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Francis set his bags down by the door to James's room before walking in, smiling when he saw his four year old passed out in a mountain of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals. He quietly kneeled beside her bed before stroking her hair, holding in his chuckle at the position his daughter had managed to squirm herself into during the night. "Hey darlin', I need to take off. Can I get a goodbye hug and kiss?"

"Why do you have to go?" James asked groggily as she opened her eyes.

"I've got people waiting for me in South Carolina. I need to talk to them and hear them out so that they'll vote for me in a couple months." Francis explained, knowing that his daughter didn't like the answer anyway. She knew why he was going, but she was never a fan of being without him or Claire in any capacity. "I'll be back in a week. I can't imagine what drama you'll have for me by then about your classmates. You seem to have story after story everyday when I come home."

James rubbed her eyes, sitting up in her bed. "Preschool is rough, Daddy."

Francis chuckled and wrapped his arms around her when she leaned over to hug him. But as he stood, he found that she wasn't letting go and ended up hanging from his neck. He moved her to his hip, happy to coddle his daughter in one of these rare moments. "I think I've got time for a quick breakfast if you want to join me."

"Yes, please." James nodded, pressing her cheek to Francis's as he started descending the stairs. "You have to call me everyday, Daddy."

"Always." Francis smirked, knowing Claire expected the same thing but never verbalized it. "I'll call you before you go to school and at night after dinner. I'll give you reports on how the Gaffney house is doing, and you can give me reports on home. You can also keep me up to date on the boys in your class. They still have cooties, right?"

James giggled as they walked into the kitchen where Claire was already up and dressed for work. "Yes, Daddy." Instead of setting her on the stool beside him, James was happy when Francis sat down and continued to hold her close. "Why can't we go to Gaffney with you?"

Francis nodded his thanks to Claire as she handed him a cup of coffee. "Well, you've got school and your mother has work. She does it in her car all day, but she still has work."

"I'm not the only one who sits outside her school." Claire chimed in with a smirk. "Besides, I've been getting better." She winked at her daughter. "I can't stay though today. Remy needs me to do a few things to negotiate with that natural gas company, SanCorp. But, I will be there to pick you up after school."

"SanCorp? What on Earth is he trying to deal now?" Francis asked with a frown, shaking his head as he slid the paper closer to him. "I feel like we have less freedom every time we tell him something. He was asking about James's school about a month ago. Can't imagine what for."

Claire handed James her own cup of orange juice, turning her eyes to Francis when her daughter had both hands secured around the glass. "Francis, he knows we're not using her for anything. Not campaigns. Not appearances. Not even mentioned in interviews. That interview with Ashleigh last year was luckily received well since James ran to me during the middle of the abortion segment, but we don't want her in the limelight."

"That's still our number one priority, and I've told him that many times." Francis nodded before glancing down at James who was looking over the paper with her glass pressed to her lips. "Although, she's four going on forty. She'll be ready to write legislation by the time she graduates high school."

"I'm sure you'll be writing it with her." Claire mused behind her cup of coffee.

James hung up her things in her cubby, glancing back at Steven who was standing outside the classroom door, before hurrying over to her table where her name was. She set down her counting sheets, grinning when she saw Francis's handwriting in the corner in crayon Go get'em, darlin'.

"Alright, kids." Her teacher called out to them, smiling just inside the classroom. "Today is Monday. What does that mean?"

"It's art day." James and her classmates answered back.

The teacher nodded once. "Yes, that's right. So, let's line up one at a time by the door, and we'll head down to the art room. We're going to draw our family trees today. I hope everyone went home and talked to their parents about their family trees like I asked you to."

James giggled to herself when she saw a few of the other kids in her class look like they were deer caught in the headlights, suddenly pressured to confess or make up a family tree once they reached the art room. She walked over to join the others in the line though, aware of Steve walking just a few steps behind her, off to the side, when she left the room. She caught a brief side glance at him when they were walking by the gym, but everyone froze when the loud noises started. Her blue eyes met his when she heard the fire cracker like noises, knowing the sound from different trips she had taken with her parents. "Steve?"

"Alright, everyone, get in the gym." The teacher instructed with a trembling voice.

