Elizabeth had entered her plane office partly snorting angrily and partly deeply disappointed. She now watched from her seat behind her desk as Andrew entered uncertainly through the door she had left open.

The whole room, was much like the rest of the plane, rather fashionably and elegantly furnished. In stark contrast to her office at the State Department, there was virtually no wood to be seen and colors were rather bright and friendly. Across from the entrance door, behind a door was her private compartment. There was a bed, a sofa and a closet, as well as a small bathroom, which even had a shower. Here she could retreat and rest on longer flights.

Basically, she liked this place. When she was high above the clouds, she usually managed to forget everything else for a few hours and enjoy the peace and quiet. Very rarely, when she had written all the mails, made all the phone calls, and read and signed documents, she even managed to lie down for a bit and sleep.

At the thought of sleeping, her body made itself felt again. Her head ached. How she would love to just lie down in bed right now. Every fiber of her body was literally pulling her out of her chair and into bed. But sleep she couldn't afford now. Not with him around. Besides, who knew how this conversation was about to end. If things went stupidly, she'd have no say in anything at all, and she'd wake up in bed later anyways. It shook her. She didn't want to think about that. No, that couldn't happen again. Before it would come so far, she would scream. Scream until someone came to save her from him. No matter what situation she would find herself in.

She crossed her legs at the thought. She wasn't sure if it was just out of pure convenience, or more of a reflex to not make it too easy for him. To conceal her movement, she casually took her hands in her lap and folded them. Her current sitting position, allowed her to give a confident impression and still be able to jump up at any time.

As she watched him appear in the doorway, she briefly considered asking him to leave the door open. Then they would be able to hear her request for help and probably help would arrive more quickly. But before she could say anything, Andrew had already taken this decision away from her. While entering the office, he closed the door behind him without taking his eyes off her.

Still without averting his eyes, he walked slowly toward the desk and stopped in front of one of the two chairs facing Elizabeth.

She nodded briefly at him and he sat down. After a few minutes of silence, he then broke the silence. "You don't want what anymore?" She had barely heard his question because at that moment the plane taxied down the runway and took off into the air. She averted her eyes from him and looked at the tabletop in front of her. What didn't she want anymore, that was a good question. She didn't know that for sure either. She liked, even loved, Andrew. He was her best friend, the one who had helped her through the worst of times. The one who loved her, the one who admired her and the one who read her every wish from her lips. But the Andrew was rarely, if ever, there now. No longer sat before her was the Andrew she had fallen in love with years ago in college. Sitting in front of her was a man she didn't like. One who lost control too often and was only looking out for himself.

Quietly, after a moment's thought, without looking up from the tabletop, she said, "This." When she perceived that he jumped up, she looked up. Striving not to show her shock from his sudden frantic movement.

He threw his hands in the air and made a move toward the desk. "Elizabeth, ..."But she interrupted him. "Don't you dare come another step closer." Her muscles were tensed to the breaking point. "Don't you dare."

Her legs she had squeezed even tighter, her hands she had stretched out in a defensive posture and her eyes looked at him fixedly.

He decided against walking toward her and stopped. Regret flickered in his eyes. He suddenly seemed so frightened. She could literally see thoughts racing in his head. Before he slowly raised his arm and extended his thumb and forefinger at a right angle, swaying his hand slightly back and forth. "Since when ...?" He left his question rephrased in space. She knew what he meant. And knew that saying it would only hurt. Just thinking about it did.

"Honestly?" she asked back almost sarcastically. "You didn't catch it?"

„Of course." he faltered briefly and then looked her in the eye with a humble look before lowering his head and murmuring softly "No, I didn't catch it."As he confirmed what she had feared, tears welled up in her eyes. Out of anger or sadness, she didn't know. Quickly she turned her head and turned away from him to hide her weakness. She couldn't meet his gaze.

"I didn't realize it until after it had happened." She just managed to suppress her sob.

The entire burden was becoming too much. She couldn't take it anymore, her job, the pressure, the lack of sleep and her relationship. All of it was too much. She had managed to successfully put her personal problems on the back burner and block them out for so long that it was too late. It was too late to fix anything. This wasn't fixable. Too much time had already passed for this to be salvaged. The break had been so long ago, and they had both missed the moment to take care of the wound. Now it was too late. Now it was a scar. One that was too deep, too old, and too big to hide, cover or correct. After wiping her tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, she turned back to him. "You should have noticed."

He looked at her. Her eyes, wet with tears, gave him a deep look. He saw how much he had hurt her, how much his sentence hurt her. He saw her delicate cheeks glistening where tears had made their way just moments ago.

He studied her pretty face until his eyes lingered on the prominent cheekbones. She must have been really struggling with the situation. She always had trouble eating regularly, if at all, when she wasn't feeling well.

Elizabeth noticed sadness and despair rise in his eyes before he whispered, "I know. I should have."

"Damn it, Andrew! You should have known." Her features, just now almost tender and soaked with grief, had hardened and her eyes flashed angrily between her lashes. "You should have known!" she repeated again, this time written. She had jumped up from her chair and clenched her hands into fists. "Bloody hell!" her fist flew onto the table. The bang made him wince in shock.

