A/N: This was bound to happen, right?

Hope you enjoy.

Henry | Post-Extraction – Day 39

When Henry woke up this morning, he startled: Elizabeth wasn't there. He patted the bed like a crazy man as though she'd maybe, somehow, just fallen through the mattress or something equally as ludicrous. But when he woke up a bit more and his brain wasn't so foggy, he realized how ridiculous that was.

She'd had nightmares again last night, and this time was no better than the night before. He had hoped, and she probably did too, that talking about it with him would maybe help ease her mind—that it would take her mind off it and let her have a peaceful night of rest. But she'd been whimpering so much, and he finally just couldn't take the sorrow in her voice anymore, so he had shaken her awake gently. When he did, it scared her, and he felt a searing in his chest when her eyes met his, all wide and frightened. She'd relaxed once she realized it was only him, but he kept berating himself for waking her up the way he did. That's it, Henry. Listen to her telling you how they touch her in her nightmares and then you go and touch her yourself.

He'd apologized, but he also knew it really rattled her—more than she was letting on, of course. The last moment he remembered from last night after the whole ordeal was that she was lying in his arms wide awake, and he was trying to stay awake and watch her. But apparently, his own sleeplessness from the night before had forced him to shut his eyes.

He sat up, looking around and trying to see if she was in the bathroom, but then he heard clanking in the kitchen and a soft, muffled pair of voices. In his heart, he knew he shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but there were parts of him that wanted to get to know who Elizabeth was outside of their relationship—he'd only ever known her as someone to protect, and then (quickly) someone to love. So he listened to their conversation, sitting silently with his back against the headboard.

"…was tough," Henry heard first, furrowing his brows and tuning his ears into their conversation more carefully, "His father and I, we weren't in the best of places. But then we made up," Helen said.

Elizabeth laughed quietly, and he smiled all the way in the bedroom. That laugh made his heart feel like a feather floating from his chest. "So Shane happened," Elizabeth provided.

"Right," Helen continued, the water turning on and making it harder for Henry to hear. He was about to just get up, stop his spying, but then the water turned off and he could hear his mom again, "…the idea of being a big brother. He would run around and tell everyone about it, and he even asked me to come to show and tell at school." Henry bit his lip, remembering that time of his life very well.

He was so excited to have a little sibling. He had been ecstatic when his mother told him the news, though he tried seriously to not show it. He, instead, knew he was going to be the best helper she had ever seen, and in turn, maybe she would come to show and tell so that he could tell his friends all about the baby his mom had inside her belly.

Elizabeth chuckled again, "How old was he?" she asked.

Henry mouthed "eight" before he'd even heard his mother answer. "He was such a serious little boy," Helen continued, "And he was no less serious when it came to Shane. He took his job as a big brother very seriously, always asking what he could do for me and how he could help around the house. I think he saw the troubles his father and I were having."

Henry swallowed thick, I did, he thought to himself.

"When Shane was born, Henry still was constantly finding ways to help. Bringing me diapers, helping with keeping him entertained—he really was more like a second parent sometimes rather than a big brother," Helen said distantly.

Henry picked up on the silence that seemed to fall over them, but then he heard Elizabeth's voice after a few beats, "Sounds like he's always had a great sense of responsibility," she admitted.

"He has," Helen answered. Henry was starting to get up now, but he lingered near the end of the bed to listen to Helen's reply: "And I was way more grateful for it than I was when he was four and picking up trash in the park," she laughed, and Henry looked down. She always told that story and said she knew then that he had a sense of duty, somehow, even at that young of an age. And then she'd always go on and talk about how proud she was that her son was a Marine. But not this time.

"He grew up faster than I'd have liked," Helen continued as Henry was walking to the bathroom, stopping him in his tracks, "But he was such a good little boy. Even when Patrick and I would find," she paused, and he could hear the shakiness in her voice, "Henry always would carry on."

With that, he walked into the bathroom and came back out moments later, coming out to the kitchen too. "Good morning, sleepyhead," Elizabeth cooed from the counter.

He smiled, "I thought I heard cooking in here," he said, glazing past the fact that he also had heard their conversation. "I figured Mom had scraped something together."

"I told her we didn't have many groceries yet," Elizabeth said as he walked over and kissed her on the temple, a silent "good morning" gesture. "But she managed to find enough ingredients for pancakes."

"And I told Elizabeth that when you woke up, you could run to that little store next door and get some syrup."