Steve leaned down and picked up James, bringing her into the gym and rushing to the other side to the doors that led outside. James glanced back as the teacher hurried the rest of the students inside the large gym and closed the door behind her, locking it with one of her keys. "Steve?"

"It's okay, James. We're going to get you guys out of here." Steve reassured her before setting her down on the floor and pressing his finger to his ear. "We've got a shooter in the building. We're on the south side, gym door. I've got Little America."

James held onto Steve's pant's leg, moving closer to him when her classmates and teacher started surrounding them.

Claire was in the middle of her meeting with Remy's contact, suffering through the endless droll, when a member of her security detail threw open the door and spoke before she could even ask why he interrupted her meeting. "Ma'am, we have an ongoing situation we believe you'd like to know about."

"I'm sorry," Claire breathed after a moment, frowning at her security detail before excusing herself from the room. "I'll be right back." She closed the door behind her, taking a few steps away from the door before nearly turning on her security. "What's going on that you need to barge into my meeting for?"

"It's your daughter's school." The security member stated bluntly, almost surprised by her own bluntness. "We've just received word from her security detail there's a shooter in the building, Ma'am."

Claire felt like someone had punched her. Air failed to fully fill her lungs. "Where's James?"

"Steve has her." He reassured her with a nod, knowing the family had been working with Steve for years. "The other agents on the premises are clearing the building for extraction as we speak."

Claire took a step closer to him, nearly cornering him against the wall. "Where is James?"

He swallowed thinking, his Adam's apple physically bobbing in his throat. "She's inside the school yet."

"I need to call Francis." Claire whispered before turning away and striding to her office as not to alarm anyone. She quickly shut the door and fumbled for her cell before dialing his number though, aware of the tremble in her hands.

Francis was stepping onto the tarmac when he felt his phone going off in his pocket. He pulled from his jacket and answered seeing Claire's name on the screen. "I just arrived at the plane, Claire."

"Don't get on it." Claire blurted out, sucking in a deep breath without really intaking it. "I need you to come back. Cancel whatever is going on in Gaffney. You need to come home, Francis. Don't get on the plane." She tried and failed to keep her tears at bay, but the fear was creeping into her bones.

"What's going on?" Francis asked, frowning at his wife's obvious distress. He glanced up at his detail, seeing them each examining their phones. "Are you alright?"

Claire crouched down, leaning back against her desk and almost caving in on herself. "I'm fine. It's James." She pursed her lips together briefly in an attempt to keep from sobbing. "There's a gunman at her school. She's still inside, Francis. Our baby is still inside the building with a shooter."

Francis almost fell back, gripping the car door that he hadn't even closed yet. He saw the grave looks on his detail's faces and motioned for them to get back in the car. "I'm on my way."

Steve turned to James's teacher. "We're clear. I'm going to take you guys to the coffee shop a few buildings down until the police arrive." He kneeled down, meeting James's eyes. "Agent Swanson is going to take you to the police, James. Your parents will meet you there once we get in touch with them."

James nodded and held onto Steve when he picked her up again and shoved open the gym door leading outside. She was quickly handed off to Swanson who covered her with a kevlar vest and rushed her back towards their SUV, leaving Steve behind to deal with her class. "Where is he?"

"He's inside the building right now. The other agents are looking for him now." Agent Swanson assured her before loading her in the car and climbing in himself. He sped off towards the police station as he pressed his finger to his ear. "Little America is secured. Headed for destination 1-6."

James sat on the floor in the back, not comfortable enough to sit in view of the windows yet. She wiped at her wet eyes, sniffling as Swanson was driving further and further away. "I want Mommy."

"Your mom is going to meet us at the police station, Miss Underwood." Swanson stated as comfortingly as he could while remaining professional. "The other agents will get her there as soon as possible. It just may take some time."

Claire remained inside her office, waiting for word from any of the agents part of her detail, but it was eerily silent. Everyone in the building had to know what was going on now. They would've noticed her blowing off a meeting. The news would be there first go to, and she was sure there was already some reports being broadcasted through Washington. She didn't care though. She stared at the phone. Either it would ring with news or her detail would come in. Unfortunately, the door opened, but a member of her detail didn't barge inside.

"Remy, now is not a good time." Claire stated, glad that she had at least pulled herself together before Remy came to her office.

