Prompt: When Elizabeth gets Henry home after the dirty bomb, he tells her he'd rater sleep alone tonight.
The house was all peace and quiet when Elizabeth finally made it fome that night, but it was the peaceful kind of quiet. When she made it through the front door, she took a little moment to breathe, taking in the warm, comfortable quiet of her home. But just for a moment, because what she was really concerned with was getting to Henry. Visions of him there in the hospital had been swimming before her ever since she'd put him in the car with the kids earlier, and she couldn't stop hearing his voice on the phone, full of bravado but also small and scared underneath. She knew how lucky they were that it had gone like this, how close Henry had come to a much darker outcome. She tried to push the thought out of her mind as she slipped out of her block heels and left them discarded in the foyer as she headed up the stairs in search of her husband.
But when Elizabeth entered the master bedroom, eager to see Henry, she found it empty. In fact, it looked totally untouched. The bed was made, the lights were off, and Henry's book on the nightstand was right where it had been that morning. Elizabeth stood there in the puddle of light that was spilling in from the hallway and tried very hard not to panic. Henry was home and safe- she knew he was. She stepped back into the hallway, telling herself that as she commenced searching for him. The girls both had their bedroom doors closed, but Jason's was open and Elizabeth peeked her head in, finding Jason looking intently at his laptop screen.
"Hey, kiddo, where's your dad?" she asked, hoping she sounded lighter than she felt. Jason shrugged his shoulders, incredibly nonchalant given the day he had endured. Elizabeth forced the incredulity out of her voice, knowing it would get her nowhere with Jason.
"Jason, could you pay attention for a second?" she asked. Finally, he looked ip at her.
"Have you seen your dad?" she asked.
"Not recently," Jason answered. "He was with Stevie."
"Okay," Elizabeth said; trying to get information from Jason was getting her nothing but frustration. "Goodnight, Jace."
"Goodnight," Jason answered, already sounding distant as his attention shifted back to what he was doing. Back in the hall, Elizabeth was just about to head downstairs, thinking Henry might be in the den or living room, when a light caught her eye, shining from the usually vacant guest bedroom onto the soft blue rug in the hallway. Elizabeth took a few steps toward it and, upon reaching the doorway, peered inside. Henry was in the bed, the sidetable lamp on, just staring at his hands like they were going to reveal something to him. Her relief at finding him was short-lived, overpowered by confusion and concern.
"Hey, babe," she said cautiously. Henry looked up and, for a moment, something like warmth lit his eyes, out of his control.
"Elizabeth," he said. She moved to go to him, but he crossed his arms over his chest and Elizabeth's steps faltered under her.
"Henry?" she asked uncertainly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said, unconvincingly. Elizabeth stared at him. She'd seen him mere hours ago; they had hugged and kissed and joked, and Henry had seemed entirely himself. Elizabeth couldn't even begin to guess what had sparked this change in him since then.
"What are you doing in here?" Elizabeth asked. Henry hesitated, looking torn, and glanced down at his hands again.
"I think I just want to sleep alone tonight," he said. There was a ringing silence in the room. Elizabeth felt like she was spinning, her chest horribly tight and hollow. Henry avoided looking at her; his rationale was making perfect sense right up until she walked into the room, but now he was sure that if he looked up at his wife, he would lose his resolve.
"Henry, that's ridiculous," Elizabeth said. "Just- just come back to bed, okay?"
There was a distinctively pleading note to her voice.
"I've got to close my eyes," Henry said, firmly and abruptly. He pulled his glasses off of his face and settled down into the blankets, his point made abundantly clear.
"Of course," Elizabeth said, though she felt utterly lost and the idea of going back to their room without him felt astronomically big and hard. But Henry wasn't budging, so Elizabeth swallowed hard and silently left the room, with a backwards glance at her husband that made her chest ache.
When Elizabeth was gone, Henry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He tried to remember his reasons for staying in the guest room- his thoughts of rejoining DIA, his desire to protect Elizabeth, and, somewhere lingering senselessly in the back of his mind, the thought that maybe there was something wrong with him, that he was somehow putting Elizabeth in danger by being near to her. He knew that it didn't truly make a lot of sense, but the thought was still there, nagging at his mind no matter how he tried to science it.
