A/N: Hey all! This is a little shorter than usual, but that's because we'll be skipping ahead a little in the next chapter and this felt like a solid place to move it on along.

Hope you enjoy!

September 6, 1988 | Elizabeth

Will is holding the door open, looking for Elizabeth behind him when she walks through. "Mr. Jones is just right down the hall on the right, the last room." Janice says from her desk. Elizabeth takes one last look at Henry before the door shuts behind her, and she makes herself walk behind Will to the last door on the right.

"Miss Adams," a booming voice says, "Mister Adams, pleasure to meet you both." The man at the desk, presumably Mr. Jones, stands and extends his hand to Will first. Her brother shakes his hand and then he extends one to Elizabeth as well, and she reaches out confidently and shakes it. "Please, please, have a seat." He says, gesturing to the seats in front of his desk.

Elizabeth glances at Will and they both give each other a little look before sitting down.

Mr. Jones takes a moment to laugh quietly, "I am sure by now, being Ben and Suzanne's children, you figured out that this isn't an average bank."

"I got the feeling." Elizabeth says, rubbing her arm uncomfortably, "Where are we, then?"

She looks over at Will who seems mostly oblivious to the fact that this whole situation is odd. He's exchanged glances with her, but he looks way more calm than she feels.

"This is a division of the Pentagon," Mr. Jones explains, folding his hands together on his desk as he leans toward them. He clears his throat and looks at Will first, smiling a little, "You look so much like your mom." He says, and Elizabeth looks over at Will, seeing his side profile. She'd never considered just how much he looked like her, but Mr. Jones is right: Will's profile is a spitting image of her mom's, aside from the facial hair, of course.

She feels her stomach bubble a little, trying to keep her breathing steady as she thinks about what her mom might look like today if she were alive. Would she think Will looked like her, too? More importantly, what would Suzanne Adams think of this beard thing Will has going on? She's pulled from her thoughts when Will looks down and smiles a little, raising his brows, "I wouldn't know, really." He murmurs, and Elizabeth's chest tightens. "I was really young."

"I know." Mr. Jones answers, sorrow seeping in through his tone. He moves his gaze over to Elizabeth and gives her a smile, "You already know what's going on, don't you?" He realizes.

Elizabeth gives a half smile, shrugging and twisting her lips up. "I suspected for years." She admits, "What exactly did they do?"

"It's confidential." He says immediately, tilting his head, "Even for family members, unfortunately. Just know that your parents did a lot of good for our country."

Elizabeth stares at him, thinking for a moment of her knowledge of the Pentagon and different intelligence agencies and whatnot. She didn't have much knowledge of it, but she knew the Pentagon was the Department of Defense, and she wonders what her parents could've gotten so mixed up in for it to be this confidential. "And the car crash?" Elizabeth asks, no hesitation in her voice. She's looking him straight in the eyes as she waits for him to answer, for him to stop squirming like a child in his seat. She wonders what Mr. Jones does for the Pentagon, and if his job is confidential, too.

September 6, 1988 | Henry

When the door opens, he all but jumps out of the chair, even though he tried to not feel nervous about this whole situation. "Elizabeth," is all he manages to get out as she speeds past him, mumbling something like "let's go." He stands there and looks at Will who is just shaking his head, following his sister a ways behind her. "What the hell happened in there?" Henry asks him.

Elizabeth is already out in the Bronco and Will is standing by the exit door, waiting for Henry and looking back at him. He opens his mouth to say something, then just laughs quietly and shakes his head, "I don't even know where to start," Will answers, turning to walk out to his sister.

Henry stands there for a moment and looks back at the receptionist, then at the door they just came through. When he moves to take a step, he almost smacks into Elizabeth, "What—" he stutters, looking at her wildly.

She's fuming, he can tell, and it almost makes him want to step back from her. "I need answers, and you're coming with me." She seethes, marching up to the window, "I need back in." She tells Janice. When Janice presumably tells her some line that equals to "no," Elizabeth leans over the counter and murmurs something low. Henry watches as she stands on her tip toes, and silently laughs to himself when he realizes this woman is probably threatening the receptionist while standing on her tip toes. Nice.