"Claire, you have a client from SanCorp sitting like an idiot in your conference room." Remy reminded her, pointing out towards the rest of her floor. "If this deal goes sour, I can't help Frank as much with this election."

Claire shook her head, standing from her desk. "Francis doesn't need SanCorp. I don't need SanCorp. Remy, there is a situation going on with my daughter that is more important than any meeting."

"What? The shooter?" Remy asked, frowning as if she'd grown a second head. "I know all about him. Why do you think Frank is getting on a plane right now? Why do you think I scheduled a meeting today when I know you've been working out of your car since your child started school? It would look worse if you were right outside the school. It could be much worse if he saw you outside the school."

"You knew this shooter was going to the school today." Claire breathed, an anger so hot and dark that it was causing her to use more energy to stop from killing him than it probably would've exhausted in the effort of actually strangling him. "You put my daughter in danger, real danger, for the sake of appearances."

Remy stood as if the words just rolled off his suit. "I suggested a name to a school on an online platform where the shooter was ranting about your interview of your abortions last year. He wanted to kill you, but I'm sure getting to James was the next best thing. Take away the one child you decided not to abort." He straightened his sleeves. "She'll be fine. She's the most protected four year old in that building."

Claire scoffed. "Who is still in a building with a gunman inside it." She shook her head. "Someone else could get hurt. Someone could die."

"That's on the secret service members there today to protect your daughter. She's got three highly trained agents there with her. Whatever blood is spilled will be with them. I just posted an address, anonymously, online with a message that the daughter of Claire Underwood might be there." He leaned forward, resting his hands on Claire's desk. "I know too much about you and Frank for you to do anything about it, Claire. Just swallow down the pill and rescue your one child."

"Ma'am," one of the agents rushed in, "Agent Swanson has alerted us that he and Miss Underwood are safe and on their way to the police station. They are going to wait for us there."

Claire grabbed her bag and jacket, walking around her desk and stepping up to Remy. "Here's the thing, Remy. Francis and I know as much about you as you know of us. I'm sure that chat room still logs IP addresses, and I know that you would never risk a public setting for that kind of comment." She slung her purse over her shoulder. "Francis and I will be terminating your position and considering what options we have for further repercussions. So, swallow that pill and prepare to save your own hide."

"It was Remy, Francis." Claire breathed into the phone, sure to keep her voice low to the ears up front in the moving car. "He put the information up on a website and forced fate."

"Why on Earth would he do that? A dead daughter would boost numbers, but he's psychotic if he planned to execute a four year old." Francis frowned, watching as the city started to come into view.

Claire swallowed hard. "I'm not sure what his play was with this, but he found the guy after he started bashing me online about my interview last year. About the abortions. I'm not sure how bad it is, but he was mad enough at me for my actions to go to our daughter's school with a gun."

Francis's jaw clenched, his teeth gritting together almost painfully. "I'll put him in the ground. One way or another. I'll have Doug do some work. He'll most likely be taking Remy's place after all this. I will take care of Remy." He sighed, adjusting his jacket. "What about James? How is she?"

"I'm on my way to her. We're a couple blocks from the police station." Claire stated, glancing up ahead at the road. "She knows what gunshots sound like, Francis. If she heard them, she would know immediately that there was a shooter. I'm sure she's just petrified." She inhaled sharply. "The one day I wasn't there."

Francis lowered his voice, soothing instead of blunt. "This isn't your fault, Claire. Remy made sure you weren't there. He knew more than just an online platform to predict today. You didn't do anything wrong today." He glanced down at his watch. "I'm just getting back to the city. I'll take care of Remy and get Doug involved. You just get our girl, and I'll see you at home."

Claire sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against the car window. "Alright," she exhaled slowly, "we could've prevented this."

"We could've," Francis agreed with a hum, "but we wouldn't have a daughter if we had gone through with it."

James continued to wipe at her eyes even as tears streamed down her face. She sat in a chair next one of the officer's desks as he asked her questions about what happened. "I didn't see him." She sniffled with a shake of her head. "Where's my mommy?"

"She's on her way, sweetheart." He said softly before handing her a tissue, giving her a comforting smile. "Did you hear anything other than the gunshots?"