But, with Elizabeth in the house and the memory of the hurt in her eyes looming in his mind, it was harder and harder to rationalize being away from her. If he was honest, he didn't really want to be away from Elizabeth at all. He desperately wanted to be with her. Those lonely, dark hours in the hospital were still fresh in Henry's mind, and it made his skin crawl. He wanted to be with Elizabeth, wanted the comfort of her close to him and the sound of her voice nearby. His fears were feeling more and more distant with every moment that he thought about it, and he couldn't get her face out of his mind. He'd been trying to protect her, but now he was starting to believe that he was misguided. That he was maybe hurting her more than anything else, and not to mention making himself miserable in the process. Lying there looking at the ceiling, he remembered her voice on the hospital phone, pitched higher than usual and breathy with fear.
Henry sighed.
He had made a mistake, and suddenly he knew it with astounding clarity. Regret washed over him. Still moving slowly after the day's events, Henry threw back the covers of the bed and turned off the light, bare feet padding along the floorboards and into the hallway, past the children's bedrooms and to his own- his, and Elizabeth's.
He stood in the doorway for a moment as she had just a little while earlier in the guest room, and his chest ached from so much more than the trauma of the day. Henry felt small, standing there watching Elizabeth curled up against his pillow. Even from a distance, he could see that she was crying by the way her shoulders shook slightly.
He was still working up the courage to speak and trying to think of what he could say, when Elizabeth looked up as if she could sense his presence. She blinked rapidly and straightened up like she'd been caught, staring at him from her place on the bed.
"Henry," she said softly. "Are you okay?"
The room was heavy with her question and all of its implications.
"Can I sleep in here with you?" Henry asked, feeling like a little child as he stood there waiting for her answer.
"Henry," Elizabeth breathed. There was relief and such softness in her voice that Henry could hardly bear it.
"Come here," she said, so gently, and Henry did. He moved forward slowly and climbed into their bed, wincing a little at the stiffness and soreness in his body.
"I'm sorry," he said, earnestly turning to his wife. He was relieved to find that she no longer looked hurt and afraid, but her blue eyes were warm on him.
"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" she asked quietly.
"I just- I don't know," Henry said, a little evasively. He hesitated, thinking of his plans to rejoing DIA. The idea was of utmost urgency to him, but as he thought of Elizabeth and how hurt and afraid he knew she would be about such a decision, he thought that maybe the utmost urgency could mean tomorrow.
"Can we just… shelve it for tonight?" he asked, a little bit pleading. Elizabeth nodded her head almost immediately, willing to give him anything just then in exchange for having him there next to her.
"Of course," she answered. "What do you need right now, Henry?"
He could have wept at her tenderness.
Instead, he met her gaze with his own warm hazelnut eyes, and for a moment thanked God for bringing them safely back together again, in this life and in this bed.
"I just want to be with you," he said, and his words rang with clarity and honesty. Elizabeth, too, could have wept, but neither of them did. Elizabeth wordlessly held her arms out to him, and Henry curled into her like he had not done for some time, letting her encircle him with the kind of love that he had only ever found in Elizabeth. He rested his head on her shoulder and felt the tension ease from his shoulders for the first time since everything had happened.
"I don't want to sleep alone tonight," Henry admitted in his softest and most vulnerable voice.
"You don't have to, honey," Elizabeth answered. "I'm here."
"I'm sorry," he whispered again.
"It's okay," she breathed. She ran her hand soothingly through his hair and seemed to hold him just a fraction closer to her. "You're safe," she said. "That's what matters."
Henry had to fight back tears, and tried not to show it, but his efforts were to no avail. Elizabeth felt his breath catch against her and her heart seemed to tighten in her chest.
"Oh, Henry," she breathed. "Babe. It's okay." She rubbed his back soothingly, an act so familiar that it gave them both peace.
"You're alright," she assured him. "We're here together, it's okay."
"I promise we'll talk about it," Henry told her when he had collected himself, but it wasn't necessary. Elizabeth was bothered by what had happened, and concerned, but she trusted Henry explicitly. She knew that they would talk about it, that Henry would not leave her in the dark about something that affected them so personally.
"I love you, Henry," Elizabeth murmured, her lips against his head and her words perfectly muffled against his skin.
He moved closer to her, the two of them slipped down into their bed and intertwined in each other's arms. Elizabeth was feeling like she could breathe again, and Henry was feeling safe, the memory of the hospital sheets against his skin already fading.
"I love you, Elizabeth," he answered.
And there were conversations to be had- there were always conversations to be had. But just then, Henry and Elizabeth were safe and sound, in one bed together, and that was what mattered.