He paces the length of the sidewalk from one side of the building to the other, not daring to walk further… Just in case. After the last time, he'd promised to stay close.

"We'll be cutting it close on time today." He has his phone held to his ear. He flips his wrist up, checking his watch for what feels like the fifth time in the last minute. "She's going over."

"Tell Ted to step on the gas and we should be alright," Nadine tells him.

He laughs— Ted had a tendency to drive slowly, even more so through the tight double-parked streets of Foggy Bottom.

When he hears the squeak of the gate, he turns on his heel and walks the few steps back to the entrance— he hopes it's the Secretary but is disappointed when he sees Matt walking out.

"She needs you," Matt says.

He frowns. "We may have a small hiccup," he mumbles into the phone. "I'll call when I can," he says before tucking his phone away.

And he brushes his way past Matt before jogging down the steps.

He finds her, them, in the entryway. She's bent over, elbows resting atop the bookcase by the door, head bowed down between her arms.

"She's feeling a bit overwhelmed," Dr. Sherman tells him as he moves towards her. He's surprised she's allowing Kinsey to see her this way— he thinks that really shows how hard of a time she was having this morning.

He brings a hand up. It's hard to miss the way she jumps when his palm lands on her back. He leans in, ducking his head down near hers, and whispers, "I'm right here." And those three words seem to do it because she straightens up and walks right into his chest.

When his arms come up, pulling her in Kinsey gives him a look of pity, and says, "I'll leave her in your capable hands."

He would give her a smile if he wasn't planning out how he was going to move around her morning… Maybe even her afternoon too— He told Henry these weekday sessions weren't a good idea.

"Bye Blake," she says before disappearing down the hallway.

His hand had snaked its way inside her coat so his palm could press against her back. She wasn't crying, and he can't decide if that's a good sign or a bad one. And when her head pulls back from where it had been tucked under his he thinks just maybe she was going to pull herself together.

His hands run up her arms. "Can I get you to the car?" He asks.

She won't meet his eyes, but the nod she gives is reassuring enough for him to get her out the door.

And with an arm wrapped around her middle they climb the few steps that lead up to the street. Frank swings the gate open when they near the top, and Matt is waiting by the already opened car door.

She slides into the backseat before him.

He waits until the car pulls off the curb to ask. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Although she's turned away, looking out the window, the way her shoulders curl in tell him all he needs to know. He pulls his handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it over.

She dabs at her eyes, and— "I don't even know why I'm crying."

"It's okay to cry," he says softly.

She sniffles. "I just can't believe she did this." The hand gripping the hankie falls to her lap. "She killed him," she whispers. Her head turns, and her eyes meet his. "If I was in George's position would she have killed me too?"

He swallows. He knows he can't provide her answers— there's only one person who can tell her what she wants to her, and he thinks the chances of that happening are near impossible. All he can offer is his presence.

He opens his arms. "Come here."

She slides across the seats and settles against his chest.

"I miss him today," she admits.

He squeezes her shoulder. "He sounds like an amazing friend." He'd heard a handful of stories.

She smiles. "He was."

When her eyes drift closed, he knows she isn't asleep, but he still takes advantage of the moment of calm.

He shoots Henry a text before dialing Nadine.

"How much am I scrapping from the schedule?" She asks.

"At least two hours. I'm dropping her at home for a bit," he whispers.

The other side of the line is quiet. He can almost hear her frustration over the phone. "Are you staying or are you coming back to help me reschedule?" And although she'd been more supportive, she, like him, still had her moments.

"I'll be there in twenty," he tells her.

When they pull up to the house Henry is already waiting on the sidewalk. In fact, he's the one who pulls the car door open.

"Ma'am?" He squeezes her arm as he wiggles his left shoulder where she's leaned into him.

When she sits up, he pulls back his arm and slips out of the car. And he offers out his hand helping her out of the SUV before passing her off to Henry.

