A/N: Hi guys! Here's a new story (if y'all like it it'll continue!). This is kind of an alternate storyline, obviously, since it starts in 2014 not long after MSec becomes MSec. It'll be a little different from the show, so just a heads up if you're not into that!

Hope you enjoy!


August 25, 2014

"See you later," Elizabeth calls out from the backseat of the Tahoe, her coffee resting in her hands that were resting in her lap. She pulls one hand free and waves at her two youngest children, "Have a good day at school!"

She watches for a few moments to see if they are going to wave back, and alas, they do not. "Kids," Henry huffs playfully, wrapping his arm around Elizabeth's shoulders and pulling her into him.

Her head falls gently on his shoulder as her eyes follow Alison and Jason up to the school doors, Alison's skirt swishing with each step. "I hope that we made the right choice." She says quietly.

His hand is rubbing back and forth over her blazer while he droops his head down to the side to rest it on hers, "We've talked about this, babe," he says softly, "They'll adjust, you know they will."

She tilts her head backwards slightly to peer her eyes up at him over her glasses, "You think so?"

"I am always right, am I not?" He asks, the teasing in his voice apparent before he ever even gives that sarcastic grin to seal it.

She picks her head up and plops it down lazily on his shoulder in a sad attempt to "punch" him with her head, "They just grow up so fast," she whispers, "I can't believe Jason is already thirteen, Henry…already in the seventh grade. How did that happen?"

"I know," he answers, "I think about that with Stevie, too. It just doesn't seem right."

She squints her eyes when a thought crosses her mind, "My phone hasn't rang all morning. Isn't that a bit suspicious?" She realizes suddenly, still a bit sleepy from being awake all night and at the White House for most of it last night.

He looks down at her, "Do you have it?"

"Of course I—" She reaches for her pocket and pats on the side where it should be, then realizes she doesn't have anything in there. She picks her body up off Henry's arm and frantically pats her other side, groaning when she doesn't feel anything there, either. "Did I seriously leave my phone…" she grumbles, moving to check the cracks of the SUV seat, but ultimately not finding it there either.

Henry is digging, too, through her purse and in his own pockets to be sure it didn't somehow end up there. "I'll call it," he says, taking his own phone from his pocket and calling "Elibet" on it. It rings, rings, and rings some more, but no one picked up and it went to her voicemail.

"Damn," she whispers, "Do you have time to go back to the house with me?" She asks him.

He shrugs, "I've got time," he says, even though she sees the look on his face that says I should be at work and grading papers. Almost as if he were reading her mind, he laughs and raises his brow, "What? I do have time."

"You just have that look like you don't," she concludes, leaning forward and letting her security detail know that they need to go back to the house.

"I can always grade from home." Henry says, nodding to his teaching bag as Elizabeth sits back in the seat, "I brought their papers with me over the weekend to grade and never got around to it."

She snorts, "Something I truly don't miss about UVA." She admits, "I liked teaching, and I liked the relationships we built with students," she pauses and smirks, craning her head to look at him, "But boy, do I not miss the reading bad papers and assigning bad grades."

"You enjoyed reading the good papers?" He asks.

"No," she answers almost immediately, "But I really hated the bad ones." She says, letting her eyes close just briefly when she rests her head against his shoulder again. "Don't let me fall asleep."

"How?"

"What do you mean how?" She says, "Keep talking."

"Or I could just…" Henry whispers, catching her off guard. Catching her even more off guard, she jumps when she feels his hand sliding down her leg to the edge of her skirt.

She swats at his hand with her eyes as wide as quarters, "Henry James McCord." She hisses quietly. The security officer, Lara, turns her head briefly to be sure that all was okay back there, and Elizabeth pauses to keep from stirring up a commotion.

Henry's smile makes her want to smack him even harder, "What?" He asks coyly.

"You know what." She shoots back, still trying to keep her voice down. She wipes somewhat dramatically at the base of her skirt, looking down at where his hand was sliding and picking at the non-existent lint there.

He slides his hand over hers, laying it on the back of her hand and wedging his fingers between hers, "I love you," he whispers.