He's pulled from his thoughts when he hears the door buzz, and Elizabeth is walking to him already, grabbing him by the elbow and marching with him through the door. He's trying to keep up with her, trying to keep himself from laughing at the craziness of this situation, "Would you like to explain what's going on?" He finally asks the woman dragging him through this hall.

A man comes out of one of the offices, making Elizabeth stop in her tracks. He tilts his head as he looks at the two of them, giving a tiny little smile, "Can I help you?" He asks.

Elizabeth straightens her back, trying to look as though she's ready to square up with him, "I need to speak to Mr. Jones." She says sternly.

Henry watches as the man's little grin turns into a full smile, before finally turning into a laugh, "And who might you be?" He asks, raising his brow and adjusting a folder in his arms.

When Henry looks at the folder tucked into his suit, he sees the United States seal printed onto the navy-blue color. He squints, trying to figure out if his eyes are playing tricks on him or if he really is staring at the Great Seal of the United States—something he's seen plenty of times, especially in the ROTC. Elizabeth is tugging on his arm, and he looks back at the man's face again.

"Elizabeth Adams." She says, and the man squints his own eyes at her. Henry looks at Elizabeth who is staring this man down, even though he can see her jaw is gritted—her tell that she's nervous. "And who are you?"

The man's chin raises up slightly, looking down his nose at her and standing taller. "Conrad Dalton," he says, letting his head down a little as he adds the next part, "Director of the CIA, Miss Adams."

Henry tears his eyes away from the man, this Conrad guy, turning to look at Elizabeth and trying to catch up. "Elizabeth? What's going on?"

Conrad straightens his back again and gestures down another hall where there was a door, "Come on back, Elizabeth. I do believe you probably have some questions?" When he says it like a question, Henry whips his head back to look at the director. He's standing there just as tall and proud as ever, but his tone had come down a few notches of arrogance. It's much softer, and he almost hints a touch of fear.

Elizabeth is walking toward the door now, and Henry finds himself following her in shock. "Would someone tell me what's going on?" He asks.

"Later." Elizabeth mumbles from in front of him, her blonde hair bouncing with each step.

Henry glances at Conrad as he walks by the man, eyeing him with concern. Conrad gives him a small smile, nodding his head in Elizabeth's direction, "I suppose you must be Henry McCord?"

"How do you know that?"

Conrad smile gets bigger again, finally just laughing and walking toward the door to hold it for Henry.

"The door on the left," Conrad calls out from behind both of them, and Elizabeth makes a sudden turn and crashes into the door angrily. When Henry turns into the room, she's already turned around with her hands on her hips.

"Did you know my parents?" She asks, looking over Henry's shoulder. He's just glad all this anger isn't pointed at him. "Do you know about their crash? Who caused it? That it caused my little brother to almost be caught up in this tangled web of absolute lies?" Elizabeth spews.

Conrad walks in calmly, taking a deep breath before seating himself behind his desk and leaning back in his chair, his arms resting on the chair's arms. "Please, sit down."

"Are you going to tell me anything?" She asks, holding her ground but facing him again.

Henry's standing behind her, watching Conrad's face stay so calm. He's secretly amazed at how calm he can be while Elizabeth is yelling at him. "I should have known that a daughter of Ben and Suzanne Adams would figure this out," Conrad murmurs, taking a deep breath and tilting his head down to look at his hands in his lap, "The crash—yes. It's confidential, but I can tell you that it was a direct cause of a case they were both involved in."

"Isn't that a conflict of interest or something?" Henry pipes in, "Having a married couple in the same office?"

Conrad laughs and shakes his head, "It wasn't my call," he says, looking at a picture up on the wall of a man in a suit, "It was the Secretary of Defense at that time who allowed it. I can't even begin to understand why he broke protocol for your parents, Elizabeth, but—"

She cuts him off, "Were you ever going to tell me?" She asks, folding her arms over her chest, "Tell Will, at the very least?"

Conrad clears his throat, looking back down, "No." He answers simply, "It's protocol."

"And protocol can't be broken. Right." She answers sarcastically, "Why are you here? You're CIA, not DOD." She states. Conrad just smiles at her, not saying a word. She looks at Henry, shaking her head,"Let's just go." She says, beginning to make her way out the door.

