A/N: Ah! You're all still out there! I'm in shock! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I never really know who is out there reading or not. Thank you :) Even you, passionate reviewer who didn't sign in and left a small novel of feelings about what Erik would and would not do. I'm serious, thank you, too ;) Even if you don't agree with my choices the fact that I sparked so much thought and feeling from you is high praise in my book! To you, I will say this: Desperate times, man. Desperate times. Also, higher ranks in the USA like to make smoke screens in order to pass other things along. While everyone is watching and raving about this action, Erik has other plans. Lastly, did you know that there is something called a Federal State Of Emergency? Yeah. Its potential is terrifying. If an acting president chooses to enact it, they suddenly have a loooot of unchecked power. In addition, the House Of Cards series is FILLED with wtf-ery and "Can he/she do that?" stuff. This particular scenario didn't happen but I was inspired by others and went my own route. A little more on how Erik's huge actions affect his image in the next chapter.

That said! Back to the character-driven stuff! What we all want! Yay!


Chapter Thirty-One

Oddly enough, after one of the longest days of her life, Christine was not tired after the press conference. As expected, Erik had been called away for further business and she found herself wandering the second floor of the White House. She and Erik were given the guest rooms on one side of the house until Mrs Walker had moved her belongings out. It was known that she would be moving to her condo in Manhattan as her mansion had been deemed unsalvageable. Christine thought it awful that in losing a husband she was also losing her Washington home. At least in Manhattan, she was likely to be able to take some time for herself. Christine was always baffled at how easily someone could disappear the larger a city was.

Not knowing what else to do, Christine quietly made her way down to the first-floor kitchen to see if she could ask someone for something to eat. On the way down, workers around the house nodded. She tried to smile again, but it hurt now. Everyone knew there was nothing to be happy about on a day such as that. In time, and after having asked directions from an older woman who was dusting the paintings, she slipped her way into the kitchen and found no one where.

It was an awkward feeling to go into such a large kitchen that wasn't hers and try to route through items that had been provided by taxes. It would have been easier to go to the kitchen on the second floor, but that didn't feel right either. Those items were for the Walkers and the idea felt even more intrusive. After timidly searching through a few cabinets, she found one full of various kinds of bread and pulled the first one out she could see. It didn't take too much longer to find a suitable knife and cutting board.

Hearing the sound of sluggish footsteps, Christine turned from what she concluded was a baguette to see none other than former First Lady, Margot Walker finding her way into the kitchen.

"I didn't know anyone would be down here." She said hoarsely and turned to leave.

"No, wait." Christine called out, "I can go. I just hadn't eaten in a while and Erik said I had to stay in… Please, here," she began to pack up the bread and materials, "I can go."

"Erik…" She said slowly, "And you're his fiancé. And now he's the new president. You picked a hell of a time to choose your position next to him."

Christine looked down, "Good timing and me never really got along."

The woman laughed a little and stood up straighter, her dignity steadily returning. Christine noticed that she had not changed from the day before, her white collared shirt was wrinkled and untucked from her grey slacks. Her shoes were red bedroom slippers. She hadn't moved from the doorway and her face was without any makeup. Christine had never seen her face without makeup, but she could see the makings of a naturally beautiful woman who had aged gracefully.

"I'm sure you're hungry. I'll go." She did her best to go around her but was stopped only steps past the doorway.

"Aren't you going to give me condolences, young lady?"

She halted and turned to see Mrs Walker who had turned to her, the light of the kitchen casting her face in darkness from the late afternoon clouds.

"Sorry…I just, I just thought about what it was like when my dad died and I hated the attention. I am very sorry. I just…well, I'm not very good with words and…"

"You were very fine with your words this morning. Oh, the texts I got about what you said. 'Christine Gallagher called me. She wants me to show my face with that half-masked pick of Richard's. Can you believe it?'"

Christine stood, slumped, unsure whether she was receiving some kind of punishment for her rushed efforts that morning. She hadn't been thinking so much, she just set herself to the task at hand. Her weight swayed a little from one foot to the other. Margot's eyes narrowed a bit.

"And can you believe that I stayed up all night and all day just to tell them to show up?"

Mrs Walker began to walk into the kitchen and over to one of the massive freezers. Christine would have thought she was dismissed, but the woman before her kept speaking, "Erik must love you a lot. It's clear he didn't pick you because you're any good with politics. You're too honest. But that idea today was something. Rather romantic, if not dramatic. Something like that hasn't happened since nation-wide news broadcasts came about. They're calling you both a rags to riches story, that there's still proof of the American Dream. The silly press makes you out to be a fairy tale, and now, you and he will be king and queen to live this dream of a life filled with being constantly watched and death-threats."

