"Speak."

They stand three abreast, like errant schoolboys in front of my iconic desk, flanked by the magnificent windows that casts them in the angelic sunlight that they do not deserve. My hackles are raised, and my teeth are bared. A media circus has been narrowly avoided, a stain on my reputation that would have been impossible to wash away. They quail under my glare even though they are ballsy, battle-hardened men. My spitting eyes find the strongest source of my ire, my so-called Chief of Security.

Jason Taylor.

"Do you care to explain this to me, Taylor? Because from where I'm sitting, it appears that you ordered Sawyer and Ryan here to abandon their posts so that they could take down a fucking schoolteacher, leaving me vulnerable to a verbal barrage from some nutcase environmentalist that specifically despises this administration for our refusal to recognize the world as flat. I don't know if you're medicated or just plain stupid, but if there's one thing I do not want televised to the nation… it's a civilian being tackled to the ground for having… interesting views."

I take a deep breath and feel the air whistle through my teeth like ice.

"If it wasn't for Prescott's quick thinking, whilst the three of you idiots were writhing on the ground off-camera with a man whose only sin was to have an old-fashioned cell that you geniuses mistook for a gun, I would have been a laughing stock. You three are supposed to be the crème de la crème of security and the minute my back is turned, you're off kicking fifty shades of shit out of some poor Math teacher from the boondocks. Explain yourselves."

Taylor takes one for the team.

"It was a mistake in judgement on my part, Mr President," he murmurs in that slow, soft tone of his. "I read the situation incorrectly and Sawyer and Ryan were merely following my orders as they have been trained to do. I appreciate that in this climate the last thing this office needs is to be publicised as censuring alternative viewpoints. I can only offer you my apologies and assure you that something like this will not happen again."

Calm.

It sweeps over me like a balmy summers breeze.

The Taylor effect.

"Very well," I snap, but with notedly less bite. "See that it does not. Now, I need a full breakdown on tomorrow's events on my desk within the hour and you three need to get back out on patrol. I also need a full breakdown on the new administrative assistants that have been greenlighted by Sweeney. I don't like the fact that I didn't meet any of them before they were signed on, I don't care what letters of recommendation say… they should have been fed through me. I want their dossiers on my desk, all of them, also within the hour. Understood?"

They nod in tandem and the relief on Sawyer on Ryan's faces is almost comical.

Almost.

"Dismissed."

They stride out, trying not to hurry for to hurry would appear undignified. But before the historic doors can swallow them whole, Taylor doubles back and clears his throat. I am not quite in the land of forgiveness yet and so my answering look is withering at best.

"Yes? What is it now?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

"Mr President, forgive me, but it has just occurred to me that Sweeney instructed one of the assistants to present herself for a brief orientation this afternoon. Her duties are slightly more onerous than the others and he no doubt felt she required a head start. I believe she is on the grounds presently, would you like me to send her in so that you might assess her yourself? It's my understanding that the probationary periods attaching to these new contracts are heavily administration-favored. I'm sure it would be easy to dismiss her if she is not to your liking."

Well, that's something at least.

"Yes," I mutter curtly, "Send her in… she can't be any more incompetent than what currently surrounds me, can she?"

He digests the barb with a respectful nod and leaves.

That was uncalled for, Grey.

This job, with all its pomp and circumstance, is turning me into an A grade prick.

I'll need to keep an eye on that.

Someone inches in with my coffee and retreats with haste. I sigh as I gaze at the stack of foreboding memos that sit like a guillotine on my desk. When I was appointed to this office, the highest in the land, I swore that after all the blood, sweat and tears that saw me succeed as this great nation's youngest ever President, I would be one of the people. I wouldn't snap, snark or snarl at my staff. I would be a President that everyone, be they a beggar or billionaire, could relate to.

But I have broken that oath.

Eleven months into term, and I have aged in ways that I never envisaged. The bureaucracy is soul crushing, the red tape, strangling. I cannot make a decision without the opinion of the innumerable, I cannot decree a position without the input of the unqualified. Eleven months in, and I have achieved nothing that I set out to do. As the days slip by, I feel more and more like a puppet than a President.

Than the President.

At thirty-eight, I am an old man. My facial muscles are fatigued from the fake smile that seems almost permanently resident on my face. I'm without, and this is a point of major contention amongst my constituents, a First Lady and rumors about my homosexuality are rife. The most popular conspiracy theory trending on Twitter at the moment is that of Taylor and me, lying together, being deeply and irrevocably in love. I snort into my stack of Prisoner Pardon Requests, my fountain pen with my initials engraved, a gift from Grace and Carrick, poised at the ready.

