A/N: Hello!

This is inspired by 1x10 "Collateral Damage." I love this episode, I feel like it's one that really sets the tone for the entire series.

Also, thanks to whoever left the comment on my Tumblr that they missed my writing. I know that I should write for the fun of it, but sometimes the fun of it is knowing that people want to read. (Is that just me, or do all writers/creatives thrive off this affirmation/attention? Yiiiiikes!)

Hope you enjoy!

November 27, 2014

"And then you came home. You came home, and you told us you'd been in Jordan the whole time. Very happy to just…pick up where you left off. Coach my soccer team."

It's been weeks since that conversation at the State Department, with Elizabeth trying to keep her daughter a little quieter so that others would not be able to hear. Yet, her coolness came off as too cold, perhaps, because her daughter is still not back—not even for Thanksgiving dinner.

Henry brings in the turkey and sets it down on the table as Elizabeth stands—hovers, frozen—beside Stevie's normal seat. She doesn't notice him at first, not even when she hears the distant clunk of the metal pan hitting the hot pad. It's only when he reaches out for her hand from the end of the table does she startle out of her daze, out of replaying that conversation and all the memories attached to Iraq in general.

Her eyes shoot up and meet his, "Give it some more time," he says softly, mouthing it more than actually speaking it aloud. "She'll come around. You know she will."

"Should she?" She asks, pulling her hand out gently from underneath his and grabbing for the plates, setting one down in Stevie's place just in case—though she knows it would be a true miracle if she were to be here for this meal.

She feels Henry's eyes on her as she sets the rest of the table, and Alison and Jason are starting to file in with the drinks that have been freshly made, Ali with the bottle of wine in her hand that Henry had picked out for himself and Elizabeth. Elizabeth caught the bottle and glanced at the label, but she didn't even comprehend what it said. Instead, she thought of Stevie once more, and her heart felt like it was physically aching.

When Alison and Jason set everything down, she headed back to the kitchen and caught a picture that was on the fridge. Elizabeth was knelt down with her arm around Stevie's shoulders, holding her with the other hand while Stevie stood in her almost-too-big shin guards and soccer uniform. It had been her first year playing, and, ultimately, Elizabeth's first year coaching, though definitely not her last. The season ran from February until May, and Elizabeth was literally about to pop in this picture—Jason was born at 11:31 PM that same day.

She reaches absentmindedly for it and runs her fingers along the picture, briefly allowing the question to cross her mind of "How did I do that?" A question she almost never lets herself ask because it almost always brings herself to difficult answers. Her mind drifts back to that morning that the picture was taken.

"Are you sure about this?"

Henry was sitting on the bed, watching as she pulled her shirt down over her body. A bit of a struggle, but she got it pulled all the way down over her bump to tuck into her pants. "I promised Stevie," she managed to get out, feeling quite out of breath already.

His laugh annoyed her, but she didn't even look at him that time and instead turned away and walked into the bathroom to put her hair up. "Babe," he said, following her in. She watched him in the mirror as she ran a brush through her hair, pulling it up into a high and tight ponytail between her fingers and brush. "She's seven. It's not like breaking a promise at this point in her life will send her to therapy for the remainder of her life."

"You don't know that." She snipped, mostly sarcastically, but there was a little truth in it too. Henry didn't know if it would send her to therapy—it's always the littlest things we do as parents that affect our kids in the weirdest ways. "Besides, it's not like I'm completely incapacitated."

"But to stand out in the heat and coach her team?" He asked, sliding his hands around her waist and underneath her belly, lifting upward.

She leaned back against him a little, trying to keep her legs from buckling. All the weight being lifted like that felt so good—she was so tired of carrying this thing around, that was true. And he was a little right: it's hot. But still, she promised. "I'll make sure to stay hydrated, you know that." She said. "I coached her game last week and was at practice all this week."

He sighed a little and set his chin down on her shoulder, leaning his cheek in toward hers, "And you hadn't been having contractions then either, Elizabeth." He reminded, almost in a chastising way, but he knew better than that. She shot him a look as if to remind him that he should know better than that.