Christine peered towards her with heavy eyes. She wasn't sure if she was being mocked or if this woman had grown privately bitter. It was clear of how wise a woman she was and she wondered if this former First Lady would see past the charade that she and Erik played. Mrs Walker was now opening up a giant tub of ice cream and scooping some out for herself in another bowl. Christine's eyes popped up when she heard the sound of glass hitting the steel island, a spoon clanging as it hit the second bowl.

"Come back in, young lady, have some ice cream with me. We can talk about all of the idiotic things I've ever done so that maybe you won't repeat them." Christine stood in shock, the baguette still in hand. Mrs Walker patted a stool next to her as she sat, leaving the tub of ice cream out beside her. Slowly, Christine did was she was told.

"Are you a Democrat?" she asked, placing the smallest bit of ice cream on her spoon and enjoying it when it elegantly disappeared into her mouth.

Christine hated the question, "Unaffiliated, actually."

"I imagine Erik would be as well if he had the choice. Have you thought about switching?"

She sighed, "I need to get that done."

"Good. I imagine the press has already attacked you for that."

"A little." Christine swallowed, "Well, no, a lot. I don't think I'm a very interesting person so they have really brought that up a few times. Erik said I could change it if I wanted. He said that while the party doesn't like it, the people would because it shows he could represent everyone. I might change it just to get them to stop talking about it. It's just something I let go and never got done."

Christine placed a not so small spoon of ice cream into her mouth. It was vanilla, but it was good. She wondered what the strawberry would taste like, but wasn't willing to go looking to see if there was any. Mrs Walker, who had been staring at the wall in front of them, looked casually over to Christine.

"Do you have any idea what's coming for you?" the older woman asked with hooded eyes.

"I can't say that I do. Does anyone?" she admitted.

"I guess not." The First Lady took a shaky breath, "Even with the Presidency having one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, being a face for an entire group of so many people who always have a strong opinion of either hating or loving them, the job of the First Lady is never fully laid out. You either choose to be honest partners with your husband or you choose to be secret enemies. There's no room for anything else."

The reality that Christine was sitting down, speaking with the previous First Lady on casual terms in front of ice cream hit her like waves that pulled in and out. She remembered seeing Mrs Walker on television and thinking about how this truly defined the term "lady" in the modern era. The most time she had ever spent with her had been in front of the huge crowd for events such as the inauguration. And there they were, tired and ragged in the kitchen of the White House.

"You're what they expect in a First Lady," Christine sighed, "I don't see what Erik sees in me except disaster."

Mrs Walker laughed a little and they met eyes for a moment, "I see what he sees, young lady. You're beautiful, you're smart, I'd imagine you have a hidden sense of humor that comes from your humble origins, but there's something tragic in the back of your eyes that you fight back. He relates to that. The nation will relate to that. You're not some dimwitted belle or a rich whore. You seem like a very normal human being. How delightful for the White House."

"You see a lot," Christine commented quietly. "More than me, anyway."

"I have to." The wise woman sighed, taking another bite of ice cream, "I not only lost my husband, but I also lost my partner. The White House was all we ever spoke about for years. My job in the matter was making him look worthy of the role to the people. My other position was watching his rivals. Richard had to read people, sure, but I was the one to crack them. He never made a decision without consulting my judgement first. Even with Erik."

"What made you change your mind? Erik was not your first pick."

"It wasn't so much a change of mind as it was a change of situation. Phillip was no longer necessary once his brother passed. There was a larger plan in the working and his death ruined it all. What an awful situation that was. For everyone. And that young man was most likely clueless to how important he was. You used to work for Raoul, didn't you?"

"I was his chief of staff," she said quietly.

Margot nodded and kept eating, "Exactly. Did you know of his drinking problem?"

"Too well."

"And you never let anyone know, even after his death. Even your reporter friend. That is true loyalty."

Her eyes narrowed, "I'm not interested in exposing other people's weaknesses."

The woman smiled a little, "Another reason Erik finds you so appealing, I'm sure."

She must have been referring to the mask. Christine nodded in understanding. There shared a somewhat pleasant silence as they continued to eat their ice cream.

"You're a quiet girl, aren't you?"

