I wrote this story a year ago, but just found it floating around a folder waiting to be published. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: When a letter resurfaces years later, it causes problems for Henry and Elizabeth.

Dear Henry

Elizabeth slid the key into the lock and pushed open the door to the apartment. The door clattered into something on the floor and stuck halfway. Budging her shoulder into it, she created just enough space to reach for the light switch and slip past. As the light flickered on, there came a groan from the sofa. Elizabeth stooped down to pick up the textbook from the floor and dumped it on the fort of other medical texts that surrounded Will's camp.

"Do you have to leave your books lying all over the place?" Elizabeth said.

"Do you have to blind me every time that you come in?" Will countered. He propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze following Elizabeth as she strode across the room, sweeping his clutter aside.

"Well, if you'd sleep in the spare room rather than on the couch…" Elizabeth said. She raked one hand through her hair as she turned on the spot, surveying the apartment for which corner of mess to attack next. "You could find a home for your textbooks in there too."

"That's a box room," Will said. "The refrigeration units in the morgue are more spacious than that. They're warmer too."

Elizabeth stopped piling various sheets of notes into a stack on the kitchen table and raised her eyebrows at Will. "You're more than welcome to find a place of your own."

"Then how would I keep an eye on you?" Will said with an easy smile. "I made a promise."

"Henry asked you to check in on me, not to move in with me."

Will shrugged. "I take my promises seriously."

Elizabeth shook her head to herself and retreated to her room, but before she could get there, Will swung his legs over the edge of the couch and reached across the coffee table. He padded over the carpet and pressed an envelope into Elizabeth's hand.

"It's from Henry," Will said, pointing to the handwriting. "Another one. I make that four so far this month." He flicked his hair back from his eyes. "Do you ever plan to write him back?"

"I've been busy." Elizabeth snatched the envelope to her chest. She jutted her chin out. "Do you ever plan to get a haircut?"

"Deflecting," Will said, his tone as sing-song and insolent as a child's.

Elizabeth stepped into her room and slammed the door behind her. "Deflect this," she muttered, and she showed one finger to the door.

She set the letter down on top of the pile on her dressing table, next to her wedding ring. She stared at the ring and at the pile. Then shaking her head to herself, she shrugged off her coat and sat down, then pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. She uncapped the pen and began to write, but only a paragraph in, she scrunched up the page and threw it into the bin. There it joined all her previous attempts and failures.

Elizabeth picked up the wedding ring. She slipped into onto her finger and then off again, on and off, on and off. The photograph of her and Henry on their wedding day stared down at her from the wall. Her heart sank as she removed the ring a final time and set it down next to Henry's letters.

"I didn't think it would be this hard," she whispered, casting her gaze up to the man who she had married, the man whose shadow would return to her.

Elizabeth raked her spoon over the cereal that drifted through the milk like wet leaves sailing across a lake. She jumped at Will's voice.

"You're not wearing your wedding ring."

"Hmm?" Elizabeth looked down at her hand, at the bareness of her finger. "I forgot it."

"You've forgotten it a lot recently," Will said. "I might not be blessed with your astuteness, but even I've noticed that."

Elizabeth shrugged, but her shoulders were tense, making the movement jerky. "So I forgot it? It's no big deal." She pushed the dregs of cereal aside, and standing up from her seat, she smoothed out the crinkles of her dress.

"Henry would think it's a big deal."

Elizabeth's gaze snapped up. "But Henry isn't here, is he?" She pulled her jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged it on.

"He's doing his job," Will said. "You knew what that would entail when you married him."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and she strode towards the door, one hand flying into the air. "You couldn't possibly understand." Everything was so easy in theory, not so easy when you were actually living it.

"Then tell me," Will said, his voice softening. He followed her to the door and reached out to lay his hand against her shoulder. "Lizzie, what's going on?"

Elizabeth shook her head. She shrugged his hand away. "Nothing," she said, and she opened the door. "It's nothing." She gave him a tight smile. "I'll be back late. If you don't want to be woken up, sleep in your own room for once."

When Elizabeth returned that evening, she snuck through the front door and stumbled through the darkness to her room. The apartment was silent. The sofa was bare and Will's textbooks had gone, but a sliver of light crept out from beneath the door to the spare room.

