"Ms. Mills, you're new within our government, can you tell me why it is you were hired?"
The young woman shifted uncomfortably in the metal chair, her gaze averted from mine as she toyed nervously with her hair. Her foot jiggled anxiously against the ground and she shook her head, "I don't honestly know, it's not like I applied," she murmured.
"Being a smart ass isn't going to help you," I snapped, leaning forward in my chair to glare at her. She flinched away from me and ran a shuddering hand over her face, a low squeaking noise of terror slipping through her fingers.
Frustration welled in me at her meek response and I stood abruptly, kicking the chair away. At this she shrieked and cowered in her chair, trembling beneath me as I glared at her.
"Stop cowering and answer me!" I ordered in a low commanding voice, my hands balled into fists at my sides, shaking with barely suppressed anger. Control, you need to stay in control…
To my surprise she turned her bright blue eyes up to mine and glared back at me, her arms wrapping around herself as she spoke. "I already told you, I don't get why I was hired. I was an auditor at the IRS before everything changed and Ambassador Flynn asked me if I thought I could handle running the Treasury and audit the finances of the Republic. I told her I could and she hired me."
She cocked her head to the side and arched a brow, "Anything else you'd like to know?" she asked angrily.
"You should speak with more respect to your President," I hissed as I leaned toward her, eyes narrowing in anger. We remained locked, staring at each other until finally I turned away, shaking my head slowly.
"Get out," I commanded softly, wrenching the door open and staring at the wall as I waited for her to leave.
Her footsteps were soft as she scurried past and a breath later I slammed the door shut, my head throbbing with a well of frustrated emotions. I needed to find out who had attacked Becca and why, and so far, these interviews hadn't revealed anything of worth.
I was failing her.
"You've been with me for how long now Tom?"
I leaned against the stone wall and flipped through a file, reading for a moment before glancing up at him. I of course, already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear what Tom had to say. Of all the suspects for Becca's attack, he was the most likely, the one that had the biggest grudge against her.
"For two years now, sir. Since June of 2015," he replied confidently, smiling self assuredly at me.
"When Becca saved your family from starvation," I stated, watching as consternation and anger rippled over his face before sliding away to be replaced with a calm mask of polite indifference.
"Yes, when Ambassador Flynn gave us enough rations to survive," he replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
Becca was right; I'd have to keep an eye on him.
I nodded slowly, "And you've risen through the ranks of the militia fairly quickly, wouldn't you say?" I asked, watching his reaction again as I glanced between him and the paperwork.
He barked out a laugh and shook his head, "I've simply worked hard sir. Is there something wrong with that?" he asked, a note of aggression in his voice.
"Not at all, I'm glad to have someone so ambitious helping lead my militia," I murmured, smiling faintly at him. Closing the folder I leaned away from the wall and tilted my head, studying him for a moment.
I had no proof it had been Tom or anyone who worked for him that had attacked Becca, but my gut told me I shouldn't trust him.
"Well Tom, I trust that if you have any information pertaining to Becca's attack you'll tell me," I ordered, lifting a brow.
I watched as he tilted his chin, studying me in return for a moment, his dark eyes flashing with some emotion I couldn't grasp, and then in a breath, he was smiling.
"Of course President Monroe. I'll let you know if I hear of anything," he assured me, his face earnest and reassuring.
I didn't believe him for a second.
"Excellent, thank you Tom," I murmured, stepping back to allow him to leave. He smiled slowly, his eyes empty as he walked past me, opening the door to leave.
"I heard she hasn't woken up yet, is that true?" he asked softly.
I stood petrified, staring at the seat he had been occupying, not wanting to turn and see the expression on his face; the tone of his voice, morbid curiosity and perhaps a touch of eagerness, was enough to tell me it wasn't pleasant.
"No, not yet. They say if the pressure in her skull from the bleeding goes down by tonight she should wake up tomorrow," I murmured.
He made a curious noise and a moment later I heard the door shut softly.
A gasp shuddered out of me and I reached a hand out to brace against the chair, my chest heaving with emotion. My vision blurred as hot tears of anger and fear surged forward, threatening to choke me.
It had been four days since Becca had been attacked, four torturous days of fearing for her life, wondering if she would make it through every moment, every breath. I could barely get through each second without questioning who had hurt her, a constant swell of rage filling me, leaving me shaky and barely in control.
With a twist of my wrist I flung the chair across the room, my emotions spilling over in a fury. A moment later the door was tossed open and Miles strode in, gun in hand, searching the room for the cause of the commotion.