They had both been through so much together, had been so happy, and then she had taken this job. There was the moment when his greed for her had begun. Since then, things had never been the same. That had clouded his view of reality. Greed had changed her Andrew. Changed him so much that she wasn't sure what to do next. She was frustrated. How was it supposed to go on?

Sighing loudly, she leaned back into her chair, her head back and closed her eyes. This wasn't going to work out. She had to pull herself together and take it easy. Taking another deep breath, she asked quietly, "And you weren't there again?"

After it was quiet for quite a while, she slowly opened her eyes and raised her head to look into his eyes. What she saw made her heart break. Andrew was sitting across from her again, completely slumped over. His shoulders were shrugging. When he noticed her looking at him, he looked up. There were tears in his eyes. "Yes, I was by her."

"And?" She tried hard to keep all her anger and frustration out of her voice.

"Nothing and Like you said, I'm the problem."She swallowed. She hadn't meant it that way. "No, you're not the problem." She leaned forward and folded her hands on the desk top. "I shouldn't have taken the job, in the first place."

She paused briefly, but then decided to continue. "Do you remember the night Conrad asked me? I remember that fondly. That was beautiful. That was love." She waited to give him a chance to say something as well. When he continued to be silent, she murmured "That was the last night we made real love. After that night it started." She swallowed again. "Since then..." She shifted her weight a bit, not feeling entirely comfortable. Especially because she had always forbidden herself to even think the next thing…

But before anything could be said, Andrew threw his head back and looked at her with an exasperated expression on his face "My goodness Liz. That was almost two years ago."

She glanced at the table. She hadn't finished yet. "I..."

"No" He stood up and walked around the desk. The fear that came through his action, into her eyes, broke his heart. Before he could even reach her, she jumped up. Never breaking her eye contact, she took two steps back. He could literally see her torn. On the one hand she wanted him, on the other she was afraid of him. Unfortunately, when he thought about it that way, it probably wasn't so unfounded either. Nevertheless, he held out his arms to her. So much he wanted to embrace her, to hold her, to tell her that everything would be all right. He just doubted if he would be right. If everything would ever be all right. "May I?" At least he could ask her.

God, how she wanted to just say yes. Wanted everything to be okay again, to fall around his neck, to let him hold her, to kiss him. Show him how much she loved him. But he had changed and she had changed, he was no longer the man she loved. Yes certainly, he loved her. But she no longer loved him like on the first day. But her head had not yet understood that. She was a completely mess. "No." As the word left her lips, she continued to back away from him until her back hit the wall behind lowered his arms in disappointment.

She desperately fought the rising panic. This was all too much. Her exhausted body could take no more. All this, how he was getting closer and closer to her and she had no chance to escape, reminded her far too much of their past.

Seeing how her just-frustrated look had turned to sheer panic as he approached made him feel guilty. He knew that look. She would fight, against the panic and against him if it need be. He knew that.

She narrowed her eyes. Hoping it would be quick and she wouldn't remember it when she woke up in bed. She was already thinking about calling for help when he finally stopped walking toward her. Her shoulders began to shake before her knees. She could no longer hold back her tears. She pressed her hands in front of her face and, as her knees gave away, she slid down the wall, sobbing.

He turned slowly and walked toward the door, all the while accompanied by her soft but still audible whimpers. Just before he reached the door, he heard an attempt at gasping for air, followed by a loud sob. He wiped his eyes with the back of his he would love to go to her, take her in his arms and walk her through her panic attack. But how could he do that when he was the reason she had one? He had tried it once before, the night he had first perceived what was going on. That had been the night he had understood that he was the reason. But by then it was too late. Soooo much too late.

Nearly six months ago, he'd caught on after they'd been active in bed together that she was uncomfortable around him. Not until she had silently turned on her side, waited until she thought he was asleep, and then gotten up. He had wondered where she was and had gone to look for her. He had found her downstairs on the sofa. Her head buried in a pillow.

When he had moved closer to her, she had started to tremble. He had sat down next to her and reached out to stroke her back. But she had jumped up, as if stung by a tarantula, and disappeared into the guest room. He had caught one more glimpse of her devastated face before the door closed and the key was turned. The next morning he had asked her what had been going on. First she had ignored his question and when he had asked the second time, she had sparkled at him and told him not to pretend that he didn't know. With that, she had left him standing in the kitchen. But he hadn't understand it.

The next time, when he had brought her to bed only with the help of a lot of alcohol, she had turned away from him afterwards, trembling all over. Only when he could think clearly again, he had seen in the dark her thick silent tears glistening on her cheeks. She had reacted so violently to his question whether everything was all right that he had finally left the room and spent the night on the living room had not stopped hitting him, kicking wildly and screaming. And all his attempts to calm her down had only led to it getting worse. He had not known how to help himself and had left her alone. Before he had made himself comfortable on the couch, he had briefly considered asking one of her agents at the door to take care of her. But just like her, he wanted to keep her private life private, so he had decided against it hadn't slept that night. He had googled and had come across the term panic attack. After further research, he came to the conclusion that he had been, for whatever reason and however, her trigger for her current condition. The thought that it might not have been the first time, and he just hadn't noticed it before, made his stomach hurt.

Pushing the door handle, he stepped out of her office into the hallway and looked around. Spotting the shock of Jay's hair as he sat in his chair, he took off. He would give Nadine a hint that someone had better check on Elizabeth.