Martha paced the stable grounds, pulling her coat tighter around her and rubbing her arms briskly to keep warm. A chilly wind blew past her and she shivered slightly, finally relenting and pulling her cell phone out of her pocket, dialing a familiar number.

It had barely started to ring when the voicemail picked up. "You've reached Agent Aaron Pierce. Please leave a message." Martha sighed, but that turned into a muffled shriek as she heard a rustle in the bushes.

"Mrs. Logan!" a familiar voice muttered urgently, and she turned around to face the owner. "It's me," Aaron reassured her, offering her a seat on the bench. She sat down gratefully.

"Thank you for meeting me," she said, a small smile gracing her lips. "Here-" she motioned for him to join her. He sat, looking slightly awkward.

"Aaron, please tell me what's going on." Martha cut straight to the point, and Aaron tensed subtly. "I deserve to know."

"Yes, you do," he said after a long pause. "I just don't think I'm the one who should tell you. That's not to say that I won't-" he continued hurriedly as she started to protest – "But I'm not happy about it."

"Please," Martha whispered, inching closer. "Aaron, I need to know what's happening. I hate feeling so out of it, it's like I'm back in Vermont. No one's telling me anything. What's Secretary Heller doing here? Why is Charles acting so – off?" she pleaded. He sighed, not looking at her.

"Mrs. Logan," he began, glancing at her for a second before turning away, not wanting to see the desperately lost look in her eyes. "Mrs. Logan, evidence has surfaced that suggests that Walt Cummings may not have been the only traitor in the administration."

"What?" Martha asked, shocked and recoiling slightly. "Who – who is it? Is it Mike? The Vice President?"

Aaron tried to force himself to continue, but found himself standing and pacing the ground. Martha stared after him for a moment before standing as well, walking over to where he eventually stopped and taking his hand in a moment of boldness.

"Aaron," she whispered his name, moving slightly closer. "You can trust me." A feeling of déjà vu swept over her, and it must have for him, too, because he finally spoke.

"We have sufficient reason to believe it's the President."

Martha stared at him for a long moment before swaying alarmingly. Aaron moved into action immediately, grateful to allow his instincts to take over and push any thoughts from his head as he tried to help her back to the bench. She gripped his jacket tightly, holding on to him, and he finally gave up, holding her arm firmly to make sure she stayed upright.

"Mrs. Logan?" he asked, his stoic voice and expression giving way slightly to concern as she turned a shade of white that made him wonder if she would faint. "Mrs. Logan, please answer me."

"I – I can't believe it," she finally muttered, her eyes glassy and not looking at anything in particular. She let out a bitter laugh. "Or maybe I can, I don't – oh my God, this isn't happening. This isn't, this can't be happening-" tears began to stream down her cheeks but she didn't seem to notice, just gripping his jacket even tighter as her hands became numb. "He – oh my God-" she moaned in realization, "Oh my God – he killed David. He – this has all been – this – oh my God!"

Aaron finally managed to get her onto the bench, but she wouldn't let go of him, burying her face into his shoulder as she began to sob. He rubbed her back awkwardly, not quite sure what to do, but her breakdown didn't last for long. She soon stilled, and stiffened imperceptibly. Aaron let go of her quickly, afraid of her reaction, but she just sat up as though in a daze. She stared at him, her eyes unfocused and a slightly wild look beneath them as she slowly lifted a hand to his cheek.

"Thank you," she breathed, caressing his face as though in a trance. "For telling me."

"You're welcome," Aaron stated, trying not to sound nervous but felt compelled to say something as she started to move closer. "Mrs. Logan-"

"No," Martha whispered, so close now that they were practically touching. "Please – no. Just don't talk." She placed a small, feather light kiss on his jaw, her hand still on his cheek, and closed her eyes, continuing to plant small kisses on his face. "Aaron…"

Aaron sat very still, not stopping her but not moving. He didn't say anything, trying to come up with a way to stop her but found himself strangely reluctant. When her lips covered his, desperate and needy as her other hand reached to hold him to her, he relented and returned it, hesitant and careful.

It wasn't phenomenal, as far as kisses go – it was urgent and forceful on one end while deliberate and nervous on the other, but eventually a balance was found. When she finally let go of him, she was breathing heavily and her eyes were swollen, but she seemed to have calmed down.

Aaron didn't know what to say, and for a long moment didn't say anything. She spoke first, however, saving him from the need to speak.

"I'd better go…deal with this," she murmured breathlessly, pulling away, her hands shaking slightly. He nodded, standing to help her up, and she took his hand.

"Thank you," she told him sincerely as she started toward the retreat. "For trusting me."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he finally said, nodding slightly. As she turned away, he found himself calling after her. "Mrs. Logan!"

She turned to face him, and he didn't know what to say. "Let me know if there's anything I can do," he eventually said, and she smiled slightly.

"I will."