Before she reaches the doorknob, Conrad speaks again, "I knew your parents very well," he says, "Your father, Ben, he was my first friend in the Pentagon." He admits, taking a deep breath, "I was straight out of the military and was scared out of my mind. I wasn't there much, but he made me feel as though I had a friend in Washington, at the very least."

Elizabeth stops and looks back at him, and Henry notices how her anger has turned into some form of tiredness, "And my mom?" She asks, her voice on the verge of breaking.

Conrad's lips twist and he swallows hard, "Let's put it this way, Elizabeth," Conrad says solemnly, "I would have never pulled myself from their graves had I been allowed to attend their funeral."

Elizabeth turns her head and puts her lips down into her shoulder, and Henry watches as she stares over to the side of Conrad's office. He thinks she's going to cry, so he walks up behind her and puts his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him. Conrad looks away as Elizabeth lets out a quiet little cry, turning her body into his chest. He tightens his grip on her, laying his hand on the back of her hair and putting his chin on top of her head.

After a few moments of Elizabeth struggling to not let herself go, she pulls away from Henry and turns back to Conrad. "A real friend of theirs would have checked in on their daughter and son." She says, almost whispering.

Conrad's head pops up and he almost comes out of his chair, but stops at just straightening his back again and looking down his nose at her, a look that Henry was starting to recognize. "Who do you think got you and Will into the best boarding schools in the U.S.?" He asks, "And how do you think your aunt and uncle afforded to pay for that?" He asks, "UVA—they gave you a full-ride scholarship. Your grades were great, undeniably so, but free room and board doesn't just come with good grades, Elizabeth." He seethes, "And Will getting in Johns Hopkins with his somewhat lower grades—that doesn't just happen, either." He says, his tone sounding like a warning.

Elizabeth swallows thick, and Henry drops his hand down to her waist and pulls gently. She's just staring at the director, and she finally looks down and clears her throat, "Let's go, Henry," she says.

Henry's turning with her, but Conrad has already stood up and is reaching the two of them, laying a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "I followed you and your brother as closely as I could, especially once I became the director last year." He explains in a softer tone. "They were essential pieces in the Cold War," he whispers, his eyes roaming the room after he says it as though someone might catch him saying it, "Good day, Miss Adams." He says more professionally, a little louder so if someone was eavesdropping, it sounded as though this was just any other conversation.

She looks at him and swallows hard, turning away and walking out the door.

September 6, 1988 | Elizabeth

Dinner had never been more quiet. Nobody really wanted to talk, even though she could tell Henry was about to burst at the seams with questions. Will had picked at his food the whole time, finally excusing himself to the couch—his temporary bedroom while he stayed with Henry and Elizabeth.

When they all said their goodnights after dinner plates were washed, Henry and Elizabeth had gone to their bedroom, shut the door, and Elizabeth started stripping her clothes off while walking to the bed, just crawling in as though her muscles were going to stop working at any second. Henry lets out a quiet laugh, oozing with sympathy for her as he takes his shirt off and climbs in the bed, too.

She looks at him tiredly, only opening one eye as the other is buried mostly in the blankets, "What a day." She murmurs.

He nods, "Quite the day."

She stays quiet for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, "It wasn't just the money that was in their account, and in my aunt Patty's account, Henry," she whispers, her voice catching too much, "Death payments apparently exist within the Department of Defense," she explains quietly, "Will and I both get one now—he will when he turns eighteen, of course, but I will too now that I have been…" she shakes her head and laughs tiredly, "'Read in,' that's the term they kept using."

He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls their bodies together, and she's sure he can hear her breathing becoming shorter and more sporadic. When he whispers, "It's okay," she knows that he knows it's all about to come out, and she let's out a sob that shakes the whole bed. She tries to keep quiet, thinking of Will in the other room, but she wonders if hearing her cry will give him his own strength to shed some tears. He looked pretty numb throughout the whole day, only adding to the conversations whenever he was prompted and seeming otherwise out of it.

After a few moments of total silence, she drags her eyes open and finds Henry after blinking some tears away, tilting her head up and looking into his eyes. When he opens his, she lets out another sob and shakes her head, "What a cruel machine," she whispers.

"Who?" Henry asks.

"The U.S. government. All the agencies." She whispers, trying to not sound so mad and pitiful, but failing pathetically. "Every single one of them—keeping secrets from families, secrets about things so big like death…" she shakes her head again, scrunching her eyes closed and trying to hold back another sob. Already, she's tired of hearing herself cry.