"No," James shook her head again, "Steve took us to the gym when we heard them. That was it."

The officer flipped over his paper. "And, Steve is another secret service agent?"

James stared down at the tissue, playing with it briefly before nodding. "Is Steve okay?"

"We're sending police officers to your school to help Steve." The officer nodded before watching as she finally wiped at her face with the tissue. "I know this morning was pretty scary, but you did really well, James. You were really brave."

"James!"

James nearly threw herself off the chair hearing Claire's voice. She looked around, tears pricking her eyes again when she saw her mother rush into the room with her own secret service agents following. "Mommy!"

Claire choked up herself as her four year old sprinted towards her, nearly leaping into her arms and curling around her as if clinging to a life raft. Claire was quick to wrap her arms around James as well, cocooning her against her chest as she lifted her up. "Thank God, you're alright. I was so scared I was going to lose you, sweetheart." She kissed her head, her own heart breaking when she felt James sobbing into her neck. "I've got you, baby. I'm so sorry."

"He had a gun." James managed to sputter out between sobs and labored breaths, her little chest puffing with her rapid breathing. She pulled back to wipe at her eyes some more, allowing Claire to get a good look at her. "Why did he have a gun?"

"I'm not sure, honey." Claire grabbed a tissue from the officer at his desk when he extended the box to her before wiping away the tears from her daughter's cheeks. "We'll figure that out though. There's lots of people trying to help right now." She dabbed at her own eyes before smiling at James. "I'm just really happy to see you."

James wrapped her arms around Claire's neck, tucking her face into her. "Me too."

"What if that man finds us here? What if someone else comes?" James asked, squeezing Claire's hand as they pulled up to their townhouse.

Claire gently ran her fingers through James's hair. "Daddy and I will protect you. The man at your school was arrested, remember? He's going to go to prison for what he did. We have agents all around the house, parked on the street, and you'll have your father and I. Your father should be here actually. He cancelled his trip when he heard what was going on. I'm sure he can't wait to see you. He's probably worried sick about you."

James kept her hand in Claire's even as she was unbuckled and Swanson came around to open their door. "So, Daddy's home?"

"He is." Claire smiled before climbing out of the car and helping James out, setting her down on her feet. Despite her daughter's lack of usual spunk and energy, she was kind of happy James was staying beside her with her hand tucked into her own. It was rare now, and she would take it even if it was just to reassure her daughter she was beside her, that she was protected. "I think we should go see him."

James nodded and walked close to Claire as they climbed the stairs and entered the house. But even as she heard Francis's voice from the kitchen, she kept her hand in Claire's, tightening her hold even.

"I will make sure you never work in politics again." Francis seethed, talking to someone James couldn't see. "I can't end you, but I will do everything possible to make your life hell. God help you if you ever decide to have a child, because I will come after your children. You don't send a gunman after my daughter. You don't endanger my daughter. Not without nailing yourself into a coffin, and I will bury you so far into the dirt even God won't find you."

Claire moved James to the staircase, sitting down and bringing her four year old into her lap. "Shh, your father's almost done." She whispered.

James nodded and nestled against Claire, waiting a moment before she heard the other familiar voice in the kitchen. "Frank, your numbers have never been better. You know I would never put James in any real danger. I've watched her grow up."

"And, you've tried to use her before." Francis retorted before storming down the hallway towards the front door. "So, I'll ask you to leave." He opened the door and turned back to see Remy out, only then finding Claire and James sitting on the staircase. "Just in time. I was just showing Remy out."

Claire tightened her hold on James when Remy walked into view, but she remained cool otherwise. "Good, we'll have to remind Steve to take him off the approved visitors list. That's the best considering we can't get a restraining order."

Remy sighed. "I would never allow James to be put into any real danger."

"Yet, you did." Claire mused with an icy stare. "Goodbye, Remy."

"Claire." Remy nodded. He met James's eyes, giving her a small smile. "Goodbye, James. I'll see you around."

James glared at him. "Fuck you, Remy."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Francis breathed before motioning outside for Remy. "The office has already been notified of your termination as well. Doug will contact you when we have collected your things."

"I have important documents at the office, Frank. Not just pertaining to your campaign." Remy fought back.

