A/N: Hello friends. Long time yes. I'm so very sorry that I take so long, I can only hope that it's worth the read after such chaotic intervals. Thank you so so much to everyone who's still reading. I'm still amazed that people want to read it, and so I appreciate your comments and if you don't comment, I still appreciate you. I hope that this chapter will provide some closure and you'll find it an adequate end to a confusing idea. I must thank Adi for listening to me whinge and bouncing my ideas, and miss Kristina for pressure cleaning my writing (I'll be calling on your for beta in future). I hope it's not too 'wrapped', after all, with a topic like this, I could hardly rinse and repair. Anyway, thank you all for the support, and I hope you find this acceptable. Let me know what you think!

"You sure you're okay with this?" Elizabeth asked tentatively. Henry noticed the way she wrung the end of her loose blouse.

"Of course." He smiled, prying her tense hand from the fabric and replacing it with his. "You're a part of this. Of me. I want you here." He was grateful for her presence, and as he breathed in the subtle, floral scent of her perfume, his mind eased a little. She was more important than she realised. Her damp palm relaxed in his, and she returned his smile.

He pecked her quickly on the lips before the office door creaked open, and Casey Hardy stepped into the small waiting area.

"Henry, good to see you." The man shook Henry's hand warmly.

"Dr. Hardy, this is my wife, Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth." The smile met his eyes and he shook her hand. "So good to finally meet you."

"You too, Dr. Hardy."

"Casey is fine. Please, come in."

The sat quietly beside one another on the small sofa, their hips touching. Henry was reminded of the first time they attended Elizabeth's session together with Dr. Sherman. She was quiet for most of the session, answering questions when appropriate and maintaining a reassuring presence for Henry. He knew she was observing. Sometimes there were questions or subjects which directly involved his wife, but she didn't show any outward signs of unease. He was honest and spoke freely, and only hoped that she would forgive that honesty when it came to matters of their personal relationship.

He held her hand on the long ride home. She was staring out the car window, her eyes distant and her grip loose. Right as he'd made up his mind to speak, she did. "I didn't know about… a lot of those things. I mean, I knew, but not like that."

He nodded, pushing a deep breath through his nose. "I'm sorry you had to hear some of that. The more gruesome things, anyway."

"I'm sorry you had to see them. Baby, couldn't you have told me this stuff'?" She pulled his hand into her lap which he let her have, fidgeting with his long fingers and actively avoiding his eyes.

"I didn't think violence and devastation would be terribly romantic," He attempted lighten the air. "We were so young, Elizabeth." He remembered returning from his first tour of duty, back to his new wife in their first home, the elation and complete joy of returning to her almost enough to smooth out the fresh grooves formed upon his soul. Almost. He squeezed her hand and turned to gaze out of the window, catching the flickers of light on the street-lamps as they passed.

She spoke so quietly that he almost didn't hear her. "I wouldn't change it if I could, you know?"

He paused for a moment, giving him a brief interim to consider if he would. "Nor would I." If it were a very specific set of circumstances that led them to where they were now, he would certainly not change a thing.

-o-

Elizabeth attended exactly one more session with Henry. She hadn't wanted to interfere. At least, that's what she told him. He wondered if she was uncomfortable with the idea of him discussing his past in relevance to recent events. After all, they'd both been through a lot in such a short time. What did Henry want to achieve? Casey had asked him the previous fortnight and he'd been giving it some thought. Did he want things to go back to how they were before? How were things before? At least now the tension was visible instead of a brewing conflict just waiting to explode. No, he didn't want to go back to that.

He was glad to be back behind a desk — for now, at least. It gave him time to restore throughout a workday and allow his mind to perform its necessary maintenance. As much as Henry loved intellectual challenge his job provided, he enjoyed the occasional peacefulness of having an office again. It gave him time to think about his family, his marriage, and what he wanted in the future.

Reclining back into the plush leather chair inside of his White House office, he crossed his hands in his lap, twisting his silver wedding band absently. The air smelled of closed ventilation, but it wasn't unpleasant, and the soft scent of the cedar bookshelf and desk cast a subtle aroma in the small space. It reminded him of Sundays in church.

Things between him and Elizabeth were different now. He knew all to well that people changed, as did their lives around them. They weren't the same. They'd never be. Some things just couldn't be overlooked. They needed to consider what was best for their children, whether that be taking a step back from their professional lives, or personally.

He wondered if she thought about leaving him. Don't be ridiculous. But isn't that what she'd said? He wasn't the man she'd married, and neither was she the woman who he had. For a man of such varied and liberal ideology, he couldn't decipher if it did matter. He suddenly felt the pressure — as though his own mind were a confessional — the scent of 'cathedric' timber became suffocating.

-o-

Suddenly, the two hour drive to see Dr Hardy in his small Charlottesville office seemed cruel, and he glanced across to see an exhausted Elizabeth. Her head leaned against the window, knocking quietly against the glass as she slept lightly. He unclipped his belt and slid to the centre seat, gently pulling her upper body to rest against his, effectively cushioning her head on his shoulder. How many times I've held you against me there. Her hair was soft and smooth, it cascaded down his neck and chest. It was long again, like it was when they first met.

As the SUV pulled to a stop, she began to stir. He watched her squint into the afternoon light, adjusting to the glare. The recognition dawned on her face, and he squeezed her hand.

"Henry, what are we doing here?" She mumbled. "Aren't we seeing Dr Hardy?"

"Not today." He smiled tightly.

An agent opened the passenger door and she climbed out, Henry in tow. The air was thin and the small breeze brought with it the earthy scent of red cedar. She closed her eyes and pointed her nose toward the sky as though she were testing the weather. He took her hand and led her down the footpath that connected to the small carpark which was overcrowded by the motorcade.