He strokes her back a few times, snuggling her into him some more, "You have every right to feel that way today, Elizabeth." He whispers, "Every single right."

She shakes her head and swallows back the heavy lump in her throat, "I could never be like that," she whispers, shutting her eyes and pushing her body into his, "I could never be so cruel as to hide the real reasons of deaths from people's families, or…any of it, Henry."

He holds her a little closer, a little tighter, before shutting his own eyes and moving his leg so that it's wrapping hers between his own, "Elizabeth," he whispers, taking a moment to find his next words, "Remember how hard it is in the ROTC? How I said I have to balance it all…taking lives to save lives…all of that?"

She sniffles a little, staying completely still otherwise, "Yeah? What does that have—"

"It's very similar, I'd think," he whispers, looking down at her—probably to see if she was giving him an angry stare. She wasn't, not yet at least. She was starting to feel it come on, though. "That Dalton guy...he said that they were important pieces in the Cold War. It's still going on, but we're so close to the finish line…that's what everyone keeps saying at least." He reminds, "So many lives have been lost in that war, babe, and if your parents played a big part in future lives not being lost…" his voice trails off for a moment and she moves to look at him, frowning at him deeply, "I'm not saying it's justified." He adds quickly, probably feeling her death stare, "I'm saying that…that they're heroes. It doesn't make it any easier, I know that—I mean, I don't know that, but I feel like it wouldn't make it any easier." He stammers, "I'm saying that they're heroes and that their deaths were for a cause, at the very least."

She looks at him for a few moments, trying to decide whether to be hurt more or not. She finally just sighs, shutting her eyes and laying her cheek back down in his arm, "It doesn't make it easier," she murmurs, "But Henry…" her voice is starting to break again so she pauses, clearing it quickly, "Knowing that you could be sent to that very same war that they died trying to stop…that will unravel me in the worst possible way." She admits quietly, never picking her head up from his skin, taking in the way she can almost hear his blood pumping through his veins with each heartbeat that she can feel under her left hand that's resting against his chest. "I don't think I'll be able to continue on with my life."

"You'd have to, for Will." Henry reminds.

She shakes her head, "Will wouldn't want me here, either." She whispers, "I wouldn't be the same person. Losing my parents turned me into someone…someone harder. Someone who was no longer a kid, who lost the remainder of her teenage years because she was looking out for her kid brother all the time. Losing them made me grow up and grow up too fast. Losing you? To the same cruel machine?" She asks, her eyes still shut as she tries to push away images of his body coming home in a casket, being unloaded from a plane with a flag draped over it and the people carrying that pitiful box with his body covered in Marine uniforms. She tries to push away the idea of seeing Henry with his hands folded, his eyes no longer able to open. Seeing him in his dress blues would allow her to no longer see the color blue and not fall apart every time if that were to happen. She curls her leg around Henry's a little tighter, squeezes her fingertips into his chest a little more, "That would put me in a grave right next to yours, McCord."

She feels his hand stroking at her hair behind her, rubbing her back softly as he does so, "Let's just go to sleep. It's been a long day." He whispers.

She opens one eye to look at him, just get a quick glance in one last time before she'll try to do as he suggested and get some sleep, "I love you." She whispers, "I love you more than life itself. And Henry?" She pauses and waits for him to look into her eyes, "I'm scared." She admits shakily, "I'm scared of losing every important person in my life that I've ever loved. You, Will…I've lost my parents…I can't lose you."

"You're not going to lose me."

"You don't know that."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"We both know you're going active duty as soon as you graduate."

He swallows thick and it makes her heart sink. He can't change his decision, she knows that—the Marines don't take promises lightly. "I'm not going anywhere," he repeats.

She shakes her head, "Don't say that when you don't know it's true." She whispers, "I know just as well as you know that the Marines can send you wherever they want, just like the DOD can hide my parents' death from their kids for as long as they wanted, Henry. They have their ways, and that's no secret that the government basically owns you when you're in service to them."

"Goodnight, babe," he whispers before adding, "I love you so much," and pressing a kiss to her nose.

She watches as he closes his eyes, and she waits until he's snoring to let her own eyes finally close, to let more tears escape down her cheeks, to worry herself to sleep.