Day 16

Elizabeth McCord drew in a slow steady breath and looked down at the phone in her hand. Henry's image flashed as the phone buzzed but instead of answering she slid it in her pocket and faced Frank.

"Ma'am," He said. "It really is the only option right now."

"What about the kids?" She asked. "Did they get out?"

"We lost contact." Frank told her. He was turned around staring at her from the front seat of the SUV. Every time they talked like this she wondered if it gave him a crick in his neck. Henry had pointed out that it was unfair to make Frank sit that way - his neck strained, but she pointed out that Frank was well-aware of her tendency toward kindness, and that perhaps it was his way of tilting the balance toward his side. He turned to face her now, his neck strained awkwardly. "We aren't waiting around to hear from them. You getting trapped won't help them. We are going to the airport now. "

"Fine." She settled back against the seat. "I'll be more than happy to head home." Her own voice sounded strange and bitter. She closed her eyes, exhausted.

"Ma'am," Blake's voice was soft and gentle. "Here."

She opened her eyes to see him holding out a water bottle. She couldn't help but smile as she took it from him. Blake always seemed to know what she needed - sometimes even before she did.

"Thank you, Blake." She lifted the water bottle to her lips as the car sped through the streets of Hungary.

She tried to relax. She was exhausted; had been up for two days now, but she felt anxious and unsettled. She could feel the phone vibrating again, and recognized that Henry was probably worried that she wasn't taking his calls. She reached into her pocket, and glancing at Blake who turned and looked out the car window, she lifted the phone to her ear.

"Hi." She kept her voice bright and cheerful.

"Babe!" Henry's voice was tense. "I am really glad to catch you. It is great to hear your voice. You guys okay?"

"We are fine." She said evenly. "We are actually heading out to the airport, so you should be seeing me pretty soon." Her voice faded a little at the end of the sentence, but she covered it by coughing.

"Good. I will confess it to you now, the news over here is making things look pretty volatile over there. I'll be glad to know you are out of there."

"There have been some protests, but you know the press."

"But you guys are okay?"

"Yes, but Henry, I should go. Don't worry. I'm fine." She looked up just in time to see Blake glance her way just then, but he immediately turned crimson and turned back to looking out the window.

"Alright, sweetheart. I'll talk to you soon. Call me from the air."

"Sure."

"I love you, babe. I'll talk to you soon."

"Love you, too." She hung up the phone, and exhaling leaned back against the seat again.

The car remained quiet and she was grateful that only Blake was riding with her. Daisy, Nadine and Matt were already at the airport, and Jay had fallen asleep in the car just behind them. They had decided to let him have the car to himself so that he could stretch out his long legs, and really sleep. No doubt he was experiencing some of the best sleep he'd had since the baby had been born.

It was unsettling not knowing if they had actually been able to get the kids out of Hungary, but she knew they were safe at least. They had been taken with the Marines who had rescued them. Losing contact wasn't necessarily a bad thing - they were keeping their movements a secret so as to avoid any other protests and press. They probably wouldn't hear from them until they were someplace safe.

"I have chocolate." Blake said, interrupting her thoughts. She opened her eyes and turned to him.

"How do you know I wasn't asleep?" She asked.

"You're shoulders were too tense." He blushed as he shared this observation. "And it isn't that you snore, ma'am, but you breathe very lightly."

"Uh, huh." She reached out accepting the proffered chocolate. "Can you pinpoint for me the difference between stalking and being a good assistant?"

"It's a fine line, Madam Secretary." He said with a smile.

"Very." She agreed.

***MS***

Blake Moran turned back to look out the window, understanding that the last thing Secretary McCord wanted was her assistant watching her every move. People generally commented on his psychic-like ability to predict his boss's needs.

"How do you do that, man?" Matt had asked him once.

He hadn't responded. He was completely tightlipped not only about how he was able to predict her next move, but on his thoughts regarding her in general. Honestly, though, she wasn't that difficult to figure out. Elizabeth McCord only cared about two things: Her family and doing what was best for the country. Actually, she only cared about one thing: her family - ensuring the world was a better and safer place was just a byproduct of that. It was really the only thing he needed to know about her: she was always motivated by the need to do the right thing - the thing that would make the world right for Stevie, Allison and Jason.

