Chapter Two

There was a thud on the bed next to him quickly followed by a second thud. Henry was going to ignore that until a cloth was dropped onto his face. He groaned and swatted it aside.

"Come on. Get up and get dressed," Elizabeth demanded. "Your clothes and shoes are on the bed."

Henry peeled his eyes open and glanced at the clock. He didn't need to be up for more than an hour. With another groan he buried his face in his pillow.

"Up, Henry. I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."

She gave his shoulder a shake to emphasize her request, and then he heard her leave the room. Henry stayed exactly where he was for another minute before pushing himself up. The move sent a bout of pain through his hand that he swiftly ignored. He'd become used to that pain over the last week. A long sleeve shirt and pair of sweatpants had been flung overtop him. The thuds had apparently been caused by a pair of tennis shoes that were thrown across the bed. One of them looked like it had come pretty close to hitting him. After grabbing up the clothing, Henry grudgingly headed to the bathroom to get dressed.

When Henry finally made his way downstairs he found Elizabeth in the kitchen with four of her security agents, all dressed similarly to the way he was. He yawned and rubbed at his face as she stopped nearby.

"Why are we up so early?" he grumbled.

There wasn't even any coffee going, which made the early morning even worse.

"We're giving you a better way to cope. One that's not going to lead to bruised knuckles. Come on," she told him as she gave his shoulder a pat and headed for the door. "The cold air will wake you up."

Now Henry really wished he were back in bed. Even so, he followed his wife and her agents out into the cold of the early morning. He was expecting Elizabeth to get into the car, but instead she turned down the sidewalk and started running. Three of the agents took up position around her. The fourth gave Henry a gentle shove.

"Let's go, Dr. McCord."

Running. What was Elizabeth after with this?

With a shake of his head, Henry started jogging, his longer strides allowing him to quickly catch up with Elizabeth. She would tell him what the point of this was eventually. Hopefully sooner rather than later. It wasn't like Elizabeth was much of a runner, but she did more than he did.

At some point during the run Henry simply accepted that they weren't going to stop any time soon, and he let his mind wander. The need to focus on running was at least enough to keep his mind out of bad places.

Eventually Elizabeth slowed to a walk, and everyone else followed suit. Henry thought it was a sign of being done and turning around, but he was wrong.

"Max, you good?" she asked one of the agents set up on point.

"All set, Ma'am."

Elizabeth nodded and swung her gaze to Henry. It looked like he was finally going to get his explanation.

"I want you to run, Henry. As fast as you can, and as far as you can. Run to escape all of the anger you have building up inside of you. Run to beat that feeling of powerlessness. Consider it a race against both of those things, and you can't lose. Until they've both been beaten back to nothing more than a flicker in the background of your mind, you can't stop. Got that?"

For a moment Henry just stared at her. She wanted him to run away from insubstantial feelings? How was that supposed to help?

"Babe, I don't…"

But Elizabeth didn't give him the chance to finish that thought. She grabbed his shoulders and turned him away from her, toward the open sidewalk.

"Trust me, and give it a try."

She gave him a little shove to get him going. Knowing he wasn't going to win, Henry started jogging away. One security agent went with him.

"Henry!" Elizabeth called out, causing him to turn and look at her. "Sprint!"

"Come on, Dr. McCord. Let's run."

Henry's eyes swiveled toward his security agent and he eventually shrugged. He took off running, driving his legs faster and faster. While he could hear his security pounding along beside him, he wasn't paying any attention. The harder he ran the less he had to think. All that mattered was regulating his breathing and ignoring the burning in his legs. At one point he realized Elizabeth had been right. It was rather peaceful despite the pain involved. He pushed himself a little bit further despite his chest and legs screaming requests to stop. When he finally stumbled to a halt he had to brace his hands on his knees to gasp for breath. By the time Elizabeth caught up to him – at a walk he noticed – he was breathing more normally.

"See? You look calmer already."

"Because I'm too tired to be angry," he panted in reply.

He stumbled over to a nearby bench and nearly collapsed onto it. Clearly pleased, Elizabeth settled herself next to him and began rubbing his leg.

"Good. It means you got some of it out."

Henry tipped his head upward, away from his wife, and looked at the sky. She was right in a way. The ache of fear and the burning need to do something were still there, but they were more subdued. It didn't feel like he was being eaten alive by them anymore. He had no idea how long that feeling would last. Maybe only until he walked in the front door, but that was something at least.

Elizabeth gave him the time to think, but eventually she started to worry about where those thoughts were taking him in all that silence. She cupped the far side of his face in her hand and turned him toward her. He did so willingly and met her eyes.

"You can't control everything, Henry. You've had to tell me so many times since I took this job that I can't fix the entire world, no matter how much I may want to. It's time to listen to your own advice. You can't solve everything, and our stalker is one of those things that you have to let someone else handle. The most you can do is stay calm, hug the kids a little bit tighter, and be an example to them of how to handle fear and adversity." She gently stroked his cheek. "Facing fear is always a fight. You can win that fight by not letting it change you for the worse. Use it to become something better."

"That sounds like a quote."

"It is," Elizabeth returned with a grin.

"Whose?"

"Secretary McCord's."

Laughter erupted from Henry. The sound of it sent warmth rushing through Elizabeth. She hadn't heard him laugh in such a long time.

"Well, I hear she's known for giving good advice, so I guess I should listen to it," he returned.