He glanced around the room at the destroyed chair and back to where I was standing, his face furrowing in concern.
"What did Tom have to say?" he asked as he holstered his gun.
Running my fingers through my hair I shook my head, "Nothing useful, of course. What do you think happened?" I asked softly, leaning against the wall, my head aching fiercely. Miles studied me for a moment and then turned to shut to the door, his expression closed off and his jaw firm.
He turned back to face me and I could see new lines around his eyes, ones that had been carved there by the agony of the past few days. He sighed heavily and shook his head, "I don't know what happened Bass, no one is telling me anything, it's like she was attacked by a ghost," he murmured.
I scoffed and shook my head, "Someone is lying. Someone knows what happened," I replied harshly, glaring at him.
"Bass, you think I don't know that? It's not like we have security cameras to rely on, we have to interrogate people and determine if their word is enough!" he growled back.
His dark eyes flared with frustration and he tossed a hand up, as though he was searching for something, "Man, I don't know what we're going to do. If we can't keep her safe here, how is she supposed to be safe travelling and being the Ambassador?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion.
"You try telling her that Miles and let me know how well it goes," I scoffed, shaking my head. Rubbing at the scruff that had accumulated on my jaw in the stress of the past days I sighed heavily, exhaustion sinking into my bones.
"Miles…what do I do?" I asked softly, staring down at the shiny tops of my boots.
A moment later I felt the heavy weight of his hand on my shoulder and I looked up, jaw flexing as I struggled against the weight of emotions in my chest. Miles's dark eyes were filled with compassion and I saw the struggle in his face too, and it nearly undid me.
"We keep going brother," he murmured.
I nodded slowly and blinked rapidly against the pressure building in my nose, threatening to spill over into tears.
"We keep going," I agreed.
Sinking down into the chair at my desk with a heavy sigh I cast a glance at the pile of paperwork and files that grew every day, each of them containing classified, dangerous and important information that would need my immediate attention.
Unscrewing the lid on the bottle of rum I sloshed a generous portion into a glass and began sorting through the files, sipping slowly. The flames in the fireplace crackled softly behind me, filling the room with warmth, pushing back against the darkness and chill of winter's bite, but they did nothing to rid the chill that seemed to fill me.
Mindlessly I flipped through the pages, signing where it was required, and adding in commentary where I found flaw in laws that were proposed. As I tossed aside another file a slip of paper caught my eye, lying on top of the next file, the paper blood red and the wax sealing it black.
Snatching it up I quickly broke the seal and flipped open the paper, reading the words rapidly, my heart pounding with each syllable.
She was attacked by someone she knows.
Trust no one.
I stood at attention, hands tucked behind my back, watching as the newest recruits to the militia were sworn into their posts, the crowd of citizens gathered behind the nearly five hundred strong. As the oath completed and the crowd cheered I smiled benignly, watching as the newest members of the militia turned to join their families or friends and celebrate.
"A fine sight, eh Mr. President?"
My stomach churned at the sound of Tom Neville's voice, so smug and self assured, right in my ear. Turning slightly, I gave him a cold smile, "Indeed Captain Neville. And how is your family?" I asked pointedly.
His eyes flashed with annoyance before he smiled, "Fine, just fine, sir. My boy is training for the militia and getting stronger every day," he announced proudly. He tilted his head, "And how is Ambassador Flynn?" he asked curiously.
Anger flared in my throat, choking me with the taste of iron, the desire to hit him nearly overwhelming. Instead I clenched my fist behind my back and smiled calmly, "Better, the doctors are saying she should wake soon," I lied.
Neville nodded and smiled crookedly, "I'm happy to hear it. My wife and I have kept her in our prayers," he confided softly.
"That's very kind of you," I murmured before turning away, keeping my gaze on the crowd as I struggled to contain the roiling ball of anger in my chest.
He made a soft noise and lifted a hand, waving to a beautiful blonde woman approaching, a handsome young man at her side—his family I presumed. As they closed on us Neville made quick introductions, forcing me to smile politely and make small talk, my annoyance growing with each moment.
After nearly twenty minutes of polite, inane chatter I smiled tightly, my polite façade cracking, "If you'll excuse me, I have to go, I have meetings I need to attend," I murmured in as apologetic a tone as I could manage, extricating myself as smoothly as possible.
Turning down the hallways of the building I glanced over my shoulder, making sure no one was following as I made my way to the room where Becca was being treated. It had been seven days since she had been attacked, and her condition had only improved marginally in the days since.
