When they reached the front door, Allison turned to rush up the stairs, no doubt planning to hibernate in her room.

"Get changed." Henry called after her.

"What for?" She paused half-way up the stairs to gaze down at him.

"Basketball." He grinned at her. "I'm challenging you to a game."

"Dad! I don't want to play basketball!" She groaned.

"Well, I didn't want to cancel my last two classes and drive down to your school, did I?"

"This is punishment?"

"This is your Dad trying to make a connection." He waved a hand at her. "Go on. Get changed."

She thumped angrily up the stairs, muttering under her breath as she did. If it hadn't been clear that she was in deep pain over the attack on her mother, he would've laughed. Allison was never the stomping off, sighing teenage girl - at least not very often and a part of him found it hilarious when she tried it out. A buzzing at his hip, distracted him, and he lifted his phone to his ear.

"Did you threaten Blake?"

"Hey, sweetheart, I'm fine thanks, and how are you?" He asked sarcastically.

"Henry! I don't need babysitting. I've got an entire security team for one thing and . . ."

"And you've got a bad habit of forgetting to eat. Don't start Elizabeth. Normally, I'd let it go and just make sure you ate when you got home, but you need to take your meds, and they require food."

"So you infiltrated my staff?"

"You'd have done the same - or possibly worse. And I didn't threaten Blake. I just left a few articles regarding Air Force training on his desk. It was more like I was trying to let him get to know me better." He offered.

"Why aren't you in class?" She asked suddenly.

"Hmm? There was a . . . Class got cancelled."

"Why?" She asked.

"Uh, I don't . . . it's complicated and you're busy. I'll explain it later." He closed his eyes, recognizing that later he was going to have to pay for that little white lie to her. "But I should let you go. How is it, anyway? You haven't said."

"I'm completely under a pile of paperwork on my desk."

"Any cake?" He asked, teasing her.

"No. Just flowers."

"Well, I wouldn't be too disappointed. You are just a temp after all."

"You are just trying to make me mad." She told him. "It won't work. I know you are hiding something, but I haven't got the energy to tangle with you right now. I've got a meeting in a few minutes."

"I look forward to the interrogation." He teased her. "Remember, out the door at two."

"Don't bully me, Henry."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Madam Secretary."

***MS***

The ball hit the backboard and went into the basket as Allison laughed. He had forgotten what a consistent shot she was.

"That's 32. You'll never catch me." She gloated.

"I taught you to play." He pointed out. "So really your victory, is my victory."

"I am a natural. My coach said so." She held the ball tucked under her arm, smiling at him, and he had to swallow for a minute so pleased to see her smiling.

"What?" She asked suspiciously.

"It's good to see you smiling." He explained, reaching for the ball.

Her face turned dark at his words, and she slammed the ball hard against the concrete. Turning from him, she ran back to the house and disappearing inside. He stood frozen, shocked by her immediate and powerful rage. The only sound was that of the ball bouncing across the yard. With a heavy sigh, he retrieved the ball and followed her inside.

He expected her to go into her room slamming the door behind her, but was surprised to find her standing next to Elizabeth's desk, in the office downstairs. He paused to put the basketball in the entryway closet and then leaned against the doorway watching her as she paced the room like a caged tiger.

"I don't want to talk about it!" She said fiercely.

"How's that working out for you?" He asked.

"Dad!"

"You yelled at your teacher, Ally. You. You've never even had a late library book. In second grade you cried for two hours because you didn't get a smiley face on one of your papers - and you yelled at your teacher today."

"So lots of teenage kids do stuff like that." She glared at him. Her face reminded him so much of Elizabeth, that he almost smiled. They all leaned toward him in looks with dark hair and dark eyes, but all of them had their mother's stubbornness.

"You aren't most teenage kids. And we are above stereotypes."

"There isn't anything to say, anyway. It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters! Your feelings matter and you are clearly really angry about something;" He paused before continuing softly. "At someone."

"No, I am not!" She stepped back defensively. "I never said that!"

"Well, let's noodle it through then, okay?"

"Oh, God! Don't start with Socrates, Dad!"

"No, c'mon. You are really good at this. We can break it down and figure it out."

"You thought your teacher was showing you favoritism, right? And that made you mad?" He asked her patiently.

"I don't know. I guess."

"So you must be mad at Ms. Simpkins?"

"Dad, please, c'mon. I'm sorry I yelled, okay? Can't that be the end of it?" She pleaded.

"And you've been pretty snippy with me, so maybe you are mad at me?" He continued ignoring her protest.

"No!" She sighed in frustration. "Dad, I don't want to talk about it!"

"You don't?" He asked her with a raised eyebrow. "Then why didn't you run upstairs and slam the door to your room, like any good teenager would?" He kept his voice soft, and gentle.

"I don't know." Her voice was quieter and her eyes down.

"Ally, are you angry with Ms. Simpkins?"

"No, sir." She shook her head as she answered.

"But you are mad." He continued.

She said nothing but nodded her head vigorously. He considered her a moment longer, but not seeing the tall young woman in front of him. In his mind's eye she was four again and stubbornly trying to convince him that she was more than old enough to stay up as late as Stevie.

"Yes." She whispered.

"So we need to figure out why and who you are mad at - don't you think?"

She nodded her head silently again, her dark brown hair hiding her face.

"Maybe you are mad at me? I wasn't there and I didn't keep Mom safe?" He asked quietly, trying to separate his own guilt over this - trying to detach himself enough to help her find her way through it.

"No!" She looked up at him, her eyes full of fire. "I'm glad you weren't there! You would've been hurt too - maybe even . . ." She swallowed hard.