"She did," Elizabeth said, biting her lip and grinning up at Henry.

He looked at her and raised his brow, "Oh yeah?" he asked quietly, biting his own lip. This woman…how can she make me do anything? "Well," he said, "I can do that." He pressed one more kiss to the side of her head before going back to the bedroom, wondering what conversations they'd have about him after he left.

When he'd gotten back with the syrup, Elizabeth and Helen were still in the kitchen, and Helen had a stack of pancakes in the oven warming. "I'm on the last batch now," Helen said after Henry walked in the door.

"We talked about inviting the group over," Elizabeth said, and Henry froze and furrowed his brows. The group? he thought. Just as he was about to ask who, she continued, "Your mom said she'd like to meet Rawlins and Conrad, so I wanted to run it by you first before I asked them all over for lunch. I figured you could grill out on the patio now that there's a grill there," she said with a little smile, a proud one, he thought, that showed she was happy to have been able to buy a grill at all.

Henry laughed a little as he set the bag down with the syrup in it, "Yeah," he said, shrugging, "Fine by me."

He turned to his mom and leaned against the counter, watching up close as she made pancakes for them. He took a deep breath in, the scent of the butter against the pan filling his nose, but also the scent of his mother, one of the women he loved most in this life. Henry watched her as she flipped the pancake over, and she finally looked over. "Yes?" she asked.

He startled, not realizing he'd been staring. "I just haven't had pancakes in a while," he said, standing up straight again and walking back to the syrup, taking it out of the bag, "I think I should make them more often, that's all," he said.

But it wasn't all—he was, instead, thinking about how much he'd missed being around his mom. He was noticing how her hands looked older, slightly more wrinkled than when he'd last seen her.

"So," he said, trying to get his mind off the way she's aging while he heard Elizabeth dialing the phone, presumably calling "the group," as she had put it, "You're sure you're ready to meet Rawlins?" he asked.

She looked over at him as he got plates down, then turned back to her pancakes, "You've told me all about him ever since basic, Henry," she said, "I am definitely ready to meet Rawlins."

"Just…" he pressed his lips together, "Remember that he's…um…" crude, he thought, but didn't want to call him out for that. "He's a different character," he said, "But he's usually in line when his wife is with him, more than he is without her at least."

Helen just smiled and chuckled under her breath, "I'm sure I can handle it," she said.

He smiled a little and walked over to the counter, sitting down in the chair beside Elizabeth. "So," he said, briefly and once more weighing whether or not he should bring this up, "How is Dad?"

Elizabeth jumped when Helen dropped the spatula, and Henry looked at her first and then his mother, then back to Elizabeth. He furrowed his brows, reaching over for her thigh, and she nodded silently as if to say, I'm okay, I'm okay.

He rubbed gently and took a deep breath, then looked back to his mom. "He's fine," she said.

"Mom," Henry said sternly, "I can tell something's wrong. Hell, even Elizabeth can—"

"Language, Henry," Helen scolded, her back turned to him at the stove.

Henry huffed, "Even Elizabeth can tell that something's wrong and she's never met you before."

"Elizabeth is a highly trained analyst," she said nonchalantly, as though that would make all the difference.

Henry looked over at Elizabeth, wondering if she was hearing how incredulous Helen was being, too. But she was just staring into space, and Henry felt his stomach flip. What's going on in her head? he wondered, looking at her a moment longer and sliding his hand across her skin to reach for her hand. He fingered it a couple times before she seemed to come back to reality, and then she looked down and grabbed his hand, not even seeming to have noticed that it was there waiting to be grabbed for a couple seconds by then.

"Still," Henry countered, turning his gaze slowly and cautiously back to Helen, trying to look at them both at the same time.

He would never admit it to Elizabeth, but his panic attack seemed to be brought on by the way she couldn't sleep, the way she would whimper if she did miraculously go to sleep, and the way she would wake up in a sweat some nights. He was running on mere hours of sleep a night, and the exhaustion was starting to get to him. And of course, the whole thing about almost being shot in the head…but he'd been able to suppress that up until he started losing too much sleep.

"Something's going on, Mom. You'd never just leave Pittsburgh in the early morning and also leave Shane and Erin behind," he argued.

"They're with Maureen," she said, repeating herself from yesterday as she reached into the oven and grabbed the stack of pancakes out. She flipped the oven's switch off hastily and kept her back toward them, "I told you that yesterday."

