A/N: I swear I thought this would take me a few hours to write. Because I had it all in my head and how hard could it be to just get it out on paper. Well, apparently harder than I thought. Started this a week ago. So you see, if this doesn't make sense, or if you feel like I'm rambling on, that's because of how long it took me to write it. I'm sorry about that. I was missing a panic attack in the last episode, or at least a good cry. I needed her to tell him how scary it was to almost lose him. That hospital kiss wasn't enough. So this is me, and my mind, trying to fill the gap. I hope you like it! Do tell me what you think please!

Enough for Always

As the door closed, he turned to take her in his arms. He wanted to apologize. He needed to. Lashing out at her like that, after all the events of the past few days, it was unfair. And he knew better than to accuse her of trying to hurt him like that. He knew she wasn't at peace with his decision. She made it pretty clear. But nonetheless, it was his decision and she didn't argue. As he wrapped his arms around her slim figure, he felt her body tense against his. She was angry. She had every right to be.

"I love you" he whispered in her ear, "and I'm sorry".

Nodding, she leaned forward and pressed her lips softly to his. As she pulled back, he looked at her, their gazes locking. For the first time in the past 48 hours, he looked deep into the crystal blue of her eyes, clouded with fear, holding back tears. For the first time in the past 48 hours, he was beginning to realize what this all did to her. "Babe?" he said, his fingers gently stroking her cheek.

"I'm really tired" she whispered and began to untangle herself from his hold. She wasn't ready. Not yet. She was still fighting her demons, still in desperate need to gain control again. Everything was too much. Climbing up the stairs, she could feel his eyes on her. He was trying to read her – her body language, her unspoken words. She wasn't just tired, he knew better. It was why he didn't follow her. Not right away. He was giving her space. She asked for it. Though she never really did.

Standing over the sink, she took out the bottle of Xanax from the cabinet. Still unopened, unused. She swore she would never take it. She was determined to get better without medications, and she did. She just didn't realize how unprepared it could catch her again. Dr. Sherman warned her. Probably thousands of times. It's why she always carried a bottle of the pills in her purse. But she brushed it off, saying she was okay, that she healed. But then she was in her office, watching as the bomb went off, and the air got stuck in her lungs. She was pretty certain she never regained her normal breathing since. She was constantly on the verge, seconds from feeling like the walls are crumbling down on her.

She was too focused on her own thoughts, on her desperate need to keep the panic at bay. She didn't hear him when he came into the room. She didn't hear him when he entered the bathroom. It was when he called her name for the third time, that she finally snapped out of her thoughts to notice his presence. Offering a faint smile, she put the bottle back, closing the cabinet's door.

"Babe?" he asked, his voice questioning, his gaze filled with worry.

"Yeah, sorry" she tried again to offer her smile, needing so badly to brush away his concern. "I'm really tired" she said as she moved to make her way to their bed.

Catching her, he rested his hands on her arms. He stared into her eyes, recognizing the terror he knew so well. She tried to hide it by smiling, by acting as if nothing really happened. But he saw it for months after she came home from Iran. It took him long enough to accept that he can't do anything, that there's no reason. The sound of a breaking glass made her crawl into the corner of the room. It made her breath short, her vision blurry. And it took everything he had to calm her down each time. To explain that she was safe, that nothing will happen to her. Or to him. Thinking of the past 48 hours he realized no one had done that. Reassure her nothing will happen to him. And when she finally learned he's going to be okay, he informed her of his will to join the DIA. And then he did some yelling. And in all that time, she hasn't cried once. Not really. She was busy taking care of the kids, then him, then the state department. She was busy worrying sick that she is, in fact, going to lose him. Not to a dirty bomb. To the secrets that will eat them both. And he never once asked her if she was okay. It's been so long. He wanted to forget. He needed to forget. Because otherwise he'd spend his day worrying about her, wondering if something caused her to panic. He had to convince himself that she healed. They both believed it. The only constant reminder was the bottles of Xanax in her purse and in the medicine cabinet.

