More-than-words, this is for you as part of the fic exchange challenge. I hope it's at least a little like what you wanted to see, because it's all over the place and I'm sorry. And side note, I know I haven't updated in a while, but I just started uni/college and it's stressful as can be so please bear with me!

It wasn't even that out of the ordinary, she had to admit when she sat in the car on her way home. The day had been long, sure, and tiring, and she felt spent, but the same could easily have been said for the days previous. It seemed as though her job offered nothing but gruelling hours and more stress than was healthy for anyone.

But today had somehow hit her harder. She felt the exhaustion in her bones; a chill creeping over her as the SUV drove through the darkening streets. That was another thing — the hours, or rather the notion that she had to be available at all times of the day, regardless of whether she'd just fallen asleep or was watching a movie with her kids, or she and Henry had started something interesting. The hours were relentless.

And so was the heartbreak, the gut-punches when their collective powers of diplomacy and negotiation — hell, sometimes full-on persuasion — failed. Like today, when they'd been so damn sure they'd pulled off a trade deal benefitting small-scale farmers in South America and all of a sudden it'd fallen apart because one Senator had decided to focus more on casinos than helping the developing world. She could still picture the faces of her staff so clearly when she'd told them what had happened, so full of disappointment, and sadness, and rage.

Nadine, of course, had been the least affected (externally, at least), which was typical of her experienced chief of staff. Not that it meant she cared any less, she was just better at hiding her true emotions — almost as good as Elizabeth herself. But the rest of her staff were so young and eager, not conditioned to accept that sometimes, you tried and tried and were so damn close but it still didn't go your way. It broke her heart that they had to face the reality of it, that not even Jay's typical long-shot plan could save them this time.

After delivering the bad news, she'd told everyone to go home for the night. It wasn't worth them hanging around the office, waiting for some miracle that would never come. She'd called a car too, needing to escape the seventh floor for something else, something that didn't remind her of her failure something disconnected from her title, from the role she'd accepted. Preferably the arms of her husband.

So now she sat in the SUV as they passed rows of houses in Georgetown, illuminated by streetlights and signs. It struck her every once in a while how bright DC really was at night, how bright any city was, how it never truly got dark.

It got dark on the horse farm, she remembered, that pitch-black darkness she loved, where she felt safe and enveloped, almost blanketed by the soft light of the moon.

She was transported back to when she was a little girl, and she would crawl onto the window seat of her room in the middle of the night, a quilt wrapped around her shoulders. She'd sit there and stare out into the darkness for what felt like forever. Some nights, her dad would come home late from a dinner, or from grading papers in his office, and he'd pop his head in her door, fully expecting Elizabeth to be sound asleep. When she wasn't, he'd smile to himself and pad over to the window. He'd place a hand on her shoulder and urge her to scoot to the side so he could sit next to her. Then he'd point out stars to her, and constellations, or they'd just sit there together and look outside at nothing at all.

Eventually, Elizabeth would get tired, and her father would tuck her into bed and press a kiss to her hair before walking out of the room as quietly as he could.

Elizabeth's thoughts rarely drifted to her childhood, but tonight proved an exception. She remembered her parents with fondness now, after over thirty years to learn how to cope with the loss. But she still felt the sharp pang of missing them every once in a while. Tonight was turning into one of those instances, and she was filled with a dull ache of longing for them. Usually she was far better in compartmentalizing and pushing aside her emotions.

She figured today everything was just compounding into one big mess— the trade deal falling through had put her feelings on a hair-trigger. Which explained why she'd started thinking of her parents in the first place; but still didn't make the longing go away.

The car pulled up in front of the house and Elizabeth exited, thanking the agents and wishing them a good night. She was grateful on occasions like these that years of spy training really did help with doing things on autopilot and she could step inside quietly.

When she opened the door and stepped into the foyer, she took a deep breath. Work Elizabeth didn't have to exist here, and she was grateful for that. She could shed her impossibly strong skin for a little while, and just be herself around Henry and the kids. As she took off her shoes and coat, she could feel the tension in her body dissipate. At the same time, her other feelings were bubbling back up to the surface, and the deep breath she'd just taken was followed by a much shakier one.

It was dark in the house, save for the one light that was always on in the foyer, so Elizabeth guessed that most, if not all of her family was already fast asleep. Probably better that way, she thought, then she wouldn't have to face them like this, all worked up and on the brink of tears. Tears that weren't even necessary, she tried to convince herself. It's not like anything had actually happened, she was just tired and overworked and her body was clearly acting against her. Or so she told herself.

She ascended the steps to the bedroom slowly, not wanting to wake anyone. As she slipped inside the door she made a beeline for the bathroom, not pausing to see if Henry was awake and completely missing the fact that the lamp on his bedside table was on. It was only his soft "Hey, babe," that managed to stop her in her tracks and she turned around to face him.

Henry was sitting in bed with his laptop and stacks of files and manuscripts he was using for his latest book project and he smiled broadly at Elizabeth when she turned to face him. He was glad she was back home and hoped her presence meant the all-nighters had paid off and the trade deal went through in one piece.

"How'd it all turn out?" he asked expectantly, knowing Elizabeth was sure to have some story up her sleeve for him — these deals never came without little quirks in the negotiation process.

