Flow

AN: Every once and a while I think about how the show gave Elizabeth a male assistant. I know Blake is Blake, but he's still a man.

"She needs you."

Standing with his back against a wall in the main corridor, Blake used his thumbs to quickly finish typing out an email on his phone. After hitting send, he looked up, meeting Jay's eyes.

"Did she say why?" He asked as he pushed off the wall, pocketing his phone in the process.

"No," Jay said, following him as he moved down the hall toward the ballroom. "But she's been unfocused for the last twenty minutes or so. When she asked for you, I knew something was bothering her other than Ireland's bonds that are attached to NAMA."

"I'll handle it," Blake assured.

Jay didn't look convinced, but, after nearly a year as her personal assistant, he was confident in his ability to manage the troubles that came up in her day-to-day schedule. In the last month alone, he'd fixed makeup after she'd gotten caught in the rain on her way inside of a venue, he'd pumped her full of cough syrup, throat lozenges, and slippery elm tea when the cold going around the seventh floor had finally found its way to her, and he'd held her hands in the car as he'd talked her through a panic attack during a drive over to the White House. Blake prided himself in not only being a problem solver in this position, but also a built-in friend who offered a tissue, a hug, and a shoulder to cry on.

"Good luck," Jay mumbled.

After one of the German Chancellor's security agents opened the door, Blake quietly ducked into the room. Pausing inside the doorway, he scanned the table for a blonde head of hair. Blake spotted her on the far left, sitting between Enzo Moretti, the prime minister of Italy, and Bernard Fournier, a representative from France.

"Around one-quarter of this increase is a result of positive spillovers that come from simultaneous implementation of our policies. By 2018, our actions will boost non-G20 GDP by over 0.5 percent," Jean, the European Council president read straight from today's action plan.

Blake kept to the walls as he made his way across the room.

"Ma'am?" He leaned down, whispering into her ear. "You needed me?"

Elizabeth swiveled in her chair, facing him.

"I have a problem," she said quietly.

Sensing her anxiety, Blake squatted by her side, bringing them face to face.

"I can help you," he told her. He stared, watching as her eyes nervously wandered the room. When her attention returned to him, Blake arched one brow. "That is if you tell me what's causing you a problem."

As much as he wished to be some days, he wasn't a mind reader. Blake tilted his head to the side, studying her as he tried to piece together what could be bothering her. By now, he was well versed in reading her body language, but from her nervous glances, the only thing he could pick up on was that she was uncomfortable.

Was she feeling sick? She'd mentioned a headache earlier this morning, but if Elizabeth was feeling unwell, she wouldn't be reluctant to admit so. Could it be one of the men sitting beside her?

"Do you want to step out into the hallway?"

Would she tell him then?

Elizabeth shook her head. "I ca—"

Almost as if he could sense his boss's discomfort, Enzo cleared his throat and proposed that the group break for lunch. While the other leaders agreed, quickly scrambling from their seats, Elizabeth remained in her chair.

"Elizabeth?"

Once the room cleared, she spoke.

"I think that I— that I may have leaked."

Still squatting beside her chair, Blake scrunched his nose.

Leaked?

It took his brain a moment to connect the dots, but once he remembered the spare tampon tucked inside his pocket, his cheeks warmed.

"Oh," he mumbled.

"This is making you uncomfortable." Elizabeth searched his eyes. "If Daisy or— or Nadine were here…"

Blake touched her hand, quieting her.

"Just because I'm a man doesn't mean that I can't help with these things."

When accepting the position of personal assistant to the very female Secretary of State, he'd been well aware that there would be awkward conversations. In the past year, there'd been times that he'd been asked to zip a gown, to step in when men invaded her space, and to not take her insults personally because "she's hormonal, Blake." He appreciated his morning phone calls with Henry. Her husband offered him insight into Elizabeth's moods, guidance in handling her bad days, and tips for when her bad days turned worse. Right out of the gate, he'd taken Henry's advice of keeping the breakroom stocked with chocolate.

"Let's stand up," he urged.

Elizabeth McCord was his job. And so was handling situations such as this one.

He rose with her.

When she stepped out from between the table and her chair his eyes drifted down her backside. Seeing the red spot, he wanted to cringe (after all, he was still a man!), but he didn't want his worry to show on his face, so he bit the inside of his cheek instead.

"How bad is it?" She asked as she craned her neck. Her shoulders sagged after realizing that she had indeed bled through her skirt. "This hasn't happened to me since senior year of high school."

"You'll need new bottoms," he said as he reached for his phone. "It's an easy fix, so don't worry about it."

"The hotel's twenty minutes away." Her eyes were wide when she faced him. "What do you suppose I do in the meantime?"

Hearing voices in the hallway, he suggested, "let's get you to a restroom."

Walking directly behind her, Blake guided her toward the elevators. The second floor offered much more privacy than the third. There, she could clean up without the extra worry of world leaders milling about.

Stopping at the door, he handed off a tampon and said, "I'll be right here."

After she cleaned up in the bathroom, he offered her his suit jacket to wrap around her waist.

"What would I do without you?"

They sat together on a cushioned bench in a back hallway as they waited for Matt to return with a fresh change of clothes.

"I'm missing the meeting," she mumbled.

Looking up from his phone, he eyed her. "It'll be okay," he assured. "Jay's sitting in for you, so the U.S. is represented."

In this job, he had to be her voice of calm.

"It's not fair," she said as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

With a sigh, Blake dug into his left pocket. "I was saving this for later, but I suppose it would be useful now."

Her face lit up when he handed over a small piece of chocolate.