Christine smiled, a little embarrassed, "I don't feel like I have much to say next to you."

"You're young and you know you're young. That's not a bad thing. Tell me about yourself, Christine Gallagher. I'm tired from talking."

"Where would I start?" Christine asked surprised that this woman would want to know anything about her.

"Hm, let's see. You weren't into sports growing up, were you? The arts maybe? I remember you from the Kennedy Center. You have improved since then. "

Christine's eyes widened in embarrassment, "Oh, uh, that, well, I used to sing. I was really out of practice during that event."

"Tell me about that. When did you sing?"

Christine ended up telling her about how she grew up surrounded by music, travelling from place to place never really knowing what a home was like outside of the van. She told her how she watched the wealthy from a young age, how they spoke and acted around each other and how she had to adapt to make friends at the summer resorts. She even told her about how she first met Raoul, not as many details of course, but having heard of the weight that Raoul once had, she felt a need to show this woman that he had the makings of being a very great man, but simply fell short one night.

"He was troubled, that Raoul. Phillip would speak with myself and Richard on how he wanted to straighten him out of his partying ways. Phillip was never one for long conversations or strong emotions, but he did care for Raoul."

"I hope Raoul knew that," Christine responded quietly.

"I think if he did what happened wouldn't have happened. It takes a great person to mark their weaknesses so publicly. When Phillip said he needed to take care of his family, he was more or less needing to take care of himself."

"Wow."

"Phillip was one of Richard's oldest friends. This will be very hard on him."

"Phillip was the one to make me sing that night at the Kennedy Center. I didn't know why. I thought he was being cruel after all these years. I remember he always tipped well, that's what Dad said anyway, but…God, I was so mortified he did that."

"Yes. It was - well as we're being honest with each other - painful. We were sure you were going to fall off the stage."

Christine laughed a little, "Thanks. I was too."

The women laughed. The ice cream was gone and they had not left because there was a kind of pleasant air between them. For a few rare moments, they were no longer First Ladies, they were simply women of respectful minds sitting peacefully in each other's company. Christine recalled of never having an elderly female figure in her life. Her mother had died when she was young and she only lived with Mrs Valery for a year before leaving. It was uncommon for her to sit with a woman, besides Meg, that she truly enjoyed her time with. Mrs Walker was different, not due to any title or amount of wealth. She was different because she was a woman who so easily earned respect.

As if on cue, Erik entered the kitchen. His pace was slowed when he saw the two of them sitting at the island.

"You always had such interesting timing, Erik." Mrs Walker noted.

"I didn't mean to intrude." He said slowly, "Christine said she was going to the kitchen and I managed to get into a long winded discussion that I didn't need. This is why I didn't run for Senate."

"I almost wish you had,"Mrs Walker responded, "If you had been in the Senate, they probably would be getting things done by now."

"Another fight, for another day." Erik straightened his posture a little after smoothing his hair back, "You two appear well acquainted."

"We were just discussing how her musical upbringing. Oh, and your knack for the invasion of privacy was mentioned."

Erik caught Christine's eye, "More or less. Perhaps Christine should choose a better places to hide."

Catching the reference, Christine raise an eyebrow, "And if I had?"

"I still would have found you."

Mrs Walker joined the conversation again, "This is why the press loves you two. Despite your life experience you still come off so tastefully innocent. Delightful." She rose to put both women's dishes and the tub of ice cream away. Christine reached to take her bowl, "No I've got this. You made me feel like a human being again. When the sun rises tomorrow, I'll transform into a new status of a fallen god." She turned back to Christine and smiled genuinely, "I'll remember this, Christine."

The former First Lady walked with great strength as she made her way to the door. Christine saw the face of a woman she would never forget as she smoothed out her skirt to return to her powerful status. A final defeated sigh escaped her, "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in a few hours for the press. Then I'll be going on a very long vacation. Goodnight, Mr President, Christine."

Christine watched the woman leave, Erik following her eyes. When Mrs Walker was finally out of sight, Erik crossed to his wife-to-be.

"I have to admit I always liked her. For the longest time, I was certain she loathed me and I respected her even more for it. Did she scare you?"

Christine felt herself smile just enough, "No, she actually made me feel a little better."

"You're lucky." Erik commented, "She has a nasty way of destroying people. I'm honestly relieved she likes you."

"Me too."