Francis shrugged. "You tried to put me on a plane for South Carolina with my most precious thing in an unsafe building. Let's not compare, because you will lose." He gestured outside again, gaining Swanson's attention. "Can you escort Mr. Danton out?"

"Of course, Sir." Swanson nodded before urging Remy outside. Remy looked between the three, on the verge of arguing, but left instead with Swanson following close.

Francis closed the door and locked it before turning to Claire and James, nearly rushing with his arms extended for James. "My darlin'," he lifted her into his arms, relieved when she hugged him back tightly, "are you okay? Are you hurt? Jesus, you scared the hell out of me."

"I'm okay." James mumbled into his shoulder. "Why did Remy do that?"

Francis sighed, holding her close as he sat down next to Claire on the stairs before helping her settle on his lap. "He decided to play dirty, and he went way too far. Mommy and I will take care of him. Don't you worry."

Claire nodded before perching her chin on Francis's shoulder. "How do you suppose we do that?"

"Doug is going through his office right now. We know he has another office somewhere, and we're working on destroying that as well. We're blacklisting him in D.C. We can't outright kill him." Francis sighed before kissing James's head, pulling her against his chest. "We'll have to wait a few years before we can do that. Wait until he he messes up some other people's lives so he doesn't immediately start blackmailing us. We'll mess with him, really make him feel like he's under attack."

"In the meantime, he might become useful if we find some secrets in his office." Claire breathed. She winked at James, brushing back her hair. "How are you feeling, baby?"

James snuggled closer into Francis's chest. "I want to feed Remy to the sharks. Feed him to a bunch of Bruce's." She yawned, closing her eyes as Francis wrapped her up in his arms. "Bruce would like that." She pulled back and gazed up at Francis. "Do you still have to go to Gaffney?"

"Uh," Francis ran a hand down his face, quickly recognizing the brewing tears in his daughter's eyes, "I don't want to, darlin'. I may lose the election if I don't."

Claire rested her hand on Francis's thigh, gaining his attention. "How about we go with you? There's no way I'm sending James back to school, and I'm sure I could work just as easily in Gaffney as I do in a car outside James's school. I don't think we should be away from each other right now."

James nodded, clasping her hands together and meeting Francis's eyes. "Please, Daddy. Please, can we go?"

"I would love nothing more." Francis smiled at her, kissing her forehead. He pulled her back into a hug, sighing when held onto him with the collar of his shirt clutched in her fist. "I'm so happy you're okay, darlin'. You know I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you. You mean the world to me."

Claire felt her chest constrict at the exchange, leaning over and kissing Francis's cheek before pushing off the stairs. "I'm going to collect our things, and then we can go."

"I love you, Daddy." James mumbled into Francis's neck.

"I love you too, James." Francis whispered, kissing the crown of her head.

Claire pushed back her hair as she walked into the living room of their Gaffney home, seeing Francis fuming and Doug frustrated. They both turned to her though when she walked in, both of them obviously curios as to how James was holding up. "I just got her down. She's in our room. I'm sure she'll have nightmares." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Why do I have a feeling we have nothing to pin Remy on?"

"We have evidence of what he did. It's just so minimal that without him confessing it would just look like a coincidence." Doug breathed, shaking his head as he looked at the papers around him. "Police did reach out though. They raided the shooter's apartment. Even if we could tie Remy to the shooter, the shooter acted alone. His apartment was filled with photos, news clippings, announcements, campaign memorabilia all revolving around you two and James. He was obsessed, and they found five more guns hidden in his apartment."

"All because of my interview." Claire whispered mostly to herself.

"No," Francis immediately tried back-tracking her train of thought, her process of self destruction. "Claire, that man made a choice. He was only looking for a reason, any reason. It could've been either of us. It could've been something he read about us. Remy was probably lying just to get inside your head. He knows too much about us. He knows our pressure points."

Claire shook her head. "Francis, what if he wasn't? What if I really did put our daughter in the line of fire?"

"Remy put our daughter's school address on an unverified website for anonymous to track down. You have always done everything you could to protect James and keep her safe. This isn't on you, Claire." Francis tried to reiterate.

Doug cleared his throat, looking down at his phone. "This may not be the best time, but it looks like Remy was leveraging his position working for you."

