A/N: This is mushy. I am sorry lol.

Also, boundvariable, the continuity point made me crack up because, yes...she totally would've known. It's the stuff like that that makes me wonder if my brain works LOL.

Hope you all enjoy!

Elizabeth | Post-Extraction – Day 21

Elizabeth woke to the sound of Henry snoring next to her. For a moment, she just laid there, looking up at the ceiling and letting her body adjust to being awake. Her body felt sore, a combination of last night's events and the bone-deep exhaustion that she hadn't fully been able to shake since Kuwait. She felt his arm draped over her waist, and she looked down at him and smiled tiredly at his smushed face in the pillow.

I'm marrying this man today, she thought to herself, and her breath hitched immediately. She turned back toward the ceiling and briefly looked at it before shutting her eyes and exhaling slowly, her nerves already getting the best of her.

What if I mess this all up? What if I break his heart?

She opened her eyes lazily again and shielded her eyes a bit from the sunlight leaking through the blinds. Taking another deep breath and exhaling through her mouth, she suddenly realized she really needed to brush her teeth, and also really could stand to lie down for another three to five business days.

But they had a busy day today—today was the day they'd get married, and it was also the day they would move into that apartment. Something about listing those items off in her head made her think that the marriage was just another item on her list of to-dos, and it irked her for a moment before turning on her side and gently pushing Henry's shoulder.

"Henry," she whispered.

He shot up quickly, his head off the pillow and looking in all directions in a span of two seconds. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

She swallowed thick, realizing the weight of his situation. He's traumatized, too. Clearing her throat, she shook her head softly, "Nothing's wrong," she whispered, "Everything's alright, actually. We're getting married today."

He laid his head back down on the pillow tiredly as if to recalibrate himself, closing his eyes. And then he smiled, and it was such a lazy grin that it made her smile, too. "We're getting married today," he whispered back, peeking one eye open toward her as the other was smushed into the pillow.

She bit her lip as he reached over and tugged her body toward him, into his, "We don't even have rings, you know," she whispered, looking up at him.

"We can fix that," he said softly. That's Henry, she thought while looking at him, always prepared with the answers, always knowing how to figure it all out. He always seemed to have a solution to everything, and part of her loved that. The other part of her felt infuriated by it because he had a way of making everything feel a little trivial, though she's not really sure he meant to.

She sighed softly and closed her eyes, "I have the worst headache," she admitted.

Immediately, his hands moved up her back and he pressed his fingers gently into the sides of her neck, rubbing them into the tense muscles there. She closed her mouth tight and pushed air into it, holding it there, feeling like her cheeks were going to pop. When she opened her eyes, she saw him looking at her as he was massaging her neck, and it sent a shudder up her body.

I am so in love with this man, she thought, watching his eyes as he carefully studied her, making sure he wasn't hurting her but trying to apply enough pressure. She felt chills go down her arms, too, and she bit in on both lips to try and hide her smile. He didn't ask what she was smiling about, but instead he just huffed a little laugh, and it made her smile more. And I so could have his babies.

The thought took her by surprise, the way it just jumped into her head like that. Her smile faded and her eyes felt a little wider, but she noticed him raising his brow just slightly, and she tried to recompose herself. But there was this feeling in her ribs, now, and she couldn't shake it. She couldn't ignore it, and it couldn't be ignored.

She had never wanted kids. Not really. Not in the way other girls did. When she was in elementary school, her friends would play with baby dolls and play house and play mom, but Elizabeth was always playing with building blocks and shied away when her friends would try to get her to play with the dolls. Something about holding the babies always made her feel uncomfortable, like even though they were fake, she would somehow hurt it.

When Will was born, she was only three. She remembered her parents handing him to her vaguely, and she had come to think more often that she just remembers the way they looked in the picture that was taken that day rather than the actual memory itself. Will didn't become fun for her until he could run and play—up until then, all he seemed to do was cry and eat. And cry more. And take her parents' attention away from her.

And as she got older, she still never liked the thought of being a mother. Her roommate at Houghton always fantasized about having a child someday with her then-boyfriend (Elizabeth often wondered if they were still even together). Elizabeth would just sit on her bed and study her trigonometry textbook, not even half-listening to Alicia blabber on about what it would mean to her to be a mom someday.

"You're tense all of a sudden," Henry whispered, pulling her out of her deep thoughts.

She looked at him with wide eyes, "You're marrying a tense woman," she admitted quietly, and it got a smile from him so she smirked.

