She put her brown, somewhat tattered suede jacket over her shoulders and slowly let her gaze wander over her reflection. Her feet were in elegant beige high heels. Her slender legs protruded from a gray sheath dress with a leg slit, making her appear long and sinewy. The brown details of the dress played together in excellent harmony with her hair color and shoes, as well as her jacket. Her hair fell in large curls and a few sassy strands framed her face. She had not spared with the make up either. Although it had cost her almost a full hour, but it had been worth it to her. Her eyes were sparkling and her lips were finally the perfect shade after trying about four different shades.

She could feel the anticipation rising inside her. It had been ages since she had been out with friends. She reached for her purse and took another quick look inside to make sure she had everything. Wallet, keys, even though her agents actually always unlocked and locked the doors for her, a hair tie in case her hair got on her nerves during the evening, deodorant, perfumes, lipstick, cell phone. She faltered briefly as she held the razor blade in her hand. Indecisively, she weighed it in her hand, still reaching for the disinfectant. For a moment she considered the utensils in her hand and stared down at the wraps. In her mind, her earlier decision circled.

'Just to be on the safe side' Oh, how she despised herself for that, how she despised herself for choosing the path again. Determined, she threw the blade, disinfectant and poultice down on the bed. What could happen. They were her friends.

She was late. Too late for her own celebration. As Matt and Simon held the heavy doors open for her, the room instantly fell silent and everyone turned to look at her. With a big smile, which she didn't have to force herself to do for the first time in a long time, she entered.

"Juliet," she exclaimed, as she reached around the woman's neck, "It's so good to finally see you again!" She stepped back from the embrace and looked at the woman across from her. "Say, how are you? Oh, wait. We'll get to that in a minute," and again she hugged her. "I'm just so happy to have you all here." She looked everyone in the room in the face. When her gaze consolidated with Henry's, she grew hot and quickly turned her head away to hide the blush. "Come here a minute," Isabelle held out her arms to her and Bess gratefully took the few steps toward her. The two friends embraced as well.

Much too quickly for Elizabeth, she was now standing in front of Henry McCord. The man she hadn't spoken to in years and of whom only a thought was enough to fill her heart with happiness. Earlier, back in the company when he was her subordinate, she had already felt this way, but had always known how to hide it, even from him. At least until his wife had smelled a rat. She had made her life hell until she had transfer Henry to an other department and then broken off contact forever... and now? Now he was standing in front of her. Divorced for two years, she knew that from Mike, and she still felt the butterflies.

A bit embarrassed she stood there and didn't know what to do. Should she shake his hand, she was his old boss, now the Secretary of State and on top of that she had no contact with him for a long time, but it would look formal, maybe too formal. Or should she hug him, like the two women before. But even that could look wrong somehow. Maybe it was too much...

"Come here," His words were soft, so soft that only Elizabeth heard them. No sooner had he finished speaking than he had taken a step toward her, his arms outstretched in waiting. Gratefully, she smiled at him and let him take her in his arms for a moment. Then, briskly, she pulled away again and greeted him as well. "Henry McCord. What an honor to greet you." Inwardly, she kicked herself. 'Get a grip, Adams.'

She stepped toward Mike and briefly embraced him as well. Softly, she heard the words, "You see, Lizzy. Give him a chance." When she broke away from him again, she saw tears shimmering in Mike's eyes. "Please, Lizzy. Give him a chance. He has what you need. I don't. Not for you." The words were whispered and barely intelligible, yet clearly understandable to her. She swallowed her own tears and all she could do was nod slightly.

Turning away, she took a breath and put on a smile again. Pulled back up the facade she had actually torn down for tonight. "So, now tell me what's been going on in your lives." With that, she circled the larger round table, passing Mike, before dropping into the armchair next to Mike. To her right, the armchair was empty. As her eyes slid over the nameplate throughout the evening, she wondered when Conrad would arrive.

He had just been talking with Isabelle and Mike about how hard it was to find parking spots in DC and how much he preferred the simpler life in the country , when it comes to that matter, when the heavy doors opened.

Instantly, all conversation fell silent and all eyes were on the woman who now entered the room. He had recognized her immediately. Heavens, how could he ever have forgotten her? Still, his breath caught when he saw her. She hadn't changed, a little thinner than before perhaps and her face definitely indicated that much and hard work she must had been done, but she was still the woman as before. Stunning. He had to swallow, her eyes shone crystal blue and her smile warmed his heart. His lips silently formed her name 'Elizabeth'.

