A/N: I don't know that I've ever done purposely shorter chapters, but I kind of like these little timestamps. If you can't tell, I'm totally experimenting in this story lol.

Hope you enjoy the chapter! :)

Elizabeth | Post-Extraction – 156 Hours

When Henry was discharged from the infirmary the day after he'd brought her pudding, she actually felt sad about it. She'd had so much more she wanted to say, wanted to thank him for—since he saved her life—and then he told her he was leaving the infirmary and she realized she'd never probably see him again.

They'd gotten her up out of bed the next day, too, trying to walk her around a bit without bearing weight on her ankle. They removed her catheter, they let her use a scooter for her ankle to prop up on while she went down the hall, and then today they had her practicing on crutches.

The soreness of the rest of her body had mostly worn off—she was still bruised in some places, particularly her eye, but the swelling had gone away, and she could open it again. The concussion, she supposed, was getting better since her head wasn't hurting as bad. When Henry had told her that they had matching concussions the night he brought her pudding, it made her laugh. Sarah Jordan came in not long after and said it was time for Henry to leave to go back to his room. Now she was stiff, though, from lying in the hospital bed so much and also from being beat up and undergoing surgery. Dr. Jordan explained, too, that it was from losing so much blood and her body basically thinking it was dying.

That made her stomach flip.

When Dr. Jordan told her a few hours ago that she'd be ready to be discharged, too, from the infirmary, Elizabeth's mind immediately went to Henry. Dr. Jordan was saying something else, and Elizabeth had no clue what she'd told her because she was just simply thinking about Henry and where he was and how soon she'd be in a different country again. Her mind had wandered so far that when she realized, she wasn't even sure how she'd gotten there.

Finally, as Dr. Jordan was leaving the room, Elizabeth looked at her and tilted her head, "Is Captain McCord alright?" She asked, then quickly stuttered out the next words, "I mean, I know he said he was going to be released from the infirmary and that even though he was grounded he'd be—"

"He's alright," Dr. Jordan interrupted, and Elizabeth looked up at her and smiled sheepishly, just barely moving her lips. "Last I heard, he was having to do some PT for his broken rib and was still in the debrief process."

"Right," Elizabeth answered, looking down, "Thank you, sorry for the bother. I just…he checked in on me so much it only felt right to check in on him."

Sarah was giving her this…look, and Elizabeth felt shy suddenly. Her cheeks got red and she reached for her remote, turning off the light, "I'd better get some shut eye," she murmured, not necessarily to Sarah but to fill in the silence as Sarah watched her, "Big day for me tomorrow." Her stomach tightened when she said it, and her head spun just slightly at the thought of having to debrief to her handler and then also debrief to Conrad. She'd let him down.

The last person on this earth left who cared about what she did and how she did it, and she let him down by letting her cover get blown.

"Right," Sarah said this time, nodding, "Goodnight, Eleanor."

"Goodnight," Elizabeth answered, feeling her ears ring every time she heard that name. Ever since Hariri had used it so many times, it just hurt to hear anyone else say it. She was ready to be back home where she was Elizabeth.

But also, it made her ache for Henry's company again—he did use her name, and it made her wonder even more where he'd heard it from.

She'd fallen asleep at some point after Sarah had left the room, but not without much struggle first. Her mind was doing flips, doing the tossing and turning her body was too stiff to do in this tiny, uncomfortable bed. The pain medicine had been dwindled down to almost nothing, weaning her off it before it was time to leave, and now she was left with pain and her mind eating away at her.

When she stirred again, the beeping of her heart monitor occasionally bothering her enough to wake her, she looked at the clock on the wall first and saw that it was almost midnight. A few hours until I have to debrief, she thought, then shut her eyes and sighed.

She heard a shuffling noise over to her right and froze for a moment, her eyes going wide before she finally gained the courage to look over. There he was—Henry McCord, sitting in that chair again and dozing off. His head popped up and he looked at her, "Oh," he murmured, "You're awake."

"You say that a lot," she mumbled quietly, a little smile coming to her lips. "I'm having trouble sleeping." She darted her eyes away from him again as she said that, regretting saying it at all. She didn't need to tell him these feelings, tell him what's going on inside her head. They'd be in two different countries again soon, two totally different lives.