She stops picking at the "lint" as soon as his hand lands there, and she turns and smiles at him just slightly, "I love you, too," she says quietly, "You're just an occasional pain in my ass."

"And you're not a pain in mine?" He asks.

"Touche."


"Your dad and I will be out late," Elizabeth had told Stevie, "So be sure that your brother and sister are in bed by 10:00."

"I got it, Mom," Stevie whined, "Go, go," she shooed and pushed them out the door, "We'll all be fine. It won't even be World War III."

"If it is," Henry said, "Your mom will be the first to know about it anyway."

"Right," Stevie quipped back, "So go, have fun, dance the night away."

"I'm too tired to dance much," Elizabeth answered groggily as she walked out the door, this time with her phone in Henry's pocket—since her dress didn't have any.

President Dalton had told her that this would be her first real opportunity to meet many of his previous donors and a few of his future ones, too. He had prepared her that it would be a long night of schmoozing, a long night of introductions since this is her first official, formal event as Secretary of State. Henry, per usual, had done way better than she did, though. She had finally loosened up a bit more after her second glass of wine. Downing the fifth glass, she sets it down on a waiter's tray and thanks him for taking it, then turns to find Henry.

"Whoa there," Henry says, grabbing her by the shoulder and chuckling, stumbling over his own feet, too, as he tries to steady her, "I think it's…" his words are so slurred that she almost can't tell what he's saying, so she's squinting as he talks, focusing heavy on his lips.

"Time…forrrus tooogo?" Elizabeth asks, her eyebrows moving up her face uncontrollably as she breaks into a giggle.

"Definitely." Henry says, his words not much better than hers.

Her detail must have already been keeping an eye out for her because they were swooping over to her, ready to escort them both out to the Tahoe.

"Actually," Elizabeth says, putting her hand on Paul's chest, causing him to look down at her in a concerned way, "I'd like to go see the balcony before we leave."

"Ma'am, I—"

"Please, Paul," Elizabeth asks, maybe pouting a little too much for a woman of her status.

He breathes and pauses a beat, folding his hands in front of him, "Alright, Madam Secretary." He says, "We'll escort you up."

"I just want a minute alone with my husband," she begs, "Is that too much to ask?" She asks, steadying herself still on Henry's arm, using it to keep her upright.

Paul's hesitation spoke numbers, but ultimately, he gives her a nod, "We'll be up if you're not back in twenty." He says.

She nods and when he turns, she even gives him a salute. Henry snorts, "Elizabeth," he hisses, not quite as drunk as she is even though he, too, is struggling to form complete sentences. "You can't salute him like that."

"Why not?" She asks, making their way to the elevator to go up to the venue's balcony.

Henry shrugs, "He's not…you're not…"

"I'm a military ranking member," she murmurs, "Or something like that." She says, pressing the button to the balcony and leaning against the side wall with a long, loud sigh, "This has been hellish." She admits, "I forgot how hard it is to schmooze and to greet people like this. I just want to do my job." She mumbles, her eyes closing and opening slowly.

"You do great at your job." Henry says, walking over to her as the elevator continues its journey up. He wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her forehead, "The Secretary of State one, the wife one, the mom one." He lists off, "All of them."

She smirks a little, "What are you buttering me up for, McCord?" She asks.

He shrugs innocently, but she notices he can't help but grin, "You just look really beautiful tonight."

"How beautiful?" She asks right before the doors pop open with a ding. They both look over that way, but neither move to step out.

The doors close, and the elevator stays put, "Very beautiful." Henry whispers.

She smirks when she feels his lips kiss her forehead again, and she tilts her head back so that her lips were in better reach for him, "Keep going." She coos.

He laughs a little and the doors open once more as if to remind them to get out, and Henry, this time, takes her hand and steps out of the elevator with her. When he steps onto the balcony's concrete, though, he stumbles a little and falls into the patio couch that was there.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth asks, making her way over to him while also taking off her heels.

"I'm alright," he says with a low, husky laugh, "I think we're both a little drunk."

"You think?" She asks, tossing both heels from her hand and onto the floor down beside the little couch where Henry is now making himself comfortable. She sits down beside him, but it's not long before she's leaning into his chest, her back pressing into it, "Thank you for being here with me tonight." She coos, "I know schmoozing isn't your thing, either."