His face softened in the mirror—a sign he was giving in.

"I'll be alright," she said, tying her hair up tightly and tugging it for good measure. When Henry stood up and slowly released her belly, she wanted to groan—it had felt so amazing to have some of the pressure being relieved. But she didn't groan. She didn't express any kind of weakness in front of him, anything that would constitute her staying home from that game that day. She was determined to go and was determined to coach. It was the last game of the season.

"Babe?" She hears from the dining room—Henry gently checking on her to make sure she was going to not just run away or go off the deep end, most likely. She'd never felt much like going off the deep end, but these days she came close.

"Coming," she answers, walking to the oven and opening the door, leaning in and grabbing the pan with her bare hands. "Shit!" She yells, then immediately bites her lip and thinks of the kids hearing her say that. She and Henry had always tried to keep their cussing to a minimum, especially now that they're teenagers. She's gripping onto her right hand mostly, holding it tightly with her left because it's throbbing so badly.

When Henry comes to her side, he gently takes her wrist and turns her hand over, and she peeks down to see that it is bright red already. "Elizabeth…" he murmurs, partly shock, partly concern. He looks at her with her hand still in his fingers, "What happened?"

She takes a deep breath through her nose, trying to keep from bursting into tears—that's all she wanted to do anyway, aside from drive and find Stevie. Surely with the force of the State Department security agents, they could find her. "I just grabbed the pan," she admits, a slight drip of shame in her voice as she glances painfully at her fingers. Her middle and index fingers were already blistering.

Henry is rushing over to get some ice from the freezer, packing it in the kitchen towel and letting her hold on to it. "Go sit down, I'll get the macaroni." He says. She picks up on the concern in his tone and doesn't let go of that—she has to hold on to something, even if it's his concern for her. Something has to keep her grounded and not so airheaded.

She sits down at the table while Alison asks if she's okay, and Jason just watches with amusement. She wants to snap at him, wants to tell him to be more sensitive, but she can't bring herself to do it today. Today, she can only be a parent to the daughter who's not here, which doesn't feel much like parenting at all.

December 24, 2014

She slides the last package up underneath the tree, then looks over her work—the new Taylor Swift album for Alison and a film camera (something she didn't quite understand since she had grown up during a time when film was all they had, and digital was so much better), a Nerf blaster for Jason and a new game controller. The kids had other gifts, too, but those were the big ones they'd asked for, and the big ones Henry had helped find on Black Friday. She looks at Stevie's gifts, a nicely wrapped box that had Beats inside was the big gift she'd mentioned she wanted. Henry and Elizabeth bought them even though neither of them knew for sure if she'd even be here on Christmas.

She takes a deep breath and hears Henry coming back in, taking a brief leave of absence from gift wrapping for the night to go make the two of them hot chocolate. They'd always had this tradition ever since Stevie was born—staying up to wrap gifts (from Santa, back then) and then sharing some hot chocolate when finished to celebrate. Some years, the tough years, he would add a little peppermint Schnapps and they would get very cozy on Christmas Eve. Schnapps always did it to Elizabeth every single time.

Reaching up for the mug, she takes it with a tired smile as he sits down carefully. She's pleased when she takes a sip of the drink, finding the Schnapps in there once more. "Delicious." She whispers, taking another little sip to pace herself.

His hand is sliding around her midsection, pulling her upper body into his. She glances up, watching as he drinks his own hot chocolate and brings it back down, leaving a little chocolate mustache behind on his upper lip. "Quite." He agrees, letting his hand rest on top of her sweatshirt. Her free hand is sliding up to meet his, and his fingers wrap around hers.

"It's been a tough one." She whispers, acknowledging the Schnapps and the year that it so obviously is symbolizing. Only the tough years get Christmas Eve Schnapps.