But how, realistically, was she supposed to live like that away from the person who saved her life entirely?

He smiled when she told him he said "you're awake" a lot, and he straightened up in the chair in a clear attempt to keep himself awake. But then as soon as she admitted she couldn't sleep, he pursed his lips. "I can't sleep either," he admitted, "I keep thinking about Lacey."

She nodded a little. Lacey had been on her mind, too, though she didn't know the man. She hadn't had the guts to ask Henry about him at all—she knew it would crush her to learn about the man too much. But she decided that since Henry was obviously, visibly torn up about it, he must've been a decent guy.

And she felt the deep ache creep back over her.

She rubbed her forearm as though she were cold, though she felt like she was burning up underneath the blankets. "Where's home for you?" She asked, saying it as though they hadn't just had days apart and had just kept on with their conversation they'd been having after pudding and before Sarah came in and told Henry he had to go.

"Pittsburgh," he murmured, "You?" As soon as he asked, he shook his head, "I mean, I guess you probably can't say."

She bit her bottom lip and let her head fall over a little to look at him better, her lips touching her shoulder as she thought. "It can't hurt to know I'm from Virginia," she decided, swallowing hard. Conrad might beg to differ, she thought.

"Originally?" He asked, "I mean, I figured Virginia because…" his eyes did this puppy-dog look, but she realized he was just avoiding saying Langley.

She nodded, "Originally," she said, "My parents owned a horse farm about fifty miles out from D.C.," she explained, "I lived there until I was fifteen." She swallowed hard after that, thinking about the move they had to make to her aunt and uncle's little suburban home—a big shift from the horse farm. They weren't there for long though, of course, just the summer between her freshman and sophomore year of high school.

She'd gone from being in public school with parents who were alive and a brother who lived in the same house and rode in the same car on the way to school every day to attending boarding school in New York, having dead parents, and only getting to see Will on holidays.

"Wow," Henry murmured, looking at her and crossing his arms, leaned back in the seat. He looked so uncomfortable, and she thought how he could benefit, at least, from a footstool. "Did you like growing up with horses?"

"Loved it," she said, smiling immediately and picking her face up from her shoulder. "They're majestic creatures, you know? They just…they let you have power over them even though they're a thousand-pounds heavier than you are, at least, and then sometimes they just decide they don't want to give you that power." She looked down, biting her lip, "It was truly…I don't know…magical, growing up with horses."

He was silent for a moment and she looked over, thinking he'd maybe fallen asleep, but he was just watching her. She felt her cheeks redden again and was very glad she'd turned the lights out.

As she was just about to ask him why he's here, and how Sarah hadn't kicked him out yet, he answered her, "I've never been on a horse, surprisingly," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders innocently as he scooted around in the chair. He, once again, was trying to get comfortable from what she could tell.

She raised her brows and sat the bed up, the groan of the motor filling the space momentarily. "Really?" She asked, "Not even a pony ride?"

"Nope," Henry answered, finally deciding to sit on the edge of that chair and prop himself on his elbows and thighs. "My younger brother and sister have though—me and Mo were too old."

"Who's Mo?" Elizabeth asked.

Henry looked down, "Oh yeah," he mumbled, "Mo—Maureen—she's my older sister. And then I have Shane, my brother, and Erin, the baby of us." He waited a moment, then looked up at her again, "Shane and Erin are eight and ten years younger than me, so me and Mo were kinda the only kids in the house for a long time."

Elizabeth flicked her eyebrows up, "Sounds like that might've been hard," she said.

"Don't get me wrong," Henry answered, "I love them both, but it was weird trying to adjust. Especially when Erin was born. A house of five turning into six? It was a lot. But thankfully I was out most of the time for school and all."

She nodded, thinking of Will and how she hadn't talked to him in probably…well, when was Christmas? Only seven months ago, so it hadn't been too terribly long. "My brother was born when I was three, so I didn't have a ton of adjusting to do, but I remember feeling really…" she paused and pushed her teeth together, frowning, "Really set to the side, you know? I was my parents' pride and joy, and then there was two of us to share that title."

Henry smiled a little, "So you have a brother?"