"It is when it's for my hot wife."

"Who's this hot wife you speak of?"

He snorts so close to her ear that it tickles her and she shudders, leaning her head back and trying her best to look at him, "I think we should do something crazy."

"Like?" He asks, folding his arms over her stomach and nestling her own inside of his.

She smirks, "I don't know," she says, "We're up here on this balcony all alone…security is coming to get us in twenty…but…" she moves a little and bites her lip, feeling that prodding in her backside, "I can tell you're ready, and so am I." She pauses and giggles, looking out at the DC lights from this beautiful spot, "We could make a baby," she jokes, but is still suggesting the other part of that.

"I've been ready all night." Henry admits with a low tone.

She turns in his arms, "Think we could get caught?" She asks, reaching for her zipper that, sober, she would know she can't reach.

He takes over and reaches around her body, unzipping her dress in a quick motion, "We could totally get caught," he says and chuckles, "That's the extra fun part."


Henry was just finishing the last inch of zipping up her dress when security came out onto the balcony, Paul leading the pack, "Ma'am, are you alright?" He asks.

"Oh, yes." She says, grabbing her clutch from the couch. "Henry and I just…got caught in the scenery." She suggests, turning to look around at the truly beautiful night sky. She also had to turn in order to keep from cracking a smile at Paul, who would ultimately know something was awry, but she's able to compose herself by the time she turns back to him. "We're ready now, though." She says.

"Alright," Paul answers, turning back to the elevator doors.

She looks over at Henry and compresses a snort, trying to not let it leave her lips. Instead, she bites her bottom lip and smiles at Henry, then leans in and kisses him on the cheek, "Thanks," she whispers in his ear before pulling away, both of them heading to the elevator.

Once all three were inside, Elizabeth stands behind Henry as Paul stands beside him, and all three are quiet. Elizabeth lets out a yawn that turns into a bit of a sleepy whimper, a drunken impulse that she couldn't quite control. Both Paul and Henry turn to look at her, and Paul's eyes widen.

"What?" She asks him quickly.

"Ma'am," he says, almost stuttering as he keeps turning away from her, but then looking back over and over again.

"What, Paul?" She asks.

Finally, Henry is turning back around and his eyes widen, too, and he rips her clutch from her hand.

"Henry, what are you—"

"Just—" Henry manages to get out while he's grabbing the mirror from her clutch and shoving it in her face.

She takes one look and sees everyone's problem. Her somewhat deep, dark red lipstick was smeared all over her face. The realization hit her and her eyes shoot up to Henry's lips where he, too, had deep, dark red lipstick all over his face and his neck.

"Oh my God," she panics, digging in her clutch for the non-existent Kleenex, even though she knows she doesn't have anything like that in this little bitty bag.

"Here," Paul offers, digging in his pocket and handing her a handkerchief.

She takes it and thanks him quickly, looking to see that they were almost to the ground floor now. She wipes quickly at her face, trying to get the majority off her upper lip and her jawline from where Henry had trailed it all over. She's too embarrassed to look down, but she knows, just knows that it has to be all the way down her chest, too. It may be more faded, but she knows that his lips had been kissing all the way down past that sweetheart neckline.

She hands off the handkerchief to Henry who, also, starts frantically wiping her lipstick from his face and neck. "You might be able to pass the other off for wine," she points out, suggesting that he focus mostly on getting it off his neck.

"I'll try to get you out of here as fast as possible, ma'am, sir." Paul says, giving a curt nod to each of them before the elevator doors open. In a swift move, he ushers them both very quickly, almost too quickly for Elizabeth's intoxicated feet to keep up. Henry stumbled once again, but Paul must have him by the collar because he stayed upright. Before she could even think much about it, they were at the Tahoe that was waiting for them out front.

"Ma'am," Paul almost scolds, but Elizabeth was starting to sober up a little bit and she just gives him a look of warning. He sighs, "I presume I'm taking you home now, right?" He asks.

"Right," she answers, slumping into the seat a little more when Paul turns forward and starts driving.

She feels Henry's arm around her again and she smiles a little, "Thanks for that," she mouths up at him.

