yeah so this is a one-shot that ties in with "In The End" and the stuff that happened there. same warnings apply. there also might be more of this to come? set up in sort of a timeline of recovering from everything? so let me know in the comments if that sounds at all interesting! enjoy!
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Two Months After
Elizabeth doesn't even bother to shrug off her blazer upon coming in the front door; she just drops her briefcase and calls her husband's name. His class should have ended an hour ago, and he usually grades papers in their home office on Wednesday afternoons. Then again, she hadn't checked to see if his car was in the garage, so—
"Henry? You home?" she calls.
"In the kitchen, babe!" he answers, and she can't help the smile that creeps across her face in answer to his voice.
As she moves in his direction, though, another voice pipes up, sickly sweet and reminiscent of a time a decade in her past. "—imagine it was a hard adjustment."
"I can't speak for Elizabeth." Henry's voice sounds a little tight, she thinks.
"Oh, I meant for you!"
"I'm just happy to have her home," he says mildly.
Renee Brown: former PTA president, helicopter parent, and slithering bitch.
Okay, so the last bit might be subjective and slightly mean, Elizabeth will admit to that, but it's hard not to think of her in that light after the constant criticisms of her participation in her children's lives. They had been little then, still in elementary school in Charlottesville while she herself had still been in the CIA, and no amount of volunteer work for the school—and Elizabeth can admit there hadn't been much time for it, sure—had ever redeemed her from being what Renee Brown had espoused as the one true evil: a working mother.
Elizabeth's kids had never been neglected. They had always been supported and loved, and someone had always been there for their events and milestones. Sometimes it was both of their parents and when Elizabeth couldn't make it, Henry was there and vice versa. If neither of them could show up, every once in a blue moon, it was their grandmother who would drive from Pittsburgh for a classroom play, or their Aunts Isabelle and Juliet and Uncle George or even Uncle Will who would make an appearance at field day to give high fives and unorthodox influence.
She and Henry had made it work. Someone was always there. When Henry was a professor and she was entrenched in the Company, it was more often him, and the other parents had had nothing but judgement for that.
Elizabeth was self-assured then and now, and she hadn't let it get to her, for the most part. Renee Brown had been the exception to that. Maybe it was because Elizabeth found her to have an extremely punchable face back then, or maybe it was because she knew, just knew, that the woman had been shamelessly hitting on Henry. It was the tone and the batting of eyelashes and the body language and the divorce and the continuous volunteering for everything Henry was already involved in and everything else about her, and Elizabeth hated the woman. Henry hadn't quite understood why until she had spelled it out, but Henry, sweet Henry, has always been a little blind to women flirting with him. Truly oblivious, actually.
Once he had hung out with her CIA friends at a bar, waiting for her to come and to meet them, and Isabelle had told her through tears of laughter later how some woman had had to actually put her hand on his thigh for him to get the hint, stop talking about Thomas Aquinas, and jerk backwards looking thoroughly horrified.
Elizabeth had laughed about his reaction a litte, but she had also sought out his hand with hers because she knew that the pass had made him genuinely uncomfortable. She might have later hated Renee Brown for the efforts she made, and jealousy might have swum to the surface, but she had been secure in the knowledge that Henry loved her and would never cheat on her.
And now she's been home for two months, but she was gone for seven, and Renee is in her kitchen with Henry. He would never cheat on her.
But is it cheating if you think your wife might be dead?
Is it cheating if your wife comes back as a different person?
Elizabeth plasters a smile on her face and rounds the corner.
"Hey," she greets Henry carefully as she spots him rummaging through cabinets. He looks back over his shoulder to smile at her.
"Hey, babe. You're home early. You remember Renee, from Charlottesville?"
He knows damn well she does. Her smile doesn't slip. "Of course," she says gracefully to the woman on the other side of her kitchen counter, who at least has the decency to pretend she hadn't been blatantly looking at Henry's ass. "How are you, Renee?"
They haven't seen each other in ten years so Elizabeth reaches out a hand to shake, but the woman pulls her abruptly into a hug instead with an obnoxious "Elizabeth!"
"Oh!" she exclaims in response to the sudden contact, and she sees Henry turn, his eyes wide as she finds them over the woman's shoulder. A little warning is nice, these days. It's fine she mouths to him, and he nods and turns back to whatever he's looking for. It's not fine, but not because she's been startled. She's merely annoyed, and maybe a little jealous. Of what, she still doesn't know.