Francis turned to Doug, frowning as he stepped closer to him. "What do you mean?"

"SanCorp hired Remy." Doug confessed, lifting up his eyes to see the fire burn in Francis's.

Claire felt her husband's temper flare with just the intake of breath he took in that moment. Unfortunately, that moment was also when James came padding down the hallway with tired eyes and Bruce tucked under her arm. "Francis." She warned.

It was too late though. Francis grabbed the framed mirror on the wall, nearly ripped out the nail yanking it, and flung the object towards the front door. The mirror shattered, pieces scattering onto the floor or clinging to the busted frame. And, the sound of the shatter satisfied Francis for only a moment before he heard his daughter's yelp of terror before her choked up voice burdened him with guilt. "Mommy!"

Francis turned back to Claire, seeing the fat tears roll down his daughter's cheeks as Claire held her close. James had her face pressed against Claire's, and she looked like she'd just seen a ghost staring back at him. Claire cupped the back of her head, shushing softly. "It's okay, sweetheart."

"James, darlin'-" Francis started, moving towards Claire. But, he froze when James shook her head and turned her face into Claire's shoulder. That's when the guilt really settled into his bones. His daughter wasn't just scared by the flying object that had startled her. She was afraid o him.

Claire immediately recognized it and shook her head, reaching out and cupping his cheek in her palm. "It's been a long day for all of us. Don't let one day ruin everything we've done." She pecked his lips, aware of James curling into her further. She just hoped Francis hadn't noticed the small movement. "I'm going to try and get her down for the night. Clean up the glass and come to bed. We can deal with this more tomorrow, okay?"

Francis nodded, noticing the tremors running through his daughter's small frame. She was holding in sobs, and his heart broke more for it. He ran his thumb along Claire's cheek, wanting to at least do the same for his daughter. He was afraid of scaring her more though, and let Claire step away to walk towards their bedroom. "I'll be there shortly."

Francis entered the room slowly, seeing Claire asleep with James out cold and curled against her side. Instead of laying in the middle where she usually liked to cocoon herself, she was by the edge of the bed, Claire's arm securely around her. It was another surprising knife to the heart. He quietly changed and climbed into bed nonetheless, easing himself in so he wouldn't wake James. He did stir Claire however. "Did she say anything?"

"No, I couldn't get her to really calm down." Claire admitted, her own sadness evident in her voice. "She just kept crying until she couldn't stay awake any longer." She took Francis's hand into hers. "She's had a very frightening day, Francis. The mirror. . .the surprise of it got to her. That's all."

"She couldn't even look at me, Claire." Francis breathed, staring up at the ceiling. "I tried to comfort her, and she tried to hide from me by turning away. I didn't think I would end up scaring my child like my father scared me."

Claire shook her head. "You didn't. James knows that you would never lay a hand on her. She knows that you love her and would do anything to protect her." She squeezed his hand. "We just had an off day. She's going to be a bit jumpy for a while. She just needs to be reassured that nothing will touch her when she's with us."

Francis lifted their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of her hand. "Whoever gets close to her will be dealt with." He turned onto his side, facing her, meeting her eyes. "Do you remember last year when you took James to the park and some teenager pushed her off the swings?"

"Of course." Claire breathed, gently running her fingers through James's hair. "She came running over to me with tears all over her face and blood all over her hands. I wanted to destroy that boy's future, but I needed to treat James's hands and bandage them up."

"I destroyed that boy's future." Francis admitted. "When I took James out, I stopped by the park to see if that boy was still around. James picked him out without a problem. I put on her favorite music and left her in the car while I walked across the street to the park."

Claire nodded. "I knew you went back. I would've gone back if I had the chance. I figured if there was an issue you would've talked to me about it." She reached up and caressed his jawline. "What happened?"

"I slammed his face so hard into this teetering little horse. It was only once. One time and I heard the crack, even felt it against my fingers on his head." Francis explained, watching Claire's arm move as she ran her finger's along his chin. "I left his body there on the ground. James and I got ice cream. She didn't even notice that police cars at the park on our way back. She didn't see the body covering in a sheet being moved on a gurney. I went after that boy for hurting her, and I pretended nothing happened to protect her from learning what death was. Not that we've hid it from her. I just wasn't ready to take that piece of innocence from her; that we all eventually die."

