Elizabeth | Post-Extraction – Day 38

Walking into that restaurant, her hand that wasn't holding Henry's was balled into a fist down around her side. His mother led the way in, and Elizabeth still felt rigid from the conversation in the car.

She thinks I'm going to break his heart, she kept thinking over and over. She tried to move past it—if she were in Helen's shoes, she'd probably think the same thing. Does she think I'm some tramp? Does she think…what does she even think? We didn't exactly explain why we got married. Why did we get married so quick?

"Three, please," she heard Henry say, and they were being walked to a table.

She slid into the booth first and then Henry slid in beside her. I love this man. I'm not going to break his heart.

"So, Elizabeth," his mom said, trying to sound like she hadn't just been rattled to her very core upon hearing her firstborn son almost lost his life—no, was almost murdered after being hunted. "Tell me all about you. I want to know my daughter-in-law." She said it with such a big smile that it almost made Elizabeth feel better about Helen thinking she was going to break Henry's heart.

Elizabeth situated and smiled a little, trying to push away the thoughts and the rigidness both. "Well," she said, then looked over at Henry and exhaled softly, "I grew up outside Charlottesville on a horse farm," she started, "My brother, Will, and I…and then we both went to boarding schools." She looked down for a moment and swallowed thick, skipping the part for now about her parents, about her aunt and uncle trying to raise them and failing horribly, "So I went to Houghton, and after that, I came back to Virginia to attend UVA. And of course, you know what I do…" her voice trailed off and Helen took a shaky breath through her nose, her jaw clenched.

"Right," she said.

Elizabeth dragged her tongue over her lip and took a shaky breath too.

"So," Helen tried again, "You like horses? Do you still ride?"

She shook her head, "I love horses, but I haven't really had the chance to get back into it. I actually—" she stopped and laughed to herself, then looked at Henry and smiled. She remembered briefly when she'd told him the day after they got married that she had bought a horse farm with the check the government had sent her after her parents died. "I actually own the horse farm I grew up on. It's rented out to tenants while I'm not there, though."

"Oh wow," Helen said, then shifted her gaze to Henry with a big smile and wide eyes, "Looks like you'll be a horseman, son," she teased.

Henry laughed, "I figure I can learn," he said.

Elizabeth smiled and he squeezed her hand gently under the table, and she felt like he pumped air into her lungs by doing so. She stared at him for a moment longer and then shifted her gaze to Helen again, about to say something else before Helen spoke.

"I have to ask," she said, looking down and blinking, biting her lip like she was about to say something she didn't even really want to, "What was the rush?

Elizabeth blinked, "Rush?" she asked as though Helen didn't have a right to think this marriage was awfully fast.

"To get married, I mean," she said, and Henry shifted in his seat a little, "I know things must have been…intense," she said, thumbing at her cross necklace around her neck, "But of course, marriage is a big decision, even after everything the two of you went through," she said. Elizabeth felt Henry brush his thumb across the back of her hand, and she felt like she was going to be sick again. "So I have to wonder…why now? Why so soon?"

Helen sounded blindsided, and Elizabeth couldn't blame her. "Mom," Henry started, about to be defensive. She could tell from the way he was holding his shoulders.

Elizabeth squeezed his hand and looked up at him, "It's okay," she whispered, then looked back at Helen and shrugged softly, "We didn't see a reason to wait," she said, "We knew we wanted to be together after…after everything that happened. And after something like that, too, you just…" she swallowed thick and looked down at the table for a moment, "You don't waste time waiting for things. You do it when you can because you don't know…" she didn't want to freak Helen out again, but when she looked up, she realized she already had.

Helen nodded, though, clearly trying to let that settle in her chest without it unraveling her. "Right," she breathed. "And you never had second thoughts?" she asked Elizabeth.

Henry squeezed her hand again, and Elizabeth shrugged one shoulder, "No," she admitted, and that was really the truth. "The only second thoughts I've had since he proposed, since we got back…since we came back together…is that I am not sure I'm going to be enough for him."