"We weren't expecting you!" the woman finishes smugly as Elizabeth awkwardly extracts herself and moves past her for a glass of water.
"Well, I do live here," she answers tightly.
Henry finally interjects, sensing Elizabeth's frustration. "Did you have lunch, babe? We still have leftovers from last night."
But as she goes to turn to him, the sugary sweet voice continues, and Elizabeth wants to wipe that condescending smile right off the woman's face and tell her to leave her house. "It's been forever since I've seen you! And my goodness, you look wonderful! So slim!"
Elizabeth chokes on the sip she'd just taken. She shouldn't be offended; she's always been slim. Her body now isn't the result of her fast metabolism and active lifestyle, though. It's the remnant of seven months of involuntary starvation and the successive malnourishment diagnosis. The ordeal was breaking news for months, just recently fading from the cycle somewhat, and there's still a six pack of Ensure on their kitchen counter, for God's sake. This is a poorly disguised attempt at reminding her that she was gone for a while, Elizabeth thinks, and Renee's gaze darting down to the protein shakes only confirms that. Out of the corner of her good eye, Henry has stopped rummaging, looking at a loss for words.
"Hm. So what brings you to DC?" She won't dignify that with a response and right now she is determined to keep this civil.
"Oh, I spend quite a lot of time here! Henry is just being a dear and returning a dish I lent him while I'm in the area."
Her temper flares and then settles. She hadn't known they were in contact still, but she does remember him making a joke about Charlottesville moms and a surplus of casseroles. Maybe it's nothing. Or maybe it is something, and she has no right to be upset about it. She can hate Renee all day long, and sure, maybe the woman was on her playful "not an option for your second wife" list, but Henry had had every reason to believe she'd been killed. Regardless, Elizabeth is back now, and Henry has stuck by her, and this woman is encroaching on her territory.
"Oh, he is a dear," she replies, mind racing even as she forges another smile.
"I actually can't seem to lay my hands on it, Renee. It may be in the cabinet out in the garage. We accumulated quite a few dishes. I'll have to check," and he catches Elizabeth's eyes in apology as he moves toward the door.
"Don't you worry about it! I imagine y'all had plenty to eat," and she reaches out to pat his shoulder as he passes.
Henry sidesteps politely and kisses Elizabeth on the cheek instead. The side door clicks shut behind him.
"You never were one for cooking, were you, Elizabeth? Or should I call you Madam Secretary now?" God, the voice. The tone, the accent. Every bit of it grates on Elizabeth's nerves.
"Elizabeth is fine," she replies evenly, opening their refrigerator to peruse. The answer to Henry's unanswered question was no, she hadn't had lunch. "And no, I never have been."
"Not even now?" she asks, feigning surprise. This is her gearing up for a dig at Elizabeth, who remembers the formula even after a decade.
"No." She shuts the refrigerator door. She doesn't know what she wants to eat, and her stomach is churning. Elizabeth bites the bullet and uncaps one of the Ensures, pretending not to see Renee's smirk. She's on a regimented calorie intake, really trying to put the weight back on, and she's not losing sight of that just because this woman's looking down on her for it.
Elizabeth would be hurt, sure, but she wouldn't necessarily blame Henry if something had happened with someone else in her absence. Those seven months had felt like a lifetime for her, so it might not have been out of the realm of possibility for him to move on a little, physically. If it was with this woman, though…so help him God. Elizabeth turns and leans back against the opposite counter.
"So, still busy with work?"
"Very much so. I was fortunate enough to have a short day today, though. How are your children?" She always did hate the parental small talk.
"Excellent. Ryan is a senior this year. Yours?"
"All well," Elizabeth responds shortly. The woman doesn't need any more reason to ingratiate herself into the family.
"That's nice to hear, considering," she says sweetly.
"Considering?"
"Well, I haven't seen them since the last time I brought a meal by. I'd think a lot had changed between you and Henry, the kids," she drawls. Why can't Henry find that damn tupperware any quicker?
Elizabeth meets her too sweet smile with one of her own. "Well, that would be purely speculation, now wouldn't it?"
Renee forges on. "I know it must've been so hard, having you disappear like that. Such a long time, too."