The President had not seen his fiance since having left her to find the kitchen. It was only by chance that he found himself in there at all. At the time, he was making his way towards the west wing and was briefly stopped by a young woman sweeping the floor. She introduced herself by saying how nice Christine was to thank so many people for coming out that morning. Erik had nodded, but she continued and said that she hoped she and Mrs Walker were having a good conversation in the kitchen. Erik paled at that. It was the last thing he wanted for Christine to be cornered and brought down by the stale woman.

The image of Christine smiling softly as she was surrounded by a baguette, Margot, and an empty bowl of what had been ice cream was just the sort of idea he had never known he wanted to see after such a day. Before either woman could catch him standing there, he took a step behind the frame of the door to not be seen. Christine could hold her own, there was no doubt in his mind of that. Politics was not an area where she required his protection. He was near making his way to leave when he heard his name come up in the conversation.

"Does Erik know these aspects from your childhood?" Margot asked casually. Erik knew that tone. There was a motive there he didn't yet understand and already didn't like.

Christine laughed a little, "He knows more about me than I'd like to admit, I think."

"Hm." The sound of a spoon sliding across china was heard, "And why is that?"

"Well," Christine paused as if thinking critically. Nervous laughter escaped her, "Maybe I talk too much. I don't know. He has some really loaded questions sometimes. Or maybe I make them loaded. I don't know."

"You're a peculiar character, Ms Gallagher."

"Am I?"

"I think so. You're a true rags-to-riches story and yet still so painfully innocent."

"Innocent?" the word seemed to catch her off guard.

"You're hard to understand in that sense. You have been accused of being a gold digger, and yet the country loves you for your modesty as you still continue to dress in your second hand out of date items. You appear to be mousey and fearful, but then you pull such stunts as you did this morning when Erik needed you. To think Erik has been working so tirelessly for years and all he needed to get ahead was you. I can't figure out if he loves you for his advance or for all the other qualities the country loves you for."

Christine had appeared to choke on something.

"Something the matter?"

There was a moment where the young woman cleared her throat.

"Sorry," she took a gasp of air, "I just, um, wow, that's not it."

Margot laughed, "Oh my dear, did you really not know? Does he really not have the gumption to say he loves you?"

Nervous laughter emitted from Christine, "No, no, Erik doesn't - I mean, that's not what - What I mean is, Erik and I are, um, we're friends and we um, liked each other enough and I knew that he needed a wife and it's not like I had anything set up or anything so, yeah, we're not…no."

"You poor foolish thing. How in the world did you agree to this bargain? What's in it for you if you're so aloof to everything you could have?"

There was a pause before her quiet voice spoke up, "I…He makes me feel as if…As if I don't have to keep running."

"Running? You mean from your past?"

"I guess. Yes, I mean running from everything. A year ago I couldn't even say my father's name. Now I can talk about Dad with people I don't even know. It really hurt at first. I really hated Erik when we first started talking. He kept picking at the things I thought I'd never been able to handle, but now, now I think I'm okay. Sometimes I'm even happy. It's nice."

"Happy, hm? My, my how lucky that man is to find you. I've never known anyone to ever say that the half-faced man ever made them happy."

Christine seemed to sound a little bothered by Mrs Walker's chosen adjectives. "He tries, I think. He didn't always try. I don't think he ever cared for me in the beginning. Not really. But somewhere we just started talking and I never realized how much I had bottled up in me. At first, I just thought he was bored, but it was later when I began to tell he was listening and remembering things I had said. I guess that's why I said 'Yes.'"

"Let me offer you some advice then." Margot carried on. Erik imagined she had an eyebrow arched with the tone she was using. "The relationship you have now, cannot change. If he ever stops listening to you, you will gain too much power by default. If you ever stop listening to him, you're likely to get yourself killed. I told Richard that he should have gone to a different place and I should have been seen publicly going elsewhere. You see what's happened. And now I have lost my partner. As Erik has turned into your decision, it would not be wise to lose him now."

Christine hesitated before continuing, "You seem, um, very put together considering the circumstances."

"Of course. As you should be. Whether you love Erik or not, you'll find you need each other in some way or another. Don't forget that he is in one of the most dangerous occupations in the world. Never expect him to come back to you by the end of the day. It will never matter how much security we have, the President will never be completely safe. I am grateful to have been given the time to spend with Richard and my family before he died."

There was another pause before Christine spoke in a whisper, "Thank you for the advice."