"You missed a little something right…" he leans down and kisses her lips, and she feels his tongue swipe at her skin. She shudders and smirks against him, and he pulls away, "…there."

"Thanks," she says again, flicking her eyebrow up. "You're a real prince charming."

"I serve at the pleasure." He mocks, saying what all her staff always are telling her.

She sits back in the seat and thinks about her staff, closing her eyes. If anyone happened to have gotten a picture of them just now, she knows Daisy will give Elizabeth an earful tomorrow, and she knows Nadine will give her the silent treatment even more than she already does. Oh, Nadine, she thinks in her head, her shoulders slumping a little more as she wonders just what she'll do with that woman. After these three months, she thought Nadine would warm up a bit more than she had, but she's still just as cold as ever.

"We're here," Henry's voice is saying, and Elizabeth's eyes are opening to the bright, blinding light emanating from the Tahoe's ceiling. She looks over her shoulder and realizes they're in front of their house already.

"Did I fall asleep?"

"Yes," Henry answers and rubs her thigh a little, "I was on the verge of it, too."

"Have a good night, Ma'am," Paul says and then turns his attention to Henry, "Sir," he says with a nod.

"Thanks Paul, you too." Henry says, already feeling a headache come on.


When her alarm goes off, it feels like a needle is inside both of her ears just piercing away at her eardrums. "God," she mumbles, pulling the pillow up over her ears like muffs and slamming her hand down on the alarm button.

Henry is groaning next to her, slowly turning over to turn on his lamp like he does every morning so they don't fall back to sleep, "Oh…" he mumbles, actually jumping when he turns the light on like it scared him.

But she knows better. They're both hungover—even from just that little bit of alcohol they each had. She closes her eyes when she feels a sudden sickness wash over her, almost as if the pounding of her head was from a concussion.

She flips the blanket over and looks down, realizing that she's still in her gala dress. She snorts a little and squeezes her eyes shut, "We're old, Henry," she admits, "We fell asleep in our formal clothes."

"Speak for yourself," Henry says, looking down at his own body. She turns and sleepily opens one eye first, then lets out a quiet laugh as she sees he's completely nude.

"Well," she says, "That's interesting."

"Normally you're the one who strips."

"Only with tequila." She corrects, rolling herself up to sit on the side of the bed, stretching her back and neck and shoulders. "God, Henry, what did we do last night?" She moans, holding the right side of her neck down by her shoulder.

He's doing the same movement, now, but holding his lower back, "We got drunk, that's what we did." He says, "We're in our forties now, and we got drunk. That's all it took." He says, then adds in, "Maybe we really are old."

"What happened to my neck?" She asks pointedly, trying to think back and figure out if she somehow fell or something. "I remember you falling into the couch on the patio last night. Did I fall too? And maybe break my neck?" She adds half-sarcastically, half real. It hurt pretty bad.

He looks back at her and their eyes meet, and as if they thought the same thing at the same time, they both let out a laugh, "Oh," she says, "It was from having sex on that couch, wasn't it?" She asks, her back turned away from the door and his side of the bed again.

"You did what?" Jason asks.

Henry scrambles to pull the blanket over his body, "What are you doing in here without knocking?"

"Ew," Jason says, "I don't even wanna know what was just going on." He says, shielding his eyes. "My devil of a sister made me come up here and tell you guys that you're late." He says.

Elizabeth looks back at him again and realizes that Jason is all dressed. She whips her head around again to the alarm clock and sees that it's way past their normal wake-up time, and actually two minutes past when they all should be leaving. "Crap," she grumbles, quickly standing up and slipping her tennis shoes on with her formal gown.

Jason had long exited the room again and Henry was scrambling to throw clothes on, "I have class in twenty minutes." He realizes out loud, bouncing around on one foot clumsily while trying to get his boxers on.

Elizabeth throws her hair up in a hair tie, "I hope Blake still has that change of clothes for me," she says as she grabs her coat and looks back at Henry who, now, is fastening his belt after haphazardly tucking his shirt in. His shirt isn't even fully buttoned up, and he's definitely forgoing the tie today. "You ready?" She asks, resisting her strong, strong urge to pee and do her morning routine.

