Martha had been rushed back to the farm immediately following the assassination attempt. Jonathan had only been able to lock eyes with her for a few seconds before they had both been whisked off in the opposite directions. The future senator had been held underground until the building the effectively deemed secure, asking on a regular basis for an update on his wife. She was fine, they assured him, she was safe. But he couldn't help thinking, if he hadn't been so stubborn, they would have postponed the rally and none of this would ever have happened.

It was after midnight before he finally made it back to the farm. Overwhelmed and weary, Jonathan slowly ascended the stairs, unraveling his tie as he did so. "Martha?" He called out. He walked into the bedroom, and noticing the door to the master bathroom slightly ajar.

"I'll be right out," Martha replied.

He nodded to himself, then sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. He pulled his tie off his neck and tossed it to the side. After a few minutes, she exited the bathroom, her hair pulled back, wearing a long, silk, blue bathrobe. He smiled, comforted by the sight of her. She stood before him, and he reached out and pulled her into him, resting his head against her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair soothingly and kissed the top of his head as his arms tightened around her waist.

"I'm so sorry," Jonathan whispered, against her. "I'm so sorry I dragged you into this."

Martha frowned, and lifted his head so that his eyes met hers when she looked down. "Hey. You didn't drag me into anything. I am your wife, I go where you go. And I go willingly."

"Martha…"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever gave you any reason to doubt my faith in you." She leaned down and kissed him softly, cupping his face with her hands.

"I'm sorry for questioning it."

She smiled down at him, her eyes, and his, brimming with tears. "I just worry about you, that's all. I don't ever want to have to be in the position of being without you."

He reached up to wipe away her tears with his thumbs. "Sweetheart, that's not going to happen."

"Promise me."

Jonathan smiled sadly. "The best I can do is promise not to promise anymore."

She nodded, again fighting tears. Her head appreciated his honesty but her heart wanted to hear nothing more than his assurance that nothing would take him away from her. She crawled onto his lap and let him hold her for awhile, his strong arms being the only form of assurance she could be given. Silently, she ruminated upon his words and thought back to their wedding day, when they had pledged to have and to hold in front of everyone but her father. There, before close friends and family, he had promised her everything, and it had meant the world to her. She sighed nostalgically, wrapping her arms tightly around him, and embraced the irony of the moment. On their wedding day, she had been so endlessly grateful for all he had promised her. Tonight, she could only value his inability to promise at all.

It struck her so often these days just how much things had changed in twenty-five years.