A/N: Okay so the blast of inspiration in writing is hitting hard and I'm not fighting it. I was considering writing a pregnancy angst story which I have been thinking about back then, but then this came to mind and I go with the flow. There's absolutely no plan here and my inspiration can disappear just as it appeared, but I'm going to put this out here, so maybe it will make me write some more. Sorry for the angst, can't help it. This first part is mild M rated, but it's not smut and I really tried to keep it as minimal as possible. Please tell me what you think (even if you think I suck!)

Chasing Pavements

His breath was hot against her face, his eyes piercing as he looked down at her. Hovering above, buried deep inside of her, this was as close as they could ever be. Quiet pants and the sound of body to body filled the room as he moved against her, their eyes locked on each other. They didn't need to speak; all the kind words were already hanging around them, all familiar. This was just them in the most delicious way possible. Henry leaned in to kiss her softly, a small smile on his lips. She held on to him tightly, her arms wrapped around his well-built figure. When he felt himself coming undone, he reached between her legs, to where they were joined, coaxing her to follow his lead and jump off the cliff together. He lingered for a few moments, their lips touching, hands roaming, not yet ready to lose the closeness between them. When he rolled off of her, he smiled and watched at her petite form as she made her way towards their ensuite. She stopped then, a quizzical look on her face. Looking down at her legs, even in the dim light of their bedroom she could make out the blood on her skin. It was fresh, red like a rose, drops of it still rolling down her thigh.

"Henry?" She called, meeting his eyes.

Tilting his head to the side, Henry glanced at her with concern. "Babe? What?"

"I'm bleeding", she whispered, her voice already holding panic.

He immediately removed the covers from him and stood up. Turning the lights on, they both gasped at the sight that was revealed in front of them. Their white sheets stained with blood, as well as Henry's pelvis and hand. They looked at each other with horror before he came back to his senses and reached for the phone.

"Go get dressed," he ordered.

The door flew open minutes later, Elizabeth's agents rushing in. "What happened? Where is the President?" they fired questions at Henry, searching the room.

If he wasn't freaking out at that moment, Henry would've probably found this scene funny. Elizabeth was with him, they had just shared a very intimate moment together, there was no actual, external threat to her life that required her agents to burst through their doors. But he was grateful for them, because the minute she emerged from the shower, covered up in clean clothes, they rushed both of them out of the building, into her motorcade and to the hospital. They couldn't have gotten there faster.

Taking her hand in his, he intertwined their fingers together, his thumb running in soothing circles on her skin. The room she was in was quiet, isolated. This was a serious perk to being President, he thought.

"Did I…" he paused for a moment, swallowing hard. "Hurt you?" He finally asked.

Elizabeth's eyes grew big as she stared at him. It was only then that he noticed she looked pale and tired. "Henry, this is not your fault."

"That's not what I asked. Were you in pain? Are you now?"

Pressing her lips together, Elizabeth turned her look away from him. Truth was, she was in pain, for quite a while now. It wasn't serious, and she just chunked it up to mild discomfort and made it a mental note to call her gynecologist but never got around to it. Perhaps, if she had known it would end with her in the hospital, she would've found more time for this.

"Elizabeth," Henry called her name, needing desperately to hear her answer.

"I wasn't in pain. Well, I was.. Am. But not when we… you didn't make it worse." She finally spoke.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Henry asked, distressed.

"It wasn't… I wasn't…" she felt him squeeze her hand, urging her on. They always had such an open, honest discussion about their sex life, she didn't understand why she was suddenly feeling all ashamed. "It was really good," she finally managed to say, meeting his eyes.

He smiled at her, nodding. It was. But there was never a time that it wasn't. "Babe, nothing to be embarrassed about. This is not your fault either. I just wish I knew."

"There was nothing you could do anyway… and it wasn't that bad before we…"

Henry nodded. It wasn't, he would've known if it was. Would he? He didn't have enough time to keep thinking about it, because her doctor then walked into the room, taking a chair and sitting in front of them.

"Madam President," Dr. Lambert began.

"Please – Elizabeth," Elizabeth said.

Nodding and smiling at her, Dr. Lambert continued. "Elizabeth, I looked at the MRI scan of your pelvis, and along with the manual exam I did and the ultrasound, I'm a bit worried."

Henry tensed beside her, rising to his feet while his hand never left hers. "What is it?" He asked.

"Well, I don't know yet, but I want to get a biopsy of your cervix."

Exchanging a worried look, they both nodded. "Is that…?" Elizabeth began to ask.

"It's nothing yet, and I don't want you to worry about it. Let's do the biopsy and wait for the results. But I do have to ask you both something, and I am sorry for overstepping here, but it's important." She paused, waiting for them to nod and allow her to continue. "Have either one of you been with other partners recently? Could be a few months ago even."

"No." They responded in unison.

"I don't mean to push," she smiled apologetically. "But it's crucial that we know, as it may explain what is going on."

Henry looked down at his wife, meeting her crystal blue eyes. I swear, he said without words, and she just offered hm a small smile – I know.

"We've been with each other, and with each other only, for more than three decades." Elizabeth replied firmly.

"Okay." Dr. Lambert nodded. This was probably the part that she hated most about her job. No one liked to hear that their spouse might be cheating, but asking the President of the United States that question was not something she was keen to do. She was relieved to know that they were what she'd always known them to be, but also too afraid that the answer was no. It could mean quite a lot of things, but it could also mean that.