"Renee, if you have something you'd like to say to me, go ahead. Let's not beat around the bush, alright?"
"All I have to say is if that," she gestures towards the side door from which Henry had exited, "were my husband," she smirks lewdly, "I might not be walking as easily as you are now. But I'm sure things are hard for you after…" Renee trails off suggestively.
And it doesn't matter that she's right, that it has been challenging for them both, that they haven't been having sex, that Henry asks for her explicit permission every time he kisses her now, because this is too far. It's unmitigated audacity. It's crossing a line, insinuating that Renee could have Henry, since Elizabeth isn't, for lack of a better term, putting out.
And it makes her angrier than she's had the energy to be in a very long time. "Renee, I'd like you to leave my house now. Immediately."
"Well, it's not just your house, now is it Elizabeth? Maybe Henry wants me here."
"I don't need his permission to ask you to see yourself out," she replies, voice low and dangerous and metaphorical hackles raised.
The nauseating smile never slips. "A little insecure, are we?" And her eyes flit down to Elizabeth's bare left hand, her wedding ring now long lost.
Her fist clenches but before Elizabeth can rise to that, Henry is coming back into the kitchen and pushing a casserole dish towards Renee before winding an arm around Elizabeth's back. "Found it. Have a nice afternoon, Renee." Elizabeth hears something in his voice that Renee does not, because Renee isn't his wife, doesn't know him like she does. Even seven very long months are no match for a quarter of a century.
Renee looks down at it in surprise. "Oh, this one isn't mine, mine is—"
"I'm sure it's close enough," Henry interjects swiftly, his smile tight and false even as Elizabeth's grin blossoms. He keeps the arm around her even as he ushers the other woman through to the foyer and opens the front door for her. "Drive safe now."
The woman's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. The smile has finally slipped away, Elizabeth notes victoriously. She knows she herself is grinning like a Cheshire cat, but she can't resist the last word on this one. She leans out the door to speak to the woman now on the sidewalk.
"Oh, and Renee? My husband might be from the Northeast, but I'm from Virginia. I know a fake Southern accent when I hear it."
Henry shakes his head and grins at Elizabeth when the front door has closed behind her. "I know how you love to hear it, babe, so you were always right about her, in hindsight. I think she was hitting on me."
"You think?" she asks derisively, laughing along with him despite how her stomach seems to have dropped out.
"Maybe," he admits, "but she won't be coming back. I can't believe she said that to you. That's insane, thinking that I would…anyway," he's straightening out the kid's mess strewn on the coffee table, still shaking his head, when Elizabeth can't hold it back anymore.
"Yeah, admittedly she was not my first choice for your rebound," she tries to joke, sounding just as nervous as she feels. "But, you know, I would understand if—if there was one. I get it, I mean, I was gone for a long time, but, well…was there?"
He's turned back toward her, and he's watching her carefully as she fidgets uncontrollably with the pendant of her necklace. "No," he says softly. "Of course not."
Her heart lifts just a little, but for some reason tears still prick behind her eyes. "Oh," she whispers, "well, that's… all I mean is that I'd understand. If there is someone else, I mean. I know I'm not really the same, so if you want—"
But Henry's crossed the room in two strides and taken her hand away from her necklace into his own larger one. His brow is furrowed, and she resists the urge to smooth her fingers over it like she would have, before everything. She can't now; he might not like that.
"Elizabeth, is that what you really think? Is that what you've been wondering all this time? Jesus, I should've done this sooner. I just didn't want you to feel pressured, but— well, hang on. I'll be right back." He squeezes her hands. "Right back, I promise."
And then he's gone, taking the stairs two at a time.
She should've expected this. She's been so distant since she got back, she knows she has, and she's had a hard time being touched, and God knows she's not gotten any more interested in having sex than she was when she first got home, and Henry is such a good man, and he'd never make her, not like—well, not like another man might, but he's got needs too, and she's been so selfish, and maybe he has been sleeping with someone else, not Renee, apparently, but someone, and it's not even cheating because she might've been dead and her ring had been thrown out of a van somewhere with her phone and all her other jewelry, and Henry's going to leave her which is horrible to think about obviously, because she loves him so much even if she's gotten tongue-tied lately when she's thought about telling him, and because she's selfishly worried about being without him because he's the only one who can really calm her down when she feels like she does right now, like she can't breathe and she's going to die, and she feels like this too often anyway and he always manages to talk her down but if he's off with the new Mrs. McCord he won't do that anymore and maybe it wasn't an affair if she was basically dead but it still hurts because she loves him and he'd loved her, before everything, and been here for her since, if only out of obligation, and God, she can't breathe, and it's all—
"Hey, hey, babe. What's—okay, let's sit down. I was coming right back, it's okay." His hand finds her elbow and his voice is pure concern as he guides her down to the couch.