"I know," he said, "But that's not my point. My point is," he felt Elizabeth's hand squeeze his, so he looked over and saw that the color had completely faded from her face.

He studied her a moment longer, "Babe?" he asked.

She nodded, "I'm alright," she whispered. When she looked at him, she mouthed, "not right now," and he took a shaky breath.

He watched her eyes, the ones begging him, but he was itching to say something else. He was itching to get to the bottom of why Helen was here, not that he minded, but he wanted to know the truth.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Henry said suddenly, quietly, as he got up from the stool. Elizabeth followed him quietly, too, and thumped her way into the bedroom behind him. When the door closed, he turned and frowned, "Why are you stopping me?"

"Because she clearly doesn't want to talk about it, Henry, and you're pushing her."

He gritted his teeth, "You don't know how our family works," he said.

She looked at him and he saw the tears come up to the surface after a moment, her eyes locked on his. Her lips pressed together tightly as she folded her arms and turned away, "Sorry I'm not McCord enough," she spat, angrily walking over to the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind her.

He just stood there at the end of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the closed door. What the hell just happened? he thought, frowning deeply before looking around the room. Maybe this was some prank. Right? Surely she didn't get mad over him asking why she's meddling in his business.

"Pancakes are ready," he heard Helen call out, and he sighed.

"Pancakes, babe," he said, slinking over to the bathroom door and knocking lazily when she didn't answer.

He heard a sniffle and then an "I'm not hungry," just barely loud enough to get through the door.

He furrowed his brows, "Elizabeth, what's wrong?"

When she didn't answer right away, he knocked again with a little more urgency and she answered after a second, "Just leave me alone," she said.

With that, he opened the door and looked at her. She was sitting on the ground with her back against the tub, her legs folded up against her body with her boot crossed over her other leg.

"I said leave me alone," she said into her arms and knees. Her elbows rested on each knee, her hands folded over her forearms as her face was buried down into the hole she'd created with her limbs.

He stood there for a moment and wondered what he did, but then he didn't care as much. He just wanted her okay again, "I'm sorry," he said.

Elizabeth didn't budge.

"I'm—Elizabeth, I don't know what I did," he finally breathed after more silence.

She waited a moment and looked up at him, her face blotchy and red, "You don't know what you did?" she asked, her voice cracking. He shook his head and loosened a little when she spoke—he hadn't realized how tense he'd gotten standing there while she gave him the silent treatment. "Henry," she said, looking out the door and in the direction of the kitchen, "I have someone who is calling me her daughter in that kitchen," she said, "And there you are trying to push all her buttons and make her leave."

"I'm not trying to make her leave, I'm—"

"You're being so nosey," Elizabeth interrupted, "And ultimately, you're making her feel uncomfortable because of it."

"Well, I—"

"Her and your dad's business is theirs, Henry. It's not yours to take care of. She's not the damsel in distress either."

He frowned, "I don't think of her as the—"

"Yes you do," Elizabeth said, throwing her hands in the air a little, "You so do. Everything she does, you're like a hawk watching her and making sure she does it right or does it safely. You should've seen yourself watching her with those pancakes—you cringed every time she flipped one over!"

Her voice suddenly raised and he gripped the doorknob handle, "You don't know anything about the way this family works," he snapped.

She laid her arms back down on her knees, "You know what," she mumbled, her jaw gritted, "You're right." She started standing up and, with the way she looked so exhausted, she had to turn and push herself up with the edge of the tub. "I'm just going to leave the two of you so that you can duke it out, because I don't know a damn thing about being a McCord," she seethed, pushing past him hard by brushing her shoulder into his. Hard.

He rubbed it and turned around to look at her as she was thumping around the bedroom and grabbing her purse, "I didn't mean it like that, Elizabeth," he said sternly.

"You meant it exactly how you said it, Henry," she said, tossing the strap over her shoulder.

He walked to her and gently laid his hand around her wrist, stopping her from her angry rampage of trying to find her keys. "Elizabeth," he breathed quietly, looking at her. "What is this really about?"

She laughed sadly, looking at him and shaking her head, "You really don't get it?" she asked. He stayed silent, figuring he was about to make it worse for himself if he admitted that, no, he didn't get it. "My mom and dad died when I was fifteen, Henry. Fifteen. Almost ten years ago I lost both my parents and became an orphan. Not only an orphan, but an orphan with a little brother who I essentially became 'mom' to."

