Bess walked in the door to their home – their home that had forever seemed so stable. The ride home had been hell. She didn't believe what Daisy had told her, but she had seemed so sure. Daisy had evidence, and despite what Bess had said to the contrary, Daisy did not simply sling around allegations. Besides, Bess had noticed things between her and Henry that were odd. She hadn't given it much thought because their marriage was always dynamic and evolving. But Henry had been distracted, and not with the usual research and intense discussion that accompanied his writing process. Henry had been more distant from her of late.

Anxiety clutched her stomach. What could she say? Would she just assault him with the question the second she walked through the door? That seemed ridiculous. She must be overreacting. Henry would never have an affair. They took their vows seriously, religiously. Bess didn't know how she would go on if Henry had been unfaithful. She would have to leave him. It would be too painful to look at him. She knew theoretically that the outdated idea that inattentive women led their husbands to stray was wrong, but she couldn't help but think back to anything she might have done wrong. Henry had always been infatuated with her, and she had never had to work for his affection. It was a gift freely offered on his part, and accepted on hers.

Bess stepped out of the car and into their home. She took one last breath to strengthen herself for this confrontation. She couldn't afford to fall into his arms, crying, if he really had strayed. That's what really hurt. She could handle anything, she was a very strong and independent woman after all, but she could only operate so well because she was supremely grounded by the love and welcoming she had with Henry. She knew any difficulties at work were temporary because soon enough she would be able to relax in her husband's arms. But not this. If he really had broken their marriage, she could not run to him for comfort, she would have to get away. It would constitute the ultimate betrayal.

Bess walked into the house and turned to shut the door. She tried to compose herself, but she couldn't quite get her face to cooperate. Around Henry, she always became much more transparent. He brought her thoughts out of the intricate caverns of her mind.

"There you are." Henry immediately moved toward her, smiling. Of course he would be acting the same, she thought. Bess had somehow expected him to be defensive, but why would he be? He held her close to him, like they did every time they greeted each other when they got home. She wanted to relax into his arms like usual, but something wouldn't let her. She needed to know he hadn't betrayed her love before giving herself to him, even in something as small as a hug.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Her body was stiff. She could feel it. Her arms wouldn't cooperate in embracing Henry. She couldn't stand to be that close to him, not knowing what he might have done. Henry noticed this immediately and drew back to look at her better. Even then she couldn't meet his eyes. She knew he was no different than he had been this morning, but she couldn't look him in the eyes because those eyes had promised her the world and the future. Those eyes spoke the poems that she would never voice, and she knew that she wouldn't have the strength to continue if she let Henry comfort her. But he couldn't, not now, because he was the problem.

When Henry pulled back, he tried to read her face for emotion, but Bess looked down, hiding herself from the person she had promised never to hide from.

"What?" Henry was clearly worried. He looked her up and down.

The simple inquiry made Bess uncomfortable. She had to confront him, but she didn't know how to.

"No, no. I just…" She started walking away, unconsciously clinging to her husband's hand, not wanting their bond to be broken.

"What's wrong, are you alright?" Henry looked at her back intently. There was tension in the room. Henry needed to know how to comfort his wife. He hadn't heard anything on the news that would indicate Bess being in such a state. He really hadn't seen her like this before. She got upset plenty, but he could always read her. She always let him read her. They didn't play hard to get like this. This was different. Henry could tell she had something to say that she didn't want to tell him.

"I thought you were at the archives." Bess threw the statement out hoping that she wouldn't have to ask the question.

Henry hated lying to his wife, but he hoped this would be another question he could calmly explain away. He tried to make it easier on himself by turning and walking back to his desk so he wouldn't have to look at her while he lied.

Bess looked everywhere but at Henry. She knew he was lying. His voice was hollow.

"Well, it was crowded, and I got hungry."

You never directly acknowledged you were even there, Hank. Bess knew how good lies worked. You let the person believe whatever they already believed, and only offered the most reasonable explanation. Henry knew this, too. He was using his training on her. If anything, it stiffened her resolve. For the first time since entering the room, she looked at him. The words tumbled from her in exasperation and anxiety. She had wanted this to go better, to not even get to this point.

She threw her arms up, trying to distance herself from the question. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to ask. None of this was her idea. She wanted to unhear the things Daisy had told her.

"Are you having an affair?"

Immediately, she felt terrible. This was Henry. Her Henry. He would never – he could never... She tried to soften her question.

"I heard it. I don't believe it, but I need to hear it from you." Her heart was breaking. She finally looked at his face, and into those eyes that had been her refuge for more years than she liked to tell people. She couldn't take these words back. His response could change her entire life, the beautiful life the she loved with her children – their children.

