Yes, that was already a week ago. A week ago, she had received the news that had given her the rest. That had been the straw that broke the camel's back.

She took a deep breath and first let her eyes wander over the agents in the front of the car and then looked out the window again. She paid no attention to the world on the other side of the window. Her mind drifted again, trying to make sense of the chaos of emotions.

Just as she was standing in front of her desk again, her phone beeped. As she read the text on it, she slammed her fist on the desk and screamed.

‚I'm still in love with the idea of loving you'.

The next thing she knew, she woke up in the hospital to Blake and Nadine's worried looks. It had taken ages for the doctors to let her go.

'Madam Secretary, I can't let you go. I want you here and monitored for at least one night. A breakdown like that is not to be trifled with.' The doctor looked helplessly over at Blake and Nadine.

'Ma'am, please listen to the doctor.' Nadine tried to help him and convince Elizabeth to spend the night still in the hospital. Elizabeth, however, didn't seem to notice or hear either of them. She tossed and turned restlessly on the bed, trying to free herself from the blanket that rested over her thin body. As she did so, she sobbed 'I, I want to, to go home. I, I don't want to be, to be here.'

Seeing her so close to hyperventilating worried Blake and apparently the attending doctor as well. Both spoke simultaneously, 'Please, ma'am, calm down,' 'Elizabeth, please calm down.' Briefly, Blake gave the other man an irritated look before reaching out and grabbing Elizabeth's wrist. 'Elizabeth,' she tried to free herself from his grip and started to scream. But Blake did not let go. He wanted her attention. Break her out of her panic. He had to get through to her. He pinched his lips together and reached out for her other wrist. 'Elizabeth,' This time he said it louder, 'HEY! Hello?" lightly he jiggled her wrists. 'Elizabeth. It's Blake. Pleeease listen to me.'

Slowly her resistance ebbed and Blake was able to slowly remove Elizabeth's hands, which she had pressed tightly to her face, from it away. Her tear-filled eyes, her smeared makeup and runny mascara, painfully reminded him of how he had found her in her office just hours ago. 'Elizabeth. Come here.' He leaned down and wrapped her in his arms. Offered her support and security, as he had so many times before. Carefully, he rocked her from right to left, stroking her back as she cried silently into his shoulder. Full of despair, emotional confusion and stress.

Blake. The corners of her mouth twitched upward briefly. Blake had spent the night with her in the hospital. Had held her through all her crying fits and talked her to sleep. He had sat beside her bed all night, watching over her. And when she was finally released in the morning, he had refused to just put her in the motorcade and let her drive home alone. He had driven with her, taken her all the way into the house, made sure she had everything she needed and prepared her food before saying goodbye with the words 'See you tomorrow, ma'am.'

She sighed as the car came to a stop at her front door. "Thanks, Matt. I'll be right back. Just get ready real quick." And before she could notice Matt's nod and slight smile, Elizabeth closed the front door behind her.

'I'm still in love with the idea of loving you.'

That's what he'd written after the press conference had aired. What to make of it, and more importantly, how to sort his statement, she didn't know. In her mind, she crept up the stairs to the second floor and into her bedroom to get ready for tonight. She took a deep breath as she continued to think.

Tonight was the day she had been looking forward to for weeks. Tonight was the big friends reunion. 'Spy reunion'. That's what it used to be called in the good old days when the good CIA friends got together. She smiled to herself in the mirror as her gaze swept through the bathroom. The very first thing she would have to do was shower and wash her hair.

No sooner had she brushed the clothes off her body than her gaze lingered on her stomach, now covered with more scars, and memories came flooding back. Although she felt that her nerves were going crazy and she felt stressed, she did not feel the urge to hurt herself, as it had been so many times before. She was much more excited, positively tense and excited. She stroked her belly with the flat of her hand and even briefly considered whether she should leave the blade, the disinfection bottle and the bandages at home for this night, but then quickly came back to the conclusion that she didn't know what to expect later today and preferred to be on the safe side.

As she stood in the shower with the lukewarm water trickling down on her, she closed her eyes. Not only Andrew's news, but the fact that Henry McCord would be there tonight unsettled her.

The next morning in the office, Blake held a proposal for the ‚Spy Reunion' under her nose and asked her to write down any change requests by the end of the day so he could take care of it. 'And prepare the perfect evening,' and he dragged out the word 'perfect' unnecessarily.

At the time, Dr. Henry McCord had not been on the guest list. Sure Henry McCord was a former CIA employee, just like the others, but he was also not like all the others. She had transferred him at that time and had broken off and avoided any contact with him. Over the last two years, she had occasionally received e-mails from him in which he had inquired about her and once or twice asked for a meeting, but she had always acted as if she had not received or read the message and therefore still reacted to it. In doing so, however, she had found herself in the guest room more and more often after she had argued with Andrew, questioning how she had made the decision to ignore him. Wondering if she had done the right thing.