"Ready," he says, grabbing his teaching bag and all the freshly-graded papers within it.


"Good morning, Madam Sec—" Blake's voice is cut off when Elizabeth steps out of the elevator while taking her coat off her shoulders.

"Good morning to you too, Blake," she says, draping her coat over her arm and walking up to him, desperately taking the cup of coffee and muffin from both of his hands.

He clears his throat, "Ma'am," he says quietly, "You might want to put the coat back on." He says.

"I know I'm still in my formal attire, Blake, but—"

"No," he interrupts painfully, literally cringing when he does so, "It's the…"

"What?" She asks impatiently, wondering why they weren't walking by now.

"The…makeup." Blake says uneasily.

Elizabeth looks down and gasps, remembering now that there was lipstick all over her chest and face that did not get washed off this morning or last night. "Right," she says, "Listen, Blake," she says, putting the coat back on and buttoning the top button, "I'm going to need you to get me a change of clothes from the closet, as well as two aspirin, and I'm going to go in the bathroom and wash all this off." She announces quietly.

"Got it," Blake says.

She puts the coffee cup to her mouth and doesn't even nurse it—she chugs. This headache wasn't going anywhere any time soon, that's for sure. And likely, it would only get worse when she sees the pile of papers probably waiting for her on her desk.


November 24, 2014

"Are you ready for Thanksgiving this week, Ma'am?" Blake asks, pulling Elizabeth from her groggy-thinking of China's dirty backdoor deal with Russia, ultimately letting the States lose out on millions of dollars worth of military equipment in exchange.

"Oh," Elizabeth says, almost shaken from her thoughts, "I—yeah, I just…" she shrugs and smiles tiredly, "The world is always in need of saving, Blake." She says and leans forward, crossing her hands and leaning her elbows on the conference table. "What else we got?" She asks her staff.

"You have the speech at the UN today to renegotiate the trade deal," Nadine announces, "But I'm sure you already knew that. Other than that, that's it on my list."

"Mine too," Daisy says.

"Great," Elizabeth says, taking a deep breath as she feels that sick feeling come back. Ever since George had died so suddenly, she's been a nervous wreck. She'd let Henry in on a little of it, but she hadn't told him how bad it had gotten with her nerves—she didn't want to scare him and, ultimately, didn't want to be put on leave within her first year in this office. Her anxiety had done this before back in the CIA, it just hadn't been this bad since.

She scoots her chair away from the desk and moves to stand up, but she pauses and takes another deep breath, trying to keep that nauseous feeling away. She leans over the desk a little, grabbing on a little too hard.

"Ma'am?" Nadine asks.

"I'm fine." She says, "Just a little back pain." She lies through her teeth, picking her head up and giving that fake, champion smile. "All good now." She says, lying a little less—she does feel better now that she's done a bit more deep breathing. Those two weeks of therapy she did in the CIA really did her a lot of good…and here her doctor wanted her to continue going!

She walks over to the door for her own office, but she senses Nadine on her trail. "What's up, Nadine?" She asks.

"Ma'am," Nadine says, "Excuse me for—"

"If you're about to step a little too far out of line, don't." She warns, "I'm alright, really, I just haven't been sleeping very well." She says, and that time it was the truth. She's been so stressed during this trade agreement and with all the stuff going on with George and Iran—it's no surprise she hasn't been able to sleep.

"I'm just worried about you, that's all." Nadine admits.

Elizabeth turns around, realizing that might be the first time Nadine has genuinely shown concern for her. "Thank you," she says, "I'm alright." She says and then laughs, "Well, I will be once I get this speech over with." She admits.

When she steps out of the Tahoe at the UN, Henry is the first one to greet her other than her security detail. "Hey babe," he says, leaning in and pecking her lips like he always does.

She smiles, "Hey to you too," she says sweetly, "Why are you here?"

"I brought my class to watch your speech," he says proudly.

"Isn't this a conflict of interest or something, Mr. Ethics Professor?" She teases as they walk in side-by-side.

Henry shrugs, "I'm just here to see this Secretary of State. They say her husband is real arm candy, but I mean, have you seen her?" He asks.