Understanding this underlying motivation made it easy for him to put himself in her shoes and know what she would want next. Of course, they had more in common than most people knew, and a history that no one ever bothered to ask about.

He was a junior in college the first time he ever saw her - falsely assuming that her class on the United States Involvement in the Middle East would be both easy and interesting. The class was interesting, but not the least bit easy. He'd actually flunked the mid-term. By the end of that semester it appeared that passing the class would be impossible, but at that point he was already failing every class. In fact, her class was the only one he was still attending. He was simply waiting for the school to ask him to leave.

He had been sitting in the library, staring out the window no books in front of him at all, when he'd been startled to discover his professor standing beside him.

"Blake." He looked up at her but it took him a long moment to respond.

"Dr. McCord." He had said, shocked into talking for the first time in days.

"Do you mind?" She asked, indicating the chair beside him, and he shook his head. He had expected her to reprimand him for doing so poorly, for not turning in assignments. He expected her to scold him. He waited for the inevitable.

"You look terrible."

His eyes widened in surprise, and she must have recognized his shock because she immediately blushed.

"No. I'm sorry. I . . . that was rude. But you always look so put together. It's shocking to see you so undone."

"I think I missed your class today." He suddenly realized that he'd stopped in at the library on the way to her class, but had never left.

"You did." She agreed and then she said nothing more. She turned to gaze out the window, watching the rain fall. They must have sat together in silence for thirty minutes when at last he found himself turning to her and speaking.

"I'm failing all my classes." He confessed.

"I know - although technically you've got a D- in mine."

"I can't seem to manage things just now."

"Of course not." He turned to look at her, surprised by the intensity of her voice. "Are you hungry? I bet you haven't eaten in days. Why don't you let me buy you lunch?"

"Oh, no, Dr. McCord, I . . . I couldn't." But she was already rising.

"Grab your backpack, Blake."

He followed her across the campus and into a nearby cafe. He found himself at a loss for words and was completely flustered when the waiter came.

"I'll have an iced tea and the Chef salad, and he will have," She paused briefly here. "You aren't a vegetarian, are you?" He shook his head. "Okay, he will have the steak platter and an iced tea."

"Dr. McCord I . . ."

"I'm sorry. That was bossy of me, but I thought it might be easier for you. You seem the type to order a bowl of soup just so as not to spend too much of my money." She smiled at him. "I'm sorry, you just look so thin and I . . ." She said nothing more, and thankfully the waiter arrived with their drinks.

It was as he looked down at the ice tea that he felt tears sting his eyes. He felt panic; afraid that he would completely fall apart in front of his college professor and an entire restaurant full of strangers. He started to rise out of his chair, saying, "Ma'am . . . I'm so sorry . . .I . . ." But her hand clamped around his.

"It's alright, Blake." Her voice was soft. "There isn't anyone else here. It's okay."

He covered his eyes with his free hand, unspeakably embarrassed, but she said nothing else, her hand still on his as he fought to regain composure. When he could finally look up again, she wasn't looking at him, but staring out the window. He waited, expecting the same sort of pity and cheerful platitudes people had been giving him for weeks now.

"Blake, I was wondering if you would be interested in becoming my assistant."

He looked up at her wide-eyed. "But . . . isn't that . . . don't they assign you a grad student?"

"They do, but mine isn't very . . . I need someone organized."

"I didn't even remember to go to class today." He pointed out feeling strangely argumentative and angry. Fortunately, they were interrupted by the waiter just then, and he turned his anger on his lunch, eating far too much; far too quickly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not . . ." He sighed, setting his fork down. "I'm sorry. You've been very kind. You don't want to hire me as your assistant. I'm not qualified. I'm not even sure if I am staying at school. There is so much to think about and I'm not managing things just now."

"Of course you aren't." She told him again. The compassionate tone in her voice caused him to look up at her. Her eyes were bright, but her voice was composed.

"When I was younger than you, I lost both my parents. And I . . ." She glanced out the window. "It was a really horrible time. I felt so alone. No one can understand it; the very ground beneath your feet seems to fall away." She shuddered and turned to meet his eyes. "I have a brother but even still. I felt so lost. I felt completely alone. I couldn't focus on anything; could form words; couldn't seem to understand what people said to me. I just sort of wandered around in a daze that whole year. I remember so little of that time - I remember learning they were gone and those horrible, horrible first days afterward, but the rest of that time is empty to me. And it isn't as though I can't remember events - I can, but I don't remember myself in them."