"Did I choose the wrong guy?"

She had asked Mike the question. Deep down, she knew she hadn't meant to ask him, but Henry...

As Mike left the room, his eyes met Blake's, who looked at him questioningly. "How can I help you?"

Blake shook his head as if to dismiss the whole thing, but Mike took another step toward him and looked at him with his head tilted. "Yeah, I slept with her, if that's what you're asking."

As Blake's eyes doubled in size in disbelief, Mike realized that Blake hadn't expected that answer. He quickly rowed back. "Hey, sorry Sweetheart. I' I..." Blake raised his hand in response, "No more details needed." He turned his focus back to the documents in the folder in front of him. Indecisive, Mike shrugged and had just turned to leave when he heard Blake's voice again. "Hey, Mike." "Yeah," Mike turned slowly and after a few seconds walked back toward him.

"Mike, can I ask you something?" Again Mike shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, of course," with a smile he added, "If you want to know if it's worth it, I'll tell you..." "Mike!" Blake raised warned his voice and Mike fell silent. "It's alright. How can I help you Blake?" Mike was now standing next to Blake and looking at him. "I," Blake began, but then decided to start otherwise, "Why did she react so violently to the name Henry McCord?"

Mike sighed and looked at in for a long moment before he began to explain. "Listen, the short version: all of us, Isabelle, Juliet, Andrew, Henry, Conrad, Bess and I, we used to work more or less closely together under the CIA. I was in the legal department for a long time and well, the others as active real agents in leadership positions. Except Henry. He worked under Elizabeth at the very beginning. I think he did some statistics and stuff. But you'd better not ask me about that. The working atmosphere in the company has always been very familiar, as well as our circle of friends. That's why I just said I sle..." Blake symbolically raised his fingers to his ears. "I don't want to hear it again."

A wry smile played on Mike's lips and he continued. "So, you have an idea about that. By the way, that's how it was back in college, too." "MIKE!" "It's okay," Mike laughed, "I'll stop. Anyway. Bess and Andrew had been a couple since college, though even then there had been periods when they had relationship breaks. And they were in just such a relationship break once again when Henry was placed with her. And let's just say for a moment, it didn't take long for them to get closer. While to my knowledge they never got closer than good friends, you could feel the connection between the two. Well, Henry was married, though. Mrs. McCord. You should have seen her sometime. That was a fury." He couldn't help commenting, and followed up with, "Much like Andrew has been lately." Blake raised his eyebrows questioningly. "She didn't tell you?" The shake of the head from Bess's closest confidant, shook him. Still, he resisted telling Blake what Elizabeth should have to tell him, if she even wanted to.

Decisively, he continued, "In any case, all this did not go unnoticed by the aforementioned Mrs. Patricia McCord, and she made Elizabeth's life hell until she stood Henry up and completely broke off contact with him. Since then, the two have not seen each other. Shortly after Henry was transferred to Juliet's department, he quit and hasn't shown his face since. In fact, he finally got in touch with me when he heard the news of the divorce and told me that he too had divorced two years ago. And what can I say. The two of them looked so happy when they were friends that I couldn't help but invite him over. I want to see Bess laugh again." After a brief thoughtful pause, he added, still lost in thought, "Even if it probably means she doesn't need me anymore. But it's worth it to me."

Andrew looked at the display of the ringing phone. 'Elizabeth' A disdainful laugh escaped him and he muted it. He put his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the cool drink washed down his throat. With blurry eyes, he continued to watch the football game on the TV. Until at some point her speech flickered across the screen as a rush broadcast. In disbelief, he set the bottle down heavily on the coffee table and looked back and forth between his cell phone and the TV. His brain, clouded by alcohol, worked only slowly. Finally, he picked it up and pressed it against his ear.

Beep. A gasp for air. "Hi Andrew. I, I um," a brief pause. "I'm about to go in front of the press. Just so you, um, so you know." An even longer pause, then a rustle, then a toot. The call was ended. Breathing heavily, he lowered his head back onto the back of the sofa.

Her voice and the images on the TV in a figure-hugging blouse and rather short skirt did something to him. Breathing heavily and with sweaty fingers he tapped away on the keyboard of his phone, always trying to keep the movement of his right hand. 'I'm still in love with the idea of loving you' Alcohol always made him feel so poetic. He smirked as he looked at the big screen in front of him, fully satisfied, breathing heavily. Humming the song line by Ellie Goulding. ‚I'm still in love with the idea of loving you. It's a state of flux, but it's not enough. It's not enough.'