Los Angeles, CA – April 2009

She's angry. It's a feeling she's settling into quite well. Anger is easier to process than guilt, sorrow, and loss. It's a fire in her chest, and it burns through her veins. And for once, she's not afraid of the rage. She is reveling in it. She likes the warmth it provides, as if it could shield her from the chill of loneliness.

She throws the soft, squishy balls as hard as she can against the wall. It's a pathetic showing, as her shoulder is nowhere near strong enough to throw them very far or very hard. But still, the impact is satisfying. But she remembers the times she was able to throw a softball from third to first base. Or how easily she could hit a target. She was good. And now that's just one more thing to be angry about.

Dr. Sherman watches her patient throw the balls she was given. She's waited for this—the anger. For weeks, Elizabeth has sat in here and recounted her story. It took her weeks to get through every detail she remembers. Now that her story is out and she is no longer the sole witness to her pain, they can work on the root of her feelings. It's the first time Dr. Sherman has witnessed such a volatile response from the woman. She's seen her cry, and she's seen her panic. But she's never seen her angry. And it's good.

"He starved me!" She throws.

"He waterboarded me!" She throws.

"He hit me!" Another ball is thrown. Her hits are getting harder, and her shoulder is starting to burn.

"And then he... He held me down... and..." Her eyes fill with tears.

"Say it. You need to say it." Dr. Sherman encourages. They've been working on calling it what it is. Elizabeth tends to hide behind euphemisms and deflection.

"He raped me." She says. The fire in her chest moves. It burns hotter and rises. Her stomach tightens. "He fucking raped me! And no one came for me!" She throws the last ball harder than all the others—her shoulder cracks with the force she puts behind it, and her face twists in pain. But in a way, the pain is good. It makes her feel human. She's alive. And for the first time in a long time, she's grateful for her life.

She drops to her knees and screams. Her face is contorted, and her fists clench. She screams. It's a loud, primal sound. Dr. Sherman knows that sound. It's grief, pure grief. The kind of grief you feel when a loved one dies. And she screams until her throat hurts and her lungs burn.

"You're angry," Kensie says. The exercise went as planned, a way to help Elizabeth physically embody her emotions. Now it's time to talk about it. Elizabeth is exhausted. Her head drops, and her breathing is shallow.

"Of course, I'm fucking angry!" Elizabeth laughs bitterly. Her body trembles, and she wants to crawl out of her skin.

"Why are you angry?"

"Why am I angry?" She asks incredulously. Elizabeth shakes her head and snorts, "I'm angry because I was set up by a friend to be taken by a fucking monster. And no one fucking came looking for me!"

"No one?"

"No one." She whispers. Her eyes fill with tears. "My government, my best friends, and my husband." Elizabeth lets it slip. And Kensie catches it.

"You're angry at Henry?" This is a surprise to Kensie. Elizabeth has not told her much about the man she was married to, but when she does speak of him, it's always with affection.

Elizabeth's head snaps toward Kensie. Her eyes are full of anger, "I am not angry at Henry!" She denies it vehemently.

"Then who are you angry at?"

"Everyone," Elizabeth says and crosses her arms. Her chin quivers.

"Is Henry not a part of everyone?" Kensie pushes.

Elizabeth swallows. Images of him and the redhead fill her mind. Henry lets her little boy call that woman mom. Elizabeth can't stop the tears. They fall hot and angry down her cheeks. Henry is fine without her. His world kept spinning, and hers stopped.

"He didn't look for me," She says, her voice breaking. "He replaced me. How was he able to carry on? Everything stopped for me. But he... He got to go back to normal. He got this normal life with a wife and kids, a stupid house in the suburbs, and I'm forgotten. I'm gone. And he replaced me with her!"

"And you feel betrayed?"

Elizabeth laughs; it's a joyless, dry sound. "That's an understatement."

"You are allowed to be angry about that."

"No, I'm not," Elizabeth says.

"Why not?"

"Because he did what I told him to do. He thinks I'm dead. So he moved on. He found someone to love him and our children. And I'm mad. Why am I mad? I'm the one who left. I'm the one who disappeared. But I'm mad at him?" She says. It doesn't seem fair to her. She tries to put himself into his shoes. She imagines how it would feel to be told that Henry was dead. The idea of raising their children alone makes her stomach hurt. She doesn't want him to be as lonely as she is, either. But God, she pictures their house and their lives, and she imagines that to them, it's like she never existed.