Elizabeth sat down at her dressing table again. In the corner of the room, the graveyard of discarded letters had grown overnight, but she had a new piece of paper and a new resolve—this time she would write the truth.

Dear Henry,

I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to reply to your letters. I have sat down so many times, written so many responses, but none of them have made it out of this room. They were just words that I thought I should write, words that I thought you'd want to hear. In a way, I think they would have been kinder, but we agreed that we would always tell each other the truth. So that's what I'm doing, as hard and as painful as it is, I am telling you the truth.

I always knew that I was marrying a marine and I thought I knew what that meant, but now I understand how incredibly naive I was. This is not the life—not the marriage—I ever pictured for myself. Every time that you come home, it's like a little part of you has changed, a little piece of the man I fell in love with has gone, replaced by a stranger. Every time you leave, the sense of relief grows, as if I'm glad to be back to my 'real' life, the life where it's just me, not us.

When you wrote to say that you would be discharged soon, returning home for good, I felt this deep sense of dread. It just isn't right. I should be glad to have my husband home. But the man I married, the man who left two years ago, isn't the man who is coming home. I don't know if I can live with that. I don't know if I want to live with that.

The apartment will still be here for you when you return home.

Regards,

Elizabeth

Elizabeth stuffed the letter into the envelope and left it next to her wedding ring as she retreated to bed. The letter stared at her accusingly through the darkness, and no matter how well she hid beneath the covers, its gaze always found her. Getting up, she grabbed the letter from the table and slipped out into the kitchen. She set it down on top of her bag, ready to post in the morning. Finally, without it watching over her, she fell asleep.

"What is this?" Will said when Elizabeth emerged from her room the next morning.

Elizabeth frowned at him—what was what?—but her eyes widened as she saw the letter, opened, in his hand. "Give that back," she said, and she snatched for it, but Will held it high above her head.

"This is not the marriage I pictured for myself…Every time you leave, the relief grows…The apartment will still be here when you return."

Elizabeth's cheeks flamed. "That's private," she said, her voice cracking. She lunged for the letter, but Will passed it to his other hand and shifted onto tiptoe.

"You can't send this," Will said.

"Why not?" Elizabeth's hands found her hips.

"Because you can't write something like this and just shove it in the mail. You need to think about this, seriously think about it and all its consequences."

"I have thought about it," she said. "Every minute of every day for God knows how long."

"Then look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love Henry, tell me honestly that you want to divorce him, and I'll give you it back." Will clutched the letter in front of his chest.

"I…" Elizabeth began. She stared Will hard in the eye, but her gaze faltered and dipped to the floor.

Will flapped the letter. "This is about you being afraid of Henry coming home."

Elizabeth shook her head, her jaw tensing. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Will scoffed. "Bullshit."

"One psych class and you think you know what's going on in my head."

"No, twenty-two years of being your brother and I do know what's going on in your head." He pointed one finger at her. "You can't handle the fact that he's coming home soon. It's easy being his pen-pal, not so easy being his wife."

Elizabeth's fingernails dug into her hips. "You think this is easy? You think being away from him is easy?"

"Yes," Will said. He rested his hands against his hips, mirroring her stance. "Because right now you're in control. You can deal with your relationship—write your letters—when it's convenient for you. Face-to-face stuff is in the moment, it's messy. And you can't handle that."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "And you know what it takes to make a successful relationship? You've never had a relationship that's lasted more than two weeks."

"You can deflect all you like, it doesn't make what I'm saying any less true." Will's voice softened. "I know you, Lizzie. I know what you're doing."

"And what is that exactly?"

"You're pushing him away before he has the chance to hurt you, because you can't stand to lose someone else."

The chasm of their parents' absence opened up between them.

Elizabeth shook her head. "You're wrong."

"Fine," Will said with a shrug. "Maybe I'm wrong. But I don't think you should post this letter until you're sure that you're right. If you can honestly say that you don't love Henry and that you want a divorce, I'll give it back to you. Until then, I'll keep it safe."

Present Day

Elizabeth placed the phone back in the cradle, and setting her coffee cup down on the counter, she strode to the front door. She pulled the door open with a warm smile. "Hi!" Dodging the box in Will's arms, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Didn't think to call first?"

"I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd swing by," Will said. He nodded to Henry as they entered the kitchen. "Hey, Henry."

"Hey, brother. How are you?" Henry said. He pointed to the box. "What've you got there?"