As he watched her greet Juliet, his gaze inevitably traveled over her body. The dress accentuated her figure, but still left enough room for his imagination. Her long slender legs stretched seemingly to infinity. He quickly turned his gaze from her body and concentrated on her face again. Her tender yet somehow full lips, just opened as she let her gaze roam the room "I'm just so happy to have you all here." Their eyes met. And he had to turn away to hide the fact that he was blushing slightly.

He had always found her very attractive. When he had worked for a while under her management at the company, they had all, Isabelle, Juliet, Mike, Elizabeth, as well as once with Conrad and Andrew, insofar as the two of them, Elizabeth and Andrew, were not on a relationship break again, gone out for an after-work beer together. They had been friends. Until Elizabeth had transferred him to another department without warning and had not responded to any messages from him since.

Which is why he was so surprised by Mike's call and the invitation he had formulated. 'Elizabeth would be delighted if you were present. She hopes for a nice evening laughing about the good old days. An evening like the old days, so to speak. You know 'Spy Reunion Dinner.'

He had wondered, but had agreed with equal anticipation. Now that he had broken up with Patricia, he had been able to admit to himself that he had feelings for his former boss and the current Secretary of State. Even then it was true, but back then he hadn't admitted it. At the time, he had been happily married.

Then, all of a sudden, she was standing in front of him. He sensed how indecisive and nervous she was. After a moment he had offered her a hug with the words 'Come here...'. He could still beat himself for that. 'Come here' What's that?

Holding her in his arms felt right. He felt her relax before she pulled back and wrapped Mike in her arms. As he watched the two of them, he felt envy. The two seemed so familiar and somehow connected that it was hard for him to watch them any longer. He averted his gaze and picked up his glass. He would drink up some courage for the evening and then approach them. That was what he had resolved to do.

While they ate and talked about times long past, her restlessness increased and she reached for her glass more and more often. The alcohol burned pleasantly in her throat and put a small damper on the restlessness again and again. That way she could endure it.

The topic of conversation wandered first from Juliet's children, to Mike's dog Gordon, and to old stories, until finally Henry told how his life had changed after the divorce two years ago, that he now lived in DC and taught at War College. Then back to the old stories. Of the old days. When they were all together at the company. There had been laughter and toasts.

Elizabeth had sat there, listening to the conversations and letting the boisterous mood, like the alcohol touch her heart. Then at some point it seemed to occur to Juliet that she wasn't saying anything and she sought her gaze. "What about you, Bess? I overheard there was a little something going on in your life, too."

There it was. The question she was afraid to ask. She bit the inside of her cheek and smiled narrowly. "Mmm, I'm fine."

Juliet tilted her head and looked at her. "Honey, you're not fine at all. You haven't said a word all evening." "I'm just a little tired," she tried to brush Juliet off. But she didn't let up, she scrunched her eyebrows together and shook her head a little indecisively and Bess relented. "I'm just enjoying the company right now, you realize that's a welcome change from the silence in my life." She forced herself to smile a little and wink.

But Juliet did not let up. "How did that come about, anyway?" Blunt and direct as ever, Elizabeth thought. Even before, Juliet Humphrey had been known not to beat around the bush.

Now the others seemed to overhear her conversation, because one by one they turned and looked at Elizabeth, spellbound. While they all knew she was divorced, Elizabeth had never really told them why. Only Isabelle and Mike knew. Their looks were not one of curiosity like the others, but much more of concern. Bess took a deep breath, wishing down her rising discomfort. "Um, um," Bess swallowed. Restlessly, her eyes darted from one to the other. The took her hands under the tabletop and tried to wipe her sweaty hands unnoticed on her dress..

He stepped into his apartment. The appointment with the therapist had left him thoughtful once again. She had given him the homework to deal with the reasons for the divorce. Maybe even write a letter to her explaining himself. He sighed as he walked into the kitchen of his apartment and began to prepare dinner. In doing so, he would allow his mind to dive into the part of the past he had been trying to hide from for months.

She had always blamed it on his greed, had always made him the scapegoat. Had blamed him for their relationship failing, when it was all her fault. She had taken that damn job and given him reason to worry. She had told him about the many smart and intelligent men she worked with and in whose countries she had been on state visits. She had stirred up his jealousy and made him feel that he was not enough. And the result of his jealousy and inability to manage the limited time with his wife had brought them both to the point where greed had taken over. It had not been the trigger, but much more the result of her horizontal innuendos and remarks, his jealousy and lack of time.