Pausing outside the door I knocked softly, waiting for access from the doctor or nurse that would be within the room, making sure she was safe and well cared for. A moment later the door swung open and Natasha, her personal guard opened the door, flanked by a nurse in grey scrubs.
They stepped back silently to allow me into the room and quickly shut the door, ensuring that no one followed. Glancing at the nurse I nodded sharply, "What's her prognosis today?" I murmured as I approached her bed, sitting down gently at her side.
The woman nodded and approached the bed, standing opposite us, her long blonde braid curled over her shoulder as she sat on the other side slowly. Her smile was easy, reassuring, as she spoke.
"President Monroe, her condition is improving. Her blood pressure is lowering now that the pressure in her skull has dropped. We've prevented an infection so far with antibiotics, but our main concern is that she's not waking up. She suffered severe trauma to the head, and without the ability to run an MRI, we have to rely on time and hope that the Burr Holes we created were enough to drain the pressure created by the bleeding she was suffering from," she calmly explained.
I looked down at Becca's bruised and battered body, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest and nodded, "What if she doesn't wake up?" I asked softly; it was the one question I had been afraid to ask for days now, but it seemed more and more likely as time passed.
The nurse sighed and took Becca's hand in her own gently, giving me a sad smile, "For now we have her on IV fluids and nutrients. We'll do everything in our power to keep her alive. But we have limited resources, and if she doesn't wake up in the next few days," she sighed and shook her head, "You'll have to make a very difficult decision sir," she murmured.
I swallowed hard and nodded, giving her a dismissive smile before turning back to stare at Becca. I heard the nurse rise and walk away, the door opening and a moment later it closed, leaving me in solitude with Becca and Natasha.
"I'm sorry I wasn't with her Mr. President. This is my fault," Natasha murmured from behind me, and I could hear the guilt choking her.
I shook my head, "No, it's the fault of whoever attacked her. We can't expect to be able to protect her all the time," I replied softly. I hadn't been able to for years, no matter how hard I tried, and it had pissed her off when I tried.
Becca wasn't the type of person who wanted to be protected; she wanted to help everyone else. She wanted to save the world, not be the damsel in distress.
"I promise I'm not going to leave her. I won't let anything happen to her again," Natasha promised softly, earnestly.
"Thank you Natasha," I replied faintly. "Can I be alone with her, please?" I asked, though it was less of a request and more an order.
She made a soft noise of consent and a moment later she exited the room quietly, leaving me in peace.
I stared at the white bandages wrapped around Becca's skull; protecting the holes they had drilled to relieve the pressure in her brain. Half her hair had been shaved off, leaving her head patchy and growing back oddly.
Her face was mottled with purple and green bruises, some yellowed around the edges. Her right arm and ribs were wrapped in bandages, holding her broken ribs together, ensuring that they wouldn't puncture her lung again.
Gently I lifted her hand to my mouth, brushing her knuckles softly against my lips, exhaling slowly, my eyes drifting shut as I breathed in the scent of her skin. "You gotta wake up baby, you gotta tell me who did this to you," I whispered roughly, emotion choking me.
Pressing her knuckles tighter against my lips I struggled to breathe, fighting the tears that burned in my chest, making each inhalation painful. Squeezing her hand tightly in mine I shuddered, trying to control my emotions, tears slipping out silently.
"P-please baby, please," I pled, my voice cracking.
A knock at the door made me jump, inhaling sharply and wiping at my cheeks as the door opened.
"Bass?"
Miles's deep voice was filled with concern and as I lowered Becca's hand he approached slowly, his steps heavy.
"We've got to go meet with the representatives from Texas," he murmured.
I nodded and stood slowly, giving Becca one last look before turning to face my best friend. I had shown him the note I had found, knowing he was the only person I could trust with the information, and we had decided that the best way to keep Becca safe was to keep Natasha at her side while we investigated who had attacked her.
Until Becca woke up, she would have a full time guard, keeping her safe and alive. If she never woke…
I shook my head infinitesimally, trying to rid myself of the thought.
She would wake up.
She had to.
The light had faded through the windows in my office and I found myself squinting, trying to read the documents that the Texas diplomats had left with us. A headache throbbed behind my eyes, reminding me that I hadn't slept well last night, or any night since Becca had been attacked for that matter.
Rubbing a palm into my sockets I groaned at the painful relief I felt, spots flashing behind my closed lids as I ground my hand into them. The Texans were offering a truce, if we helped with the Plains Nations, which I'd be happy to do, knowing that the Nations would nibble at our borders, provoking us both until we had to take action.
It would be in our best interest to ally ourselves against them and make sure we had them trapped on both sides with strong armed forces.