"Oh lighten up." Margot said with a bit of disdain, "Today has been so dreadful. Death will come for us all. It's pointless to beat the subject back and forth like a decaying horse. I'd prefer continuing my study on Erik Underwood's only weakness."

"I…" Christine seemed to be struggling with her words, "I don't like to think of it that way."

"Think of it as you like. Erik loves you and I imagine he's a fool in anything emotional. It's unmarked territory for him and I find it fascinating. Suddenly, the spotlight has gone from scandals, whorish singers, and click bait to a starry-eyed aloof twenty-five-year-old. It's been a lovely distraction. You have turned out to be the American Kate Middleton after all. All that needs work is your clothes, but that will come I hope. Oh, and children. They will expect children. Do you know if Erik's scaring is hereditary?"

It was at that point Erik had heard enough and walked in. He didn't want to face what rejections Christine would stumble out when it came to the two of them being intimate. God, what a thought! Sure, there had been times his mind had drifted, how could there not? Hardly a month ago, Christine had been curled up in one of his shirts, her head lay against his shoulder and her hair felt ungodly soft upon his fingertips. She had sighed in her sleep and had unconsciously put her hand on his lower chest. Such contact from any woman had not occurred ever since he had first taken office. Such things were not of interest to him as he loathed the world and its second glances at his face.

He had tried to wake her that night, but she seemed so tired. Her tears had affected him more than he had thought they ever could have. The image of her standing before him in the pouring rain, the water mixing with her tears, as she told him she was truly happy was more than he expected. When she fell into his embrace, there was something so entirely right about it. The girl he had once taken on as a project, who had turned into the face he never had, was in that moment surrendering herself and he never recalled feeling more protective of anything in his life. There had been small times before that where he would not be sure of himself, would question the circumstance, or would have curious thoughts fill and circle his head, but it was not until that night that he felt something truly different.

Margot's words were replaying in his head. She had said "love." Erik was convinced he couldn't love. He was sure that some people were given various talents while others were left without and he was undoubtedly left without the ability to love. He had even relayed the information to Christine. There was no reason to lead her on. Who was Margot to put such ideas into his head, and even worse, into Christine's head?

Times that had been spent with Christine would always replay through his head whenever he lost focus. Her rare smiles when she knew she had surprised him, her anger or confusion over difficult music, her ability to fall asleep anywhere she could curl up. They were all little pictures or short films that were always on repeat. The most reoccurring ones were from their time in the cabin and they plagued his thoughts and threatened to drive him mad. He wanted to reach out for her again and again, to feel her hair in his fingers and her head on his shoulder. And how ideal it would be to have such simple physical interactions to happen without her having been crying first.

Later that night, he finally had a chance to speak with her without a hard time constraint. He changed into some looser fitting clothes and tapped lightly on the Queen's Bedroom where she was staying.

"Who is it?" she called out so quietly he barely heard.

"Erik."

"Oh," she laughed a little, "Come in."

He opened the door to find her curled up in an armchair near the window. She wore a large blue striped shirt over some ageing black yoga pants. The image was so simple and after such a complex day, he smiled despite himself.

"I never know who to expect," Christine said softly, "There are so many people in this place. I feel like it could be anyone at any time."

He walked over to a neighboring chair. "May I?"

"It's your house now, isn't it?"

He sat down, "Not exactly. And remember that these are private quarters. No one will bother you up here if you don't want them to."

"I guess you can't say the same thing,"

"No," his voice deepened as he looked out the window to where her eyes fell, "I expect my private days are over."

She smiled a little, "I saw you looking at my shirt when you came in. It was Dad's. I had it in my bag at your place. I had two more of his shirts but they've all been destroyed from the explosion. I guess it looks silly, but I don't want to lose this one and if I ever do, I want to get more time with it. He loved this shirt the most."

"I should have known better. I should not have allowed you to keep so many things away from my house."

She waved her hand, "It's just stuff. What's most important to me I've never had far away. Not for more than a day at a time anyway."

Erik nodded in reply. It was clear that she was trying to be strong, if not nonchalant about the situation. While the words were brave, there was an uncertainty behind her eyes that her weak smile tried to hide. They sat together for a little while longer. Their view was that of the expansive back yard of the White House. The lights from the pathways of the Mall could be seen through some of the trees when the wind blew and the Washington Monument rose above them from the distance. At some point, the sighed as sadness seemed to wash over her.

"Christine?" he asked respectfully then waited for her to continue.

She took a shaky breath and hugged her legs closer to her body in the chair.

