HOPE EVERYONE IS DOING WELL OVER THE HOLIDAYS. IVE DECIDED TO SKIP AHEAD (SEASON 6 SPOILERS AHEAD JUST FYI. WE WILL GO BACK AND COVER SOME THINGS, I PROMISE. I DO. DONT FREAK OUT. BUT. I WANTED EVERYTHING IN CONTEXT. AND THIS IS GOING TO HELP. PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!


"Blake, do I have any time this afternoon for lunch with the First Gentleman?" Bess asked, trying not to sound distracted while she signed paper after paper on her desk. Morning stacks of paper were one of her least favorite things about the job. And having to schedule time to even see her husband.

Setting down a cup of coffee down on her desk, Blake cleared his throat, "Ma'am, today you have a scheduled meeting with the Department of Justice, then a photo op with the children from the National Spelling Bee." He fiddled with the papers, lining them up as he continued to list thing after thing that Bess knew meant she wasn't going to get to see Henry this afternoon.

She sipped the coffee, her mind wandering to the only conversation she'd had with Henry since he'd gotten back from his trip. This morning at five am, when she'd leaned over, kissed him in his sleep. His muffled, "Good morning…" had brought a smile to her face watching the way he smiled in his sleep without even opening his eyes.

Blake cleared his throat yet again, and Bess nodded. "Well, can I get away a little early tonight?" Until she looked up and saw his face. And she shrugged and muttered, "Thought I'd at least ask…"

"If we can keep Russell Jackson from blowing his top about the House vote this morning, we may be able to get you out by 10?"

Bess rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. "As if that's going to happen…"

Then she muttered, "Speaking of the devil…"

Russell Jackson entered, his notepad tucked underneath his left arm, phone in his right hand drawing all his attention. That didn't keep him from loudly declaring, "Well, we're screwed. Senator Hanson's spewing conspiracy theories left and right." He chuckled as he looked up, "Got to give him credit. Takes a lot of talent to transfer that much shit from his ass to his mouth at this breakneck speed."

Bess just shook her head, "Thanks Blake." He nodded, taking the papers she'd signed and turning towards the door. "Oh!" Bess asked, "Can you tell Henry that I'll…"

Blake knew what she meant, "… plan to see him tonight sometime?"

Bess nodded.

"We're going to have to spin this story like we've never spun before."

"Russell, you know that I don't like spinning things. Why can't we just say that…" She stood up, turning towards the window, "it's not true? That he's just making this stuff up? Truth is on our side."

She could feel Russell's condemnation hitting her back, "You do know that's not how Washington works, right? He's accusing you of having personal interest in the oil fields, tying your name to the failed bill from Congress, and pretty much accusing you of using your office to pad your pockets."

Bess let him go on. Spacing out a little bit. Knowing it gave him a second to get his frustrations out – making room for his great problem solving skills that always seemed to save the day.

"We'll need to get Senator Lowell to release a statement with the documents that show the bill has been held up in Congress not here… then we'll have the Vice President give an interview in which he can assure people that…"

Bess was used to the continual babble from her Chief of Staff. It helped her work things out in her head. Normally, Russell could go on and on.

So when he was silent mid-sentence, Bess turned around, a little confused. He was, as they found him most times of the days, staring at his phone.

"What now?" Bess asked, checking the clock to see just how early this morning she felt exhausted. "If you say someone blew up an island or another animal has gone extinct, I just want to ask that maybe I could have some kind of brief on my desk in the morning to at least prepare me for…"

"Bess."

He never called her Bess. And never was he so quiet. Solemn. And when his eyes met hers, the fear in his eyes made her breath catch.

"What is…"

"Madam President…" Blake called out from behind Admiral Hill and Director Doherty as they came rushing into her office.

Bess took a deep breath. Knowing scheduling was the least of her worries for whatever was about to come up.

"We just received a message from a terrorist group in Iran." Ellen began, as she stood in front of Bess' desk. Her hands were shaking. A decorated officer's hands shaking didn't do much for Bess' confidence.

"Saying…" Bess asked.