"Which is so wrong," Henry filled in.

Elizabeth laughed quietly, a huff, up at Henry and shook her head, "As you can imagine," she said toward Helen again, "I've had a lot of healing I've had to do, and still have a lot to go," she said, thinking about the way her ankle was throbbing even now, and the way she knew she'd try to keep herself awake tonight because of how bad the nightmares were last night. "I kept telling myself that logically none of this made sense," she continued, and Helen nodded a little at that, "But I just…I can't imagine living without Henry."

Helen exhaled a little and folded her arms on top of the table, "Well," she said, "I guess when you know, you know," she said, looking at Henry now. "And there weren't any…" she paused and twisted her lips, "Any outside factors pushing this along?"

"What?" Henry almost spewed it, but then he regained himself and cleared his throat. His cheeks got red and he looked like he'd been caught, and Elizabeth knew that to be his mom's stark Catholicism coming out. She knew that he would probably rather die than tell his mother they ever slept together, especially only seven days after meeting.

Elizabeth's stomach twisted anyway, and it made her feel like his mom really had a negative view of her. She just looked down at Henry's arm, the way their fingers were tangled together just under the table and resting on his lap.

It really wasn't accusatory, but it was a gentle little prod.

"No outside factors," Henry finally said.

She exhaled a quiet laugh through her nose, "Alright," she said, putting her hands in the air and going back to a little woman without so much rigidness in her body, "Just had to ask. Can't blame a mother for wanting to understand."

Henry squeezed Elizabeth's hand under the table again and she looked at him, then at Helen and smiled, "I can't," she said. But she still felt like Helen was watching her, and Elizabeth couldn't really blame her.

The rest of the day, Henry and Elizabeth took Helen around to visit the big sightseeing spots. Especially the ones from the car, since Elizabeth was really starting to feel the pain in her ankle coming back after a few trips of getting out of the car. They'd eaten dinner out—deciding that they'd cook her a meal tomorrow—and then went back to their apartment.

Once home, Henry announced that he'd go put the sheets on the guest bed, and Helen and Elizabeth were left lingering in the living room and kitchen. Elizabeth was putting dishes away from the sink when she heard Helen hum behind her. She turned around and saw her looking at a picture on the wall—one of the only pictures—of Elizabeth and Will and their parents. "Is this your family?" she asked.

Elizabeth froze, her arm still hanging in the cabinet with her fingers pinching the plate, "Yes," she said softly, clearing her throat when her voice came out a bit hoarse. "That's my brother, Will, and my parents—Suzanne and Ben. Adams."

"You look just like your mother," Helen said softly, folding her arms over her chest and leaning in a bit.

Elizabeth smiled, I took her after her in more ways than one, it turns out, she thought to herself. She finally closed the cabinet and walked over beside Helen, "My parents died when I was fifteen," she admitted quietly, deciding then to not tell her how other than the car wreck. And she did, explaining that Will was there, too, and thank God he made it out alive or she would've been left with no family all because of one outing.

Helen just stood there silently for a few moments before finally turning and looking at Elizabeth, "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay, it was so long—"

"No," Helen said, shaking her head and pulling her arms tighter around her body, "I'm sorry for the way I treated you at first."

Elizabeth felt a lump in her throat immediately and shook her head, "It's nothing," she said, her voice coming out hoarse again, "I think anyone would've felt the same way."

Helen turned toward the picture again and sighed, "Well," she said, "Even if that were the case, I still shouldn't have judged you like I did," she admitted. "I saw you and Henry together today—and the longer I was around the two of you, the more I see why you got married so quick. I see the way you look at him, the way you care for him and how he cares for you." Helen looked over again and swallowed hard, and Elizabeth noticed a little glimmer in her eye.