Henry was shocked. His face froze. All that was left was an empty, somber expression. He removed his glasses because they were making her look blurry around the edges. Where had she gotten this? Why would she think... How could she think that he would do something so fundamentally against his beliefs? The NSA job. Of course. Someone must have seen him meeting with his handler like Stevie had. What could he say? He had to say something, and soon. Would he be allowed to tell her now? There were provisions for this sort of thing, weren't there? And his wife was the Secretary of State. It wasn't like she was an ordinary civilian. Even if he would get called off the mission for telling her, didn't he have to tell her now? He couldn't let her think he had been unfaithful. It would tear her apart. He could see what the doubt had already done to her. She looked lost. And why shouldn't she? He always took care of her when she needed comfort. Beyond Bess, even, Henry would be completely lost without her.

"Oh, my God…" Bess's world started collapsing in on itself. Her eyes blinked quickly, trying to hold the tears in. What did this mean? Would she have to leave immediately? What about the kids? He just looked like a deer in the headlights. He wasn't prepared. But if he hadn't been having an affair, he would have just denied it. He would have had an explanation, wouldn't he?

She couldn't look at him anymore. She was going to break down. What could she possibly do? She was lost. She just wanted to crawl in a hole.

"No." Henry looked at his wife seriously, hoping that this would soothe her obvious turmoil. Her expression looked dead. Part of her had died; Henry could tell. He never wanted to see her with that look in her eyes.

Bess's thoughts were coming fast and feverish. No? No?! That was all he could say? Her world – their world – was collapsing, and that was the only denial he could come up with? Really? It infuriated her. How did he expect her to respond to that? Did he really think that she was just going to put up with that sort of behavior? What made men think that women were play things? Henry had never treated her that way, and she wouldn't have married him if he had, but hadn't he just proven that he was not what she thought he was?

The whole situation started to seem hilarious to Bess. That her world could have changed so quickly, that she could have misjudged her husband for years, that he could ever do this to her, that her life was over, that her marriage was over, that Henry didn't have the decency to tell her what was going on… She almost let out a laugh.

"Well, you're gonna have to be a lot more convincing… Immediately."

Her anger started to bubble through to the surface. He was trying to brush this off with a simple no? Really? Who did he think he was? Who did he think she was? Hadn't they been married long enough for this to warrant more than a one-word answer? He knew better than this! He was deliberately pissing her off! Finally, here was the fire and passion that she needed to buoy her strength. She knew she could break it off with Henry if it came to it. In that moment, she knew she would be okay. Not okay, not even in the slightest, but she would survive. Her life would be different, and she wouldn't feel that kind of love or connection ever again, but she would never run sniveling back to a man who treated their love and union with such lazy indifference.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Henry was a little angry now, too. How could Bess believe that? Of course there was evidence, but still. How could she think he could toss someone as precious as her aside? Was her confidence really that shaky? How could she think he could live with himself? How did she think he could continue functioning without her? Beyond his anger, though, Henry wanted Bess to know everything. He wanted to take her out of this pain she was in. But he was a man of passion, after all, and the anger was starting to take hold. And could he even tell her? Was he allowed to do that?

"Okay, that's better, but what's going on?"

The wind was completely taken out of Bess's sails. Henry was responding the way he should have. It was almost treasonous to question their love. It cheapened the bond they had to suggest that it could be changed by a trifling issue. They spent enough time and effort consciously affirming to one another that they were still the top priority, and if one person felt neglected, they should have spoken to each other about it rather than question their love.

"You haven't given me pages…"

"Pages? I can't even get you on the phone! How am I gonna give you…" Henry's anger and uncertainty about revealing himself made him frustrated and exasperated by her line of questioning. Of course she was right, but how could she question him when he had been so supportive of her? She knew he found her new position difficult sometimes, and he thought she had recognized his unwavering love for her and appreciated that. Even if they didn't say it in so many words, they always thanked each other for still being loving even when it wasn't easy.

"Henry, you've published eight books," Remember me? I've been here for all of that. Remember how I never questioned the long nights and time away? Remember how I listened to every new idea you had with interest even when I was exhausted? Please remember me… "I've seen you in writing mode. You can't stop talking about it. You're like 'yak yak yak,' you won't even shut up! This is different! This is weird… And… You're being sneaky… I don't…"

Bess's anger peaked and dissipated. In its wake was a growing realization. Her mind had calmed in his presence, like always, and now she was able to fit the pieces together. She looked him up and down, processing rapidly, mentally flipping through their activities in the last few weeks like a photo album.

"Wait…" She walked around in front of him to look at him properly again.

"I know this." She was nodding, confirming to herself. Henry's eyes glanced down, away from her, and then back. He could tell she was figuring him out, even without him giving anything away. His gaze almost pleaded with her to do the job for him. Figure it out, Bess, put it together. You've got it. I can't fight with you.

"You're working for the NSA again." Bess let her statement hang in the air. Henry had to do some rapid calculating in his head. He could tell her if she already basically knew, right? She was his rock and inspiration. The NSA had to realize that for their asset to be effective, he needed his lifeblood, his wife. If Bess no longer loved him, and he could no longer support her, he wouldn't be able to continue to function, so he judged the best thing would be to confirm her suspicions and alleviate her worry.

"Yes."

Relief flooded through Bess like a wave on a beach that thought it would never feel moisture again.