"It wasn't the time to tell her then." Claire agreed. "But, telling her now may help her understand things a little bit better."

James dug through a box of temporary tattoos she found in her room at the small kitchen table, laying them out while Claire was looking through the papers from Remy's office at the kitchen counter. "Mommy, which one do you like?"

Claire smiled, walking over with her coffee cup in one hand. "Well, this is quite the collection." She leaned over the back of James's chair, kissing her head as she gazed at the number of tattoos she had laid out to admire. "I think I like the ice cream cone the best though. It reminds me of you."

"Why?" James asked, dropping her head back to look up at Claire.

Francis cut in though with a smirk. "Because, your mother was eating ice cream when she went into labor with you. She was actually sitting right where you are now." He sat down beside her despite seeing her hesitance and shyness towards him. He wasn't sure if it was better than her fear, but it definitely wasn't worse. He pretended not to notice, taking a look at the tattoos on the table. "Now, this one is definitely my favorite."

James gave a small smile when he held up a blue monkey. "I like the yellow one."

"You do?" Francis picked up the yellow monkey tattoo and winked at her. "I think we should put them on."

"Can we?" James asked looking between her parents with excitement. She reached out and grabbed an orange monkey tattoo. "Mommy, you can match too. This monkey has an ice cream cone."

Claire chuckled with a nod. "I'll get you a washcloth." She walked over to the sink, glancing back at her daughter. "You might have to help your father get his on. He doesn't know what he's doing."

James nodded, hurrying over to Claire to get the wet washcloth from her. "I can do that." She walked back over to Francis, standing by his knees. "Okay, Daddy, where do you want your monkey?"

"Where are you putting yours?" Francis asked, watching as his daughter rested the wet cloth onto the chair she had been on so she could set aside the tattoos they were pressing on. "If we're going to match, we should have it in the same spot, right?"

"Yeah," James beamed before glancing down at herself. She lifted up her left arm and pointed at the back of her hand. "Right here. That way I can see it all day."

Francis nodded once before holding out his left hand to her. "Alright, darlin'."

"Make a fist." James instructed as she grabbed the blue monkey. "Otherwise, he'll crack later." She waited until he made a fist before handing him the small square of paper with the tattoo. "Now, put it on how you want it." She glanced up when Claire grabbed her tattoo, a washcloth of her own in hand. She turned back to Francis though when he let the slightly sticky side rest on his hand. "Are you ready?"

"I'm ready." Francis grinned, letting James press the washcloth against his hand. She seemed intent on the process, wanting to do it right. Even when he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, she remained focused on the washcloth soaking his hand. "How long does it take?"

James waited a few seconds before meeting his eyes. "Thirty seconds." She lifted up the washcloth and set it aside before gently peeling away the soggy paper. "You have to be careful so it stays on your hand." She was mesmerized when she pulled the last of the paper away, seeing the blue monkey shine on her father's hand. She grabbed the washcloth again and dabbed at the monkey, ensuring it was securely on his hand before blowing on it.

Francis smiled at his proud daughter, gently pinching her chin when she met his eyes. "Beautiful. Now, let's get your monkey on. I want to show you something."

"Daddy, what are we doing here?" James asked as she held Francis's hand, walking through the tall grass with him towards an area of trees and bushes.

Francis smiled watching her lift her legs up a little higher than normal, not used to the tall grass brushing against her knees. "There's something back here I think you should see." He squeezed her hand gently before they reached a small clearing around the headstone. Unless you knew it was there, you wouldn't ever go near it. It was secluded and far away from anything worth paying attention to. "Here we are."

James glanced up at Francis before looking at the headstone, her brows furrowing at the sight. "That's our last name."

"It is." Francis agreed before squatting down behind her, bringing her between his bent legs and resting his hands on her hips. "It says Calvin Underwood. He was my father, and this is where we buried him."

"When did he die?" James asked, staring at the stone with moss growing on it.

Francis pointed towards the numbers on the stone. "There it says 1978. Long, long time ago. Even if he was alive today, I don't think you'd know him."

"Why?" James asked, turning her gaze to Francis.