He nods, "It has." He admits, and she takes note of his façade breaking just slightly. Throughout the whole time Stevie has been gone, he has stayed so strong. She's wondered multiple times, even, if she's just being too weak about the whole situation since, after all, Stevie is an adult, or if he's been caking it on to help her through. She sees, now, that he's been keeping his armor up nicely. "But we're still together, and we have a beautiful home, and beautiful kids."

She swallows thick, "Three beautiful kids." She whispers as her eyes settle on an ornament hanging from the tree. A picture of Elizabeth and Stevie—Jason in the background toddling around and Alison chasing after him. Henry had been taking the picture. They had won the championship that year for their district, and Elizabeth had been so proud to be the coach that brought them to that win. She'd never coached a fall season before, always having chosen the spring typically, but she had been gone that spring.

"I thought since I didn't get to coach in the spring that maybe you could do fall ball." She prompted Stevie in the car, handing her the flyer.

"I don't know," Stevie answered, looking down at it as she set her backpack between her feet. "I haven't practiced since last year because I knew you would be gone."

"You still could've played, honey."

"I didn't want to play for another coach."

Elizabeth looked over at her daughter while Stevie was looking out the window, and she took a sharp breath as she realized how grown her daughter looked. How much she'd grown just in the six months Elizabeth had been in Iraq—March to August. She'd missed Jason's birthday. Missed Ali's, too. She missed so much, and she was just feeling the repercussions of it more and more each day. "Well, fall ball, then?"

"I'll try out."

"I think you'll make it," Elizabeth smirked as she watched the road again, "The coach likes you alright."

Stevie looked over while Elizabeth was looking forward, and she saw her daughter smile out of the corner of her eye. That smile made it all feel alright for a little while—made her less guilty about going to the place that they never speak of, that she's not allowed to talk about. Made her feel a little lighter, somehow, about going to the place she'll never be able to think of or mention without some level of guilt. Iraq and that entire spring and summer she was gone will always be a heavy weight she has to bear by herself, even though little things and moments like this make her almost think it'll be okay.

Stevie was eleven that year, and it ended up being her last year of recreational soccer before trying out for the school team. Elizabeth didn't coach soccer again until Alison played a few seasons, but Elizabeth's schedule with teaching didn't allow for it much even after she'd finished her doctorate. She cherished that last year of Stevie-rec ball more than she'd ever be able to express.

She lays her head back further, resting into Henry's chest as she feels the warmth surge through her body. Her eyes shut, though they fill with tears, and then the water falls. "What if I drove her away for good, Henry?" She barely whispers, the hot chocolate in her hand shaking.

He rubs his hand across her midsection gently, and it only made her feel emptier than she'd been. Somehow that one gesture made her think back to when Stevie was right here, being carried around in her belly, safe from the world and from Elizabeth and all their combined mistakes. Though her body was warm inside and out, she felt a crushing coldness across her chest and shoulders. "You didn't," he whispers, "You told her the truth."

"What if I should've kept that from her? It's too much for me to handle some days, let alone our teenage daughter."

"Stevie is an adult."

"A young one, Henry. She's twenty."

"Still an adult." He reminds, looking down at her.

She opens her eyes and meets his, swallowing thick and taking another sip of her hot chocolate. "I've never regretted something so much." He must've believed her when she said it because he didn't even try to retaliate or come back with something to make her feel better. He just stayed silent, and let the room fill with its own heavy, yet needed, silence.

As time passed, his hand got heavier, and her body got warmer. She turned in his arms and set her empty cup beside them, looking into his eyes. "Take me upstairs?" She whispers, "Give me my Christmas gift?" She knew that she shouldn't use sex to take her mind off of things, but sometimes it was the only way to get her to go to sleep. She felt guilty more often than not about using Henry like that, but she thinks if she'd explain it that he'd oblige anyway. She just doesn't want to have to explain herself. Not right now. Not while there's peppermint Schnapps running through her blood and while Henry's hand is laying on her ass. Not right now.

"It's CHRISTMAS!"