The look she gave him when he asked was clearly not what he was expecting. Her brow was furrowed and he could almost sense her lower lip quivering as she tried to maintain a stoic exterior. She shook her head to the smallest degree and Henry immediately opened up his arms to her, beckoning her into his embrace. Something had gone wrong, and his wife was hurting. He had to get to the bottom of it; he couldn't stand when she was upset.

Especially considering what they'd been through in the past few months, and how they'd both come to realize that not talking was a very bad idea, that it would only compound problems further down the road.

Elizabeth sunk into Henry's embrace, grateful for his solid presence and the fact that he hadn't asked any questions yet. She knew that would be coming in another minute or so. It made sense, rationally, that talking about it was a better idea than bottling everything up, but right now, her old evasion tactics were looking pretty good as well. But she knew Henry too, and he would prod until she told him what was wrong because her sweet husband couldn't stand it when something bothered her.

And because she loved him, and knew she'd act the same if he was upset, she pushed herself upward into a sitting position. She took a deep breath and looked down at his concerned face.

"It's stupid, really."

"No, it's not. What happened, baby?"

"The deal, it fell through, because some self-centred senator wanted to invest more in casinos than farmers who are struggling to make ends meet."

"Babe, I'm so sorry." He took her hand in his then, rubbing circles on it. He knew how personally she took her job, how much she cared, and just how much a setback like this would affect her. Elizabeth curled into Henry's side and let out another breath.

"I had to break it to everyone tonight. We all thought it was a done deal and suddenly that jackass invalidates two weeks worth of work. Nadine took it as expected, but god, Henry. Everyone else's faces, whenever I have to break something like that to them…"

He knew what she was talking about, how awful it must've been to see her team's reaction to something they'd been so certain about. He also knew she saw her team like family, and that it must've been like a punch in the gut to see their disappointed faces.

"They're all still so young and hopeful," he whispered, "and so sure that with enough hard work, everything will end up working out."

"I know."

They both sighed, because there was nothing left to say, no way to miraculously right the wrongs of the world. Sometimes nothing worked out, and nothing could be done about it. It was a hard lesson to learn, and an even harder reality to live with.

It was that thought that caused Elizabeth to think back to her parents for the second time that night, and she choked back tears again.

Henry noticed and kissed her hair before asking again. "Are you sure it's just the trade deal that's making you upset?"

She sniffled a little and turned her head. "Remember how the nights are always pitch-black at the horse farm?"

"Yeah?"

"DC never gets dark like that."

Henry had no idea where she was going with this so he kept quiet and let her speak.

"My dad used to check in on Will and me every night when he got home before he went to sleep. And some nights he'd find me sitting on the window seat, staring out into the darkness. He'd sit down with me for a little while and show me constellations or just be quiet if we didn't feel like talking. I started thinking about that on the way home which is silly because I haven't thought about it in years and I just … I miss them, Henry."

"C'mere." He pulled her close wrapping her in his strong arms as she began to cry. She rarely talked about her parents, and spoke about missing them even less, so he knew this had managed to hit her hard. He knew he had no answers, that all he could do for her was hold her close and be there for her. It made him feel helpless.

When Elizabeth had shed all the tears she could, she sat up again and let out a wry laugh.

"I'm sorry about that. That was a lot."

"Don't you ever apologize for something like that, babe."

Henry pulled her close again and she nodded. "It's been a long week, and I think it was just a little too much."

"Yeah."

"Thank you," she added. "For being here; for being you." She meant it, with all her heart. Henry somehow understood, without words. He knew her so well that he'd learned to sense exactly when she needed to talk or when it was best to just wrap her in a bear hug and let her cry.

"Baby, there is nowhere else I'd rather be."

"I love you, Henry McCord."

She dipped down to kiss him then, before he had a chance to answer, pressing her lips to his softly. Resting her hands on his chest, she traced the seam of his lips with her tongue and wordlessly asked for entrance. He gave it and they kissed for a while, slowly, languidly, trying to pour all of their feelings into it.

When they broke apart, Henry smiled and Elizabeth let out a contented sigh. Leave it to her husband to make her feel better in an instant.

"I love you too."

"I feel like this job just amplifies everything I'm feeling." She rested her head on Henry's shoulder again and he pressed a kiss to it. It was good that she was still talking and putting everything out there. "Trade deals fail, or ops overseas, and I try to compartmentalize like when I was in the CIA, but it's harder now. It's harder because everyone knows about this job, it's not all classified, and it's public. And then I come home and I want to shut it off and be with you guys but it still follows me."

She frowned before continuing. "And I should know how to cope two years in, but it's just so damn hard sometimes."

"Yeah." He felt it too, with the DIA and Murphy Station. It took so much from you because caring was necessary to do a good job, but it made everything hit closer to home.

"I just wish I could shut it off when I'm here, to forget about the office for a minute."

"Yeah?" Henry was piqued by this; he had an idea of how he could make her think about other things.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"I mean," Henry quipped, "I know what we could do to make you think about completely different things." He winked and Elizabeth broke out into laughter. He was so cute when he was trying to insinuate things.

"Aha," she flirted back. "So you've got ideas, Professor?" She was fully on board with whatever he had planned.

"Maybe." With that, Henry descended upon Elizabeth, kissing her deeply. She giggled and arched into his kisses, all coherent thoughts falling to the wayside, just as he had promised.