June 16, 1991
He goes back to the ship today- back to flying Mach 2 and missing her. He wasn't worried about her the last time he left. But he's worried about her now. She's still not telling him what's going on with her. And it's frustrating. She's the person he goes to with his problems, and he wishes she would talk to him.
"Are you going to be okay?" He whispers as she's snuggled into him on their couch. They're watching an old episode of Dallas. He doesn't think either of them is paying much attention to the show.
She nods against his chest, "Yeah, I'm gonna miss you, though,"
"I'm going to miss you, too," He says. He's conflicted. He wants to ask her what's going on, but he doesn't want her to close herself off from him. He hates the distance, physical and emotional, she has created. He doesn't want to lose her.
"I love you, Elizabeth. You know that, right?"
"Yes," She says, her voice quiet. She doesn't offer anything else, and he doesn't know what to say.
"Okay," He says, kissing the top of her head. He has twenty minutes left to hold her until he leaves for Dulles.
"Elizabeth," He breathes. He doesn't know what he wants to say. If what he thinks happened did, in fact, happen, they don't have enough time to talk about it. He's waited to long to ask the question. But if it did, he's not sure how to approach the topic.
She hums against his chest as she tries not to cling to him. She wants nothing more than to beg him to stay. Not that he can. Staying with her means, he'd be charged with desertion. That would get him a dishonorable discharge and up to five years in prison. He has no choice but to get his flight and make his transport back to the ship.
"Nothing," He sighs.
She tilts her head back, and she looks up at him. Her eyes are a little sad, but there's a hint of a smile on her lips, "You can tell me,"
He shakes his head, "I just love you. And I don't want to leave,"
"You have to,"
He nods. He doesn't want her to have to remind him that she doesn't have a choice in this matter. He has no choice in this matter. He always knew active service was the price he was going to pay for his degree. He wanted to go to college. He made it happen by taking the ASVAB and promising to serve his country after. He hadn't planned on falling in love while he was at UVA. He definitely hadn't planned on meeting the woman he sees as his future and his forever. He didn't plan on getting married while he was on active duty. And now, for the next four years, he has no choice but to leave her over and over.
"I'll write," He tells her.
She smiles, "Good, Captain," she uses his newest rank achieved via battlefield promotion. He blushes ever so slightly- still getting used to the rank.
"Elizabeth," he pauses again, unsure what else to say. There's too much to say and not enough time.
She backs away from his chest to look him in the eye, "I'll be fine. I promise," she says.
She presses a gentle peck to his lips. She pulls away, and he cups her face, trying to keep the contact and the intimacy. He can feel her hesitance and uncertainty, and he can't let her leave like this. He wants to tell her how scared he is of losing her. She is the most important person in his life, and he can't stand the idea of losing her.
"I love you. You're going to be here when I get back, right?"
"Of course," she promises, confused by his question.
"Good," He breathes, pulling her into his arms. He holds her in the hug tight, almost waiting for her to recoil or pull away. She doesn't. He presses a kiss to her temple.
"I love you, Elizabeth, so much,"
"You have to go, Henry," She tells him, sensing his reluctance. She reaches out, and her hand cups his cheek. She offers him a half smile. She pulls his face to hers for one more kiss this one a tad deeper than a peck. It's slow, and her heart pounds in her chest.
"Go, you have to go. I'll be okay. As long as you come back to me, I'll be okay."
"I love you," He says again, his lips ghosting over hers.
"I love you, Henry," She promises.
He lets her go, and he stands up. His whole body feels heavy as he grabs his duffle bag and slings it over his shoulder. He looks back at his wife, his heart pounding.
"I'll call you as soon as I can,"
She nods, "You better, Captain."
"See ya later, Lady," he tells the dog, "You too, babe,"
She laughs, and it makes his heart race. He hasn't heard that laugh since he's been home, and it feels good to hear it.
"See ya, Prophet," She teases.
He offers her one more smile before leaving her.