Elizabeth shoved her hands in her pockets awkwardly and looked down, trying to not think about the fact that she's terrified she'll one day screw this up. About the fact that she's damaged, clearly, and it seemed to only be getting worse sometimes. "I'll be honest with you," she whispered, then looked up sheepishly at Helen, "If I were to lose him…I know I'd never be whole again. I didn't ever realize how…how un-whole I was until he came." She swallowed hard and thought back to the day in the infirmary, the way he was trying to get her to breathe with him. That stranger who was telling her to follow his movements, and she somehow did, and it somehow worked.

She shifted her weight off her booted foot, still looking down. "I kept trying to make sure none of this was just…just the adrenaline that brought us together. Henry and I were both aware that we had shared a lot of trauma, and we both…we both went into this knowing that." She thought back, again, to the day in the back of the car with him when they both knowingly lied to each other about the kiss, and about how they felt for each other. "And again," she picked her head up and looked at Helen, pressing her lips together and shrugging defeatedly, "Logic says the opposite, but I love that man. I don't want to live without him. I tried it for a little over a week, and I couldn't sleep—I barely ate, I barely knew where I was most days. And as soon as he came back…I don't know. Everything felt right again."

Helen took a shaky breath and moved backwards just slightly to rest against the arm of the couch, looking up at Elizabeth with doe eyes. She finally nodded slightly and released a quiet breath, "Has he told you about his father?"

She nodded quietly, not sure what all she could say. Henry had told Elizabeth that Helen was a "stand by your man" type of woman.

Helen looked down, "Our family isn't perfect," she admitted, her fingers fumbling together, "And Patrick and I are far from it. But…" she swallowed thick and wrapped her fingers around her wrist, gently rubbing, "We love fiercely. And if Henry loves you, and it's clear to see that he doesn't only love you but is totally enamored by you," she paused and Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush as she smiled, "Then you're one of us, Elizabeth. You're a McCord."

Elizabeth felt a rush of emotion blanket over her, and she stumbled over to the couch a bit drunken feeling.

She'd thought before about how Henry had a lot of siblings, in her eyes, and how he even already had a nephew. He was young—Elizabeth thought Henry had said he was a month old, but her mind had still been buzzing from earlier in bed. She knew that Henry also had a complicated relationship with his family, but that he also really, dearly loved them. She could tell by the way he talked about them, especially Erin, it seemed. It was like Erin was his little pride and joy, and Elizabeth liked hearing him gush about how she was becoming a great teenager, though sassy and determined. She'd told him that night that she was, too, and they laughed about it.

But now, Helen McCord is telling her that she, too, is a McCord. She knew, before, but now it seemed more real to have the matriarch confirm it—it was as though she was being let in to the club officially. Marrying a McCord, sleeping with him, being enamored with him while hearing him call her Mrs. McCord—it all felt like she was living a dream. And now, this was reality—she really was a McCord.

"Thank you," Elizabeth whispered, looking up at the picture of her parents and wishing so desperately that they could've met Henry.

She followed Elizabeth's gaze and met it there, then sighed softly, "I hope the two of you lean on each other," she whispered, and it caught Elizabeth off guard. She sniffled and looked over at Helen who was still looking at the picture on the wall, "I see that he is carrying a lot, right now, and I know we just met…but you seem like you are, too."

Elizabeth looked down into her lap and let her fingers rub each other, trying to keep her breathing steady. She nodded, though Helen wasn't looking, and she thought again about her nightmares. Before she could say anything else, though, she heard Henry's footsteps coming down the hall.

"All ready," he said, smiling before he made eye contact with Elizabeth, and then stopping in his tracks and frowning a little. Elizabeth gave him a brave smile, though, and Helen smiled at him too.

"Thank you," she said, "We were just talking about Elizabeth's parents."

Elizabeth glanced over at Helen and looked at the way she watched Henry, and something inside her shifted. She hadn't ever disliked Helen, not one bit. But she did fear her a bit from the anxiety she'd caused about the whole marriage ordeal. Now, she just felt this overwhelming rush of respect for her. This was a woman who just found out that her son was almost killed in Kuwait, hunted at home, almost shot in the head, and watched another man take the bullet instead. Not only all of that, but she also had to spend the entire day realizing that she was no longer the only Mrs. McCord in his life, and Elizabeth admired the way she was handling it all. She wasn't sure, if she were in Helen's position, she could do it with such grace.

