Bagdad, Iraq – February 2004

"Hey, Elizabeth?" Mike's use of her actual name makes her head snap up to look at him. They have worked together for months, and he has never called her by her name. Elizabeth looks at his face to see if there is any hint of judgment there. His face is calm and neutral, which does not surprise her. She has learned that Mike is an expert at keeping his emotions and thoughts under lock and key.

"What's up?" Elizabeth can feel his hesitance at whatever he has to say. She holds her breath, wondering what could be going on.

"I was given some orders from the brass to give you." Hirst pauses. When he was given them, he had argued against them. He has grown fond of her. He can tell that Elizabeth loves her work and knows she's good at it. But he's also watched her call home every chance she's been given. No matter what time of day it was here in Bagdad or at home in DC, she and her husband would talk for as long as possible. He can tell how much love the two share, even if he's only privy to one side of the conversation. He hates that Elizabeth is forced to live apart from her family. He doesn't want to be the one who sanctions an unnecessary risk. And he believes these orders pose an undue risk to her life.

"What are they?" She's getting anxious. She has no idea what's coming next and is almost afraid to know. She's already having a hard time handling herself in this environment. She doesn't want to know what's coming next.

"They want you to meet a confidential informant in Mazraat Al-Suwaira. Which is normal for your line of work, but the catch is that they want you to go alone. They want you to go to the meeting alone without any protection."

"That's not unusual in my line of work either," Elizabeth says because it's true. Elizabeth meets with confidential informants alone all of the time. Granted, she's usually not in a warzone. "Why do they want me to go alone?"

"The informant is a woman. She can't be caught talking to a man. I've been told to ask you to wear a tight hijab, not just a scarf." Hirst is trying to be delicate with her.

Elizabeth thinks about it for a moment. She weighs the risk versus the reward. Ultimately, she decides she came here to contribute in a tangible way to the war effort. So, she'll go wherever her government needs her. She'll go if they want her to attend a meeting without any backup.

"I'll go," Elizabeth says. She knows this will make the brass happy. She'll show them she can be helpful in the field.

…..

The journey into Mazraat Al-Suwaira was easy. She was given a civilian car to drive herself in. She felt like a real spy for the first time since before her kids were born. It was a strange but welcome feeling. She's always known what she was doing. She has always been sure of herself. But today, she's a different person. She's the person she was before she got careful. She feels a little reckless.

She pulls onto the lot of a nondescript house. She exits the car and walks up to the front door. The house is empty. The house has been vacant for a while. Her heart sinks. This was reckless. She had come here to help Iraqis. To be helpful in the war effort. To make a difference. And she thought she was helping by going to this meeting alone. She had thought it was the right thing to do.

But then there's a boom. And her ears are ringing. And she finds herself staring at the sky. She falls to her knees and realizes the exploded car is hers. The ground is hard, and she can feel it cutting into her skin. There are no clouds above her—just smoke and debris and flames. She tries to move, but her shoulder hurts too much. She turns to look at it, and her stomach drops. She can see her collarbone is cracked, and her skin is burned. Her wrist is hanging at a weird angle. This is not good. Images of Henry and her kids fill her mind. She has to get up. She has to get home. She promised she would come home.

Her heart starts racing. She needs to get out of here. So she tries again, putting her weight on what she instinctively knows will become her good arm. But then there are arms around her shoulders. The pain blinds her as her arms are yanked behind her back to be tied. She is forced to stand. Someone is carrying her away. She can hear the man beside her shouting in Arabic as he roughly tears her dog tags off her body. But her ears are still ringing from the blast. And her head is foggy. And she's sure there's blood running down her forehead and into her eyes. Put that all together, and she doesn't understand what he's saying. All she can hear is the pounding in her head. And her heart breaks into a million little pieces. She promised her family she would come home.

"Please," Is the last word on her lips before unconsciousness takes her. She is thrown in the trunk of a car that previously held a body—a body of a woman who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But twelve hours from now, that body will be identified as Elizabeth Adams McCord, thanks to Conrad Dalton's detailed plan.

…..

It takes her a few seconds to get her bearings when she comes to. She has to push her mind past the pain. The pain of laying on her arm. The injured one. The pain is burning, no, searing. And it radiates from her shoulder into her head and over her chest. But she does her best to push past it, to force her mind to think. It doesn't take long for her to realize she's still tied up. She can't move her arms. They rest behind her back. The zip ties are biting into her skin. She lifts her head a little. The motion causes her stomach to lurch. Her vision goes blurry, and her head feels like it's spinning. She can feel her arms tingle as blood starts flowing through it again. She feels herself moving, and she knows she's in a car. She wants to puke, part of that is her definite concussion, and the other half is her fear. She is being driven somewhere. Somewhere bad. She can feel the adrenaline start to pump. Her heart is hammering against her chest. She tries to calm her breathing, to get her body to relax. She knows she needs to stay strong to make it out of this alive. And does plan to make it home alive. At the very least, she plans to die fighting.