Will dumped the box on the counter and spun it around. Scrawled across one side in black ink were the words "Liz's Junk".

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the label, and she folded her arms across her chest as she looked to Will. "Liz's junk. Seriously?"

Will shrugged. "Sounded pithier than 'Personal possessions of the Secretary of State'."

"Can't argue with that," Henry said with a grin. But at Elizabeth's sharp look, his smile withered, and he gave her shoulder a light squeeze. "Breathe, babe."

"I was having a clear out of some boxes I left in storage," Will said. "I found some of your old stuff and thought you might want it."

Henry took the lid off and began to sift through the items. "Wow! This is old. Some of this stuff is from our first apartment," he said. He laid out a couple of photographs of them as a young couple, taken some time during their engagement. He smiled down at theses pieces of their past before continuing to delve inside the box.

"So how long are you in our neighbourhood?" Elizabeth asked Will.

"A couples of weeks," Will said.

Elizabeth's eyes darted to the duffel bag still slung over his shoulder. "And do you have somewhere to stay?"

"Well, I was going to check into another hotel," Will said. "But if you're offering."

"We can make up the spare room for you. Right, Henry?"

But Henry didn't reply. He was frowning at a letter clutched in his hands.

"Henry?" Elizabeth repeated.

Henry's jaw tightened as he tossed the letter down on the counter. It fell atop the photographs, obscuring those carefree smiles. "You were going to leave me?"

Elizabeth frowned. "What?" She snatched up the letter and scanned through it, her hand rising to cover her mouth. Dropping the letter on the side, she reached for Henry's arm, but he stepped away, turning his back on her as he ran one hand through his hair. "Henry. Henry? Will you just look at me?"

A heavy silence passed before he faced her, his eyes dark beneath the ridge of his brow. "I don't understand," he said. He shook his head. "Why…? How…?"

"Henry…I—" Elizabeth reached for him again but he recoiled like a beaten dog.

"Don't, Elizabeth. Just—"

"Please give me a chance to explain."

Elizabeth's cell phone rang, the vibration buzzing through the counter. She glanced at it, but left it to fall silent.

"Henry, I never—"

The phone rang again. As it buzzed, it danced towards the photographs, sending them fluttering to the floor. Henry grabbed the phone and glanced at its screen before tossing it to her. "It's the White House."

Elizabeth hit 'decline' and shoved the phone back onto the counter—screen down. "It can wait," she said. "We need to talk about this. I—"

But then the house phone started ringing too. Elizabeth raked her fingers through her hair. Why couldn't everyone just leave her alone for one minute? The cell phone began to ring again, competing with the house phone.

"Take the call," Henry told her. He grabbed his house keys from the countertop.

Elizabeth clutched his hand. "Not until we talk."

But he prised her fingers off and snatched his hand away. "I don't want to talk. Not now. I need some space."

"Space?" Elizabeth repeated, and her throat clunked. "What do you mean?"

"I just can't deal with this—with you—right now. Okay?" His words hit her like a punch to the gut, and with that, he stalked out of the house, the door slamming behind him.

Elizabeth snatched up her cell. Russell Jackson. Before she had even lifted the phone to her ear, Russell had barked, "White House—now!"

She took a swig of her coffee, now only lukewarm, and stuffed her phone into her pocket. She shot Will a scathing look. "Why on Earth did you bring that letter here?"

Will held up his hands. "I didn't know that it was in there," he said. "Why on Earth did you keep it?"

"I didn't!" Elizabeth said as she wrestled on her coat and walked backwards towards the front door. "You're the one who kept it!"

"I didn't keep it—not on purpose. It was in your things!" He shook his head, letting a long breath whistle through his teeth. "Look…Just give Henry a chance to calm down, and when he gets back, I'll talk to him."

"No you won't." Elizabeth jabbed her finger at his chest. "Just because your life is a train wreck doesn't mean you have to throw mine under the bus too." She slung her bag over her arm and wrenched open the front door. She paused, turning back to Will. "Don't interfere, don't make this mess any worse. Please, just don't."

Elizabeth strode down the corridor towards the Situation Room. She startled—her heart leaping—as Russell appeared out of one of the alcoves, studying the phone in his hand.

"Screening my calls?" he asked.

Elizabeth clutched her chest. "Do you have to jump out like that?"

