll see you this evening, right?"
They lived in the same building where she worked, but there were definitely times when Henry thought he'd been largely unfair to think her schedule demanding when she was Secretary of State.
"Yeah," Elizabeth answered, and Henry could tell that her mind was already onto the task at hand.
"I love you," he said softly, just gentle enough that it caught her attention for a moment, and everything shifted back to Henry. Elizabeth felt herself soften and she smiled slightly, hoping he could feel the warmth in her voice.
"I love you, too," she said, and then it was over and Elizabeth became President McCord, and Henry was left alone with his troubled thoughts.
By the time Elizabeth retired that evening to the residential quarters of the White House, her mind was back on Henry. She missed him when she was kept busy by her duties and they were often apart a lot more often than she would like. He was always on her mind in one facet or another, but she particularly treasured evenings when she could put her focus entirely on her husband, which she was very much intending for this evening to be. She didn't have to look very long after slipping out of her shoes before she found Henry, sitting unusually on their bed rather than at his desk where she typically found him. He looked so warm in the glow of the late evening, the incandescent light bulbs and the gleam of the carefully chosen bedframe and delicate, familiar finishes surrounding him in a space that they had miraculously made their own. She crept up on him- something she loved to do- stealing moments to just gaze at him. Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, Henry was not anticipating a peaceful evening, and when he did hear her approaching and looked up at her, his hazel eyes were troubled.
"Hi," she said. He was looking her over with concern, and Elizabeth truly could not have guessed why.
"Hey," he answered, and this time she was focused enough to hear the warning signs in his tone, the notes of his familiar voice which told her that something was wrong.
"Are you okay?" she asked, resting her hand casually on his shoulder. He stared at her for a moment, faintly incredulous, and it seemed like he was waiting for something but Elizabeth really didn't know what it was.
"Henry?" she prompted cautiously. His eyes caught on the bandaid on her arm as if magnetized to it, and a pained look flickered across his features and she suddenly understood. It fell into place like puzzle pieces in her mind, the dots connecting one after another until a clear picture formed.
"What happened?" Henry asked tensely. "Did you- hear anything?"
She barely had a moment to feel guilty for making him worry, in between his question and her answer.
"It was fine, it was negative," she answered.
Henry looked at her in total, ringing silence for a moment. And then he burst into tears. Elizabeth could only stare for a few seconds as he folded in on himself and sobbed, his shoulders shaking. Her mind was still catching up to the whole situation, still shedding the threads of her workday, her head spinning as she fought to put herself in Henry's headspace. It felt like longer than it was, surely, between that moment and when she scrambled onto the bed to sit with him.
"Henry," she soothed. "It's okay, babe. It's alright." She settled herself next to him, instinctively running her hand over his shoulders as he sobbed incoherently. She was still slowly spinning from the suddenness of the whole thing, but it was making sense to her now. Guilt was nagging at the edges of her heart as she recalled their hurried phone call earlier in the day, and thought of how in hindsight, she could hear the worry in her husband's tone.
"It's okay," she repeated. He turned his body in her direction, just a little, but enough to welcome her into his space, enough for her to know that he wanted her- needed her. She wrapped him in her arms more completely, holding him close.
"Elizabeth," he choked. It tore at her, the way he spoke her name, and she held him closer, rocking slightly in a way reminiscent of when she'd comforted their children.
"I'm here," she assured him. "I'm here, Henry, I'm okay."
It made sense now- he had been afraid, and she had failed to comfort him, failed to assuage his concerns. It bothered her, now that she could see their earlier call more clearly, that she'd let him fall through the cracks of her day, no matter how busy.
"I'm here, babe," she murmured against his soft dark hair, rubbing his back as he fought to calm himself, and slowly but steadily the tears stopped. Henry stayed there against Elizabeth, her still in her work clothes and him in sweats on top of their comforter. She was running her fingers soothingly though his hair and he was listening to her heartbeat, each rhythmic beat a comfort to him.
"I'm so sorry, Henry," she whispered.
"Are you okay?" he asked. His hazel eyes on hers were earnest, warm, a touch of desperation in their depths.
"Yes," she answered quickly, forcefully. "Yes, Henry, I swear I'm totally fine."
He let out a breath and the guilt that was tugging on her now seemed to settle over her like a too-heavy blanket, oppressive and weighted.
"I'm sorry," she said again. She felt so helpless, thinking back on how blind she'd been.
"I thought-" Henry broke off like the words were a little too much, and Elizabeth nodded. She knew exactly what he'd thought.
"I'm okay," she told him. He looked at her in silence for a moment, taking in the way her blue eyes were shining with earnest, vaguely timid concern for him. He'd spent several hours thinking that something could happen to her, playing out scenarios in his mind, and right then, looking at her with a rare evening alone together before them, Henry realized he just wanted to let it go. To move forward with her as they always had, to treasure the moments with her that- truthfully- could come to an end at any time, biopsy or not.
He reached out and took her hand, communicating all of that to her with the ease of his touch, and she nodded her head, leaning in to kiss him, and feeling in that moment just a little bit lighter again.