Just as she'd fallen into him back in the entryway he watches as she settles into Henry's arms for a hug. And after he mumbles something into her hair, he sends her towards the house.

"Emotional appointment?" He asks once she was to the door.

He shrugs. He thinks they're all emotional. "It's a very Juliet day."

~MS~

He's leaning against the front of one of the SUVs, arms crossed, staring up at the sky when he hears the pull of the door. And one turn of his head and he can see the anger.

He pushes off the car and meets her halfway.

She's shaking her head. "He's accusing me of throwing it with the Algerians."

"Well, we both know you didn't so there's nothing to worry about," he tells her.

She runs her fingers through her hair before her palm stays settled on her forehead. "I think I threw it with the Algerians," she mumbles.

"I think you're letting him get into your head." He offers out his arm. "Let's walk." And she steps close, looping her arm with his.

When they pass the front SUV he says, "Give us a few minutes guys." And they walk down the drive.

"The only reason I'm not getting fired is because the White House can't afford taking the hit this news cycle."

"Now you know that's not true," he tells her.

Their pace slows and her eyes meet his. "I don't know what to think."

His lips part. "Well, I do," he begins. "You've had too many successes for President Dalton to tank you." He blows out a breath. "Russell is just being Russell."

"You're probably right," she says.

He's relieved she's began to think more clearly.

"But that doesn't change the fact that he may be right about me not pushing the Algerians."

Square one.

"She's your friend," he reminds. And the is feels wrong for him to say. Was? He considers, but even with everything that had happened he still believed that she thought of Juliet as her friend.

He jeered from that thought when she stops walking.

She shakes her head, and out of the corner of his eye he sees blonde hair moving. "I'm sorry," she mumbles. "This is probably the last thing you want to be doing on your Friday night."

"You'd be surprised." He's staring down at his feet until— "Come on." He looks up towards the gates. "To the light post and back."

~MS~

Henry had said she hadn't slept much the last two nights, so he's surprised when she calls them in earlier than they had agreed upon on Sunday morning.

When she first arrives, he worries about the lack of sleep. You see sleep and anxiety seemed to have an inverse relationship. When sleep plummeted, anxiety soared. But when everything appears to be going smoothly, he relaxes a bit. She even seems to be okay after returning from the Situation Room. It's when he informs her, they need to leave for the signing that he notices something is wrong.

"Ma'am it's time to go to the White House," he tells her as he brushes past Jay.

He watches her give a stern nod, nothing new. And he's about to turn on his heel, but when she gives a sigh and sinks down into her chair he stays put.

"I need a minute," she says, clutching her blazer to her chest.

And it takes no more than one look into her eyes to know what was bothering her. "What did he say to you?"

~MS~

He had waited until the Secretary had been put into the back of the car. Nadine assured him she'd keep an eye out until he arrives. He'd head over after he handled what he needed to handle.

He finds him in his office.

"Tell me what you said to her." He says from the doorway. He knows, but he'd like to hear it from him.

Jay looks up from the stack of files he's shoving into his briefcase. "That's between her and I."

He steps into the room. "And when you hurt her, I'm forced into the middle."

Jay shakes his head. "How are you of all people okay with this?"

He chooses to ignore the comment. "You're lucky she didn't fire you." He back tracks to the door, and— "Don't you ever bring up Iran like that again. Because next time it really will be the last thing you do on this floor."

~MS~

They're sitting in the back of one of the three SUVs nearly a week later. They're on their way to the Hoover building after her therapy session— Friday. He still hadn't managed to switch her appointments to the weekend, but in this job those two days rarely seemed to be honored of days of rest.

She's staring out the window, as she usually does on the ride back from talking to Kinsey when she turns to him, and asks, "What if Jay was right?"

His thumbs hover over the keys. "Get that out of your head," he says before he finishes typing out the text to Nadine.

And when he glances over next, she now has her head leaned against the window. He thinks this interrogation was a terrible idea.