She nodded, not even considering the fact that no one's really supposed to be learning information about her real life. Henry seemed safe, she didn't know how, but she trusted her analytical instinct on this one. "Will," she breathed, sighing when she said his name. It had been too long since she'd talked about him. "He'd been applying to med schools when I talked to him last," she explained, "His first choice was John Hopkins—I don't know if he got in or not."

Henry nodded quietly, and she knew he must've picked up on the vagueness of her conversation about Will. Even she could hear the discomfort in her voice, the strained sound, whenever she talked about her brother.

Elizabeth cleared her throat, straightening her back up and looking at Henry who still just seemed so uncomfortable. "Why are you here?" She asked, "And does Dr. Jordan not know?"

He looked like a little boy who had been caught stealing cookies, and he smiled as he looked down at his feet. "She doesn't know," he whispered, "I snuck in, but she also is off duty at ten."

"Oh right," Elizabeth mumbled. She wasn't sure whether her forgetfulness came from the concussion or the trauma, but either way, she was starting to get annoyed by it. "So why did you come here then?"

He shrugged, "Couldn't sleep," he admitted, "And we were back at the base again. I'd had to go with the platoon a few miles over for their training op, even though I was grounded. I still had to help out and all."

She nodded, studying him closely as he looked down at his hands. She swallowed hard, looking at the space at the end of her bed. "Why don't you just come sit at the end of the bed?" She asked, "It has to be comfier than that chair."

He looked up at her and then at her foot poking out from under the blankets, all wrapped up in her cast. "I'd be afraid to—"

"It's in a cast," she reminded, shaking her head just a little, "You're not going to bother it."

He looked at her again as though he were asking permission, and as though she needed to give it—again—she patted the bed toward the end.

"I think we could both use a chat," she admitted, her eyelids heavy even though she wasn't the least bit sleepy.

He finally stood to his feet after taking a deep breath, and she noticed him still favoring his left side as he walked over to the end of her bed. He kicked his shoes off and climbed up on the end, criss-crossing his legs and turning to face her as he leaned against the short footboard. "You're right," he murmured, "This is much more comfortable."

His sideways smile made her heart feel like it skipped, but she knew it didn't because it was still beeping normally on the monitor. But it did make her smile, the way he looked at her and smiled like that, and the fact that he was comfortable now. "Good," she said, moving her leg a little so he could really get comfortable. "Why did you come here?" She asked after a few moments that were getting to be an awkward silence, "Out of all the places, I mean…why here?"

"Like…Kuwait?" He asked.

She snorted, "No," she said, raising one brow at him as he shied away from looking at her. "My room."

"Oh," he said.

She raised both brows again, "You say 'oh' a lot," she observed.

It was his turn to snort, "Because you leave me not knowing what to say a lot," he admitted.

And then, it was her turn to shy away from looking at him. She bit her lip before she caught herself doing so and cleared her throat again. "You didn't answer my question," she said more seriously, crossing her arms over her chest. She suddenly felt very naked in this hospital gown with nothing else underneath it.

"Why did I come here?" He asked, almost as though he were asking it to himself. She nodded, trying to press him a bit, but he looked down and sighed, shrugging, "I don't really know," he admitted. "I—" he stopped himself and looked up at her with only his eyes, then let his face follow slowly. His tongue was dragging along his teeth inside his closed mouth, and she felt even more naked under his gaze like this. She tucked her arms in closer. "Can I be honest with you?"

Her brain stopped working for a moment, everything went silent, even the heart monitor, and she got scared for a moment that she'd died. But then she came back and nodded, "Sure," she said, "You saved my life, it's the least I can do," she teased, trying to bring the lightheartedness back.

He smiled big, and the way he reacted made her feel proud. He thinks I'm funny. She blinked the thought away. He's also going to be in Kuwait while you're back Stateside, Elizabeth. Don't get attached.

"I feel this…pull toward you," he said boldly, and it startled her when he said it with such confidence. His voice sounded brave, but his body language—the way he was picking at his sweatpants and looking down into his lap—said he was anything but. "I lay awake at night because…well, a lot of things. But I just keep wondering what you're doing and if you're okay, so…I don't know…I just come here."

She swallowed hard and looked down, her nails picking at the edges of her nailbeds. "Oh," she said.

"You're using my line," he said immediately.