….

Three hours after Elizabeth was due back on base Mike Hirst stands over her. Her face is beaten in and unrecognizable. The only factor he could use to identify her was her dog tags still around her neck.

"I'm so sorry, Elizabeth." He whispers as he carefully helps to load her into the body bag she will ship home in. "I should've fought them harder."

Mike vowels to never forgive himself for this. He feels like he failed his friend. He knows what her family is going to go through. And it kills him. He would take her place in an instant. He would give anything to swap places with her. But he can't. Three prisoners will get the brunt of his anger later tonight.

Washington, DC – February 2004

Henry's heart stops when a noticeably sullen Conrad Dalton walks into his office at Catholic University. He's sure his knees would give out on him if he weren't already sitting. He swallows hard. He knows exactly why Dalton is here. And he's terrified.

"Henry," Conrad starts.

"No! Not yet. Please give me another minute," Henry cuts him off. He needs another minute, another hour, another week even. He can't hear she's gone yet. Not yet. Maybe never. She's his everything. Their life together flashes before his eyes. Her smile was big, and her eyes bright. The way she made every day better. She made him better. She can't be gone. This can't be real.

"Henry, I'm so sorry," Conrad says, but Henry cuts him off again.

"No. No. Please," He whispers. "Not yet. Not yet."

Conrad steps closer, placing a hand on Henry's shoulder. "Henry, Bess-"

"Her name is Elizabeth." Henry cuts him off again. He has never been a fan of people calling her by any nickname. She is his Elizabeth. God's promise, God's oath. God's gift to the world. God's gift to him. "Her name is Elizabeth," Henry says again, forcibly through his teeth. He blinks away tears. He doesn't want to break down. Not now. Not yet.

"Elizabeth was found dead yesterday. She had been out meeting an informant, and there appears to have been an IED." Conrad says softly. His words are slow and weighted with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Henry."

Henry takes a moment and then another. And then his head falls into his hands as a sob rips through him. It feels as if he's been kicked in the chest. Like the wind has been knocked out of him, he feels like he can't breathe. It feels like he's falling from the sky, and it takes all of his strength to stop himself from crumpling into a puddle. How is he supposed to go on? How is this pain ever supposed to be bearable? His heart and mind have been ripped apart, and he can only cry. So he does.

When Conrad's hand lands on his shoulder again, Henry feels a rush of rage.

"Get out! Get out!" He shouts. "Get out!" He cries. He knows he sounds crazy. He doesn't care. He needs Dalton to leave. He needs to be alone. "This is on you! You had a million operatives you could've sent over there! You're the one who sent my wife into that war!"

Conrad turns to walk out, "I'm sorry." He whispers. However, he's unsure if he's asking Henry or God for absolution.

….

It takes Henry three hours to calm down enough to think. And when he does, the only thing he wants to do is call Elizabeth. He wants to call her and tell her how awful this is. He wants to say to her that he loves her so much. He wants to ask her what he's supposed to do next. Because he has no idea, he doesn't know how he's supposed to go on. He doesn't know how he's supposed to tell his children, their children. The children he watched her grow. The children he made with her out of their love. But he can't call her. So he does the only other thing he can think of. It takes two rings for Anne McCord to pick up the phone.

"Mom?" Henry chokes out, his voice thick with emotion. "Elizabeth... She... I don't know what to do." He lets out another cry. "She's gone."

He hears his mother gasp over the line. "Oh baby, I'm so sorry." Anne longs to be there to hold her son. To tell him it'll be okay. But she knows it won't be enough.

"Mama, what am I supposed to do?" He cries. He sounds so small and vulnerable that it breaks Anne's heart.

"I'm on my way Henry. I'm coming down there, okay? You go home to the kids. Don't tell them yet. Wait until I can be with you." She says.

"Okay. Okay." Henry says as he tries to get a grip on his emotions. "Thank you."

"Of course, baby. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mom."

…..

His house feels cold when he walks inside. There's no warmth in the air, and he doesn't know when that will change. He wonders if he will ever feel that way again. He hears Jason laughing in the playroom with Miss Emily, and his heart fractures into more pieces. He didn't know it could. Elizabeth will never listen to him laugh like that again. She will never watch him grow. She will never get to meet the people they become. That thought threatens to take him out once more. But he gathers himself, as his mother told him like Elizabeth would expect him to, and he smiles at his son.

"Hey buddy, where's my hug?" Henry asks. Jason drops his toys and runs into his arms.

"Daddy!" Jason says, raising his arms and prompting his father to pick him up. Henry does, and he holds him close. He prays for God to give him the strength to get through this. He's not sure if he can do this alone. He's still determining how he will do this at all. But he knows he has to be strong for his children. And for Elizabeth, he promised her he would be okay if this happened.