Elizabeth looked out the window of the converted Boeing C-32 down onto the English Channel. She sighed, turning the flight seat to face the middle of the private office that would be her sanctuary for the duration of the short flight to Paris. They were travelling on the modified military plane she flew on when it wasn't being used by the V.P. or F.L.O.T.U.S.. She much preferred it to the more basic military transport she and her staff would use when the C-32 wasn't available, and she was particularly pleased to be on it today. It allowed her to escape into the small office on board; the one she'd been in since before take off.
You mean hiding in?, her better angels clarified. She'd given strict instructions to her staff to leave her in peace unless there was an emergency.
Chickenshit, the angels opined in unison.
"Yup", she answered aloud, agreeing with her inner voice. She pushed up from the chair, pacing the small room before lying on the sofa opposite the desk. She may as well try and get some rest, as last night, sleep had eluded her. As she lay there, she became aware of her hands, fidgeting, rapidly opening and closing the legs of her glasses and she deliberately placed them on her chest, stilling her hands in an attempt to clear her mind.
She knew her staff were confused by her unusual behaviour; at least Matt and Daisy were confused. She was in no doubt that Blake and Nadine were well aware of the reason for her Greta Garbo act this morning. Matt and Daisy however, were blissfully oblivious. She hoped that hiding in the office would give her the space she needed to think. Her head had been buzzing ever since yesterdays revelation, and the evening's events had done nothing to quiet it. Blake and Nadine had been nothing but their usual professional selves this morning. There was no indication that anything was awry with their boss — clearly they were waiting for her to take the lead. It was so typical of them both; loyal to a fault and caring more about her, than about any questions or concerns they may have.
As she lay there, wishing for peace, clarity or sleep, she found she couldn't even obsess efficiently; her head was a constant merry-go-round of pictures; pictures of Nadine; of the kids and Blake; of Nadine; of Henry; of her and Nadine together — on the sofa in her office, drinking champagne at The Ivy, solving problems together. Her brain was on overload, not helped by the incessant obsessing that had consumed her night and early morning; reliving, over and over the events of the past eighteen hours.
The staff had insisted on treating her to dinner after the show and they'd taken her to a Vietnamese restaurant not far from the theatre. Everyone had been buzzing; completely overwhelmed by the experience they'd shared, particularly the impromptu meeting of the cast after the show. Nadine and Elizabeth had laughed along with them, like the parents of three over-excited teenagers. But as much as she loved listening to her boisterous staff, all she'd wanted was to be somewhere quiet with Nadine, to talk to her about the show, find out what she thought of it, what it had represented for her; but she couldn't. That would have to be a conversation for another day.
From the moment she'd climbed into bed, images and reruns of events from the last few months began looping through her mind; and her brain became the equivalent of her own, personal twenty four hour t.v. news cycle and just as irritating. She'd tossed and turned — steadily watching the time tick by on the clock on the bedside table — she'd tried to get her mind to switch to sleep mode, but all she could think of was the overwhelming need she'd felt all evening to be close to her chief-of-staff.
From the moment Elizabeth had seen Nadine standing in her room, dressed in that stunning suit, she'd felt as if she'd regressed thirty years and was a teenager once again, unable to form sentences or even look Nadine in the eye. She'd used the excuse of taking a picture of the suit for Allison. She'd felt so exposed after her revelation, that when she saw Nadine looking so strikingly beautiful, she had to do something to avoid making a fool of herself, and the first thing that popped into her head was to take a picture; kill two birds with one stone, have something to hide behind as well as a lasting image of Nadine.
It was ironic that the plan she'd intended to shield her from a potential indiscretion, had actually caused her to be just that — indiscreet. There'd been something so intimate in the process; the screen, completely filled with Nadine's image, had given her a sense of closeness to her subject; to the point that she'd felt they were alone, face to face.
Her breath hitched and then become more rapid as she was drawn further and further into the screen and the brown eyes that captivated her. She'd felt exposed, despite the barrier of the phone; it was as if Nadine's eyes had been staring directly into her, able to read every thought she was having. 'You look beautiful tonight ma'am.' It wasn't so much the words that had affected her; what had been her undoing was hearing the words in Nadine's husky tones. She'd felt inordinately pleased and unexpectedly intimacy of Nadine's beautiful face, combined with her sultry voice, all focused directly on her; it had been too much. She knew she shouldn't have lowered the phone, but she'd honestly thought she wasn't going to be able to keep it raised any longer without it becoming obvious that her hands were shaking.