"Oh," Henry said softly, caught a little off guard.

Elizabeth smiled a little, "I think I'm going to be heading to bed soon," she said, "But you two feel free to—"

"Oh, I'm quite tired too," Helen admitted, standing up after rocking once. Elizabeth watched her head over to Henry first, kissing him on the cheek, then she came back over to Elizabeth and outstretched her arms. Elizabeth stood up promptly and leaned in, and Helen squeezed her tightly—more so than the hug in the bus station this morning. "Goodnight to both of you," she said softly. "I'm so glad you're part of the family, Elizabeth," she said, pulling back and smiling while her hands rested on Elizabeth's hips. "Love you both," she said as she turned around and headed down the hall.

Henry watched for a second after telling her the same, and then he raised a brow at Elizabeth. "Did I miss something?" he asked once the door was clearly shut.

Elizabeth just stared down the hall in awe, "No, not really," she whispered, "But I think we came to an understanding that I wasn't doing this with any kind of cruel intentions."

Henry walked over and sat down, the couch dipping a little. Elizabeth let her body fall over into his, feeling so exhausted. "I don't know why she even thought that," he said, half-defensive.

Elizabeth nuzzled her head into his chest, shaking it slightly, "She's your mother, Henry," she whispered, "Of course she's going to be worried about you." She slid her hand up his stomach on the outside of his shirt, pushing her palm over his heart, "She made that heart. She has a right to be worried about it for the rest of her life."

She felt him look down, "Look at you getting sentimental."

She snorted quietly and looked up, her palm still resting on his chest, "So what if I am?" she asked, "Wouldn't you get sentimental over your kids?"

Henry's face froze, and she watched about four different emotions play across his face before he finally fawned at her. His hand had been rubbing her shoulder, and even it had stopped moving. She swallowed thick, feeling a bit uncomfortable for bringing up the K word like that. They hadn't brought the subject up at all—I mean, they were just learning the basics about each other after only a month or so of knowing each other.

She started to sit up, but he pulled her back down. "Is that something you want?" he asked.

She furrowed her brows, "What?"

"Kids," he whispered.

She swallowed thick, her neck sore from keeping it up, but she didn't want to lay back down on him quite yet. She wanted to gauge his expressions. "I don't know," she admitted. "It's a little early to think about it, but…" she shrugged, "I'm not…I never…"

She didn't really want to tell him that she'd never wanted to be a mother—it made her feel unprepared and like she didn't go through the girly rite of passage that all girls seem to go through at some age. She didn't want to admit that the idea of holding babies scares her. So she just shrugged again, feeling even more awkward, "Do you?"

"Want kids?" he asked.

She somehow already knew the answer, but she nodded anyway.

He just smiled a little, "I mean," he whispered, "I think part of me always thought I'd be a dad one day, sure. But…" he shrugged and looked away for a moment, then back at her, "Now that…I don't know."

"Go on," Elizabeth begged.

Henry exhaled quietly, "Now that I'm married to you…it's like I can't imagine not being a dad. Which…I don't even want to say that and make it feel like I'm pressuring you or anything. I don't…I don't have to be a dad, but I just…the thought of you bringing my child into the world? Our child? God," he whispered.

She felt a tingling in her body, and she wasn't sure where it had stemmed from. She thought maybe her chest, but then she thought, too, that it was maybe her groin after all. She just bit down on her lip and let out a shaky breath.

"I kind of feel the same way," she whispered, afraid to say it out loud. She felt like if she did admit it out loud, that it would somehow be taken away from her. This one precious little nibble she's held on to all her life, the one secret that has only ever been hers—the secret that she maybe would like to be a mom one day. She looked at him nervously, "I like the idea of having your babies," she said, then giggled quietly at the way it sounded.