"Well, darlin', do you know how you've never met Mom's mom?" Francis asked, earning a nod from his daughter. "Well, I didn't agree with everything my dad did. He did some bad things to me that made me grow up to not even want to be a father myself, because I didn't want to be like him. I swore to myself when we had you that I would never hurt you. I never wanted you to be afraid of me."

James rested her hands on one of his still on her waist, staring down at her fingers. "It was scary when you broke the mirror."

Francis nodded. "I know. I didn't mean to scare you. I was upset, and I let my anger get the best of me. It happens from time to time." He brushed back her hair. "Last night, we were talking about Remy and what he did, why he sent that man to your school with a gun. I was mad. Mad that I wasn't there to protect you. Mad that I let someone into our house that tried to use you. But mostly, I was scared."

"Why?" James asked, peering up at him.

"I thought I was going to lose you." Francis admitted softly. "When I heard there was a shooter at your school, I was so afraid that something would happen to you. I never want anything bad to happen to you, and I was worried that I would have to come a visit you like this." He pointed towards the headstone. "I was mad because Remy put your life in danger. I know last night I scared you, and it breaks my heart, darlin'. But, I was mad at Remy, not you. My job is to protect you, and I got mad with Remy because he wasn't protecting you. And, I'll do anything to keep you safe. You and Mommy."

James leaned forward and kissed Francis, smiling as her little hands came to rest on his cheeks. "I know, Daddy."

Francis grinned before pulling her against his chest in a hug, exhaling a breath he'd been holding since the night before when her arms wrapped around his neck. "I love you, darlin'. More than anything."

"Me too." James mumbled into his shoulder before pulling back and glancing back at the headstone. "It's kind of ugly."

"Well, it's a headstone." Francis stated as he stood back up, happy when she clasped her hand back into his as they walked across the field towards their security detail.

James lifted her legs higher, trudging through the high grass. "Can I put Bruce on mine?"

Francis laughed, head dropping back, before he nodded. "I supposed you could. What else do you want?"

"It's going to say President James Underwood, and I want it in yellow. That way it will shine." James stated thoughtfully. "Love more than sharks love blood."

"Is that so?" Francis grinned, continuing to chuckle. "I don't know if they make headstones in yellow."

James seemed to ponder that idea before bouncing up with excitement. "It could be made out of gold. I'll be President. I can do that."

"I'm pretty sure you could do whatever you want." Francis agreed before picking her up and tossing her in the arm, catching her in a fit of giggles. He brought her down to rest against his hip. "You'll have to draw up a sketch though. I'm sure your mother would love to hear about this."

"Let's see!" James lunged towards Francis's shirt pocket, grabbing his cell out as he balanced her back on his hip to avoid dropping her.

She had quickly dialed Claire's number, putting the phone on speaker so Francis could hear as well. "Francis?"

"Hi Mommy." James beamed as Francis set her down in the car after the service member opened the door for them. She sat down in her seat as Francis climbed in, letting him buckle her in the seat beside him.

"Well, hello, sweetheart. What do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?" Claire smiled on the other end, walking into the house after running errands around town. She walked towards the kitchen, setting her bags down on the counter.

James held the phone close to her lips. "I want a gold- what is it, Daddy?"

"A headstone." Francis stated, chuckling just picturing Claire's reaction to the odd request from their four year old.

Claire's eyes widened, freezing with her hand halfway in a bag filled with groceries. "Excuse me? A what?"

"A headstone." James repeated. "Write this down, Mommy. I want it in gold with Bruce on it, and it needs to say President James Underwood, Love more than sharks love blood." She frowned slightly. "We were going to go with yellow, but Daddy doesn't think they make yellow ones. So, we're going to go with gold."

"And, why are we designing headstones?" Claire asked, a slight chuckle in her voice.

James pointed her hand outside as the car started moving. "Because, Grandpa's looks ugly. I can't have an ugly stone, Mommy."

Claire giggled, hunching over the counter as she ran a hand down her face. "Two hours. Francis, I left you with her for two hours, and she's designing her death bed."

"I'll have a sketch drawn up once we get home." James continued, not even noticing her parents' amused reactions.

Francis coughed out a laugh as he tried to speak. "At least, she's not swearing."

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