At some point he had not been able to handle the pressure, he felt that if he could get his head to stop, he could protect her, their relationship. To stop driving him crazy. That was the point at which he had tried to drown his feelings in alcohol. At the beginning it had worked and their relationship had gone uphill again, but after two months he needed the alcohol. That was the point when he hurt her while drunk and hadn't realized it. Whenever, periodically, he was out of control, he had crossed boundaries that should not be crossed in a healthy relationship.

She had suggested therapy and he had refused. It wasn't until another six months later that he gave in to her urging and pleading. Her therapist had suggested seeking a conversation with Elizabeth. Perhaps one option would be to take out his greed on others and with other women. Women he would give money to in return. It had worked, at least for a while. The only problem had been that he had never talked to her about it. When he had confessed it to her, he had been drunk and balls deep inside her, while she tried with all her might to break free.

Then she had started to lock herself up at night, had refused to sleep with him and had preferred the hotel instead of the marriage bed at home. When he found her at home one evening, in a fetal position and completely panicked, he couldn't help her because he was frustrated and mostly drunk. He had not been able to help her.

Only with the help of his therapist had he been able to see her view of the drunken, sex-addicted husband who had been raping his wife for two years. He could not understand nor resist her. That was one of the reasons why she finally threw the towel. At least that's what his therapist claimed, she did. She says, 'He must not accuse her. It was him. His fault.' He hastily dug out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote.

'I must not accuse you. It was me. My fault.'

"And now I'm here." She shrugged a feigned smile on her lips as she looked into the faces of her audience. There had been no interposed questions. She had only rattled off the facts, had kept quiet about the emotions, had kept quiet about the fact that her heart was beating up to her head and her hands were sweaty, had kept quiet about the fact that she hadn't slept for quite a few days, ate even less than before and the silence and loneliness was hard to bear. She had also concealed that she found her solace in alcohol and cutting. Concealed that she had fallen back into old patterns and only got through the day that way.

She rose to her feet. Her restlessness had almost overcome her. She pushed back the chair and forced herself to apologize composedly for a moment, "I, sorry, I'd like a moment to myself." Her smile didn't take until she had left the room. As soon as the doors slammed shut behind her, she gasped heavily. With one hand pressed to her chest, her eyes searched Matt. Without her having to ask, he took a step forward. "Ma'am, that way."

Matt led the way, having to wait outside the door for a moment before Matt came back out and gave her a curt nod. "All clear." Without a word, she pushed past him into the ladies' room. As the door closed behind her, she leaned against the wall. Her hand pressed to her heart and her eyes squeezed shut, she paused. She longed for the relaxation and peace that her blade could give her. But it was at home on the bed. 'What could happen.' The sentence screeched in her head. 'They were her friends.' But all that didn't help. She sobbed. It was hard for her to admit to herself that she missed it. Missed falling into someone's arms and not being let go. Missed waking up next to a warm body in the morning and being greeted with a kiss. She hated the loneliness. The sense of failure that had come with the divorce and the whole situation. She hated that she couldn't get over it and that it bothered her more than she had told herself it would. She sobbed again. It was hard to admit to herself that she missed him. Missed him even though all the crap had happened. She missed him. And that realization hurt almost more than the feeling of missing him or being lonely.

For quite a while she leaned against the wall, on the verge of another breakdown, until a knock and then Matt's voice brought her back to reality. Into the here and now. Her friends were sitting at the table, waiting for her, no doubt wondering where she was. "Ma'am? Do you need anything?" Bess shook her head decisively, producing a "No, thank you." and a "Just one more moment." between hysterical gasps for air. Her tear-choked voice startled her even.

The mirror above the sinks showed a lonely, lost and broken woman trying with her very last strength to keep up the facade around her. She pulled up her nose and wiped her face with the back of her hand. As she quickly fixed her makeup in the mirror and pushed her hair back into place, she heard discussion outside the door. Matt just said "She'll be ready in a minute. Just a minute." And a voice all too familiar to her replied "I know, I know. I'll wait for her here. Don't worry, just go back to the front. Please, we just need a minute." Her heart blossomed. He was here.

Another knock on the door made her shift her gaze from the mirror and toward the door. It opened a crack first and his soft voice asked, "Bess? Can I come in?" When he received no answer from her, the pushed the door open wider and stepped into the room, only to pull the door shut behind him again immediately after. When their eyes met, he saw her tears glistening in her eyes and hurried the few steps over to her to wrap her in his arms.

She let herself fall, burying her face in his shoulder and holding on tight. The way she used to. His familiar smell, soothed her. The way it used to be. His embrace, so familiar. The way it used to be. She felt him stroking her back soothingly. The way he used to. Felt him press his lips to her mop of hair and whisper softly, "I'm here. Bess. I'm here. It's going to be all right. I'm here."