January 6, 2019
She seems exhausted when she walks in the door. He notices how quiet she is. She sets her purse down instead of letting it fall. She toes her shoes off instead of kicking them. Her shoulders are deflated.
"Hi," she breathes as she notices him watching her from his spot in the office. She gives him a small, sad smile.
"Hey," he says. He can tell she's been crying; her cheeks are patchy, and her eyes are still red.
She walks toward him. As she does, he backs his chair out from the desk. She falls into his lap. He wraps his arms around her, and her arms wrap around his neck. She rests her forehead in the crook of his neck. He places a kiss on her head and holds her in silence for a few moments.
"How'd it go?" he asks softly.
She doesn't know how to answer that. She's still processing how freely she was able to speak once she got going. She's processing her way through all of the resurfaced emotions. Dr. Sherman had given her a much-needed reminder that she was blameless for the rape. But she is still working on accepting that as truth. She still has to reconcile that truth with the shame and guilt she feels.
"It was... hard," she settles on, "But I think I needed to go,"
He holds her tighter, and she closes her eyes. She inhales his scent- the same cologne he's worn for thirty years mixed with the smell of laundry detergent and soap. It's calming and grounding.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
She nods, "It was a lot, but it was good,"
"Are you going to keep going?" He asks softly.
She can hear his worry oozing in his question. She knows he's worried- their conversation last night, the articles she saw him reading this morning, and now her appointment.
"It's probably a good idea," she surmises.
"I'm so proud of you," he says softly, holding her a little tighter. Years ago, he learned how to classify his worry. He had no choice. He was gone, and she was home.
"How are you doing?" She asks him because she's as worried about him as he is about her. She knows that he will internalize his feelings on the issue a lot like he did after she got back from Iran. Yes, he'll go to church or the gym or run errands, and yes, he'll be his happy self. But there's a part of him that will internalize and process all of his emotions without her support.
"I'm a little overwhelmed," he admits, "but I'm okay,"
She pulls away from his embrace and looks at his face. She can feel the tension in his body. She knows he's no better than she is. She wonders how long she let him be the rock in this situation. She needs to give him space and time to work through his feelings. She should've thought about this before she told him.
She pecks his lips, "Why are you working on a Sunday?"
He looks at his laptop and then back at her. He can't lie about it, "I asked Russell Jackson for the guest list of the party,"
She swallows and slowly removes herself from her husband's lap.
"You told Russell about my rape?" Her tone is measured but angry and hurt.
"No! Of course not. I didn't tell him why. I told him that I saw someone I recognized from my time at SAD, and I wanted to verify he wasn't on a vetted list,"
"You lied to Russell?" She says. She does not at all believe him. Her nerves are too shot to be a good lie detector at the moment. But she does know when it comes to deception, Henry tends not to lie. He'll omit, but he doesn't lie. She also knows Russell well enough to know he'll push on anything and everything. Russell doesn't like not knowing things. He doesn't like having blind spots.
Henry takes a deep breath, "I did not tell Russell the truth about why I wanted the list. Elizabeth, you know I would not do that to you. When he asked for clarification, I hid behind national security and double checking,"
"Why did you even ask for it?" She asks, crossing her arms.
"I feel useless. Okay? I knew something was wrong back then. And I ignored it. I didn't help you," he sighs.
She can feel his guilt. She looks to the floor, "I didn't let you help me,"
"Still," he shakes his head, "We can find him. I can find him."
"What if I don't want to," She whispers, "You shouldn't have done this without talking to me. I need time to think about-"
She stops speaking when she feels herself getting breathless. She pulls at the collar of her turtleneck. The air in the room feels like it's being sucked out.
"I'm sorry," He says, standing and placing his hands gently on her biceps, "I'm sorry,"
She takes a deep breath, her chest feeling tight. She leans into him as she takes a normal breath, "I just need to think about it,"
He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into him, "Okay,"
She buries her face in his chest, and he kisses the top of her head.
"Can we take a nap?" She asks into his chest as her lack of sleep and emotional day catch up with her.
"Yeah, babe," He says as he tempers his disappointment that his search for the scumbag will have to wait.