"Please don't leave me," she gasps. "I'm sorry. I know I haven't been, well, I've been selfish, but I'll be better. I'll even—I'll do whatever you want. Please don't leave." Elizabeth never thought she'd beg for a man to stay, and she never has, not even when a twenty-something Henry had left her heartbroken for a week, but this is different. This is Henry, her husband of twenty-two years, who she loves and trusts more than life itself even if for some reason she just can't voice that right now.
"Hey, honey, take a breath, please. Breathe. I'm not leaving you. I was never leaving you, Elizabeth, and I was never having an affair when you were missing. I was a bit preoccupied with missing the love of my life, who is definitely not being selfish right now. You're not," he insists when she looks at him doubtfully, breathing having evened out just a little. "Not at all, babe. And you definitely don't have to do anything to make me want to stay with you, Elizabeth. Please don't think that. And please, please know I would never leave you."
"I just," she gestures vaguely, trying to get the tears and the anxiety under control, "I know you have needs too, and I'm sorry—"
"Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"
She flushes, averting her eyes even as she offers him a small nod.
"Elizabeth. Elizabeth, listen to me, this is important," he says emphatically, holding her face gently so that she has to either meet his eyes or pull away. Elizabeth doesn't want to pull away. "If you never want to have sex again, that is fine. You don't need a reason, and you've been through a lot. I love you. If we stay together forever and never have sex again, that is fine with me, okay? I've never been with you just because the sex was good. I love you for so much more than your body, or your willingness to have sex with me, babe, so there's absolutely no pressure, and I need you to know that. You don't have to do anything you don't really want to do, or anything that brings up bad memories for you. I'm never going to be upset with you for not wanting to do something like that, okay? And I'm certainly not going to leave you over it. You said I have needs, babe, but the only real need I have is you. And you're here, so I'm good. I promise."
Elizabeth looks into hazel eyes that she can finally see somewhat clearly out of one of her own again, and they are warm and familiar and everything good and kind in the world, and above all, they are being honest with her. "Okay," she whispers, "okay."
But Henry doesn't seem to be finished yet. "Good," he says firmly. "So, Elizabeth Margaret Adams McCord," and he slides off the edge of the couch onto one knee, holding onto her hand for balance and slipping something out of his back pocket, "will you do me the honor of staying married to me?"
Elizabeth gasps, free hand flying to her mouth. It's her ring. Or an exact replica, maybe, of the one he'd slid onto her finger in front of Will and his family twenty-two years ago. The one she'd worn each and every day until it was hurled out of a window along with her father's watch and her sense of security.
She throws her arms around his neck with such force that they both end up on their knees on the floor, half laughing and half crying. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes!" she cries, pulling back just enough to let him slip the ring back into its rightful place. Elizabeth doesn't know how to explain it, but in that moment she feels more like herself than she has in a very long time.
"I'm so glad," Henry murmurs like he's heard her thoughts. She wouldn't even be surprised by it at this point. She takes a breath before she leans in and kisses, really kisses him, in a way she hasn't for a while, and even when she pulls back she can feel herself still beaming. Henry looks just like she feels. "So you feel better?" he asks with only a hint of teasing.
"Much," Elizabeth replies, "though I can't say I'm thrilled that Renee Brown essentially instigated it."
He shakes his head at her, pulling them both back up to the sofa. "Would've happened anyway, you know."
"Hmm. I wonder if she knew that when she brought you multiple casseroles," she jokes, only it actually does seem funny to her now.
Henry plants a kiss in her hair. "I only accepted her lasagna to begin with because I wasn't exactly thinking straight at the time."
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Was the lasagna any good?"
He snorts. "I can make you a better one for dinner."
"I'm holding you to that."