Even if I was gay, Jason Taylor is not my type.

His beefy hand is not the kind of paw I'd want wrapped around my dick.

Thank you very much.

It's just as I'm scrawling denied, denied, denied on every pitiful Prisoner Pardon Request that the confident but courteous knock raps on my door. Without looking up from some despicable rapist's rap sheet, I call out a curt enter and scratch yet another denied across a thick sheaf of papers and push them all to the side of my desk. The door opens and in walks Taylor, holding the door open behind him for his companion.

"Mr President, this is the administrative assistant I spoke of."

I barely look up from pulling another stack of memos towards me.

"Thank you, Taylor. Dismissed."

I don't have to see his nod to visualize it.

"Very well, Mr President."

The door opens and shuts softly as I look up. Standing in front of me is a well-poised, well-groomed and well-prepared young woman. A leather folder is tucked neatly under her arm, which is encased in a tailored suit jacket, nice but not overly expensive. Brown hair is curled loosely and hangs unhindered yet neatly down her back and nestles on her petite shoulders. Her eyes are very, very blue and carry within them a shrewd intelligence that instantly puts me at my ease.

"Why don't you introduce yourself, Miss…?"

I keep my voice as kind as possible, she's standing in front of POTUS after all.

She's probably terrified.

"Steele, Mr President," she answers in a voice that instantly tells me I was wrong. She's confident, in a manner that extends well beyond her years. "Undergrad at Georgetown where I majored in Internationalisation and Multiculturalism and Postgrad at Princeton where I majored in Integration and Forensic Linguistics. Upon my graduation, I clerked for a series of prominent D.C. senators and recently applied for and was provisionally accepted as one of many PPA's to your administration… a position I am extremely grateful for, Mr President."

Well… excuse me.

She can't be a day older than twenty-five.

"Impressive," I say quietly, my concerns sufficiently assuaged. I eye her more closely, leaning back in my leather bound chair and realize the height of her beauty. She truly is a stunning young woman. An hourglass figure, tastefully clothed and minimal makeup, clearly a staunch supporter of the natural look. If I were a normal man, I would be foaming at the mouth for a girl like this. If I were akin to one or more of my predecessors… cough, Clinton, cough… I would be hard pressed to keep a hold of my professionalism and respect for the office I sit within.

But I am not a normal man.

I was a normal man, what seems like a lifetime ago, but not anymore.

And as such, I have no normal man-made difficulties.

"Well, you certainly seem suitably qualified, Miss Steele," I conclude efficiently. "You may be dismissed now until tomorrow when the other new PPA's shall arrive. Until that time, if you require anything, I'm sure Mr Taylor will be happy to oblige you. I hope your time with us is everything you wish it to be. Have a good evening."

A smile crosses across her face and her beauty is spellbinding.

But not to me.

That ability… the ability to feel… to lust or to love… it's gone now.

Ever since… well, ever since that night.

I shake the memories and images from my mind. They can do no good, they can and will only bring harm. The wisdom of the Iron Islands (I made Taylor swear he'd never tell a soul that he caught me watching my coveted Game of Thrones) now lends itself to the Whitehouse. What is dead may never die. It's true and if you let it, that which is dead will not rest until you yourself are without life. And in my position, I cannot let that happen, I cannot let those memories in. The fate of the nation rests upon my once broad and proud shoulders and so I can only cling to the present, like a life raft.

Her mouth is a perfect rosebud, her lips a ruby red without the need for artifice. I can tell by looking at her that this is a girl who has excelled at anything and everything her entire life. Her kind of quiet confidence isn't created overnight. She probably set her sights on this office at around about the same age I did… if only I had known then what I know now, she might well be standing in front of an entirely different President.

"Thank you for the opportunity, Sir. I promise I won't let you down."

I manage the first real smile in a long, long time and nod almost kindly.

"I'm sure you won't, Miss Steele, I'm quite sure you won't."

…

A/N: This is an idea that came at me and stuck! I'll be updating all my other stories shortly, so please don't fret if you're following those, I'm certainly not abandoning any of them! If you'd like a sneak peek of this story, just leave a "sneak peek" in a review and I will PM you shortly!

This updates recommendation is The Mafia King by OhCathy! You will not regret it, trust me!

Inks x

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