"That's why you're not at the archives!" She was smiling now, thrilled. "That's why you're being seen around town with a cute, young woman." Her whole demeanor had changed in mere seconds. She gently pushed Henry showing him that she finally understood the mystery.

"She's my handler." Henry wanted Bess to know that he really had not been fooling around on her.

"I added cute. Is she cute?" A bit of the protective and possessive Bess showed through again. Hank was hers, and if he ever forgot it, there would be hell to pay.

"She's my handler." Really Bess, I promise. Henry had to speak over the words that were tumbling like dominoes from Bess's mouth in her relief.

"…But why didn't you just tell me, Henr…?" Bess was almost angry again, the initial joy at his innocence starting to wear off. Why did he put me through this when he could have told me in the first place? Didn't he know what this would do to me? Or am I just too sensitive?

"I told them it was absurd!" Henry needed Bess to know he hadn't put her through this intentionally, that he had wanted to be open with her, that she really did matter to him. He knew this episode would haunt her for a while.

"I mean, they let me tell you the last time!"

"Yes!" Bess interjected. So why didn't you tell me this time?

"But this mission is so top secret that even the Secretary of State can't know."

Bess's face fell a little. What does that mean? Is it dangerous? What are you doing, baby? She always hated that their jobs required them to keep so much of their lives separate from each other.

Henry glanced down, again. In that moment he decided that the NSA would just have to understand that when it came to his wife, they would have to be a little more lenient.

"You know what, I'm not gonna lie to you."

"Well, you better not!" Bess was smiling again. You haven't been lying to me. I thought you had been, but you weren't. Not about anything that mattered. Not about our marriage.

"Is it that religious scholar again?" It was the only thing she could think of that the NSA would need him for that they couldn't get someone else to do. As talented as he was, he already had a job. Not to mention it just wasn't good to have the spouse of a high level official working as a spy.

"Yeah, the investigation has ramped up, which merits the higher security clearance." Henry was serious again. Bess, know how big of a deal it is for me to have told you. Know I would have immediately if I could have.

"Can I ask why?" Bess just wanted to be let in. She needed to know they were still okay, that they were still together.

Henry shrugged and looked at her with an apology in his eyes. She nodded. She knew how these things worked. Even at that moment, there were plenty of things she couldn't tell him.

"I can tell you why it has to be me." Henry wanted her to know that he wanted her on the inside, even if he wasn't allowed to bring her in.

"I'm the only person who can viably walk up to him at academic conferences."

Bess looked at him steadily. She believed him. Understanding was a balm to her frazzled emotions that had been jerked up and down in the past three minutes. Without all the energy of anger and hurt feelings, she felt sad that they had been put through this. As quietly as they had handled it, as quickly it had gone, it had completely shaken her.

She looked back up and responded quietly, "I guess you had to say yes." Of course he had to say yes. He would have protected me if he could. This wasn't his choice. He never meant for this to happen. She tried to shrug away the empty feeling inside.

Henry could read the hurt in her body language. "I can still say no." Nodding, he tried to reassure her. It's okay, baby. I'm still here. I'm so sorry you found out this way. I'm right here. I can fix it. I would drop everything for you if you needed me to, please know that.

"Of course you can't." I never wanted you to stop doing what you love to do – what you're good at – for me. That isn't what we do, Henry, you know that. I just…

Bess didn't even know how to put her thoughts together anymore, so she did what she always did when she need to calm the chaos of the world. She reached for Henry. She tried to say something, but no words came, only the need to be closer to him, to let him shelter her. She kissed him, her arms finally cooperating to wrap around his body and cling tightly. This was what she needed; this was all she ever needed. Relief won over as the storm of emotions finally receded. Henry's arm supported her head, and he held her close, knowing how near he had come to losing her. I'll never let you go, babe. I'm here. You're here. We're okay.

They held each other like that for a while, standing in the middle of the library. Bess needed the reassurance. Even if she was strong and vital and independent, she still needed Henry to make everything okay again. I'm sorry I even thought you would cheat on me. I only ever needed you. Know that, baby. Know that I only reacted so strongly because I need you. I need you to be able to truly breathe. I couldn't take a free breath if you weren't with me.

"I've got dinner ready, if you're hungry."

Bess laughed, burying her face in Henry's neck.

"Yeah. I could go for that. What are the kids doing tonight?"

"Want to send them on a sleepover?" He could tell Bess would need a break to recover from this encounter.

"You read my mind." But of course you did, you always do. I'm so glad you do. I'm so glad I didn't lose you.

"We could watch a movie. Pop some popcorn." I know what you need, baby. Let me take care of you.

"I don't care what we do, as long as you keep holding me like this."

It wasn't often that Bess was so vulnerable, even to Henry. Only he ever saw this side of her, but she just didn't get this way very much. They kept each other on an even keel normally.

"I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. You're stuck with me." I promise.

Bess looked up directly into his eyes, remembering how much trouble she had had earlier with that simple glance.

"I can't imagine anything better."