Russell stopped looking at his phone for a second and shrugged. "I wouldn't say that I jumped, just…moved stealthily." He frowned to himself, then glanced back to Elizabeth. "Why weren't you answering?"

"My brother decided to stop by—unannounced," Elizabeth said. "He has this relentless need to create chaos and disorder in other people's lives because that's how he lives." Her hand swept through the air. "He just swoops in, turns everything upside down, and then bails out again."

"Well, we're just starting," Russell said. He was staring at his phone again, looking as though he hadn't listened to a word that she had said. "We'll get you caught up." He held the door open for her and motioned for her to go inside.

"Madam Secretary!" Blake shouted as he strode along the corridor, looking like a competitor in a walking race.

"What now?" Russell snapped.

Elizabeth shot him a look and held up one finger. "I'll be one minute."

Russell's jaw clenched. "Tick tock," he muttered, raising his eyebrows. He pushed past her into the Situation Room and let the door swing shut against her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Blake said. "I got here as soon as I could."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Just ignore him. Here—" she tossed Blake her cell phone, "I've been calling Henry all the way here, but he's not answering. If he calls back…just keep him on the line and come and get me, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Blake nodded, but he darted forward as Elizabeth leant her shoulder into the door, his brow furrowed. "Is everything all right, ma'am?"

Elizabeth forced a tight smile. "Everything's fine. I just need to talk to him."

Blake's lips pulled into a straight line. "Is there anything else that I can do for you?"

Elizabeth sighed, her smile fading. "Invent a time machine." As Blake opened his mouth to speak again, she shook her head and plastered the smile back on. "I'm fine, really. Just let me know if he calls, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The front door clunked. Will put down the journal and stood up from the couch, stretching out his legs. He wandered into the kitchen, sending Henry a nod. "Hey."

"Hi," Henry replied. He chucked his keys down onto the countertop.

"Lizzie had to go," Will said. "She was summoned to save the world, or destroy another part of it, or maybe both." He gave a shrug and an attempt at a light-hearted smile, but Henry's brooding look weighed it down.

Will clutched the edge of the counter and sighed. "Look," he said, his gaze darting up to catch Henry's. "There's a reason why she never sent that letter—she loved you."

Henry snorted. "Well, it doesn't read like that."

"I don't think she ever wanted a divorce," Will said.

"Then why—?" Henry waved to the letter that still lay on the counter, now folded and returned to its envelope.

"She was scared."

"Of what?"

"Of what would happen when you came home," Will said.

Henry rubbed his jaw.

"Lizzie loves fiercely, but not fearlessly," Will said. "She'd rather push someone away than let herself be hurt again. I know, because I'm the same." He paused, his hands clenching on the countertop. "If I can just put enough distance between myself and others, I can buffer myself from that heartache, I can preserve them like a photograph." He pushed the pictures of Henry and Elizabeth across the counter.

Henry stared down at them, his lips pursing. "She should have told me."

"What? And admit that she doesn't have it all together all of the time?"

Henry nodded, conceding the point.

"You know, she once passed out in class because she had a raging fever—tonsillitis, if I remember correctly—but couldn't bear to be marked absent," Will said, and he chuckled at the memory. "Then she tried to run away from the sick bay."

"She never told me that," Henry said, a light smile playing on his lips.

"Hardly her finest moment," Will said. In the pause, his own smile faded. "Lizzie's not perfect, she makes mistakes—perhaps writing that letter was one of them. But she didn't make the mistake of sending it."

Henry paused. "I just can't get it out of my head." He shook his head as if that would dislodge the thought. "All the time I was away all I could think about was getting back to her. Meanwhile, she was here dreading the thought of us being together."

Will frowned. "She didn't dread the thought of you being together. She dreaded the thought of you coming home and your marriage failing."

"So she'd rather bail than at least give me a chance?"

"In that moment, when she was young and scared and alone, yes. But she didn't bail. And she hasn't bailed ever since. Surely that should count for more than one bleak moment."

"Still. It changes everything."

"Does it? The way I see it, nothing has changed. It's just another what if, a path untrodden."

"So I should just forget about it?"

Will shrugged. "It depends what you want to happen next."

Elizabeth ducked out of the Situation Room, wedging her foot between the door and the frame. "Blake!" she called, and a moment later Blake pressed her cell phone into her hand.

"He hasn't called."