"Baby" he whispered, gently caressing her cheek, "you can let go. Let go. I'm here. You need to… It's okay".

"Henry, I'm just tired. Please, can I just sleep?"

"Elizabeth, don't. Don't brush it off. You know better".

"I'm not. I'm not brushing it off". That was a complete lie. She did the one thing she knew she shouldn't. She did know better, he was right. She knew better because the last time she brushed it off, she ended up in the hospital. Which is why she was thinking of taking that pill. It was, at this point, one of two options – either have an attack, with a trigger she could never anticipate, or take the pill and hope it will quiet down the demons in her head. But as Henry came into the bathroom, she let her own weary excuses convince herself. She really didn't need much to fall for what she wished for.

He stood with her for a while longer, wanting to give her another chance before he'd let it go. He didn't want to force her. It was the only thing that he knew for sure wouldn't work. And although at that moment it meant taking the chance it will all explode, he had nothing else he could do. "Let's go to sleep then" he said when she remained silent.

She pecked his lips lightly before she let him lead her towards the bed. Pulling the covers over them, he wrapped his arms around her and she closed her eyes. Sleep came as quickly as she had anticipated it. She was tired. Not just from the lack of sleep and the extra work. The emotions of the past 48 hours drained all power out of her, and she was quite certain her body won't survive a panic attack at this point. He watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful now that her eyes were closed. Now he couldn't see the terror, the fear. He was grateful for being given another chance to watch her while she slept. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

She stirred in her sleep, moving from his hold. Still awake, he decided to head downstairs and let her gain the rest she needed to badly. He was downstairs, just downstairs.

"Secretary McCord" Dr. Cary said as she approached Elizabeth. "I have the results of your husband's bioassay".

Scanning the doctor in front of her, Elizabeth had to take a deep breath before speaking. She recognized bad news from miles when she saw them, and the look on Dr. Cary's face indicated nothing good was going to be said. She felt the floor moving under her feet, and then she felt Blake's strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he led her towards a chair. The rest was a blur. She remembered hearing that his exposure was broad, that his organs were bound to fail one by one, that they didn't know how much time he still had. She remembered being asked if she wanted a hazmat suit so she could go see him, and she could faintly hear her own voice as she said yes. But by the time she arrived to his room he was already long gone, deep in a sleep he would never wake from. She wanted to touch him, but the suit made it impossible. She wanted to kiss him, but the mask on her face didn't allow it. She felt numb as she stood there in the room, his body laying still, as if he was just sleeping. She felt like screaming, yelling at him to wake up. She wanted him to just wake up. But her mouth was dry and no voice came out. And soon the doctors came into the room and began to unplug the machines, and she was left standing there as they declared the death of the love of her life.

In her sleep, she reached for him. Half conscious, she needed to know it was just a dream. Because he was there, he was okay. But his side of the bed was empty and her hand reached for the cold sheets. Franticly moving against them, she opened her eyes in turmoil. She scanned the room, her eyes moving quickly as she searched for him, or for some sort of clue that he was there. That him being alive wasn't all just a dream. On trembling feet, she got up from the bed. But her body was weak, and her panic was quickly taking over her. She stumbled and fell, her head hitting the nightstand. Her vision was blurry, the room around her spinning. Her breath was rapid, her heart racing. Her head was bleeding, and she felt sick to her stomach. Holding her hand to her head, she tried to stop the bleeding. She had to close her eyes and lean against the bed as she felt her head falling. She tried to breathe but it felt like the room had no oxygen and she sucked in air.

Lying on the couch reading a book, he jumped at the loud sound of her fall. He was up on his feet in seconds, rushing upstairs. Turning the lights on, he could see her golden locks lying scattered on the mattress and he ran towards her. She was as pale as he'd ever seen her, and the blood on her forehead was so red compared to the color of her face. His hands were trembling, and the bandages still restricted his movements. He reached for her, gently caressing her skin, calling out her name. But she was distant, as if she wasn't there. And she couldn't hear him, and she could barely see him.