She rolled out from underneath his hand and took a deep breath, sitting up on the edge of the bed and stretching before putting her boot on. Her mind briefly went back to its prior thoughts while she felt him moving to get out of the bed, too.

Do you want kids? Or do you want to have his kids? The thoughts baffled her altogether, but what baffled her even more was the realization that she, indeed, wanted his kids. Something about that felt…primal. She had this burning feeling in her stomach, the place under her ribs, that made her want to be tied to him in that way.

She looked back over her shoulder and he was waiting to get up, so she finally got her crutches and walked to the bathroom. Once she came back out, she tapped the wall, "All yours," she said.

"Thanks," he murmured with a little smirk, kissing her as he walked by her.

She bit her lip when he pulled away, his hand sliding around her back.

"We're getting married today," he whispered once more, a smile gracing his face.

She bit down harder and smiled, nodding softly, "We're getting married today," she whispered back. Her body felt like it was shaking on the inside—all with nerves, she supposed. It's pretty drastic to just wake up and marry someone.

They made it to the jewelry store just as it was opening. The person behind the counter made her feel uncomfortable more than once, the way he was watching her move around more than he was watching Henry. It made her feel rigid, and finally when she saw the band she wanted to get Henry, she told the man. He grabbed it from the case and didn't say anything, but when he took it out and set his hand on the counter so she could look at it, he raised a brow, "Quick marriages don't last," he murmured.

She looked at him and frowned, trying to understand if that's actually what he had just said. When he didn't flinch, didn't try to correct himself, she felt an anger boil up inside her. "What do you think's going on here?" she asked.

He shrugged innocently, "Do you want the band?"

"I don't know," she almost snapped, then felt Henry's hand sliding across the small of her back.

"What's going on?" he asked. He'd been over in the women's bands, looking for something that would match the engagement ring he'd given her.

She still eyed the man behind the counter, "I think this man thinks I'm some sort of…I don't know. Jezebel."

"Oh no, no," the man said, looking at Henry now and waving his hand, "I'm just—"

"He told me quick marriages don't last." Elizabeth was still staring him down.

Henry's hand slid slowly off of her back, "Who says this is a quick marriage?" Henry asked, and she watched as he leaned over the counter just slightly, "I've known this woman all my life."

Elizabeth almost raised her brows at his smooth lying skills, but she felt like she'd known him all her life, so what was the harm? Especially to say it to this man who was clearly being judgmental.

Once they'd gotten the rings—at a little bit of a discount since Henry had put up such a fight with the man—they traveled to the courthouse.

There was nothing big, nothing grand. Isabelle, Conrad, Lydia, Mr. Rawlins, and Mrs. Rawlins were all there when they arrived, though, and Elizabeth raised her brows. "How did they know to—" she started, then stopped and looked over at Henry. "You called them?" she asked quietly, her mouth hanging open just slightly.

He smiled innocently and shrugged, "I might have," he said, parking the truck that Rawlins' had been letting him borrow. He'd mentioned something last night about wanting to go back to Pittsburgh and drive his own car back.

Her gas station coffee that she'd begged for and then didn't drink because it was disgusting was still in her hand, and she almost dropped it because she'd briefly forgotten about it. "Thank you," she whispered, then looked at the five of them standing there and waiting in front of the courthouse.

Suddenly, the least romantic marriage felt incredibly romantic, and it was thanks to Henry pulling strings behind her back. He really meant it when he said he'd show me romance all my life. She looked over at him while she was getting out, studying him from the back once more as he slid out and she did, too.

Once they greeted their group awaiting them, they'd gone inside and announced they were there to get married, and the clerk obliged. But then the clerk did not so willingly oblige to having five witnesses—Henry charmed her with his little flirtatious grin that she didn't even know he had stored away in him, and soon enough, they were in the judge's room with the other five. Six, if you include Conrad and Lydia's baby that was obviously making Lydia so tired she could barely stand up.

The judge was an older man who had a deep voice and a no-nonsense attitude, performing the ceremony like he had a lunch break to get to even at ten in the morning. The five friends clapped when they said their I Do's and slipped the rings on each other's fingers, and Elizabeth felt giddy. There were very few times in her life she could say she'd felt that way, but that day, standing in front of the grumpy judge and their friends while holding Henry McCord's hands—that was one.

