"Yes," he answers the employee— he hears her fingertips hit the keys.

She looks up, and— "It'll just be one more moment," she tells him before turning to the male at the other computer system.

He leans in, and anxiously taps his fingers against the marble.

"How is she?"

And he thinks the Secretary's jumpiness is imprinting on him when he's nearly out of his own skin when Nadine finds her way to his side.

He steals a glance over his shoulder— she's sitting head back, eyes closed, in a chair across the lobby.

He looks to her, and— "Struggling," he mutters.

"How was she on the way over?"

She had come in a separate car, so she had no knowledge of how the drive from the airport to the hotel had gone.

He lets out a breath before saying, "She was quiet."

"That can't be a good sign," she whispers as the woman on the other side of the counter steps forwards and slides nine room keys across the marble countertop.

He gives a smile. "Thank you," he says.

She folds her hands together. "If you need anything at all the staff is one call away," she tells them, eyes drifting between him and Nadine.

He nods before turning his back to the front desk. And as he takes the first few steps in the direction of the area the others had taken up as their own, he thumbs through the keycards.

Matt. Daisy. Jay. Nadine. Frankie. Jeff. Sarah. Maddie. The Secretary and himself.

"Here's yours," he mumbles as he hands off one room key— she had the room directly across from the suite.

"And the others," he says, handing off the next seven.

And before he tucks the last one away into his pocket, he mutters, "And the Secretary's."

"And yours?" Nadine asks.

His feet stop and he looks to her. "I'm taking the second room in the Secretary's suite."

The expression she gives tells him she's rolling that over in her head. "That's probably a good idea," she comments.

"Yeah," he breathes.

Her eyes drop from his and she looks in the direction of the others; his gaze follows, but only seems to linger on one person in particular.

"Are we going ahead with the briefing or do you think some downtime is best?" She asks.

He sighs. "I think we could all benefit from her taking a nap," he tells her before walking towards the group.

While Nadine passes out the keycards, he walks over to the Secretary— she hadn't moved, hadn't opened her eyes since she'd closed them when she first sat down.

"Let the fun begin," Matt mumbles.

"Matt," Nadine warns.

And as he squats down near the Secretary's side, he hears Matt say, "Right, no fun."

"Ma'am," he says softly.

Her eyelids flutter— she looks a bit dazed, a bit confused, and he can't help but worry.

"We're going upstairs now," he tells her as he offers out his hand. She stares at him blankly for a moment, but when her palm slides into his he feels a bit better. And when he pushes up to standing, he pulls her with him.

And as the group moves to the elevator, he has the handle of a rolling suitcase and the strap of her purse in one hand, while his other stayed settled on the middle of her back.

As Daisy steps forward and presses her thumb against the up arrow button, calling the elevator down, Nadine steps up to his side, and whispers, "We have a little over two hours before her presence is expected. Will that be enough?"

"Just enough," he mumbles as he watches the gauge. He thinks after getting settled into the room, and getting some food and water in her, she'd have about an hour to lay down before they needed to get going.

When the arrow on the gauge ticks over all the way to the left, there's a ding before the doors slide open.

He waits for the rest of the staff to pile in, wheeling suitcases behind them, and some carrying small duffels in their arms. Nadine holds a hand over the sensor, waiting for them to step on, but when he tries to usher her forwards it's like she's digging her heels in.

He ducks his head down next to hers. "Madam Secretary?" He questions before he looks back to the crowded elevator. And seeing the small space almost wall to wall with people, her hesitancy makes sense. "We'll take the next one," he tells Nadine.

"Sorry," she mumbles after the doors slide closed.

His hand presses more firmly into her back. "Nothing to apologize for."

He gets her up to the room, feeding her first, and then she sleeps until they meet President Dalton before heading to the summit.

~MS~

As his eyes scan line after line of the document, she paces the room in her pajamas, ranting about how Dalton had walked out of the dinner.

"This isn't the Conrad I know," she rambles.

His eyes lift up, and his gaze follows her as she walks between the couch and his chair.

"You can't control him," he reminds— he knows even before everything with Iran control had been an issue.

Her eyes find him. "I know I just wish that he—"

"You can't make him want to fix it either," he tells her.

She's staring at him like he has three heads until her expression softens and she plops down on the sofa with a huff. "You're right."

He thinks he usually is.

He sits up, closes the binder he'd been sorting through, and sets it on the table to his left. "Now that we've worked that out…" He smiles. "Let's get you to bed."

While he had sent her to her room, he had stayed put in the living room, working through some paperwork. Nadine had joined him at some point, taking Elizabeth's spot on the sofa.

"You're ruining your eyesight reading like this," she comments as she opens up her planner.

He could lie and say he didn't mind the dim lighting, but the truth was he didn't want any light shining through into the Secretary's room.

"She did well today," she says.

He plucks his pen from the coffee table. "Without that nap, I'm worried what would have happened."

She hums. "You handle her well."

He sits back. He doesn't know how to respond to that.

"It's my job," he mutters. He thinks it's funny that just two weeks ago he was arguing with her that this part, the micromanaging, the comforting, wasn't supposed to be.

"Maybe," she mumbles. "But I think you're hovering a very thin line."

He knows she's right, but he didn't see a problem with it.

"So what time is suitable to wake her?" She asks.

And she walks him through the tentative schedule she has planned out for tomorrow. He had made changes where need be.

~MS~

He's settling back into the bed after flicking off the lamp that sat on the nightstand.

By now, half past two, he had a slight headache from staring at his screen, and he was wishing he had the opportunity to sleep for twelve hours straight. He was hoping the flight home from Brussels in two days would be uneventful— he'd gratefully take the eight hours in the air as time to catch up on sleep.

And he's nearly asleep when his eyelids blink open because of the light that was now shining directly into his eyes.

"Blake." His name comes out as a whisper.

He pushes up onto his elbows to find her hovering in the doorway.

He curses himself for thinking he'd be lucky enough to get four straight hours of sleep tonight.

"Is something wrong?" He asks.

She takes a step into the room, and with the light streaming in behind her, he can tell she'd been crying.

"I— I'm embarrassed," she admits.

And he tries to assure her that she doesn't need to be. "You don't have to be embarrassed with me, what's wrong?"

She looks so small standing there— the baggy shirt she must have changed into after retreating to her room was swimming on her. He wonders if it belongs to Henry.

"Can I sleep in here with you?"

He had expected the first trip after Iran to be tough, but he hadn't imagined her, tears on her cheeks, standing in his room in the middle of the night— he thinks it's better than a few of the scenarios he'd feared would happen.

He opens the covers to her.