She dialled Henry's number. "Come on," she murmured. "Pick up, please pick up."

She peered through the slit into the darkened room as someone called her name from inside. "Just coming," she shouted, and hanging up, she passed the phone back to Blake.

"Still no answer?" Blake said.

Elizabeth shook her head, and resting her palms against the door, she pushed it open again.

"If you want, I could try calling for you," Blake said. "Or maybe Stevie—"

"No," Elizabeth said. "Thank you, but no. If he does call back—"

"I'll let you know right away."

"Thanks, Blake."

Elizabeth closed the front door with a soft click. She kicked her shoes off and padded through the kitchen. Her box of 'junk' had gone, along with the letter and the photographs. She could almost pretend that that morning had never happened, if it weren't for Henry's palpable absence and her brother lounging on the couch.

Will was sat alone, sipping on a beer. "You're back late."

"It's still early by world crisis standards." Elizabeth curled up next to him and reached for the bottle, taking a swig. She passed the drink back, and closing her eyes, she rested her head against Will's shoulder.

"Tough day?" Will asked.

"The worst," Elizabeth said. "What chaos did you cause whilst I was out?"

"I don't cause chaos."

Elizabeth laughed, a sharp bark. "No, you just seek it out."

"Maybe it finds me," Will said.

Elizabeth slapped his chest. "You deliberately put yourself in war zones!"

"Technically, I was outside the war zone."

Elizabeth scoffed. "You were one footstep over the border."

Will shrugged. "That's still outside."

"Why can't you just act like a normal human being?"

"Look who's talking."

Elizabeth paused, letting the silence settle over them. "Why are we both so messed up?"

Will didn't reply. He didn't need to when the loss of their parents spoke such volumes.

"I should have been in the car," Elizabeth said.

Will shook his head. "It wouldn't have made a difference."

"Maybe not," Elizabeth said. "But sometimes I wish that we'd all gone together, that none of us were left behind. When I think about all the people that I've hurt, or who've died because of me…maybe the world would have been better off."

"People would still get hurt, would still die, whether you were here or not."

"Maybe. But at least I wouldn't have been around to see it."

Will wrapped a lock of Elizabeth's hair around his finger, twizzling it before letting it fall free again. "Mom and Dad would have been so proud of you."

Elizabeth chuckled. "I could bring about world peace and they still wouldn't have noticed, not with a problem child like you to steal all their attention."

"Maybe I wouldn't have been such a problem if they weren't always going on about how they wished I was more like you."

Elizabeth shook her head. "They never said that."

"Maybe not to you, but it's all I ever heard."

Elizabeth paused, then let out a long breath. "God, I miss them, even now."

Will squeezed her arm, pulling her close to his side. "Me too."

"Sometimes I try to remember what they looked like," Elizabeth said, "But then I realise I'm just remembering a photograph."

Will nodded. "I know. Sometimes I see glimpses of them in the kids. It's just the slightest look, nothing more than a micro-expression, and it just floors me."

"It used to bug me when the kids would call Henry's parents their grandparents, but our parents are just Mom's mom and dad. It's completely irrational, I know." She dismissed the thought with a shake of her head. "I think Mom and Dad would have been great grandparents though."

Will's lips lifted into a smile. "They would have spoiled the kids so much."

"Yeah, but in a good way."

They settled back into silence. Thoughts of their parents and how different things might have been danced through Elizabeth's mind, a kind of alternative memory montage.

Will cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about the box," he said. "I honestly didn't know that the letter was in there. I had forgotten all about it."

Elizabeth shook her head. "As much as I would love to blame you, it's not your fault. I should never have written it in the first place."

"Or you should have burnt it."

"Or that." Elizabeth nodded, her lips tugging into a small smile. She paused. "I was so afraid of losing him. I still am, every day. That letter was meant to stop me from getting hurt, but instead it turns up now and hurts everyone and will most likely be the reason I lose him anyway."

"You're not going to lose him."

"I don't know." Elizabeth sighed. "He's been dodging my calls all day."

"Just give him space. The two of you will talk. You'll work things out."

"I don't want to work things out. I just want them to be the same as they were before, the same as they were this morning, before that stupid letter reappeared."

Will hesitated. "I spoke to him—this morning, after he came back."

Elizabeth groaned. "I told you not to say anything. If I find out that you said something that's made things worse…" The unfinished threat hung in the air. Her voice softened. "I can't handle losing him, not now."