She smirks and squeezes his hand a little before they reach the point in the hall where they have to separate. "I'll see you at home," she says, "I love you."

"I love you." He answers, going into the big double doors to find his group of students he'd brought today.

After the little bit of waiting around and last-minute preparation for her speech, they announce that it's time for her to go out. She walks out and greets the assembly just like always, but she feels those nerves come on again. Now is not the time, Elizabeth, she thinks to herself as she grabs onto the podium. She quickly finds Henry in the audience that was here to watch today, and he's immediately concerned about her. She takes that as her sign to straighten up and take a deep breath, "Thank you all for being here today as I address the matter of the trade agreement between China, Russia, and the United States." She begins.


After dinner was all cleaned up and the kids had their homework finished, Henry and Elizabeth made their way up the stairs as usual. Neither of them had a moment to themselves when they got home—Stevie needed help with dinner (Henry's field), Alison needed help with trig (Elizabeth's field), and Jason needed help with history (ultimately, Stevie's field while Henry finished dinner). By the end of it, Alison was in tears, Jason and Stevie were fighting, and dinner at the table was a very quiet one.

"So what the hell was that all about?" Henry asks as he slides his shirt over his head, tossing it into the dirty clothes basket.

"You know how it goes," Elizabeth answers, doing the same thing Henry was, "Alison doesn't understand something, I use my math brain, we butt heads, and—"

"No," Henry interrupts, "I'm talking about at the UN address today." He says.

She shrugs and looks back at him, lowering one brow as she slides her bra off. Rolling up the tee, she slides it over her head and down over her body before stepping into some flannel pants, "What are you talking about?" She asks genuinely, "Was my speech bad?"

"You were gripping that podium like you were on a rocking ship, Elizabeth," Henry says, "You've been sick, haven't you?"

"No," she says, not totally lying. She just felt sick, she hasn't been sick. "I'm alright, I just got nervous." She admits. When she looks back, she sees by the look on his face that he's not buying it. "I have been stressed, Henry, really stressed." She defends, "And the little bit of extra stress makes me feel even worse, and yes, I've felt a little sick. I was feeling bad this morning at the UN address, too, but it passed. I'm fine now." She says, "I was fine after, too."

"Babe," he says, "I'm worried about you."

"Why?" She asks.

He walks over and sits on the bed, taking his socks off and tossing them into the dirty clothes. Only one makes it. "You just seem like you're overloaded." He says. "I'm worried that you took on too much."

"You said we could do this."

"I'm not worried about whether you can," Henry says, "I'm worried about if you're taking on too much with your friend being murdered, there being a possible mole in the CIA, and all the Iran stuff going on while also doing the job of the United States' Secretary of State." He says.

She feels her chest swell a little when he uses that full title—it still makes her proud to think that she is that person. The person she learned about in all her history textbooks. She'll be in those one day. "I'm fine, Henry," she whispers, bending down to put his sock in the basket and steadying herself against the doorframe before walking over to the bed and hoping he didn't see that.

"Is your blood pressure too high? Stress can do that." He says.

"I'm sure it's fine."

"I wish you'd go get checked. Just to be sure."

"I'm sure it's fine." She repeats almost sarcastically.

"Please, Elizabeth," Henry says, and the desperation in his voice catches her attention. He must really think something is wrong with her by the way he's talking. She thinks briefly and realizes something could be wrong with her—and for the first time since all this was going on, she's gotten nervous.

She slides underneath the blankets and pulls them up to her face, staring at the ceiling, "I'll make a doctor's appoint at Walter Reed." She says defeatedly. "I'm sure I'm fine, it's just anxiety and stress again, Henry, I'm fine."

"I'll let the doctor be the judge of that." Henry says, turning his lamp off with a click before she feels him snuggle her body into his.

She takes a deep breath, feeling a bit sick again with worry—what if she really is sick? What if some genetic illness runs in the family that she doesn't know about since her parents died so young? What if this job—not the job itself, but the CIA and George and Iran—what if it's all too much for her to handle? For anyone to handle?

She closes her eyes and feels a tear escape and slide down her face, pooling up somewhere around her ear on the pillow. She can't bring herself to think about dying. She has too much life to live.