HERE'S WHAT SOME OF YOU HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR :)
Elizabeth knew Henry was following her. She knew she could slow down and wait for him as she walked to her office.
She also knew he would've caught up with her if he'd wanted to.
And she was on a mission.
Some might call it a warpath.
She walked through the foyer to her office, where Blake's desk was.
And she saw Isabelle sitting there in a chair. Waiting for her.
Elizabeth didn't look at Isabelle. She just walked past, and firmly said, "My office. Now."
Elizabeth didn't stop. Didn't relinquish any of the power in the room. She walked all the way to her desk, stood behind it. And then turned around while she said, "What the hell were you thinking?"
She looked up to see her friend making her way to the front of Elizabeth's desk. Isabelle looked like she hadn't slept, her hair, normally soft and ordered, now hung in wisps around Isabelle's strained face. Her clothes, the same ones from the day before, were wrinkled. Elizabeth weirdly felt good about that.
Henry walked into the room, shutting the door behind him.
But Elizabeth wasn't focused on that.
Elizabeth stared Isabelle down.
"I never intended for her to…"
"Oh, no." Elizabeth interrupted, her voice raised. "You will not give me that line. You will not tell me that there was never any way you could have predicted that happening."
"But when I sent her there, we had no idea that anything was problematic."
Elizabeth locked her jaw and she said, "I'm not talking about yesterday." And she stared into her friend's eyes. And said, "What were you thinking RECRUITING her at all?" Isabelle opened her mouth, but Elizabeth held her hand up and continued, "Even if she wasn't my daughter, in what world does recruiting a girl who has a huge history as a public figure? What hope could she have in keeping any of that under wraps?"
Isabelle swallowed, and then said, "She's one of our best analysts."
"Oh?" Elizabeth snapped, "Really? Analysts?"
"Yes." Isabelle stated. "She can see things in a way that even seasoned analysts can't. She's got this…" Isabelle struggled to find the word, "… ability to think in 3D. She can put information and intelligence together in a way I haven't seen in a long time."
"You think that's supposed to make me feel better, Iz? You think after I watched what happened yesterday, that telling me how good of an agent my daughter is will help me overlook the fact that I almost watched her die yesterday? You think that's a good idea?"
Isabelle shook her head.
"If she was an analyst, what the fuck was she doing in the field?" Elizabeth wasn't excusing the recruitment. She just wanted information.
Isabelle shifted on her feet. "She wrote a proposal about reforming our interrogation methods with sexual assault victims from terrorist organizations." Then Isabelle set a stack of papers on her desk. "See for yourself. She knows what she's talking about."
Elizabeth ignored the paper. And she put both hands on the desk and leaned to glare at Isabelle. "Of course she knows what she's talking about!" Her voice escalated. "Which is EXACTLY why she shouldn't be there!"
Isabelle shook her head, which sent flames of fury shooting through Elizabeth. "No. That's why she should be working here." Elizabeth started to interrupt, but Isabelle continued, "No other agent would've been able to get the information that Emma got yesterday in the amount of time we needed it."
"And she was almost killed because of that." Elizabeth yelled. "Was that worth it?"
"Yes." Isabelle said with conviction. "An entire base was saved."
Elizabeth's fist pounded on the desk as she yelled, "SHE COULD'VE DIED!"
Elizabeth saw both Henry and Isabelle jump at her outburst.
She let the words sit in the air. Let them dissolve. Make Isabelle sit with the reality that Elizabeth had watched time and time again.
Then. Quietly. Elizabeth asked, "Why didn't you tell me that you'd recruited her?" Then, as Isabelle opened her mouth, Elizabeth added another part of the question, "Which was when, by the way?"
"She went through training the summer after her graduation." Isabelle admitted.
A year and a half of lying. Elizabeth couldn't believe it. But she also could. The summer away hadn't been in London visiting her girlfriend. The time difference hadn't been the reason for the lack of communication that summer. She'd been at the Farm. Undergoing training that Elizabeth herself had done. Long. Strenuous. Back-breaking training.
And the conversations at dinners – the random information about her fake job at the State Department. A department in the State Department that Emma must've known Elizabeth knew little about. The comradery Elizabeth had felt with her daughter – talking about working in the same building that Elizabeth had – the mutterings about her boss – all of it. Lies.
"And I wanted Emma to tell you, Bess." Isabelle's words drew Elizabeth back to the woman standing in front of the desk. "I really did. I explained that, while most recruits and agents couldn't tell their parents, most recruits didn't have the President as their mother."
"Ma'am." Elizabeth said. And she could see the confusion on Isabelle's face. Elizabeth stood up tall, her shoulders squared as she clarified. "I'm not 'Bess' or 'Elizabeth' in this room with you right now."
The shock was evident. Elizabeth had never been one to throw around her title. Especially with such an old friend. Her daughter's godmother.
But Isabelle dutifully corrected herself. "Ma'am."
Elizabeth's last comment must've cued Henry's peacekeeping into motion.
He stepped forward, into Isabelle's eyeline, and said, "I don't understand why you didn't come tell us. Even if Emma didn't want us to know." His level-headed tone was meant to bring their past relationships into the room. "I just thought as an old family friend, you would've done us the courtesy?"
"Henry, you know I wanted to." Isabelle turned towards him, her tone reaching out towards the first person who'd shown her kindness in the room. "But I thought Emma just wanted one part of her recruitment to feel real. Not being able to tell her parents just like every other agent."
"So you wanted to let Emma pretend." Elizabeth interjected.
Isabelle nodded, "Something normal for her, perhaps?" Then, in a quiet and apologetic tone, Isabelle stepped forward and said, "I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did."
Elizabeth refused to let her friend into her head. She refused to be pitied. Refused to forget the danger that Isabelle had put her daughter into.
And mustering the strength that the office gave her, that the American people had elected her to, that the responsibility of the entire nation held behind her, Elizabeth stated, "Through this whole ordeal, I can see your lapse in judgement."
Isabelle took a deep breath.
Elizabeth couldn't bring the personal in. While she wanted to. Wanted to scream at her friend. Wanted to beg Isabelle to explain why she was willing to put Emma in danger again. Wanted to understand. Wanted to cry at what felt like a betrayal she could never get over.
But Elizabeth had other plans.
She kept her voice as plain and emotionless as possible. "I need to have faith that the intelligence that I get from the CIA Director is sound." She crossed her arms in front of her. "That the Agency is being run from someone in a competent manner."
She could see from the look on Isabelle's face that the woman standing in front of her knew where this was going. Isabelle reached into her suit pocket. And, with the simple nod of her head, Isabelle said, "I'd hoped I wouldn't need this." Then she set a while envelope on Elizabeth's desk. "But I know where this is going."
But Elizabeth shook her head. "No." When Isabelle looked up with hope in her eyes, Elizabeth met that hope and said, "I don't accept your resignation." Elizabeth waited a second, feeling the next words she would say – and through a firm jaw, Elizabeth said, "You fucked up, Isabelle. You don't get to quietly resign and walk away from this. You're fired."
Elizabeth felt the air sucked out of the room. Isabelle's eyes were wide, and her mouth dropped open. Henry turned to Elizabeth, his own look of horrified surprise greeting her.
But the reaction Elizabeth hadn't accounted for was the one from the door of the Oval.
Her daughter's voice.