"You're not going to lose me."

Elizabeth jumped at Henry's voice. She sat up, peeling herself away from Will, and peered over the back of the sofa. Henry was perched on the bottom step of the stairs.

"Hey, you," she said, her voice breathless.

"Hey yourself," Henry said, his eyes locked on hers. He stood up, took a step closer and then stopped there.

Will got up from the sofa and stretched his arms high above him. He leant down to press a kiss to the top of Elizabeth's head. "It's late," he said. "I should probably…" He pointed at the steps, and clapping Henry on the arm as he passed, he disappeared up the staircase.

Elizabeth stayed sitting on the sofa, Henry still lingering halfway between the stairs and the living room. When Will's footsteps had faded, Elizabeth asked, "How long have you been sitting there?"

"A while," Henry said, "I didn't want to interrupt."

"Oh."

Henry cleared his throat. His gaze dipped to the floor before flitting back up to catch hers. "You never talk about your parents with me."

Elizabeth tensed. "I…It's difficult," she said. "Will gets it."

"I know," Henry said, and he gave a small shrug. "It still makes me jealous though."

"Jealous?"

Henry nodded. "There will always be a piece of you that you can't share with me. And I want all of you."

Elizabeth swallowed, casting her eyes to the floor between them. "Even the crazy irrational stuff? Even the bleak 2 AM thoughts?"

Henry nodded with a half smile. "Every last bit."

Elizabeth paused. "Henry, I'm so sorry. That letter—"

But Henry shook his head, cutting her off, and strode across the room. He leant over the back of the sofa, his arms enveloping her in a hug so tight that not even a piece of paper could come between them.

Elizabeth shifted onto her knees, and then to her feet. Climbing onto the back of the sofa, she wrapped her legs around Henry, pulling him impossibly closer.

Henry pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against Elizabeth's. He opened his mouth to speak, but a long pause passed before the words came. "When I told my family that we were getting married, my father said that I was making a mistake. He said: a girl like her isn't made to be the wife of a marine. As soon as you step off American soil, she'll take that ring off. I told him that he was wrong, that he didn't know you, that you loved me and that it didn't matter how far apart we were. He said that you might love the man who left, but you wouldn't love the man who returned. That haunted me…reading that letter…it brought it all back."

Elizabeth cupped his cheek in her hand. "I wish I hadn't written it."

Henry shook his head. "I wish you had told me that you felt like that."

"But then what would have happened?"

"I would have fought for you," Henry said. He laced his fingers through her hair. "I'll always fight for you."

Elizabeth brushed her nose against his. "I don't think you know quite how much I love you, Henry McCord."

Henry smiled. "I think I've got a pretty good idea."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Whatever you're thinking, it's not even close."

"No?"

Elizabeth shook her head again.

"Then tell me." When Elizabeth hesitated, he continued, "Tell me something, tell me anything, as dark or crazy as it might be."

Elizabeth looked to the floor, but her eyes flashed back up as she said, "I still talk to them, to my parents."

"What do you say?" Henry asked.

She shrugged. "I tell them about my day."

"Do you talk to them about me?"

Elizabeth smiled and nodded.

"What do you tell them?"

"Lots of things," Elizabeth said, "But mostly that they don't need to worry about me, because I've got you."

Henry took her hand and placed it over his heart. "You have got me. Always."

"Good. Because I could never get over losing you."

Henry pressed his lips to hers, and his hands clung to her waist.

Elizabeth brushed her knuckles against the door to the spare room. She paused, and then pushed it open. Will was lounging on the bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other holding open a medical journal. His eyes darted up as she entered.

He let the journal fall against his chest. "Everything okay?"

Elizabeth nodded. She took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze. "I just wanted to thank you…for talking to Henry, for fixing things."

Will flashed her a broad smile. "I'm a surgeon. Fixing things is my specialty."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Night, Will." She hesitated, and then padded over the carpet to give him a brief hug. "Love you."

Will clutched her back, holding her close for a long second. "Love you too, Lizzie." Then he let her go. As she reached the door, he called out, "Just keep it down tonight. I'm still traumatised from when we used to share a wall."

Elizabeth shot him a look over her shoulder. "You're more than welcome to find a place of your own."

Thanks for reading! Reviews make me happy and are very much appreciated.