It made her smile, and she looked at him briefly before looking down. She let the silence fill the room a little too full, like a balloon that's about to pop, and she leaned back in her bed a little. After about a minute passed of total quiet, she looked at him again, "I'm glad you came," she admitted, her voice betraying her head. She wasn't supposed to say any of this. "Because I can't sleep either—especially now that they've taken me almost all the way off the pain medicine. I'm…" she twisted her lips, stopping herself when her mind flashed back so clearly to Hariri and that closet, to his men hitting her over and over. The way they looked at her as though they were going to undress her made her feel sick again, and she took a sharp breath.

"I'm having trouble sleeping, is all," she finally said, though it wasn't what she was going to say. She was going to tell him about how she's thinking about Lacey, too, even though she didn't know him. She was thinking about him and the other man who died on the mission. She was thinking about Henry's ribs and the concussion Hariri's son gave him. She was thinking about the turmoil he must feel knowing he killed a child.

And ultimately, she was thinking about Henry. Much of her time spent thinking was about Henry if not about Hariri and what happened to her. And she felt…uneasy about that, at best.

"I think that's only natural," he admitted.

They let the silence fall again and she swallowed thick after a few moments, starting to move to get up.

"Whoa," he said, watching her legs swing over the edge of the bed. "Don't you need help?"

She nodded to a scooter over in the corner, "That thing has been my help for the past three days," she said, sighing as she grabbed the crutches from the head of her bed. He must not have noticed her new hardware. "And these have been my help all day today—Dr. Jordan helped me get steady on them almost this entire day."

She stepped down onto her good foot and stumbled forward a little, almost putting her casted foot down until she felt a hand wrapped around her waist. She froze, staring at the uncomfortable chair with the imprint in it from where he'd been sitting, unable to look back at him. She grabbed her crutches and positioned them underneath her again, and she stood up straight as he let his hand off her waist.

She swallowed hard, "Thanks," she mumbled under her breath, and she wasn't even sure he'd actually heard it since she barely even said it.

He was watching her like a hawk the entire way she hobbled around her bed, "I'll be right back," she said, "Just have to go to the bathroom."

He was turned around, still watching her of course, and he leaned over on his elbow backwards a little. "Are you sure you don't need help?" He asked, looking like he was ready to spring from the bed and grab her at any moment.

She nodded, "I'm alright," she said, "If I don't come back in a few minutes, come look for me." She said it as a joke, but she also kind of meant it—she was still dizzy enough on occasion that it was hard for her to think, let alone operate crutches properly.

When she came back after hobbling down the hall to the bathroom, she saw Henry lying there on the bed, his elbow still half propped underneath him, but his eyes were closed. She smiled a little and quietly made her way to the bedside, propping her crutches up again and climbing in the bed. She was careful to not hit him with her cast, but all the movement woke him up.

His eyes popped open at her as he sat up, rubbing his cheek where it had been resting on his shoulder awkwardly. "I must've fallen asleep."

"Mhm," she said, smiling a little as she pulled her blanket back up over her. "I was trying to not wake you."

He smiled a bit, too, and he looked down. "I got really sleepy when you left," he admitted. "Maybe I should go back and sleep now…"

She swallowed thick and looked toward her door, then looked down at Henry and knew that tomorrow would probably be the last day she'd ever see him. "Or," she offered, her heart pounding in her throat as she waited to say it, "You could just sleep here."

He looked at her wildly, and she cleared her throat.

"Because obviously you fell asleep here, so that means you must be able to sleep in this bed…" she said, trying to backtrack to make it not sound like she just wanted him here. She felt warm whenever he was here, something she hadn't felt in years, let alone in this infirmary. She felt like she was safe here, somehow, when he was near her.

It's because he saved your life, she told herself, fingering the edge of the blanket, you're always going to feel this way because he saved your life. He's your literal hero.

She cringed when she thought of that, then felt awkward all over again because Henry hadn't said anything about her proposition.

But when she looked up, she noticed he was asleep again, and she smiled. "Goodnight," she whispered, just barely moving her lips so she wouldn't wake him. She laid her bed backward, the motor not even waking him, and she kept it up just enough to be able to see his face. He was laying awkwardly to the side, and she wished he could've just had a bed rolled in here, but he seemed at peace.

Her eyes closed once, a heavy blink, and then they closed again and didn't open until morning.