"Will I have to continuously be strong for the next three years even when all I feel is…is…" She stood up in frustration and wiped a tear away before it could fall, "I'm sorry. You've gone through enough today. I'll call Meg. I'll be fine. I won't be like this for you tomorrow. I-"

He had found himself standing and had reached for her wrist before she could get to her phone on the nightstand. A tremor passed through her arm and she looked down as if defeated and perhaps embarrassed. She made an undedicated tug at her arm and mumbled, "Really, you can go. You have enough to take care of without seeing me like…like this. "

"Christine," he waited for her eyes to look his way even if they never met his own, "What you fail to realize is that I never asked you to be strong. You did not have to do any of the efforts you made today. And yet you did."

She looked up as if angry, but her eyes displayed fear, "Of course I did. I had to do something. I'm going to be the," her words stumbled with her thoughts, "I'm going to be the next First Lady. I couldn't just hide. I couldn't just feel what I was really feeling today. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of you."

He felt himself breaking with her. Everything she had done that day. From having called and organized thousands of people within four hours to her entrance in the foyer where she stood strongly beside him, to bravely sitting with a new widow, and even the video that Clara sent him of her singing to Walker before he had died. There was such strength in her. Was she truly doing all of it for him? After so much, after the amount of pride and astonishment he had felt towards her all day, where she was defeated and tired before him. He felt her trembling through her wrist and his next word was hardly voiced, "Come."

She looked up to him unsure and he gave the slightest tug on her arm to bring her forward. He wanted to hold her. He wanted her to feel safe in his arms if nothing else. When she did not step forward he noted her falling head, her fearful and timid eyes looked away from him. Her body was noticeably shaking and he could see her fighting hard to hold back tears.

"I'm fi-"

Erik found himself unable to hear her mutter another lie of being "fine" and finally pulled her entirely to him. His arms enclosed her back and shoulders allowing his head to fall near the top of hers. He felt her trapped hands on his chest, her fingers clutched his shirt. She whispered his name as if unsure of whether she could stay there and he immediately responded with, "Hush." Waves of emotion were physically passing through her and her breathing was staggered. Wanting her simply to relax into him, he whispered, "You never have to be strong for me."

That was enough to finally crack her. Audible sobs overtook her and she cried into his chest. Her knees were wavering and he kept her enclosed in his arm to keep her from falling. She cried until he hoped she would have nothing left to keep in her and they eventually stood there in silence, their shared breathing being the only sounds of the evening. He ran his fingers through her hair and she sank into him further.

"We'll be going to Camp David tomorrow," he told her quietly after he pulled a few tissues from a box on a nearby table and handed them to her. After taking the tissues from him she did not react beyond the slightest nod, "I will continue working, but I wanted to give you space. In time I'll let you go back to Cherry Springs with Clara, but right now, we're being watched too closely for you to slip out unnoticed. I.. I don't want you leaving me." She nodded again.

He wanted to keep her close like that for longer, but the weight that she was giving him began to indicate how tired she was. Slowly and reluctantly, he pushed her slightly from his embrace and lead her to the bed to sit down. They sat together at the edge and rather than pulling from him to the headboard, she let her head fall to his shoulder. His arm had remained around her back and without thought, he pulled her towards him. She reacted by placing her weak arms around his torso and he gently held them there with his own. She sighed.

"What is it?" he asked a little unsure of her feelings despite their embrace.

"This…Is this okay?"

"What do you mean?"

She began to pull her arms back to her, "I mean…"

He held her fast and answered, "Yes. Yes, this is okay."

"Okay," she whispered and sighed again. This time he took comfort in the way she relaxed near him.

He stayed that way, holding her long after her arms had fallen from him and her breaths became heavy. There was something within him that refused to let her go. What an awe-striking, incredible, and unique woman he had found beneath the skin of a once terrified, broken singer.

XXXI

Their time at Camp David had been quiet considering everything else happening in the Capitol. Erik had been reluctant to go but went once finding that security would be higher there as Washington was weeded out for unregistered weaponry and other potential threats. Of course, there were those over the entire country who were ready to revolt against the government. They were the ones who felt their second amendment rights were being stripped. There were reports of people trying to retaliate, but the efforts were watered down by local armed forces. Erik was mostly convinced that it was the NRA who would be out to assassinate him next. If it weren't for Christine, he thought that would be rather convenient for his cause.