"You should."

She leaned over and kissed him. Henry tried to lean into the kiss, but Elizabeth kept it brief before standing up.

"Now are you ready to go back or do you think you need to run some more?"

"I think I'm good. My lungs are screaming, and my legs will be doing the same tomorrow. No need to make it worse," he replied as he dragged himself off the bench.

"Sore legs are a good thing. Sore knuckles are not."

She kissed his cheek and twined her fingers with his for the walk back to the house.

O . o . O . o . O

They got home around the same time they would normally be getting up, which worked well for Henry. It meant there would be time to do what he felt like needed to be done.

"Hey, Babe? I know you usually leave before I do, but do you mind if I shower first? I want to have time to talk to Jason."

Elizabeth paused and eyed him closely, visibly trying to judge whether or not he was in the right state of mind to have that conversation. She wouldn't deny that it needed to happen, but it had to happen in the right way. What she saw reassured her. There was no anger in Henry's eyes. The most she found was a little bit of guilt, which explained why he wanted to talk to their son. At least his guilt was coming from a place that was real. Henry had no reason to feel guilty for not being able to protect their family from a stalker, but his actions had legitimately hurt Jason.

"Okay. Just make sure you stay in full control for that conversation, Henry. Jason needs to see that control just as much as he needs to understand."

"I know. Don't worry." He gave her a quick kiss. "I'll be careful."

That meant he would have to find a way to explain all of this to his son. It wouldn't be easy, especially since he only had his time in the shower to figure it out. Somehow that was going to have to be enough even though he didn't know how to put it into words for himself.

His time to think went by far too fast, and before he even felt remotely ready he was knocking on Jason's door. He heard a screamed, "Come in," from the other side of the door, braced himself, and entered. Jason looked up and immediately scrambled off the bed, pulling his headphones off as he went.

"Dad?"

"Hey, buddy. You have a minute to talk before breakfast?"

Jason shrugged and seated himself back onto the bed, though this time he was sitting on the edge instead of lying down. Henry saw Jason's gaze dart toward him for a moment before looking away. It didn't take a genius to realize what he'd just done.

"It's not any worse," Henry explained as he lifted his hand up to show his son. "And it's not going to get worse again."

Jason looked up at him questioningly and maybe a little bit nervously. Henry took a steadying breath before sitting down next to his son and patting his knee.

"Do you remember when everyone was talking about Stevie? You were so mad at them for doing it, but you were even angrier with yourself because you hadn't done anything to stop it. You hadn't done anything to protect your sister."

"Yeah. I remember." Then he looked at his father sidelong. "I also remember you telling me that punching them wouldn't make me feel better. At least not for very long."

There was slight accusation in his tone. Henry couldn't blame Jason for that. He had told his son those things, and they'd been true.

"And it wouldn't," he admitted. "That's why you kept seeing more and more bruises. It definitely wasn't the right way to go about coping, but it was the only thing I could come up with at the time. Your mother gave me an alternative though, so the bruised knuckles are over. I promise."

Jason considered his father very carefully. Generally he trusted his father. If he said his time hitting walls was over, then Jason would believe him. There was one thing he didn't understand though.

"Why, Dad? You've never gotten that worked up over something before."

Not even when they'd all nearly blown up. Personally Jason thought they'd been in more danger then than they were right now.

Henry drew in a long, slow breath at that question and released it even more slowly. He rested his hands behind him on the bed and gazed at the ceiling as if it could help him turn everything he'd been feeling into words that his son would understand. Eventually he realized it basically all came down to one thing.

"I was failing, Jas. It's my job to protect you, and your sisters, and your mother, but there was absolutely nothing I could do. Nothing. I just had to sit there and try to convince all of you it would be alright even though I could see how terrified you were and how much the situation was getting to you, especially your mother. It wasn't a good feeling. I admit that I was angry. Angry at the person who's doing this and at myself because I can't stop it."

"So you got so mad at yourself that you hurt yourself?" Jason asked.

"Not intentionally. I was just so mad that I felt like I had to do something or I would explode. I should have remembered that letting anger rule you always leads to bad decisions. I've definitely made my fair share of those recently."

Henry was completely willing to admit that too. He certainly hadn't taught his children how best to handle facing their stalker, but maybe he could still teach them something. Being as forthright as he was being might teach Jason about not letting anger guide decision making.

"Will you forgive me for scaring you?" Henry asked.

Jason rolled his eyes, purposefully exaggerating the motion so his dad would realize just how stupid the question was.

"Of course I forgive you, Dad. And, so you know, you don't have to protect me."

Henry outright laughed as he stood up and ruffled his son's hair. Jason gave him a death glare and immediately tried to smooth his hair back down.

"I will always protect you, Jason, even when you don't really need it anymore. I'm your dad. It's part of my job."

And it was his job. Along with protecting the rest of the family. The fact that he couldn't keep them completely safe still rankled, but he knew now that he was going to have to leave the more large scale protection to the FBI and diplomatic security. His form of protection was going to have to be smaller. His family needed stability and reassurance that everything would eventually be alright. Henry could provide that.

Elizabeth had been right. If he fell apart he would take the whole family down with him. The best way to protect them was to keep acting like himself. There would be comfort in seeing him remain relatively unaffected. From that moment forward he would strive to do that, no matter how hard that might be. He would protect his family.