"So," He said, staving off tears. "You aren't mad at your teacher, and you aren't mad at me."

"I'm tired."

The memory of Elizabeth, curled in a ball, locked up tight, and turned away washed over him. She had said those same two words. He recognized that Ally, although her own person, was enough like her mother to use the same technique to dodge painful emotions.

He reached out and gently, grabbing hold of her elbow, led her across the entryway and into the livingroom, where he gently pushed her down on the couch. He sat down on the coffee table across from her.

"Noodle, I'm sorry you feel so bad. I know you just want to crawl into bed and forget about it. But you can't, hon. That's why you yelled at Ms. Simpkins. You cannot bury your feelings inside."

"Aren't you mad?" She asked looking up at him through a sheaf of bangs.

The question surprised him, and threw him off balance. He had been so busy trying to manage Elizabeth's guilt and anguish over the attack that he hadn't really spent too much time looking inward - other than to express his deep gratefulness that his dearest friend was still alive. Was he? Was he angry with Liz over the choices she'd made?

"I wish . . ." He paused. "I wish I'd been there." He told her truthfully. "I might have been able to see something sooner - not that your Mom or her staff weren't paying attention - just I'd like to think I could've somehow prevented it."

"But you aren't mad?" She repeated.

"No. I'm not." He told her. "At least, I'm not mad at your mother." She turned away from him at the last word, clearly ashamed. He moved to sit beside her on the couch, lifting her chin to meet his eyes. "But you are Ally. You are really angry with Mom."

***MS***

She was trying to have a conversation with Nadine, but Blake kept walking past her open doorway. It distracted her immensely. She glanced at the clock on her desk, and winced inwardly. 2:15.

"I don't think we can avoid scheduling a trip at this point, Madam Secretary." Nadine was saying, her voice edgy with nervousness.

"I agree." Elizabeth said with a sigh. "But let's try and schedule it a few weeks out. I'd like to not have this cast on when I travel. I think it is important that when we meet I show no signs of weakness."

"You've got no weakness in you." Nadine's eyes were wide with surprise. "Anyone with any sense can see that."

"Well, Dr. McCord would tell you different, as would our offspring." She said with a self-deprecating grin. "And Blake's got an opinion on the issue - don't you Blake?" She called this last part out to him.

He paused in her doorway, a hand to his chest with a look of innocence plastered across his face. "I'm sorry, Madam Secretary, did you need me?"

"You've been pacing in front of my door for the last twenty minutes."

"Oh, since two o'clock then?" He asked with eyebrows raised.

"My husband has a class at three, he won't be home to check." She told him.

"Ah, well, I'm not sure if you are aware of this, Madam Secretary, but there are spies all over this building. Washington isn't really a secret-keeping kind of place."

Nadine laughed at this, and put a hand on Elizabeth's arm. "You should go home. All this paperwork can wait for tomorrow. You don't want to overdo it and then have to take more time off. You've given us enough to work on for today."

Elizabeth smiled, "Thank you, Nadine." Nadine nodded and turned to leave the room, but hesitated in the doorway.

"It's good to have you back, ma'am."

Blake stood where he was with his arms crossed watching her, after Nadine had left. Elizabeth had turned and was gathering up papers and stuffing them into her briefcase.

"Stop staring at me." She said, her back turned to him.

"I'm supposed to make sure you don't take home too much work." He said stepping into the room.

"Blake, is Dr. McCord paying you?" She asked, glaring him down.

"No, ma'am."

"Well, I do. So get back to work, now."

He paused and then turned from her. She felt guilty. She knew Blake was only concerned about her, and she shouldn't have been so harsh. But it was a bit patronizing having everyone around you watching you out of the corners of their eyes to see if you would have a break down. And she was a little bit anxious. After a quarter of a century together, she was very familiar with even the tones of Henry's voice, and she could tell from the phone call, that he was worried about something - something he didn't want to tell her. This both irritated and intrigued her. Did he now see her as less than capable? What was going on that he didn't want her to know about?

Mostly, however, she was exhausted. She wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but being at work was pretty difficult. The work itself was familiar and comfortable, but the strain of thinking carefully, reading and meeting was intense. She recognized that this was what the doctors had told her would happen, but part of her was nervous that the attack would leave lasting scars that would impair her ability to work.

Gathering her things, she stepped out and walked to Blake's desk. His head was down bent over his work. "Your car's ready." He said without looking up.

"Blake," She said softly. "Thank you for everything you did today, and while I was gone."

"You are welcome, Madam Secretary." He said looking up at her.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier." She felt herself relax even as she said the words. "I'm not very good at slowing down and I appreciate you trying to remind me that I need to."

"Even Superman sleeps from time to time." He offered with a grin at her.

"I'm no Superman." She said, and reaching out squeezed his arm. "I'll see you tomorrow, Blake."

"Yes, Madam Secretary." He opened a drawer in his desk and handed her a small pink box. "Here, I wanted to give this to you to welcome you back."

She accepted the box, and laughed out loud when she opened it and looked inside. "Thank you, Blake."

"Good night, ma'am." He smiled at her and then turned back to his work.

Later, as she settled herself into the car, too exhausted to really even think, she debated whether to save the cupcake he'd given her to prove to Henry just how Very Important she was, but the effects of stress, exhaustion and chocolate were too much for her, and she ate it.

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! I appreciate those of you who take the time to let me know you like the story - or not! According to outline there are about two or three more chapters left - I'm still working on it. My real life is pretty busy but I try to update often. Thanks again!