As Erik was not there for a vacation, he took to working whenever his body didn't demand eating or sleeping of him. He had given Christine a journal to help pass the time. There were thoughts of hers that she did not want to share and feelings that were better written than said. He saw her writing more than anything else during the time. There were brief moments that they would share together. She was the only thing he could always look forward to even if only for a few minutes.

There was her almost childish delight at being in a helicopter as they left the White House. She pointed at buildings she knew, asked questions for places she couldn't recognize, and they two shared a very pleasant conversation as it was one of the few times he wasn't constantly being berated with questions from his staff. He told her that at some point they would take the helicopter out on a clear night so she could see the cities better from that distance. She smiled at that. When their landing had been a little bumpy, she had reached for his coat sleeve and clutched it with more power than he knew possible. Once landed, she laughed when she saw what she was doing and made haste in exiting the craft.

Erik made a constant effort to eat at least one meal with her each day. As he often would wake up earlier than her, he took his simple breakfasts alone as he read the Washington Post. She took to staying in their master suite during the mornings and would sometimes take walks with Clara in the afternoon. After two days of doing this, he found her at his office door asking if she needed to make an appointment with him concerning a business matter. He scoffed.

"What I prefer is that you don't waste my time asking such silly inquiries. Sit down, Christine." She sat in one of the leather chairs before him. He finished writing a sentence for an email before turning to see her waiting patiently for him. "Yes?"

"Is there something I can do?" she asked, her eyes wide and blue.

"Like what?" his finger tapped impatiently on the desk.

"I don't know. I feel like I have nothing to do and you're so busy. Could I help you with something?"

He thought for a moment, "Would you like to help answer all of my angry emails from the civilians?"

"You don't have the staff doing that?" she asked with a small sympathetic smirk.

"I do. But there are some that while I have no time for, they might appreciate someone of higher authority answering them. Particularly, the wives of those husbands who can't seem to part from their guns. They might relate to you more. Maybe you telling them that I'm not taking their guns, only splitting up the NRA would finally get through to them. "

She looked down as if considering, "Yes, I suppose I could do that. If it would help?"

"Yes. Yes, Christine, it would. Just, please, I must ask you not to take anything that they say personally. No one likes me right now and while I can deal with that, I certainly do not want you to harbor any of that negativity for yourself."

She nodded and he saw a purpose spread over her.

"I understand." She replied, "Send me the emails and I'll help your staff answer them."

He nodded and she stood.

"And Christine," she turned, "Don't think that because I'm president that your lessons are stopping. Come è il tuo Italiano?" Her answer was clear without words. "I see. Does Clara know any languages?"

"Spanish and Dutch, I think."

"Teach her Italian. I see you talking with her often. There can't be that much to talk about."

"Teach…her?"

"Yes. It can be a benefit of her job."

"And if she doesn't want to learn?"

"Nonsense." he waved his hand, "Tell her I'll give her a paid trip to Italy. That's reason enough. And I'm going to keep emailing you operas to be studying. We'll discuss them at dinner each night. It will give me something else to focus on rather than this county's apparent hatred of me."

Christine nodded and took another step towards the door. Before reaching the knob, she stopped.

"And the lessons?" she asked quietly.

He smirked a little, "I thought you'd never ask."

She tried to cover up her statement, "It's not that I was asking. I just want to be prepared."

"Of course you do."

She turned and stomped her foot, "Don't talk like that."

"Like?"

"Like you think you know everything. You don't."

He felt himself smiling at her reclaimed resistance and responded casually, "I'm the President. I know more than most."

"Oh," She clapped her hand over her forehead and let it slide down in annoyance, "Is that what I have to listen to for the next three years?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Well, consider this me not having to listen to you." She turned to leave.

"Christine?" he asked as she opened the door. Her movements stopped and he continued, "I'll be looking forward to the lessons as well."

When she turned, her head was high and she was confident and ready to fight again, "You always have." With that, she shut the door. He couldn't stop himself from laughing. It would be the first and only time he smiled all day.

As agreed upon, the two had dinner each day. They discussed the opera she had to learn that day and they would end up at the piano in the main foyer at some point before the evening became too late. He made the lessons easier on her as they were never granted completely privacy. Sometimes he would catch staff members in doorways as they listened to the voice he had sculpted. If Christine ever noticed, she did what was needed of her to look away in the act as if she didn't know.