As they walked from the courthouse, the realization hit her: I'm not alone anymore. All the times she had to move herself in and out of UVA dorms and apartments, the time she'd had to move herself into the apartment she got when she worked for the CIA, all the dinners she'd cooked for one and the silent mornings and silent nights—they were all gone. She looked over at him and felt a rush of emotion hitting her, pressing up on her good foot's toes and kissing him. "I love you," she freely admitted—three words they hadn't said much of.

He looked down at her and smiled, "I love you too, Mrs. McCord."

She felt heat rush to her cheeks as she bit her lip. I kind of like that.

Something about being his…she'd always been his to take care of, she supposed, but now she's fully his, and he's fully hers. There was no pressure from government conspiracies or government organizations causing them to push themselves together and care for one another. It was just them, being in love, wanting to be with each other full or not at all.

When they got back to the safehouse, they had Isabelle and Mr. and Mrs. Rawlins there to help them back. Conrad had to get to work, and Lydia was too tired to be of much help, but they couldn't even try to tell the other three that they didn't need the help. When Rawlins told them they were all going to follow Elizabeth and Henry back to help them move into the new apartment, they meant it.

There wasn't much to move out of the safehouse, of course, but Elizabeth's clothes. Henry's—minus what was finally sent over from Kuwait—were all in storage where he'd left them before deploying. Same with his mattress, bed frame, any furniture he'd taken with him from his last apartment. From what Elizabeth gathered, he didn't have much, but she had enough to get them by anyway.

When she hobbled into the bedroom, though, she saw him folding her clothes. She realized immediately he'd taken them from the dryer, "You fold clothes?" she asked incredulously. She leaned against the doorframe a little, setting the toe of her boot down on the floor.

"I'm full of surprises," he said, glancing back at her and smirking.

Elizabeth hummed, stepping into the bedroom and plopping down on the bed next to the pile of clothes he'd already folded. "You are," she stated, "Like how you somehow managed to rope five people into coming to a courthouse on such short notice," she said, raising her brow at him as she picked up a pair of her underwear off the top of the unfolded pile. She noticed what she'd grabbed and felt her cheeks get a little red. Telling herself that he was her husband now wasn't really working.

But he didn't seem to care. "I'm persuasive," he answered.

She quickly folded her underwear and set them aside and murmuring, "Mhm." When she looked up, she caught a glance of his wedding ring. His wedding ring. Her own ring felt foreign still, unfamiliar, but solid and real. His ring looked like it had belonged there forever.

He picked up a pile of folded clothes and set them down into her bag as she worked on some pajama pants, and she shimmied off the bed and put the pajamas, underwear, and a few other pieces she'd folded down into the bag. "Alright," she said softly, hopping around on her leg.

He looked at her as though he realized something suddenly, and he grabbed her waist, "Babe," he breathed, and it caught her attention as she frowned. When she looked at him, he grinned, "One more kiss, Mrs. McCord?"

She huffed a little laugh, trying to not let her butterflies show, but reached up and pecked him on the lips. "You're going to be insufferable about this whole Mrs. McCord thing, aren't you?" she teased. She had to tease, but she secretly really loved the name.

"Oh," he breathed, raising a brow as she grabbed her crutches and he picked up her duffle, "Absolutely."

She laughed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she mumbled, "T'es bête," walking away toward the door.

"What?" he mumbled. She stopped and looked at him, "What'd you say?"

"T'es bête," she repeated simply.

"You speak French?" he asked.

She snorted, "Of course," she said matter-of-factly, "Among Arabic, Farsi, German, and I can talk to a toddler in Spanish."

He laughed and walked toward her with the duffle, not struggling one bit even though she knew it was heavy—it was packed full of all her clothes that were retrievable from her apartment—the ones that weren't ruined from the place being ransacked.

"You're full of surprises," he said as he gently walked past her, raising her brows and keeping his eyes on her until he could no longer, having to walk in front of her.

"Are you two lovebirds finally finished?" Isabelle asked exasperatedly, looking up from her place on the couch opposite Rawlins. He was on the other end while Mrs. Judy was cleaning up the kitchen.

"Oh," Judy breathed, "You sound just as bad as Chuck. Leave those two kids alone."

"Kids," Isabelle snorted under her breath, rolling her eyes in Rawlins' direction.

"Ha-ha," Elizabeth said dramatically, "Yes, we're finished."

All of them started to file out of the safehouse, grabbing a few small boxes of things Elizabeth had laying around the safe house that had come from her apartment, though most of her stuff was also in storage and being moved as they stood there by the movers into their new apartment. Their apartment, she thought. The idea still felt odd.

