A/N: So here it is. My first posted 'not a one shot' Brittana fic. I have another in the works but let's stick with this one for now. It was inspired by my Scandal rewatch so if you're a fan of the show, you'll notice some similarities. This fic should have lots of drama. Hope you enjoy! :)

Chapter 1 – Today Will Be a Good Day

Santana Lopez breezed into her office in her favourite, most expensive outfit with a smile on her face. She loved this black, Prada skirt and matching blazer, and the red, silk blouse that she always paired with it. This outfit made her feel powerful and badass, and whenever she wore it, she had a great work day. She was in a particularly good mood this morning, which is why she had chosen her very favourite outfit to wear. Her early morning workout had been incredibly satisfying, she had even gotten in a few laps in the pool. She had cooked herself a big breakfast and had gotten through all the important newspapers before leaving her apartment. The coffee that was waiting for her on her desk also gave her a very good feeling about the day that she was going to have.

"Who's sucking up?" She called out. "Who brought me coffee?"

"Mornin' hot stuff," her favourite annoyingly familiar voice cooed from the doorway.

She spun around and smiled in greeting at Puck in his ripped, black t-shirt and dirty jeans with that stupid mop of hair on his head. "Good morning, Puckerman. You're in early."

"Couldn't sleep," he shrugged.

She furrowed her brow and frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"Nothing I can't handle," he answered briskly.

She felt the urge to press and prod, to find out exactly what was bothering him, but she pushed it back down. If something was really troubling him she knew that he would tell her…eventually.

"Quinn's on her way," he spoke. "She texted me a few minutes ago. Artie should be here soon too, and well, we know Sebastian is always late."

Santana chuckled to herself. "Yes, we do." If he didn't look so good in a suit and wasn't such a smooth talker, she would have fired him years ago. "He better be ready for today though!" She exclaimed as she sat behind her desk and lifted the screen of her laptop.

Puck made himself comfortable in her office as well. He sat down on her comfortable sofa and kicked his feet up. "What's pretty boy doing today?" He asked with a puzzled expression.

"Interviewing candidates for a job! Today is gonna be a good day," she told him with an excited grin.

He chuckled, "You're in a good mood."

"It's gonna be a good day," she repeated confidently.

"Wow, she is in a good mood," Quinn whistled as she stepped into the room with her coat still on and her bag over her shoulder.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Don't sound so surprised, Q."

"Of course I'm surprised," the blonde quipped. "I don't remember the last time that I saw you smile."

Santana plastered her biggest, most forced smile on her face just to prove a point. "You can't kill my vibe, Quinn. Not today!"

Quinn smiled, because seeing Santana excited about something was nice, and rare, but that smile quickly fell when she saw two large men in suits with earpieces step out of the elevator just beyond the main doors of the office. "Uhh…Puck," she began nervously, "we have unexpected company."

He jumped to his feet while Santana lifted her head. "Who is it, Q?"

"Uhh…they look like—"

Puck interrupted her as he stepped into the hallway and sized the two men up. "They look like Secret Service."

Santana froze and she felt a cold shiver run down the length of her spine. So much for her great day.

Santana had been summoned to the White House and she did not hide her supreme displeasure. She told the Secret Service agents, Billy and Ryan, who she simply referred to as "the goons" that the President didn't have the right to summon her to the White House anymore.

She stepped into the Oval Office with an exaggerated huff and crossed her arms. The only people in the room were her, Will Schuester, who was the President's Chief of Staff, and the President. She stared at the President standing behind that large, historic, oak desk and remembered why running that campaign had been so easy. Tall, blonde, blue eyes, a well toned and well shaped body, unequivocally attractive and physically, a campaign manager's dream. Sure, the words ditzy and dim had been brought up in the press and used by the opposition, but she had been able to spin that. She had made it endearing and relatable, a true candidate of the people. The Presidential candidate with a heart of gold.

It really had been a dream campaign until…

The President finally spun around to face her and the look of relief was unmistakable. "God, Santana, thank you so much for coming!"

"Well, I didn't really have much of a choice, did I?" She grumbled.

That made the President look at least a little sheepish. "I'm sorry about that. I know that I shouldn't have done it, but I just...I…I panicked!"

She took a deep breath to compose herself before she walked further into the room and slipped into full professional mode. "What can I do for you, Mr. President?"

He pushed his hair off of his forehead, in what she recognized as a nervous tick. "Call me Sam. You know I hate it when you call me Mr. President."

She effectively ignored him. "What can I do for you?"

Samuel Evans, the tall, blonde, former Senator from Tennessee with model good looks, stared at her with a fearful expression and she knew that she had never seen him so scared. Not even when they had been down sixteen points in the general election. "It's not true, Santana. It's not."

The brunette turned to the other man in the room with curious eyes. "What's going on Schue?"

"There's a woman from Tennessee who is claiming that she had a fling with the President when he was in the Army. She's going to claim that her eighteen-year-old son is his."

Santana's eyes widened. "And the press?"

"Hasn't gotten wind of it," Will answered quickly, "but we know that it's only a matter of time. We most likely have a very small window."

"Okay," she said calmly. Santana pulled her cellphone out of the pocket of her blazer and shifted through her contacts. "I'll get my team on it. We'll find her, get a paternity test, figure out what she wants. Whatever it takes."

Before Santana could bring her phone to her ear, Will spoke again. "There's more, unfortunately."

"Well," she chuckled humourlessly. "It can't be worse." Neither man spoke and it made her grit her teeth in anger. "It's worse?" She questioned in disbelief.

"It's worse," the older man confirmed timidly.

"How could it possibly be worse?" Her voice was loud enough that it got her point across but low enough that no one could accuse her of yelling at the President of the United States.

"We think that the First Lady is having an affair."

"But it's not true," Sam added fervently.

The phone in Santana's hand now had a connected call and she could hear Quinn's voice calling her name.

But she couldn't hear anything. She couldn't hear Quinn frantically calling her name, worried that something had happened to her. She couldn't hear Will Schuester asking her what their next step should be, and she certainly couldn't hear the President repeating that the rumours couldn't be true and sounding as if he was on the verge of tears. She had frozen, even more so than when Quinn had uttered the words "Secret Service", and she had lost the ability to hear when she had heard just two words. Two words much scarier than Secret Service or The President.

First Lady.

She had left the White House for a reason. She had resigned from her very important, very influential job in the highest office in the land for a reason. She had lost herself. In these hallowed halls, around these people, she had lost herself. And she liked her life now. She liked her lonely apartment with her indifferent cat, and barely slept in bed, and expensive clothes. She liked her job where the richest people in the country called her and she made their problems seemingly disappear. She liked her band of misfits that she considered her family. And she could not get sucked back into this world.

"I can't take this case," she finally spoke in a shaky voice.

The two men turned towards her, one with an expression of shock and the other just looked sad.

"I won't take this case," she said in a much firmer voice. "You'll have to call somebody else in this power hungry town," she added as she spun on her heel. "I'm sure you'll have no problem finding someone ready and willing."

Her hand was on the doorknob when she heard the voice of the man that she had once considered one of her very closest friends.

"Santana, please," Sam begged.

"I'm sorry, Mr. President," she forced out before she left.

A/N: Please review! And feel free to ask questions :)