Running to the bathroom, he retrieved a towel. He sat on the floor next to her and pulled her to his embrace as he pressed the towel to her wound, as his lips brushed her forehead so lightly. When her hand rested on his chest, at the place where she felt his heart beating, she began to sob hysterically. It was then that she realized she wasn't dreaming, that he was there, that he was okay. He pulled her closer, her arm wrapping tightly around her trembling form. Her breaths became shorter and she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Elizabeth, you have to stop crying" he said, turning to face her, resting his solid hands on her arms. "Baby, come on. You know it only gets worse. I need you to breathe with me, in and out, come on".

She tried to focus her vision, to catch his eyes. But his voice sounded distant and the room spun around her. She tried to cling to his words, to his touch. Logically, she knew she had to stop crying in order to gain control of her breathings. But it was impossible. The pain, the worry, the fear. All she had experienced the past 48 hours surfaced again at that moment and for the first, she allowed herself to feel. She allowed herself to give into those feelings.

He looked at her, his hand holding her head in place, trying to raise his voice so she could hear him. It was bad, and it was only getting worse. He couldn't afford to take any risks. He got up and ran to the bathroom. Filling a glass with water, he opened the bottle of Xanax and threw a pill into the water. He watched it dissolve before returning to her. She was going to hate him for giving her this pill without her consent. But at that moment, it was either give her the pill or call an ambulance and he knew the later would be much worse. Sitting back next to her, he gave her the glass and urged her to drink it all. Then he held her tight, trying his best to soothe her with his touch, and waited for the pill to kick in. It was probably the longest 20 minutes of his life. He couldn't recall ever seeing her like this. Pale, lacking air, unable to focus, confused. And the feeling of helplessness, it was too much for him watching her as she sobbed, not having a clue how to help her. Slowly, the room went quiet. Her sobs died, replaced by silent tears. Her breathing still short, but even. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder, finally feeling his fingers on her, finally hearing his low calming voice. She was weak and dizzy. She felt nauseated and her muscles hurt. Looking at her hand, her eyes widened at the sight of the blood as she didn't remember what happened.

"Shh, calm down. It's okay, you're okay" he whispered. Noticing the panic that returned to her, he helped her stand up, and, allowing her to lean on him, he walked her to the sink in their bathroom. The cold water drizzled her hands as he washed the blood away. He then washed her face carefully and she shivered. After cleaning her wound and drying her face, he placed a bandage on her wound. He smiled softly, his fingers gently caressing her cheek. Still holding onto her, he led her to their bed and helped her settle against the cushions.

"You gave me Xanax?" she asked, her voice hoarse and low.

"I had to" he answered, an apologizing look on his face.

She nodded. She should've taken it before. Or at least she should've talked to him. Anything other than pushing it away as if it wasn't bound to explode sooner or later. "I'm sorry" she whispered, and tears slid down her face.

"No. I am. I'm sorry I left you here alone. And I'm sorry for being so reckless and going into that building. And I'm sorry you almost lost me. And I'm sorry I wasn't attentive enough to see what it had done to you. I should've known, I should've…"

"Henry" she said, trying but failing to raise her voice. "Stop. What you did… You helped that woman. You saved her life. I, I can't be mad at you for that. You're my hero. I'm just… You're okay, and it's all that matters now".

He pulled her to rest against his chest, placing soft kisses on her forehead. He was okay. Problem was, she was from it. And if she didn't talk to him about it, nothing he'd say or do would stop the next attack. She closed her eyes and allowed the rise and fall of his chest to calm her down. Knowing that he was there, breathing, alive, it was all she hoped for, all she really needed. He allowed her to fall asleep in his arms, her body tired and weak. He held her through the night, feeling her gripping his hand tightly when she needed a reassurance that he was there.