He swallowed thick as he watched her grow less mad and more upset, her arm still in his hand though it flailed around a time or two while she spoke, much like a fish out of water.

"And then your mom comes, and she says I'm one of the family, and she genuinely wants to know me and wants to like me. And then you're here trying to create trouble, Henry!"

"I'm not creating trouble," he said, his voice stiff as his jaw. He took a shaky breath through his nose, feeling the anger rise up in his chest. You're not your father, Henry, he told himself, hearing Elizabeth's voice saying it. He swallowed thick and let go of her arm exaggeratedly, turning around, "I'm trying to figure out what the hell Dad has done this time, Elizabeth. You don't know what it's like growing up with a parent who—"

"I don't," she cut him off.

He looked back at her. Her arms had crossed over her chest now and she was standing on her good foot, her boot propped out in front of her slightly. "Then you don't have a right to tell me what I can and can't do with my mother," he said.

She gritted her jaw tightly, "You're making her uncomfortable," Elizabeth snapped.

"I am not," Henry snapped back.

"Yes you are," Elizabeth said, throwing her hand over to the side toward the kitchen, "She's made approximately forty pancakes, Henry, just for us! Three people!"

He swallowed thick, knowing what Elizabeth was getting at, but not wanting to back off now. "I need to know what he—"

"Why?" she asked, her voice desperate. "Why do you need to know? She can tell you if she wants, but it's clear she doesn't want to. So leave it."

"I can't just 'leave it,' Elizabeth!" he said too loudly, and Elizabeth watched him raise his voice at her. She cocked her jaw to the side and tightened her arms around her chest, and he immediately felt like shit.

He rubbed his palm over his face, then brought the other one up and did the same simultaneously. He groaned into his hands and kept his back toward her for a moment longer, "I'm sorry," he murmured. "For yelling. I didn't mean to lose my temper."

She stayed quiet, and finally he looked around at her and she was just sitting on the bed. She looked so tired, so ghostly, and he wanted to just wrap her up and hold her. She's not a damsel in distress, he told himself, the line Elizabeth had just used, herself. He walked over there anyway, though, and sat on the bed next to her.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

She looked down at his hand that was in his lap, and she just shook her head, "I know I don't know what the dynamics are in your family," she said, her voice quieter and more tired, "But I know that you're not the one in charge, Henry," she breathed, "You're here, in D.C., with a wife and a new job, and a place to give your mother solace when she needs it. Not a place to be bothered with questions that she's clearly trying to not think about."

He looked down, too, and he closed his eyes. He breathed out once and heard Helen's voice again, telling them once more that the pancakes were ready and added, "They're getting cold!"

Elizabeth stood up first and looked at him, "Don't yell at me," she said, her tone clearly a warning. "We don't yell at each other in this marriage."

It was a simple statement, but it was also, clearly, a rule she was laying down. One that he couldn't really find any reason to disagree with, so he nodded and stood up slowly. "Okay," he whispered.

She walked out to the kitchen before he did, and he just stayed behind for a moment to catch his breath and cool down. Unfortunately, he knew she was right—his mother needed a place to not worry about life for as long as she could. But something in him, some primal urge maybe, told him he needed to protect her, even if it was from his father.

Without realizing it, his teeth were pressed hard against each other while he thought about his dad. He thought about the few times he would come home drunk enough to swipe at Helen, and the two times he made contact. He never meant harm, of course, by any of it—according to him the days after he sobered up. But regardless, he did harm, and he tried to harm even on the times he hadn't been coordinated enough to get physical.

But Elizabeth was right. She needed his comfort. She has never asked for his protection—he just was born into that role.

He took a deep breath before walking into the kitchen where Elizabeth was getting forks from the drawer, Helen already sitting down at the table and pouring her syrup over a small stack of pancakes. Elizabeth barely looked over at him, but when she did, it wasn't with any resentment. Instead, it looked like an expression of warning.

He took it as one, at least.

He helped her with the napkins and brought everything over to the table, and then soon enough, they were quietly eating and talking about Elizabeth's horses.

Elizabeth | Post-Extraction – Day 39

"I had no idea your mom smoked," Elizabeth said, her arms folded as she leaned against the doorframe and watched Conrad, Rawlins, and Helen all smoking cigars out on the balcony. She choked up a little bit, and then suddenly went into a coughing fit—the smoke had barely just gotten to her nose when she felt like it had strangled her.