Once it was just Henry and Elizabeth in the safehouse, he pressed a kiss to her lips, "Off to our beginning," he said.

She looked up at him and stared for a moment, then just smiled and raised her brow as she tapped her hand on his chest, "You're good, Mr. McCord," she said coyly, turning and hobbling toward the door on her crutches, "Reeeeeeal good."

He grabbed the doorknob for her and she started walking out. "You know," she said, "I think I could really go for a quesadilla," she said, then furrowed her brows. "God," she mumbled and looked at Henry, "I haven't thought about a quesadilla in a long time."

He raised his brow, "That reminds me, Madame Polyglotte" he said in a slightly exaggerated French accent, "What's your favorite food?"

"I have to pick just one?" she asked, walking carefully out toward the truck. He opened the door for her while the others got in their cars, already going down the road.

He laughed, "I guess you don't have to pick one," he said, "One food group."

"Italian," she answered immediately, then groaned loudly, "I really love Chinese though…"

She got into the truck as he was still laughing at her, and finally he just set his hand on her thigh, and it made her stop thinking about food. Everything in her body blinked, all her internal dashboard lights, and she took a deep breath. "Chinese is good," he said softly. "Have you ever been to China Garden?"

She thought for a second, "I usually go to the Great China downtown."

"China Garden is so much better," he said, pressing his lips to her cheek before closing the door and getting in on the other side.

Once they'd picked up some pizza for everyone—since they'd decided they needed to try both Chinese places at once to really get the full vote—they headed to their new apartment where Rawlins and Isabelle were already instructing the movers to get Henry's couch up the elevator. "Wondered if you two got lost," Isabelle said sarcastically, folding her arms across her chest.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Rawlins got his words out first, "Leave 'em alone," he said in a mocking tone, looking at Judy, "After all, you shoulda seen 'em before they got married. Now they're gonna be worse than two foxes in a den—we're lucky they came at all."

Her eyes widened and she looked over at Henry whose face turned red, his body frozen in place as he stayed with his hands on the pizza box, resting it on the counter. Judy looked over, "Charles Rawlins!" she scolded, smacking him on the leg with her broom that Elizabeth didn't even know where she'd gotten, "Don't you dare!"

He chuckled, "You shoulda seen these two," he said to her, though he was shielding himself from the broom. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were like a couple of rabbits," Elizabeth couldn't decide if she was a deer, a fox, or a rabbit at that point—but she'd like to be anything other than what she was right now: mortified. "The rate they were goin', I figured they'd be multiplyin' faster than we could blink an eye."

Henry looked over at Elizabeth with wide eyes, his mouth partially open, and she took a forced breath, "Well," she breathed, looking at Judy for help. She'd turned away and had kept sweeping at some point, but Elizabeth was too appalled to have noticed. "I'd say it's time for some pizza," she announced, and Isabelle just snorted behind her. She turned and looked at her friend.

"What?" Isabelle asked, "It is kind of clear that you two are really into each other," she admitted as the rest of them were heading over toward the counter, and Mrs. Judy was breaking off paper towels, "I mean, I saw it and I'd only seen you two together yesterday right before he proposed, of all things."

Elizabeth sighed and rested tiredly against her crutches, feeling all the energy drained from her now that she'd been so embarrassed. "I can't help it," she mumbled.

Isabelle looked at her and stood in front of her a bit, crossing her arms and blocking her view of the kitchen, "Elizabeth," she whispered, her tone softer and more caring now, "Are you happy?" she asked.

"Do you have to ask?"

"No," Isabelle said, "But I want to hear you say it."

She looked around Isabelle's shoulder at Henry who was making his way awkwardly through the kitchen, looking like a bit of an oaf now because he'd been so embarrassed, too. "He makes me happy," she admitted quietly, "And he makes me feel safe, and…" she stopped herself, the word on the tip of her tongue. But then she decided to say it anyway—because as they'd been reminded too many times, tomorrow wasn't promised. "And he makes me feel loved," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders and looking right at Isabelle again, "I can't explain it—it doesn't make sense. I've tried," she said, shaking her head, "Believe me—"

"I know," Isabelle said, "I believe you, Elizabeth Adams, have tried to pull every piece of logic you could from this situation."

"McCord," she said, smirking.

"Elizabeth McCord," Isabelle said sarcastically, rolling her eyes a little and smiling, "And I know it's probably driving you crazy, too, that you can't make it work in your head."