"It's a video." The CIA director said as he set a screen down on her desk. As Bess put her glasses on, he explained, "We've had our eyes on this group for a little while. They've been reprimanded in the past by the Iranian government, and have done little to warrant any actions on our part in the past."

Bess looked over her glasses. "But today I'm guessing something changed…"

"Yes ma'am."

She looked down, waiting for the video to play.

"Madam President." The man on the video started. An accented voice from a man dressed in jihadist clothing. Somewhere in the desert, a tent of some sort. He was holding an automatic weapon; his face was covered. Nothing out of the ordinary with terrorist videos.

"We have something you might want."

A hostage. "Tourist?" Bess asked as she looked up to the advisors standing in her office. They shook their heads. "Red Cross doctor?" Again. No.

Then the screen switched.

Someone, probably a woman standing against a stone wall. She was dressed in the traditional burka for that region, completely covered in black.

Bess looked up again, still confused. "What…"

"Bess you may want to…"

The video continued as the man ripped off the covering from the woman's head.

Bess' heart sunk. It was a hostage. A woman stared at the ground. But her pale skin was a giveaway that the woman didn't belong there. "The journalist taken a few weeks ago?" Bess asked. The woman looked to be young. No older than twenty. Someone so young, Bess steeled herself against all the emotions that rose. Only a few years younger than Jason.

"Tell them who you are!" The man yelled in Arabic from the background.

The woman muttered something unintelligible. But her eyes remained on the ground. Her hands held firmly in front of her with ropes. Her long blond hair hung down over her face.

"Louder!" The man again yelled in Arabic. "And look at the camera!"

"She can speak Arabic." Bess analyzed out loud. "Someone immersed in the culture?" Why wasn't anyone answering…

Visibly shook up, the woman looked up. Her blue eyes finding the camera.

And Bess stopped. Had she met this journalist before? She looked so familiar. But no one that young was a journalist in the White House. And even back at State… that had been a few years before. Bess normally remembered faces…

"My name is…" The woman paused, as if the words were uncomfortable on her tongue. "My name is Emma McCord."

Her heart stopped.

Bess felt every muscle in her body freeze, as if transported back in time and at the same time in the room. Nothing could make her turn away from the screen, but somehow she also made eye contact with Russell.

Bess. Talk to her. She needs her mother.

Bess could see it. The blood. The cries of terror from her twelve-year-old child.

That room as Conrad negotiated with no hope of stopping the execution.

The funeral. The empty casket.

"Madam President…" She heard the words like she was underwater. In a tank. That was why she couldn't breathe.

But without thought, Bess seized the screen and brought it closer…

Looking at this woman. Sure that this was not true.

"I watched her die." Bess whispered.

But she traced her fingers across the girl's face… the way her nose turned up slightly. The dimples. The jawline.

When the video feed cut to the man again, Bess held so tightly to the screen she thought it might disintegrate in her hands.

"We want to make a deal." The man said. "We will be in touch."

And the screen went blank.

And Bess sat down. Unable to stand any longer.

"What the hell did I just see?" She pointedly asked.

All inside her she wanted to be angry. And terrified. And skeptical. And absolutely horrified.

"Ma'am, we're…"

And she bit out, "Russell I want every head of intelligence in here in two minutes." And she glared over the desk, "I want them NOW!"

Russell went out briefly before coming in, "They're on their way." And then he started, "Bess, we had…"

"Oh no." Bess interrupted with her voice and hand. "Save it." She would have none of his talking incessantly today. "No, I want everyone in here before I unleash hell on everyone in here if this really is her."

Was it her? Was she allowed to hope that Emma was still…

Bess quelled it inside of her, unwilling to open the box that had almost destroyed her for years.

"I want to know where this video is from, what this terrorist group is doing, and how credible this is." She stood up, trying not to sway on her feet. She called out to Blake, "Call the residence. Tell Henry I'm on my way." She looked at Russell and the advisors, "And when I get back, you'd better have one hell of an explanation for this." And she glared between the three of them, "And you'd better pray fucking hard, because as of right now, I want to fire the whole fucking lot of you."