"Me either," Henry said, his voice distant. When she looked over at him, she realized they were standing in the exact same positions.

She heard footsteps and turned to see Lydia coming up, smiling softly, "They are an unlikely group, huh?" Lydia said, resting her hands on her hips.

Elizabeth snorted quietly, nodding and looking back out, "Wouldn't have thought of this one in my wildest…" her voice trailed off. Nightmares. My nightmares are way worse than this. This would be a walk in the park. She couldn't finish the thought out loud, so she just tucked her arms tighter around her body.

Lydia, fortunately, either didn't notice or chose to not press her. Instead, she let out a sigh and shook her head in amusement at the three of them on the balcony, "I almost think I should take that cigar from Helen before she starts acting like them, too," she said, laughing quietly.

Elizabeth smiled, "She's already acting like them," she said, nodding her head outside, "Clearly."

Henry sighed, "I guess whatever makes her relax," he murmured, rubbing his fingers on his head as he walked outside.

Lydia sighed and took his place at the doorframe, leaning against it too. "I'm so glad the smoke doesn't bother me anymore," she said quietly, shaking her head, "Conrad loves to smoke a cigar—about once a week, now that I made him cut back—but when I first was pregnant? The smell made me so sick."

"Me too," Mrs. Judy said, coming up behind them both and putting her hands on her hips. "My boys—they both gave me a run for my money, but whenever Chuck was smokin' cigars? I almost strangled him one night after he lit one up in the house. I told him I'd leave him if he ever did that again."

"Did he?" Lydia asked.

"Well," Mrs. Judy said, "I'm still here with him."

All three of them chuckled, and Elizabeth looked back at Helen again, "I never used to hate it, but now it just chokes me up."

Elizabeth could feel the air shift, the way that Judy and Lydia looked at each other. She furrowed her brows and looked over at them, but neither of them seemed to notice she'd stolen a glance, so she just shrugged it off and looked forward again.

"Honey," Mrs. Judy finally said, and Elizabeth turned her head to look and see Lydia and Judy both staring at her with these fawn-like eyes. Elizabeth frowned, looking at Judy cautiously as she gave Elizabeth this sheepish, almost shy smile. She clasped her hands together quietly, "You know I don't mean to overstep, sweetheart," she said.

Elizabeth's eyes shifted quickly over Judy's shoulder to Lydia who was still eyeing her carefully, and she felt like the blood rushed down to just her toes.

Her weight fell into the doorframe more as Judy continued, "But…are you expecting?"

The way she said it made Elizabeth want to laugh. Her Southern tone had really come out, the gentle, niceness of a true belle. But then Elizabeth remembered the words Judy had spoken, and she just held her breath. "What?" she asked, blinking at Judy, then Lydia, then Judy again.

Lydia let out a soft laugh, but it wasn't teasing—it sounded nervous. "It's just," she said, her voice forcefully calm, "The way the cigar smoke chokes you up so badly. I don't remember that happening to you, and we were all just talking about—"

"No," Elizabeth said, squeezing her arms around her more tightly and shaking her head, "there's no way," she said, looking out the door again. Her eyes, now, laid on Henry who to his credit was just standing there in the clouds of smoke, not even trying to smoke one.

"I didn't mean to pry, honey," Judy said again, but Elizabeth didn't look at her this time. "It's just…well, I've had two of my own, and Lydia here—it just was familiar, that's all," she said. Elizabeth picked up on her voice and how it changed to be more apologetic even without saying sorry.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, but she was unsure what, and she closed it again. "That's not—" she stopped and shut her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts, "That's—I haven't even—"

"Oh, don't mind us," Judy said, "Just an old woman here runnin' her mouth, and a young woman who's got babies on the mind." Lydia agreed quickly, apologizing too for her overstepping. But Elizabeth had them both tuned out.

Instead, she was trying to do the math in her head, but the numbers weren't clear to her—she couldn't think of all the numbers so clearly. Math was math, it was easy to her, it was natural. Why couldn't she subtract or add all of a sudden?

Henry was walking toward her before she realized it, and he was almost in the doorway where she was standing in the way. He leaned in and kissed her, "You alright?" he asked softly.

Judy and Lydia looked on at the two of them while she just stared into his eyes, full of fear in her own. She blinked once, her brain reminding her she had to do that as well as breathe, and she took a deep breath. Immediately, she choked, and she ran to the bathroom without any other explanation.