"I . . . I . . ." He found himself at a loss for words.

"Listen, if you leave school, that's understandable, but if you do stay. I'd really like you to be my assistant. I know you'll do good work, and I hope you don't mind it, but I'd like to keep an eye on you." She smiled sadly at him. "I'm so very sorry about your mother, Blake. I truly am. I know that she was all the family you had and I know there's nothing anyone can say that will . . ." She sighed softly. "I don't expect an answer. Now is not the the time, but when you are ready. You can contact me."

He hadn't been able to respond to her just then. Lost in a grief too fresh and painful to express, and overwhelmed that someone, someone understood how disconnected and numb he felt. But of course he'd been at her office door two days later, a vanilla latte in his hand.

"Why are we circling?" The sharpness of Elizabeth McCord's tone, drew him back to the present, and he sat up to look out the window.

"Isn't that the airport? I think I can see our plane." Blake said.

"Frank?"

"Madam Secretary, we are assessing the situation." Frank told her. "There were rumors of protesters.

"Aren't Matt, Daisy and Nadine already at the plane? Why don't we contact them?" He pulled his phone out of his suit pocket and began dialing Nadine Toliver's number, but even as he did, the car's speed increased, banking right, throwing him sideways along the seat.

"We need to get to the plane, right now." Frank told them.

***MS***

Elizabeth McCord looked across the car at Blake's pale face, and drew in a steadying breath. Slow breath in and slow breath out. It was a mantra she'd been telling herself nearly constantly lately. The only upside to all those sessions learning to deal with PTSD was that she was fully prepared for dealing with all the unthinkable things that had rolled her way since taking office.

"Deep breaths, Blake." She told him, sliding off her heels. "We can do this. We just have to run from point A to point B. We can do that."

"Yes, Ma'am." He agreed.

"Twenty seconds." Frank said from the front seat. "We get out first. Then the Secretary. Then you Blake."

"Yes." Blake nodded.

"Then we run like hell to the plane." She smiled at him.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You got any more of that chocolate?" She asked him.

"Ye - es." He looked at her completely puzzled, but reaching inside his pocket.

"Not now. On the plane."

"Ten seconds." Frank said.

The car slowed, and the doors swung open. She could see nothing except for the dark suits of the backs of the agents in front of her. She couldn't see Blake. She couldn't see the plane for that matter. She could hear yelling, but nothing distinct enough to be words. Even as she was shoved, not too gently, up the stairs of the plane she even attempted to look behind her wanting to make sure Blake was safe. But even as she turned Bill, the agent directly behind her reached out and pushed her shoulder.

"Keep moving." He barked at her.

In the briefest glance she could see the top of Blake's head, and sighed in relief that he was just two steps behind her. It was in the small second of looking back that she slammed her already injured knee into the stair, and the sharp stabbing pain that shot through her body caused her to cry out. And so, her last view of Hungary was of Blake Moran, actually leaping over an agent and lifting her up and onto the last step as the doors shut behind them. He stood panting at the top of the stairs, his hand still gripping her upper arm, as wide-eyed and shocked Nadine Tolliver greeted them.

"Madam Secretary, are you alright?" Nadine asked.

"I'm fine." She responded, but she had to bite her lip against the pain, and found herself leaning against Blake. "I hit my knee on the step." She turned to Blake and couldn't stop herself from laughing at the sight of her assitant. His tie was askew and his normally perfectly coiffed hair was a wild mess of curls.

"You okay, there, Blake?" Matt asked, reaching out to clasp his shoulder.

"I . . . I . . . Did I . . ."

"You jumped, up and over, Bill which is pretty damn impressive." Frank said shaking his head at Blake. "And one hundred percent unnecessary."

"We appreciate the backup, though." Bill said with a laugh.

"Madam Secretary," Nadine said, reaching out to put a hand under Elizabeth's arm. "Come sit down. Your leg is bleeding."

"Why aren't we in the air?" Blake asked Matt.

"Well, we are surrounded. There's a pack of protesters at either end of the runway." He shrugged.

"We are waiting for the runway to be cleared." Frank said. "Madam Secretary, they estimate thirty minutes at most."