She nodded a little and swallowed thick, "Sometimes I feel like I'm on the edge of something big that I'll regret for the rest of my life," she admitted shakily, then contorted her lips, "But I was miserable without him the, what? Two weeks we spent apart?" Isabelle nodded as though she'd noticed how miserable Elizabeth was, and she probably had. Elizabeth knew her mood was terrible, but she'd not said anything at all about Henry other than he'd helped her out.

And he showed me I mattered to more than just the government, she thought as Isabelle studied her a second longer, and he reminded me what family meant.

That one startled her, but Isabelle patted her on the shoulder. "Get some pizza," she instructed, "You're going to need some energy to unpack all this shit." As though, somehow, Elizabeth didn't have a bunch of people standing around and waiting to help her unpack.

"Hey," Elizabeth defended, "I don't have that much now," she reminded her, raising a brow at her friend pointedly as if to say, remember how they ransacked my apartment and ruined over half my things? She looked at Henry again after Isabelle playfully rolled her eyes and went over to get a paper towel and a slice of pizza. Henry winked at her, and it made her feel like her arms were mush trying to hold herself up on these crutches she was so sick of.

Once she'd eaten and they'd all brought up more items, Elizabeth found her ankle starting to ache after she'd been putting too much pressure on it. The doctor told her no walking in the boot before physical therapy, but she felt a little too gung-ho and had foregone the crutches for a moment too long. Now, Henry is giving her a look as he and Rawlins rest for a moment with the mattress, letting Rawlins catch his breath.

"You alright?" he asked, watching her lean against the couch heavily.

She suddenly felt a bit self-conscious and tried to straighten her posture, but she was exhausted and the pain was starting to get to her. "Yeah," she answered, lying a bit. It wasn't that she was not alright, per se, she just wasn't doing great.

"You should prop your foot up for a while," Henry said to her while he grabbed the mattress, Rawlins telling him he's ready. "You know your toes are going to get swollen if you don't."

Elizabeth watched as he effortlessly carried the mattress toward the hall.

"Turn it—no," Henry said to Rawlins as Elizabeth was sitting down on the couch, actually heeding his advice and propping her foot up on the coffee table from her apartment. "The other way," he said.

"That's what I'm doing, Hank," Rawlins shot back, walking backwards and trying to turn the corner into the bedroom.

"I told you two to take the hinges off the door first," Judy shouted from the kitchen where she was wiping Elizabeth's dishes off before putting them on the counter. "Honey," she said, grabbing Elizabeth's attention away from watching Henry struggle to get Rawlins to follow direction. She snapped her head toward the older woman, her toes throbbing, "Where do you want these?"

Elizabeth looked at the plates strung around the counter, "Oh, you don't have to worry about it," she said softly.

"I'm here and need a job," Judy said, giving her a warm smile. Elizabeth just then noticed that Judy's hair was piled up on top of her head just like one of the old ladies at UVA used to do. "And you're lookin' like you've worn yourself out."

Elizabeth exhaled, caught by her, too. "I just," she paused, resituating her leg awkwardly with her hand, "I mean, I may have…tweaked it a little." She admitted it so quietly she wasn't even sure she'd said it at all. "It'll be fine, it's just swelling right now."

The truth was, Elizabeth hadn't done this much physical activity since the kidnapping. She'd not been walking, of course, because of her ankle. She'd not been picking heavy items up and propping them on her arms. She'd only been exercising her mind over the past month, and it was tired, too. Everything seemed to be shutting down on her.

She stood up after telling Judy where she could put the plates in the cabinets, quietly leaving the apartment without making any fuss. She went down the elevator holding her breath most of the way down from the seventh floor, and when she got to the lobby and breathed again, she felt the tears rush to her. She blinked them away.

You can't even unpack your own house, she told herself as she went out the doors on her crutches, trying to not move too fast and slip across the tile. How the hell are you going to tell yourself you're not broken when you can't even do that? She gripped the crutches tighter and walked to the moving truck, but stopped herself at the bench on the sidewalk first and eyed it.

After a few moments of standing there, she made the decision, finally, to sit down and prop her leg up on the bench. She crossed her arms over her chest and blinked a few times to get rid of the burning sensation in her eyes, the tears that were wanting to spill over, and she tilted her head back to look up at the sky.

It was bright blue, as always, but the clouds were shading it enough so that it wouldn't be too hot on this summer day. She appreciated that—she was already warm from her exertion just to get down here. She closed her eyes for just a moment until she heard footsteps, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Henry almost standing over her and looking down at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked again, this time his voice more pointed.