He chuckled, too, and they both looked at each other for a moment longer until he leaned down and kissed her. Kissed her a little too long, even.

Elizabeth gently pushed her hand against his chest, feeling the newlywed bliss wash over them again, "Your mom, Henry," she whispered.

He bit his lip and sighed, "Right," he whispered, closing his eyes.

"Besides," she said, "I think we need to learn each other's favorite ice cream flavor before we start having kids."

He snorted a little and kissed her on the head, "Rocky Road," he answered.

She looked up, raising her brow judgmentally, "Chocolate is the only way," she said.

They both laughed quietly and they snuggled back into each other, letting the quiet of the apartment cocoon them on that couch. Finally, she yawned, "I'm so tired," she admitted, pushing the side of her head into his ribs just a little.

He glanced at her, "You've been pushing yourself pretty hard in physical therapy," he reminded, "You're sure you're not overdoing it?" He paused and felt her arm, "You still feel warm."

She immediately recognized that same accusatory but not accusatory tone in his voice, the same one that his mother had used at lunch. She sighed and wondered how much more about the McCords she had to learn—a lot, she knew that much. "I'm just worn out," she breathed, "I think it's partially because I haven't been sleeping good." She smirked a little and looked up at him, "Thanks to someone."

He snorted, "It can't all be blamed on me," he said, rolling his eyes playfully, but also biting his lip and shifting a little on the couch. She could tell he was still turned on from a few moments ago. But then his next comment made her forget that: "I know that you've been having nightmares."

She'd mentioned it to him this morning, but she realized at that moment that all she'd done was confirm it for him, he'd already had his suspicions. She swallowed hard and stared into the kitchen vacantly, "I'm fine, really," she tried.

She didn't want to keep bringing up her own pains, especially when it was clear he was having pains of his own, too. He wasn't bringing his pains up at all, though. "I know your fine," he said, "But it's not the same as being okay. You clearly can't sleep, babe," he said, his tone gentler this time.

She swallowed thick and closed her eyes, immediately regretting it because the nightmares played back in her mind. She shot them open and took a sharp breath, "I just can't sleep because I keep seeing them," she admitted quietly, her voice sounding as though it wasn't her own. "I don't want to see them. And it's almost every night, and now it's just…it's gotten worse. All my dreams…" she stopped and blinked hard, "All my dreams turned…a bit…" she stuttered around and felt herself out of breath, and she closed her eyes to try to gather her emotions. "I think they turned a bit more sexual, naturally," she said, referring to the amount of sex they'd been having nearly every night since getting together again. "And it's just…it's carried over to my nightmares, too."

"Oh," he breathed, and she wanted to look at him, but he sounded so disappointed. He's disappointed in me, she immediately thought, her throat going dry. This is what you've been saying this whole time, Elizabeth—you're so broken you're going to push him away.

She started to sit up, but he gently tugged her back down. She swallowed hard and laid her head in his chest carefully, cautiously.

"You don't have to keep going if you don't want to," he whispered, "But I want to help."

She considered that a moment. If you're going to push him away, you might as well rip the bandaid off. "It's not just what they did to me anymore," she said, tangling her fingers up in the hem of his shirt, knotting it up between her middle and index fingers. "Every single night, Henry," she breathed, almost whining on accident. She swallowed thick and cleared her voice, "It's not even about just being locked up or just being hit or…whatever else they did to me," she admitted shakily, "They…in those nightmares, they touch me in ways I just can't forget, Henry," she whispered.

She shuddered when she felt like something touched her on the breast as she said it, and she shut her eyes quickly and tried to tell herself none of that was real. They'd never actually done that to her, so why was her brain pushing against her so hard?

"Did they…" Henry started to ask, "It…it doesn't matter."

"No," she whispered, "They didn't."

He breathed softly and she thought it sounded like relief, but she couldn't blame him if he was relieved—for his own sake or for hers, either one.

"They just continue to break me in ways that I…" she shook her head, unable to finish.