"Blake," Nadine said to him. "Get the first aid kit. Her stitches have opened up."

Elizabeth McCord looked down at her knee which was covered in blood. She remembered the time that Stevie had fallen off her bike, a huge gash in her knee. She had nearly fainted from the blood and stood momentarily frozen in shock, but Henry had immediately cleaned the wound and wrapped it bandages. She wished he were here now to lift her up, carry her to the car, and buy her ice cream after she got stitches.

"Take these, ma'am." Daisy handed her two pills. "It's just some Tylenol, but it should help with the pain."

"It doesn't hurt." Elizabeth said, accepting the pills.

"Well, you are probably in shock." Nadine pointed out.

"I might be." She agreed. "Blake?"

"Yes, ma'am?" He leaned in handing the first aid kit to Nadine and she felt a sudden wave of comfort at seeing his familiar worried face. "Do you have that chocolate?"

He broke into a wide smile, and reaching into his coat pocket handed it to her.

"You must be off your game. I had to ask for something." She grinned up at him.

"Well, it's been an unusual day, Madam Secretary." He reached up smoothing his hair back into place.

"That's an understatement." Matt said. He handed her a bottle of water. "Or do you want something stronger?"

"Water for now." She told him. "Daisy?"

"Just local news coverage, but I imagine an outlet will pick it up soon, Madam Secretary." Her press secretary answered quickly. "Do you want us to release a statement?"

"Yes. Let them know that we are on board and headed back home." Daisy raised an eyebrow at this. "It will take some wind of that protesters sails. Anyone coming to join them will see it as already over, and it nearly is, right Frank?"

"Yes, Madam Secretary." He called from the front of the plane where he stood with a radio to his ear. "Probably another twelve minutes."

"See." She smiled at Daisy.

She had shifted so she sat with her leg up on the couch that ran along one side of the plane. Nadine sat opposite her, and had cleaned and re wrapped the wound on her knee, and was now sliding a pillow under her leg.

"You were a nurse in your past life?" Matt asked.

"Every mother knows how to clean a skinned knee." Elizabeth McCord said with a warm smile at Nadine. "Isn't that right?"

"It is." Nadine agreed with a grin.

"Mother? You've got a kid?" Matt turned to Nadine in surprise.

"The things you don't know about me could fill volumes." Nadine told him. She turned back to her boss. "I'm going to wash up. Would you like a blanket?"

"Yes, please." She was just about to close her eyes when Blake came back into view. His hair was now almost perfectly back into place. He held a pair of socks in his hands.

"Yours?" She asked him with a laugh.

"No, ma'am." He shook his head. "I got them from your suitcase."

"That's a relief." She reached out taking them from him, but winced as she moved her knee.

"Let me." He said taking them back. He took the socks and slid them onto her feet. "If this is going to be a regular thing, ma'am, I think we will need to take another look at my contract."

"Yes, but you can consider this time your punishment for breaking protocol and trying to throw me onto a plane." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, you broke protocol earlier, so we are even." He responded quickly.

"That's a fair point." She agreed.

"Will you need anything else, Madam Secretary?" He asked rising to stand beside the couch.

"Not unless you plan to remove the protesters from the end of the runway and fly us home, yourself?"

"No, ma'am. I was thinking I might sit down for a minute or two. It's been an unusual day and I'm a little worse for wear.

"You and me, both, Blake." She nodded at him, and he paused to squeeze her shoulder before disappearing from view.

She leaned back against the pillow, too tired to even worry about the crowd outside. If there were more danger she was too exhausted to care. She didn't even bother to open her eyes as Nadine put a blanket over her legs. Her knee throbbed now, as the rush of adrenaline began to wear off. She was tense and edgy, worried that the status of the brothers and their cousin, was still unknown, desperate to return home, but dreading facing Henry who would not appreciate how many times she'd lied to him in the last forty-eight hours. It was only then that she remembered the note he'd given her, and reaching into the pocket of her jacket, she pulled it out. It was as she read the very first line that she heard Frank say, "We are cleared for take off," and almost the exact same time that Daisy said, "The kids just landed in Germany."

"Good." She said to both of them, and turned back to the brief, sweet note her husband had penned as the plane moved slowly forward carrying her home.