It was near the end of the week that he had selected a duet for them. She had become accustomed to his voice with time and he had missed the sound that the two of them created. As the song continued, he chose to look past the minor mistakes her heard until the end. Her voice had grown so much in their time together and he simply wanted to live in it for the time being. When the song was over the two were slightly out of breath. The sounds of their breathing were not heard for long, for the foyer was soon filled with the sounds of applause.

The two looked around to see the staff seeping out of the doorways and halls to finally make themselves fully known. A few women seemed to have tears glistening in their eyes. While Erik was annoyed, Christine seemed completely embarrassed by the attention and stood with her weight unevenly balanced between her feet. She had not sung in front of so many since the night at the Kennedy Center and the thoughts that must have been running through her head made Erik stand from the piano to place an arm around her shoulders. The contact made her jump a little.

In not so much time, the staff had trickled away and Erik was left to escort Christine back to their suite. Part of him wondered if the staff ever spoke of the fact that they were in separate rooms. He wouldn't normally care, he simply didn't want anyone to bother Christine about it. While it certainly wouldn't be the first time a married presidential couple did not share a room, it would surely appear strange that they would be considered newlyweds soon.

After having allowed her time to change into her evening attire, he called her out to the living area sofa so that they might talk. She wore her father's blue shirt and her old yoga pants from the last time he had seen her at night. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she sat down on the couch with her knees folded up under her arms. The relaxed state she chose to share with him made him feel a kind of warmth that he couldn't really explain.

"I take it that was your first audience since last December?"

A sigh left her and she nodded.

"How do you feel?"

The question seemed to catch her off guard. She thought for a minute before answering, "Fine, I think. It's a change."

"Yes." He cleared his throat and pulled out his phone. "There's something I've been meaning to show you. It's a video that Clara sent to me the day you stayed at the hospital."

"Of what?"

"Look," he handed her the phone and saw her features drop before evening pushing play. The first shot of the video was her holding Richard Walker's hand as he lay in the hospital bed.

"Is this…Is this when I sang to Walker?"

"It is."

Her temper was rising, "Did Clara really take a video of this?"

"No," Christine looked up confused, "But Clara did confiscate a video made by one of the nurses when she heard it being played back in the hallway."

"Why did she save the video?"

"For me. I've known about it since we got here and was waiting to tell you. The reaction from the staff tonight was a reminder."

"But why? What are you looking to do with it?"

"Christine," he reached out and placed a hand over one of hers. She was started to let fear overtake her and he wasn't entirely certain why. He continued slowly, "You asked what you could do to help me. I think this is it."

"What do you mean? Do you mean letting people see?"

"I do. They've seen how hard I can be. I believe they need to see a softer side, you in particular. This will make us appear more human."

"But it's so sad."

"And sadness is human. I wanted to leak this through a third party source and make it appear as if an unknown nurse had released it."

"What about Walker's family? What if they don't want him seen like this?"

"If that bothers you, I will ask Margot, but first, I need your consent."

She fidgeted a little in her position and let his hand return to him with the phone.

"You're sure this will help? I mean…it's just me singing."

"It's more than that. It's everything I have ever seen in you since the first time."

As if his words made her uncomfortable, she rose and walked to the closest window. Her balance shifted a few times and her arms hugged her chest before she answered. "If you think this will be good…then, okay. You can release it."

"Thank you, Christine."

She appeared to nod. Not wanting to leave, but feeling it might be the right time, he stood quietly. He heard her laugh nervously and stopped.

"Margot said you loved me. That's silly, right?"

He felt the feeling leave his hands and a coldness climb his back followed by a very intense heat on his throat. When a thick silence filled the room, he saw her shoulders rise a little as she tensed. Her head turned a little his way, but not fully enough for him to see her face. Her next word was slow and unsure, "Right?"

The silence threatened to strangle them both until a sort of anger rose within him. He muttered the word, "Right," and left the room as quickly as he could.


A/N: For the first time in literal years, I felt a true inspiration to write this past week. I'm going to attribute that to those of you who were kind enough to leave me such welcoming reviews. I was really unsure if posting the third part would have anyone out there to read it anymore. I'm grateful to those of you who let me know you're still reading. Thank you.

Another chapter of character development after this. Following that, Richard Walker's funeral. And now I have to go research funerals of President's past. I know death comes for us all, but it's always hard to view such ceremonies, especially with Bush Sr.'s funeral having happened so recently. I didn't agree with the guy on a lot of policies, but I still respect him for having been a US President. Do any of you want to see something in particular for Richard Walker? I'd love to know your thoughts.