The waiter's arrival had saved her, but not soon enough to avoid Nadine, and no doubt an eagle eyed Blake, becoming aware that she was looking at her chief-of-staff and friend in a manner that was definitely more than friendly. She'd spotted Blake talking to Nadine before they'd left for the theatre. The fact that Nadine had almost choked on her canapé was evidence enough that Blake had been questioning her about what the hell was up with their boss. Blake had given her surreptitious looks for the remainder of the evening; she'd been almost as aware of his eyes on them as she had been of Nadine's presence next to her.
From the moment she'd been confirmed by the Senate, Nadine had been her right hand woman, literally as well as figuratively — although not always pleased about it. Nadine was only a step away wherever she went: walking from the elevator to her office, in staff meetings, in the car, during lunches, dinners, any official event that they went to, Nadine was there; ready to whisper a pertinent piece of information or name into her ear, to share a joke with to lighten the moment, to distract attention by dancing with Henry or as a confidant to conspire with. And last night was no different.
They'd sat next to each other in the car, and in the theatre; Nadine to her left, Blake to her right. She'd thought about letting Blake precede her into their row, making him a buffer between them, but when it came down to it, she couldn't. Despite the distraction, she knew it would be harder to be a seat removed from Nadine than to have her next to her. Although knowing what she knew now, she wasn't sure that would've been the case.
Throughout the performance, she'd been hyperaware of Nadine sitting mere millimetres away. She'd marvelled at how a petite woman could have such a presence. Elizabeth's senses had been on overdrive; she'd been constantly distracted by the soft scent of Nadine's perfume and the subtle warmth that emanated from her body. Elizabeth's body, had in turn, sought the comfort of Nadine's nearness, and her body's instinct was to move closer, despite her brain battling against it. It had felt as if, on a cellular level, her agitated body was calling out for the calm that it instinctively knew Nadine could provide. It was all so confusing; the longing, the agitation, and yet the peace that Nadine's simple presence gave her; Elizabeth hadn't realised that it was possible to have such blatant contradictory feelings simultaneously.
Despite her heightened awareness and the constant distraction, she'd found Hamilton riveting, humorous, intelligent and moving. By the end, she was so engrossed in the story playing out before her that during the final song, she was shocked to discover Nadine's hand in hers. She didn't know which of them had reached out first, it was possible they'd reached out simultaneously, but however it happened, she'd found herself holding onto Nadine as if her hand were a rudder directing her safely through rough seas.
The final number, was a moving and thought provoking song about legacy. As the show had progressed, Elizabeth had been hit by the reality that she was the beneficiary of a government and institution created by these men on stage. In particular, Jefferson, a man who before becoming the second Vice-President and then the third President of the United States, had been one of the main authors of the Declaration of Independence and the first Secretary of State. As the incumbent of the office first held by him, it was her job to uphold his legacy.
Washington, Jefferson and now Hamilton; their stories had been told. When Conrad had asked her to help him effect real change in the world, she'd been scared and excited, but most of all, she respected him and wanted to help him in anyway she could. She hadn't thought about the larger implications of holding the job. And now, by virtue of the office she held, she'd become a part of these mens stories. But who would tell her story? Was she worthy of the office and of history's recognition? What would her story be?
She'd already burrowed half way down this rabbit hole of doubt when she realised that she'd reached for Nadine; and holding Nadine's hand had soothed her fears and insecurities and calmed the rough seas of her mind. They'd continued holding each other, as they had so many times before; and in that touch, Elizabeth found her equilibrium again. She'd squeezed Nadine's hand; a squeeze of acknowledgment, of thanks, before letting go to applaud.
Lying on the plane, it was the ghost of the memory of Nadine's hand in hers that made her realise that the jumble of thoughts tumbling around her head were accomplishing nothing — and more importantly, she was doing the exact opposite of what she'd wanted to achieve on this trip — spending time with her friend. Whatever else was simmering under the surface of their relationship, at its root was friendship. Whatever else, it was Nadine's friendship that was most important to her, and her idiotic behaviour this morning was precious time she couldn't afford to waste.
She got off the sofa and perched on the edge of the desk. She was strong and mature enough to ensure she wouldn't damage their friendship by allowing any other emotions and feelings she had for Nadine to get int the way. She had to approach her relationship with her in the same way she would meditation - any thoughts she shouldn't be having would be acknowledged and let go — allowing her to revert back to her principal objective — Nadine's friendship.
There were a couple of quick meetings scheduled when they arrived in Paris which were to be followed by free time for everyone. She'd rather wander the streets of Paris with Nadine — if Nadine would have her and she could sweet talk her security team into it — than hide herself away in her room obsessing about something she could do nothing about. If Nadine let her, then she intended on using the opportunity to get to know more about the time she spent in Paris; particularly the time spent with Amelia.