"I'm sorry, babe," he whispered, wrapping his other arm around her head, cuddling her body into his. "None of that…you deserved none of that."

She felt the heat of his breath on the top of her head, and she could almost breathe again just because of that. "I know," she whispered, "I just wish it would stop."

As Henry held her, she felt her body relax, almost melting into him. Her mind flicked back to what his mom had said, the part about watching the two of them together. Elizabeth wondered for a brief moment what they must look like to outsiders, to people who couldn't possibly begin to understand what they'd gone through. What he helped her through, particularly.

"They're so vivid, too," she whispered, the words starting to tumble out of her. For once, she felt like she could tell him anything—she's always felt that way, but now it just felt more intense.

"Well," Henry said, clearing his throat quietly, "You said it could be because…" he let his voice trail off. The thought of either of them saying "because we've had more sex" in the house while his mother was down the hall was clearly too appalling for either of them

So she nodded. "It's like…it's like I can't escape it." She snuggled into him deeper and closed her eyes, breathing in and taking his scent in—something that always seems to calm her mind. She exhaled slowly, savoring in a way. Her head felt heavy against his chest, and she blinked her eyes open slowly. "Do you think your mom's alright?" she whispered, suddenly switching the subject.

Henry sighed a little, his hand starting to rub her arm again as though he'd become unfrozen. "I don't know," he whispered, "It's clear that she's holding something back, I just don't know what. She doesn't have any bruises that I can see."

"I couldn't see anything either," Elizabeth said. Immediately at the bus station, she'd searched every inch of skin that she could see, but she hadn't found anything. "He doesn't do that often, does he?" she asked worriedly.

He shook his head, "Just sometimes," he admitted, getting a bit antsy, "And it's always when he's drunk. I think he's only left a bruise on her once that I know of—at least since I've been old enough to pay attention."

She swallowed thick and looked up at him, studying his face for a moment. "Is that all that's bothering you?" she asked softly.

He looked down at her, then looked away quickly. It's because I'm broken, isn't it? she thought fleetingly. But he leaned against the back of the couch and scooted down slightly so that he was almost reclined, "I didn't want to tell you," he whispered, "But I feel it's only fair since you told me about the nightmares."

She sat up a little and looked at him, but he looked shy, almost embarrassed, so she took his hand and rubbed his fingers. "You can tell me anything, Henry," she reminded him softly.

He looked down at their hands, "I know," he answered, "It's just…it feels…"

"Shameful?" she provided, knowing exactly the way it felt.

He looked at her, swallowing thick, "I realized that it must be how you feel," he admitted, "And that's even more why I didn't want to say anything. I've always told you I wouldn't ever make you feel like the damsel in distress, or I'd always try to view you not in that way." She remembered the conversation they'd had one night while on the run when he did try to view her that way, and the small fight they'd had. "So I just…I didn't really want to bring it up. But yeah, it's embarrassing to feel so out of control."

She looked down, feeling embarrassed now, too. "What happened?" she asked gently, tracing her finger along his knuckle.

He stayed silent for a moment, but she didn't want to pry. She just let him have his silence, let him wait it out, and then he finally spoke, "I just…I felt overwhelmed, I think. I keep having these…I don't know if they're flashbacks or what," he admitted, "But I see Freeman in my head a lot, and I get…sometimes I get a little dazed."

She nodded, "I get that," she whispered, knowing that she, too, sees that scene playing out sometimes. It's not always just her torture and kidnapping that plays through her mind, sometimes it's Henry almost dying in front of her eyes.

He sighed and sat up a little, too, "I was just filling out the papers for school," he added, shrugging a little, "And it all just came flooding back."

"That's how it happens sometimes," she whispered, swallowing hard and looking up at him. "I didn't marry you just because I couldn't live without you, Henry," she said, still toying with his fingers as she studied his face, "I married you so we could lean on each other."

She watched as his breath caught, and he just stared at her for a moment. But then he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, "Whatever comes, we'll always have each other to lean on," he confirmed.