Sighing, I carefully began reading over the documents again, keeping an eye out for any legal wording or loopholes that could keep us vulnerable. This wasn't my strong area, usually Becca would have handled nearly the whole interaction, but with her incapacitated, it had fallen to Miles, myself, and her Senior Ambassador.
The man who occupied the Senior Ambassador's position was intelligent, capable, and at times very clever. He wasn't however, Becca. He didn't have her ingenuity or ability to see a problem five steps ahead and read a person like a book.
If we were going to keep forgoing a stronger Republic, we needed her.
My eyes grew heavy as I continued reading, the fire crackling pleasantly behind me, warming my back. Running a hand over my face I struggled to keep my eyes open, a yawn cracking my jaw and making my eyes water.
Leaning back in my chair I read through hooded eyes, growing wearier by the moment. My eyes slid shut, the honeyed warmth of drowsiness spreading through me. My hand thumped against my chest softly, the paper fluttering against my chin as I breathed, falling asleep hazily.
A hand shook me awake roughly as a low feminine voice whispered in my ear urgently, "President Monroe! Wake up!"
I startled and coughed, looking around wildly for a moment until I found Dee at my side, her wide blue eyes staring down at me from where she stood by my shoulder. Instantly panic flooded me.
"What's wrong?" I demanded, my hand clamping down on her elbow, holding onto her as I stood, towering over her, "What happened to Becca?" I whispered.
Her hand covered mine and she smiled, her eyes warm, "It's alright President Monroe, she's jus wakin up," she murmured.
Shock shuddered through me and I stumbled away from her, my hand flailing out to rest on the mantle of the fireplace. Inhaling weakly I absently lifted a hand to my sternum, pressing down on the painful knot in my chest, turning away from Dee as I struggled to breathe normally.
After a moment I inhaled sharply and nodded, stepping away from the fireplace, striding rapidly out of my office and down the hall, trying not to run to Becca's room. My heart pounded harder as I approached the open door, my hopes soaring high.
As I stepped into the room I stuttered to a halt, my stomach sinking.
Becca was sitting up being examined by the doctor, her gaze confused and unfocused. Glancing over to where Miles stood at the foot of her bed I nodded sharply at him and when he strode over I whispered, "How's she doing?"
He shook his head, giving me a serious, worried look. "She seems out of it. She's having a hard time following the doctor's questions and her speech seems slurred. She didn't know who I was," he confided.
Fear slipped through me, icy and nauseating.
This was worse than I had even dreamt it could be.
Her dazed eyes met mine and I smiled, putting every ounce of love and warmth I could into it. Confusion and hesitation flared in her eyes and she turned her gaze back to the doctor, murmuring something too soft for me to hear.
Turning abruptly away from her I stared at the wall, my stomach clenching so hard I thought I would be sick.
"What did they do to her Miles?" I whispered, my voice raw as I balled my hands into fists, eager for someone to punish for this.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shake his head, "I don't know man. But the doctors are going to do everything they can, you know that."
I nodded and dropped my chin, looking away from his gaze as I struggled against the flood of emotions. His hand landed on my shoulder and I jerked under his touch, my eyes burning with unshed tears.
"W-what do I do for her Miles?" I whispered, my voice cracking as I fought the urge to weep.
"You keep showing up," he murmured, his hand squeezing my shoulder firmly, lending me his strength. I lifted my gaze up to his and saw the sorrow in his eyes and instantly understood just how deeply he felt this loss-Becca was like a sister to him and just as I needed him, he needed me.
Wrapping my arm around his, I clamped my hand onto his shoulder and gave him a weak smile, "We'll both keep showing up," I murmured.
His eyes warmed and he nodded, shaking my shoulder softly, "You got it brother," he affirmed.
I exhaled a little easier and turned back to watch as the doctor continued his assessment of Becca, my heart aching.
It appeared she had a long road of recovery ahead, and would need us both for every step. I wasn't going to back away like I had before, not when the Republic needed her so badly…not when I loved her so much.
I was going to fight for her.
"The attack was carefully planned and there were no witnesses."
"You're sure?"
"Very. We have confirmation that she has woken up, but remembers nothing. We'll need to alert the leaders offshore so further plans can be made."
"Agreed. God Bless the United States of America."
"God Bless the United States of America."
AN: WHAAAT! Red herring with Tom Neville! Patriots attacked Becca! :D This chapter was a bitch to write man, and I'm sorry it's taken so long to update, but I had to edit hardcore. I hope you enjoy it and please, review! Thank you as always for reading!