She shielded her eyes from the sun to get a better look at him, ignoring the ache in her leg and foot surrounding her ankle. "Peachy," she murmured with a smile, trying to get him to lay off.

He folded his arms and tilted his chin down, raising his brow. It struck her then how much he looked like an authority figure—a Marine who's no longer a Marine, a captain who's no longer a captain. "I may have only married you a few hours ago," he started, "But I have been able to tell since the time you woke up in the infirmary when you're not okay. Remember?"

The ache in her chest told her she definitely remembered.

She unshielded her eyes and tucked her hand back into her arm around her chest, "My ankle's hurting," she admitted, though that was only part of it. She'd gotten flustered, too.

She could feel his pants brushing up against her leg when he sat down, and she looked over to see him examining her boot. "Have you been walking on it?" She didn't answer, and he just sighed, "Elizabeth…"

She gritted her teeth, "It's hard not being able to even unpack your own apartment," she said.

"That's why we have friends here," he said, "And a big strong husband."

She looked at him and relaxed her jaw slightly, but just for a moment before it returned to tight. "I'm not a damsel in distress," she reminded, "I never have—"

"You're not," Henry assured, placing his hand gently on her knee. She looked down at it and noted how it covered her entire kneecap. "I have never looked at you that way, even in the times when it was hard not to."

She swallowed thick and looked away toward the truck, "Why'd you marry me?" she asked after a moment.

He was silent, and she looked back at him to see him staring at her once more. "Are you being serious?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"You can't be serious."

"I'm serious, Henry," she said more sternly, "Why did you marry me? I'm asking."

He laughed a little and shook his head slightly, turning his face forward for a moment. She watched as he was looking up at the building, probably where their window was, but she couldn't quite tell because the sun was shining in her eyes. "I asked my mom why she married my dad," he said, catching her off guard and making her furrow her brows. "Because he's, quite frankly, not a great guy. Not all the time. He has…" Henry shook his head, "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that she said she married him because she didn't want to be anywhere he wasn't." He looked down at his hand that wasn't on her knee, the one in his lap that was fumbling with the hem of his shorts, "And I don't want to be anywhere you aren't, Elizabeth. Nothing feels right when you're gone—I'm always wondering what you're doing and where you are if you're not right there. I'm wondering if you're feeling okay and if you're happy. I am always thinking about you."

"But that doesn't explain why you married me," she answered softly after a moment of taking all that in.

He exhaled, a little frustrated sounding but also amused. His thumb stroked the inside of her knee absentmindedly, "Of course it does," he said. "I married you because I love you. Because you drive me insane but in the best way. Because when I think about the rest of my life, I can't see it without you in it. And when I tried to see it that way," he paused and pursed his lips, shaking his head and looking over at Elizabeth, "I hated what I saw."

Elizabeth swallowed hard and locked onto his eyes for a few more moments. The warmth in her ribs felt like it had come back, and she took a deep breath, "Okay."

"Okay?" he asked.

"Okay," she said simply.

He let out a small, breathy laugh before standing up and kissing her on the forehead. He pulled away and looked at her for a moment. Before she could think of something clever to say, something to deflect or tease or push the moment aside, he just leaned forward and kissed her. Slow and deep and real. She felt his breath catch, his hand sliding from her chin into her hair, and when she finally pulled back, her lips still brushed against his.

"I love you," he whispered, sending chills down her arms.

She nodded, "I love you too," she whispered, "And I'll admit that I'm in a lot of pain."

He sighed and looked at her ankle, standing up straight now as they both looked that direction. "I was afraid of that."

"And I also am frustrated," she continued guiltily, "Because I can't do anything, really, and that's not the kind of wife I want to be. That's not even the kind of person I am, but I can't…"

"You just survived an attempt on your life. A government attempt on your life," he reminded, crossing his arms over his chest, "And I know that it's not that kind of person you are—I can tell. So if you're worried about…I don't know…impressing me or something, then—"

"I just don't want to be useless," she whispered, looking up at him.

He swallowed thick, "You're never useless," he whispered, frowning deeper before his attention got pulled away by Rawlins coming out of the door.

"You two lovebirds gonna come back any time soon today?" he asked, "I sent Hank down for the bedframe an hour ago."

Henry rolled his eyes playfully at Elizabeth before turning his body toward Rawlins, and she was trying to hold back a laugh, "It's not been an hour," he said.