He took long, ground covering-strides, and Elizabeth struggled a little to keep pace with him. "Henry…"

"I stopped seeing Casey Hardy four weeks ago."

"I.. What?" She glanced back, seeing Matt on her tail, but far enough for some privacy.

She recognised the place suddenly as they approached the thinning channel of the small river that ran adjacent to the footpath, lined by timber park benches and now modern looking street lights. She could smell the water now, earthy and thick, yet not unpleasant. It reminded her of the farm.

He turned suddenly, almost causing her to collide with his jacket-clad body. Tossing a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw another agent flanking them. As alone as they'd get. "Do you remember this—"

"Our first kiss," She murmured, still taking in the surroundings.

He smiled faintly, a little winded by the brisk air, and released a heavy sigh. "Yeah." The autumn leaves gave contrast and vibrance to the otherwise green-washed landscape. Even the water had patches of lilies and algae, blurring the border between land and liquid. The hazel browns and reds that had fallen to the lush grass contradicted the chilly air. It was beautiful, just as he'd remembered it, but so very different. Time had transformed the landscape, much like their relationship, he thought coincidentally.

He pulled her to sit on one of the benches, dusting the fallen leaves from the surface before she sat. She giggled to herself, and he gave her a questioning smile. "When you brought me here, you spent the first five minutes pointing out every single tree, bird and leaf and their scientific names."

"I wanted to impress you." He smirked.

"You did. But you only impressed me with your ability to be a quick study. I knew you couldn't care less about tree genes and foliage families."

"Well, theology wasn't a very cool thing for a young man to show off."

"Neither was botany." She laughed.

He laughed with her. "I guess not."

A silence fell over them again and her smile faded. "It looks so different now. The river, I mean. But, in some ways, it's exactly as I remembered. Not that I was paying much attention to the nature."

He plucked her hand from her lap, running the pad of his thumb over the shinning silver of her wedding bands. "I've been thinking, about us."

Her heart sank at the words. Nothing good ever came from that phrase. Her belly tightened as she braced for whatever it was he needed to say. He'd been distant lately, and much colder than usual. She wasn't used to it. So she simply nodded, swallowing the thickness in her throat.

"With all that's happened… I never pictured us like this. I thought we'd settle, you know? I thought we'd have each other during those times of fear and hopelessness, but the truth is, we're the cause of it for each other a lot of those times." He could feel her tense at his words, and wracked his brain to find the right ones. Get to the point, damnit! "But it's like this place, you know. It's so different, some parts are unrecognisable, and sure, this bench doesn't look like it could hold a single extra pound of weight, but it's still beautiful!" His grip on her hand was tight and the stones in her rings dug into the soft flesh of his palm.

She was facing him, listening intently, but her eyes were a little glassy. She wasn't seeing his point. "It was so much simpler before, Henry," She whispered, and he brushed a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, the sun shinning through the pink skin making it seem transparent in the light.

"It is simple!" He raised his voice passionately. "I don't want 'before', I want right now. We're completely different, but I wouldn't change a god damned thing." She recoiled a little at his use of words, never knowing him to use God's name outside of passion, and noticed the bright flush that reached the tips of his ears. It wasn't the cold. "Elizabeth, I want you as you are, right now. I want us. I want our family, our kids. I'll take the nightmares, the cold sweats, hell I'll take the medications."

She was quiet, caught in the intensity of his stare. She needed to swallow but her brain wouldn't allow it. She jumped as he spoke again suddenly.

"When I look at you, I do see the pain and disappointment. I see your fear, mine. But that's not all I see."

The wind blew a tuft of her light hair over her nose and she squinted, blowing it away with pursed lips. "What else do you see?"

"Everything that we were when we met, but more. You're still frighteningly intelligent, gorgeous and one hell of a mother." He reached to cup her cheek softly and she leaned drowsily into his touch. "I know you've seen enough for a lifetime, and that parts of you have been damaged… lost even, but I don't mourn for who you were. I rejoice in who you are. I see our kids, and I'm so incredibly proud of our family. Part of me wonders, if it weren't for the exact turn of events, whether we'd have such great kids, or whether we'd have them at all. I couldn't imagine a world like that. Without them. Without you. And it's okay that we've changed, because we've changed together."

He could see her throat working as her mind raced, but he couldn't stop the words as they fell from his lips. He'd been shutting her out for too long."I don't care if you break my heart one hundred times over, or make me sick with worry, as long as it's you. I'll have you, this, all of it, but babe, will you have me?" he puffed, slightly winded from his testimony, and waited for her to speak.

She squinted, and he could see she was shielding forming tears. "Yes, I'll take it." She whispered with a gentle nod, and the tears did spill. There was no fix for some of the marks on their relationship, and their was no cure for the lasting memory of terror. She knew that well, but he was offering himself. He was promising to try, and she believed him.

He pulled her into his arms and held her tight, pressing his cheek against hers which gathered her hot tears. "This is what I want. And I'm sorry." He whispered into her ear.

Sorry. He meant it, and she knew it.

Opening and closing his mouth several times, he decided on quiet, knowing that he owed her a least a little recovery from his soliloquy. She sat quietly too, tilting her nose to the air and breathing. She looked like a deer, he thought, long and graceful, beautiful but also sharp. Like a deer testing the air and deciding the security of its surroundings by scent and sound.

"Thuja Plicata," He said, emphasising the t with a flick of his tongue.

"What?" She raised a thin brow in question.

He gestured to a tall tree several feet away with a nod of his head. "Or 'Juniperus Virginiana'" He added with a smirk. She snorted loudly, letting the stupid grin spread over her face. He leaned in and touched his lips to hers, unable to stifle his giggle. "And I'm just getting started…"