"It's okay to be mad at him."

"No," Elizabeth shakes her head, "No."

"You are allowed to have all the feelings you're having," Dr. Sherman reminds her, "And you are allowed to be angry at Henry."

"But why am I angrier at Henry than I am at the man who set me up?" She whispers her shameful secret. She has not spoken Conrad Dalton's name in here yet. Nor will she ever. But the truth is, she is much angrier at Henry than at Conrad. She can't decide if that makes batshit crazy or not. She should be pissed at The Man, then Conrad, in that order. Henry shouldn't even make the list, but he's at the top. And that's the worst part of it.

"You love Henry. No one gets under our skin more than the people we love." Dr. Sherman's explanation is simple. Feeling betrayed by the love of your life is more painful than betrayal from anyone else. And she is a grieving parent. Her children may be alive, but she has not been able to see them, hug them, or talk to them in five years. And she loves them with her entire being. It is not surprising that she is angry at the father of her children for, in Elizabeth's mind, replacing her.

"I do. I do love him. Hell, I'll go a step farther and tell you I am still in love with him," Elizabeth sighs. Her shoulders slump. The fire is gone. All that's left in its place is heartbreak. "But he doesn't love me."

"How can you be sure?"

"I know," Elizabeth says. The lump in her throat grows and threatens to choke her. "I saw."

"What did you see?"

Elizabeth swallows. She remembers the three months he spent stalking him and the woman. She remembers seeing them together. She remembers the kisses. The way he looked at each other. She remembers Henry's face when the two of them brought home their twins. Children Henry had made with someone else. Children that proved to her that her Henry was now someone else's.

"I saw him... He was... He was with someone else—a redhead. I saw them together. They were happy."

"He moved on." Kensie surmises.

"It's not that he moved on... But he let our baby, our lucky number three, call her mom. That woman is the only mother my son knows. And I wasn't there."

"It must be painful," Kensie says.

"The most painful thing I've ever experienced... And I've been through a lot of painful things."

Pittsburgh, PA – April 2009

The paperwork is laid out in front of him. His lawyers are waiting for his signature. They still have to speak with the kids. He keeps putting it off. HE was okay with this… until twenty minutes ago when he started reading it over. He was hit with a pang of guilt so strong it nearly caused him to double over. He stares at the three birth certificates. Mother: Elizabeth Adams McCord. He can't do this. How is he supposed to erase Elizabeth's name from them literally? How is he supposed to make their kids, not his and Elizabeth's but his and Jess's? He can't. He won't.

"Jess," He sighs, "I can't sign these." He shakes his head and puts the pen down, defeated.

"Henry?" She questions. This isn't a part of her plan.

"Jessica, no. It's not fair to Elizabeth. She's their mother. I am their father. And it's not right to take her name off. We have other options that are just as legally binding." He reasons.

"They need a mother. Elizabeth is dead." Jessica snaps.

"That doesn't matter. She's their mother, Jess. She'll always be their mother. Her name on their birth certificates is important. I am their father, and my name is there, and hers is too." Henry is frustrated. "I'll give you guardianship, and I'll put you in my will. But I won't erase her."

Jessica looks at him hard. She doesn't understand how he is still so devoted to a dead woman. She has done her best. She's loved his kids, giving them a home. She's cared for them. She's comforted them. And he won't do the one thing that will ensure she won't lose her kids. Henry is her husband, and those kids are her kids. It's time for Elizabeth to fade away completely.

"So what, I'm not as good as she was?" Jessica spits. She knows how and where to hit when it's called for.

"What?" He questions. He's not in the habit of comparing them.

"I'm not good enough, is that it?" Jessica says. She is angry. Angry and hurt.

"That's not true, Jess," Henry says, shaking his head. Jessica shakes her head. She read Dalton's file. She listened to Dalton cry when he found out his friend was a traitor to her country. She knows who Elizabeth really is behind her mask. She was an operative. She was trained. She could fight and kill. And she was a double agent for Al Queda. She wasn't the perfect, happy little wife and mom that Henry believed she was. And yet, Henry still wants her back. Henry would drop her in a second for Elizabeth. But she can't lose him.

"Would you choose her over me?"

Henry's head snaps up, and his eyes flick with anger, "That's not fair."

"Would you, Henry?" Jessica asks.

"How is that a fair question?" Henry is taken aback. He's never seen this spiteful side of her. He's never known her to be cruel.