Waking up the next morning, she smiled as she saw him staring at her. She moved closer to him, leaning forward to kiss him gently. His lips were warm and soft against hers, and she let out a breath that was caught in his mouth. As their lips parted, she noticed his tired features, the worry in his eyes. "You didn't sleep" she stated.

"No" he said, shaking his head, "I couldn't close my eyes".

Sitting in bed and resting her head against the headboard, she felt the throbbing pain in her head. She forgot about that, just like she wasn't quite sure how she ended up with such a bad panic attack. She wondered if those were the effects of the panic attack itself or the medicine. Taking a deep breathe, she took his hand in hers and turned to look at him. "Baby, I know I scared you last night, but I'm okay, I am. It's over".

"Don't tell me that it's over, because it's not, and you know it. You spent the entire night needing reassurance that I was right here. And what if I wasn't?"

She glanced at him, understanding he was frightened. And he had every reason to be. He didn't have the ability to help her, not with this. She was fighting her own battle, managing her own fears. And she knew all the techniques she had to use when this happened. But she was too tired to follow them, too weak. The scare was too much for these ordeals to work, and as hard as she tried, it just wasn't enough. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say it out loud. Tell me what happened".

"You almost died, is what happened!" she snapped, agitated that he pushed her like this.

"I did" he answered evenly. "And I also decided to join DIA, right?"

She narrowed her eyes, angry that he brought it up. She was hoping they moved past this after he accepted Conrad's offer. She didn't block him at DIA. She suggested to form this task group and when Conrad asked her if she thinks Henry would accept the part, she told him he should be talking to him about it. She knew they were considering picking him for the job, but it became official to her as well only when the White House called to let her know Conrad was on his way. And it was unfair that he blamed her for standing in his way. He had to know better. They never do things like that, not to each other. He had to know her better.

"No" he reached for her hand, squeezing it. He didn't mean for it to sound like he was blaming her, or like he was mad at her. That's not why he brought it up. "It made you fear that you're going to lose me. And I dismissed it".

As the tears welled in her eyes, and the lump in her throat was threatening to steal her breath again, she nodded. She snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. "And there was also the explosion. And the kids" she whispered softly.

"And it was too much. I get that. But last night, I tried. I wanted you to let it all out, but you…"

"I wasn't ready to face it" she answered as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"And now?"

"Henry, I can't lose you. Not to dirty bombs, not to the DIA. Not to anything. I just can't. And I know, it's silly. You have no control over things, and if something were to happen, then it will, because that's life. I just… I don't know how to keep living without you. And I don't ever want to find out".

He felt her trembling against his body, her tears soaking in his shirt. She was crying, on the verge of another breakdown. He recognized the symptoms right away, it was too painful to ever forget. Shifting, he sat in front of her, making her look at him. Her eyes, the color of dark blue, conveyed all the pain she was feeling, and it cut through him like a knife.

"Listen to me. First of all breathe, okay? I'm here right now. I'm okay, and I need you to be too. Can you do that for me? Breathe?"

Taking a deep breath, she sighed, a sob escaping. "Good" he smiled, squeezing her hand. "Now here's the deal – I can't promise you forever, because there is no forever. But I can promise you right now, and until the day I die. And I promise you that I will never let anything ever break us apart. And I will never do something reckless that might cost me my life. And I will take those vitamins you keep asking me to take" he said, and she laughed at his comment, wiping her tears. "As long as it's up to me, I'm not going anywhere. Deal?"

"Deal" she nodded, a faint smile crossing her lips.

"Promise me you'll tell me before?"

"Promise".

Grinning, he pulled her legs so she laid flat on her back and climbed on top of her. Her hands immediately settled around his neck and his lips pressed gently to hers. "Luckily, we're going to be working together now. So I can keep an eye on you" he teased.

"You mean so that I can't keep an eye on you" she smirked.

"That too".

As he moved to kiss her again, she rested her finger on his lips and smiled. "I love you, Mr. radioactive arm candy".