They startle at the wakeup call that was probably heard throughout all of DC, but definitely throughout this whole house. Jason, taking his duties as the youngest seriously, occasionally, has woken everyone up at Christmas for years. Elizabeth appreciates that the older her kids get, the later they sleep in on Christmas. She glances over at the clock as she rubs the sleep from her eyes, squinting to unblur the numbers and see that it's 7:32. She looks back at Henry and pecks his lips, "Merry Christmas," she whispers, then the pang in her heart returns like clockwork. Stevie.

He says it back to her and she pulls the covers up over her bare chest a little more, shivering. Not from the cold, though it had snowed overnight, but from the emptiness of not having one of her kids at home for Christmas. And it being all her fault.

Henry must have noticed, though, and he rolls over on top of her and kisses her lips, "Don't make me postpone Christmas and force you to stay in this bed until you smile."

She raises her brows, "As tempting as that sounds…" she says, smirking, but not smiling, "I don't think it's going to take my mind off everything forever, Henry. Eventually we come down from the high and reality sinks in and I'm back to feeling like a terrible mother."

"You're not a terrible mother." He whispers seriously, looking down into her eyes.

She feels like she's being crushed under him, though he's holding his weight mostly off her. "I feel like it." She whispers.

He rolls off her and onto his side, rolling her body gently to her side, too, so that he can see her, presumably. "Would you have wanted your mom to lie to you in that situation?" He asks.

"My mom wasn't in the CIA."

"Just answer the question."

Elizabeth thinks for a second about if Suzanne had been in the same predicament Elizabeth was. "I think I wouldn't have," she admits, "But I would've never wanted her to be in that position in the first place."

"But she was, and you have to give her some grace."

Henry's words pierce her in ways she wishes they didn't, and she drops her eyes to the pillow he's resting his head on as a way of saying you're right without verbally saying it. She hates saying those words. Instead, she pecks his lips again, "Jason and Ali will be in here bouncing on us if we don't get up soon."

Elizabeth had poured she and Henry coffee while the kids were finishing up the traditional breakfast—pancakes with green and red sprinkles—and was watching them eat while Henry went around the house turning the Christmas lights on. Everything was sparkling once more, yet Elizabeth still carried this heavy weight in her chest, maybe in her stomach, too. Maybe her entire body felt the weight. "Can we open gifts now?" Alison asks, and Elizabeth looks at their plates.

"Sure," she says, though they hadn't hardly eaten anything. She's never held their kids back from opening gifts—she never had it in her to make them eat first. It was Christmas morning, for goodness' sake.

She walks out behind them as they start ripping into presents by the tree, and the door suddenly opens. She looks over and Henry does, too, and sees Stevie with a suitcase.

"Stevie." She breathes, setting her coffee down (almost dropping it down) onto the table. She stands up to her feet quickly and Henry is also briskly walking to the door to meet their daughter.

"Surprise, I guess." She says sheepishly, giving a slight smile. "I just…I didn't think I should miss Christmas." She admits, and Henry shakes his head.

"I agree," he says, "You definitely shouldn't. I made some extra pancakes for you in the kitchen."

She smiles, giving him a hug when he offers. "Thanks," she says, and he heads to the kitchen to warm them up.

Elizabeth stands there quietly, feeling a bit more ashamed than she'd imagined that she would in all the times she'd fantasized about this moment—Stevie coming home. "Well," she whispers, "I'm really glad you came."

Stevie looks at her and draws a deep breath, "I know things can be more complicated than they seem," she admits, looking down and then to her siblings who had not even missed a beat and kept unwrapping presents. "I don't quite understand why you did what you did," she says, looking Elizabeth in the eye now, "But I don't know that I have to in order to be home for the holiday with you and Dad and those two." She says.

Elizabeth looks over quickly at them, then back at Stevie and smiles softly, "I'm glad." She whispers, opening her palms in a gesture for a hug. Stevie accepts and lets herself be embraced, and Elizabeth shuts her eyes, feeling the tears start to well up. "I love you," she whispers.

"I love you too, Mom."