"Because you still love her, and I need to know where you stand," Jessica says.

"Elizabeth is dead. You and I are married to each other because Elizabeth is dead. Because her being dead is an unchangeable fact. And that led me to meet you and fall in love with you. And I never sit around and compare the two of you or conjure impossible what-ifs." Henry says. He loves them both. He is happy with his life and with Jessica, but what she's asking for isn't about their marriage. Or even his commitment to her.

"I'm not her," Jessica says, implying he would absolutely choose Elizabeth.

"And I'm not asking you to be. But... Adoption... It changes their birth certificates... It erases her from their creation. And I can't do that. I'm not going to do that." Henry reasons. He was there when he and Elizabeth moved their bodies as one to conceive them. And he was there as Elizabeth put her body through the ringer to grow them. He was there when Elizabeth labored to give birth to them. He was there when she pushed for two hours Stevie and when she was cut into for Allison. And when Jason came so unexpectedly fast, her body went from six centimeters to ten in what seemed like fifteen minutes. He refuses to erase all of that.

Jessica's eyes fill with tears. She is going to get what she wants, one way or another. She knows how to manipulate people. She's well-trained. She hasn't used her skills on Henry to their full capacity because she does love him. She is hopelessly in love with him and the family he has given her. He loves her… he's the first person ever to do so. And those kids love her, too. She needs her kids because they are her kids. And Elizabeth never deserved them. And if she turns up someday, alive, and takes them from her, Jessica doesn't know what she will do.

"So that's it, then?"

"No, that's not it. We have a lot of other options, Jess."

"Fine." She says, getting up from the table.

…X…X…X…

"Hey, little one." Jess smiles as she pokes her head into Stevie's room, "You got a minute?"

"Sure," Stevie says.

"Your dad and I need to talk to you guys about something," Jessica says.

"About what?" Stevie asks, and her face gets serious. Stevie always gets nervous for news, as if she's always waiting for the other shoe to drop. She remembers so clearly the day her father told her her mother was dead. It's burned into her mind, and ever since, serious conversations have made her stomach flutter.

"It's not bad," Jessica says quickly, "we just wanted to run an idea past you."

"Okay?"

"You know how much I love you and Allison and Jason, right?"

"Yeah," Stevie nods.

"And you know I'd do anything for you," Jessica says, reaching out and pushing Stevie's hair behind her ear.

"You're going to leave us," Stevie says. There is clear panic written on the fourteen-year-old's face. She can't lose another mother.

"No, sweetheart, quite the opposite, actually," Jessica says.

"What do you mean?"

"You've always been my kids, and I want it to be official," Jessica says, smiling, "I want you to be my kids. I want to adopt you three. How do you feel about that?" Jessica needs the response to be positive. She knows the only way this will happen is for Henry to hear it from the kids. If he hears how much they want her, he will give her what she wants.

"Really?" Stevie asks. She looks at Jessica, the woman she considers her mother. Her head turns to the side, and she remembers her photo. The one still under her pillow. Her special photo of Elizabeth holding her in London. And she remembers her first memory. She was sitting on a horse in front of her mom and laughing as the sun beat down on them. And she loves her mother, and her mother is dead, and she wants to keep her in her heart forever. But she loves Jess, too.

"Absolutely. I love you guys. And your father and I would like to have the paperwork drawn up. That way, no matter what happens, you will stay my kids." She feels slightly guilty about using the girl's grief against her, but the ends justify the means.

"If something happens to my dad, we can't stay with you?" With a single sentence, the teenager is a scared child.

"You can, sweetheart. I want to protect you. If something were to happen to him, the courts might try and send you away from me. And I don't want that." Jessica puts it on thick. She hasn't had a chance to be the operative she always was in years. She can almost see the wheels turning in Stevie's head.

Stevie thinks hard about what she wants. What if her dad died dies? Her mom had lost both her parents when she was only a year older than she is now. Her father is her rock. He is her whole world, and she doesn't know who she would be without him. If she were forced to lose him, and if it were possible, would she want to be pulled from the only person she had left? She throws herself into Jessica's arms. She breathes in her perfume, which has become her scent of comfort. She no longer smells Elizabeth's perfume and remembers her. Now, she smells her mother and feels her arms around her.

"Can you tell him we want this?" Stevie asks, tears streaming down her face.

"Why don't we tell him together?" Jess says. She has a small, satisfied smile on her face. She always gets what she wants.