Disclaimer: I don't own Madam Secretary. I'm doing this purely for my own amusement and entertainment (and, hopefully, a few readers' too).
Summary: When the Diplomatic Security agent came into her office one evening with his gun drawn and a serious expression on his face, she thought it was an ill-timed security drill. Henry was waiting for her downstairs and she wanted to get home. Unfortunately, it wasn't a drill.
A/N: Hi, everyone. This is the first fic I've done for this show, and the first fanfiction I've done for anything in about five years, and I'm really mega nervous about posting it, but I'm kinda curious as to what people think, so here you go. It's wildly unrealistic and unfeasible, would never happen and is probably mad (and I've probably got plenty of facts wrong), but that's why we love fanfiction, right? A brief chapter to start things off. Any feedback welcome :)
Chapter One
"Oh God, I thought we'd never be able to leave." Elizabeth McCord exited the elevator and walked quickly back towards her office, intent on a brief swoop inside to collect some paperwork and find her coat before barrelling straight back out to go home for the night.
Blake was at her side, his arms laden with the Secretary of State's briefcase and a long, thin package that had been presented to Elizabeth twenty minutes earlier at a reception downstairs for the new Indonesian ambassador to the United States. "Well, you did an admirable job of covering your fatigue, Ma'am."
She looked up at him sharply. "Fatigue? Are you saying I look fatigued?"
Blake's eyes widened as he hurriedly backtracked. "Look fatigued? No. Absolutely not." He paused for a beat. "But I did see you conceal a yawn in the sleeve of your jacket."
Elizabeth stopped just outside her office. "Oh no, do you think the ambassador saw that?"
"Surely not." Blake reached around her to open the door.
"Really?" She went inside and headed straight for the desk to collect up the documents she needed to read before morning.
"No. He probably did."
"Great." She picked up her pile of papers and turned back to Blake. "You know, I actually used to enjoy bedtime reading before I took this job. Do you have my briefcase?"
"Ah, yes." Arms full, Blake carefully slid the briefcase out from the bottom of his burden and passed it to Elizabeth. As she reached to take it, Blake nearly lost his grasp on the gift from the Indonesian delegation, catching it just before it fell to the floor. "Oops, don't want to break your Batak dagger."
Elizabeth hadn't really been paying all that much attention to what she was being presented with by the new ambassador from Indonesia – too busy exchanging glances with her husband who had come along for the evening and wondering when she could feasibly slip away to go home with Henry without appearing rude – and she was still none the wiser. "What, exactly, is that?" she asked as she shoved things into her briefcase, her mind drifting to thoughts of climbing into bed with Henry as soon as they got home.
"An elaborate dagger – well, a short sword, really - worn by the adult males of the Batak tribe for ceremonial occasions," Blake replied.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Those ceremonial occasions being?" She shook her head. "Wait. No. I don't care. Just do something with it, would you? Put it… away. Somewhere."
"You mean you don't want to purchase it from the department for your own private entertainment and use?" Blake's tone was mock incredulous.
"I think I'll pass. Why do these people never bring me anything I can actually use? Like a new popcorn maker. Or a weekend in Barbados."
Blake laid the dagger on the couch before going to the closet to collect Elizabeth's dress coat, answering as he went. "A good question, Ma'am, one I'll be sure to raise with the gifts officer the next time I –"
He was cut off as the door opened and one of Elizabeth's Diplomatic Security agents hustled in, face serious, weapon drawn at his side. Time stalled.
Elizabeth felt the familiar jolt of adrenaline that occurred every time something like this happened, her heart rate speeding up until she could remind herself that there was unlikely to be a reason to panic. Probably just a minor security breach or a crazy person in the lobby downstairs. There had been a few incidents since she became Secretary, sending the building into annoying, interminable lockdown while the Diplomatic Security guys did their thing. Or it could be a drill no one had told her about, and someone would be getting an earful about that, for not giving her a chance to get out of the building for the night before they started practice exercises. She had very specific designs on her husband, who she had left to finish up a conversation downstairs while her detail went to get the car and she went to get her stuff. A security drill would be a massive, inconvenient delay to her romantic plans.
"What's going on, Peter?"
The burly agent ignored her question while he shut the door behind him and locked it. Elizabeth exchanged a sideways glance with Blake, who seemed similarly put-out by the intrusion on their plans to leave for the night. "There's something you should be aware of, Ma'am," Peter said.
Something in his tone caught at her. And that was when she realised the problem.
Usually in the event of a security breach or some other incident, protocol dictated that there would have been at least two agents come into her office, probably more. It meant they had back-up in case they needed it, and made the job of securing the room and the Secretary that much easier.
Peter Grosvenor was on his own.
And the rest of her security detail was downstairs with her husband and her motorcade.
Her adrenaline surged back, along with a whisper of creeping dread. "And what's that?" she queried. Casual. Just.
Maybe she was wrong. She was probably wrong. She hoped.
Peter turned away from the door and aimed his gun at her chest. "As of right now, Madam Secretary, you're my hostage."