BIG UPDATE. MIXTURE OF SENSITIVE INFORMATION AND A BIT OF LIGHT THINGS. TRYING TO WORK ON BALANCE. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR.


Emma just wanted to go outside. Sit in the grass somewhere. Outside in the fresh air.

Instead she sat alone in a corner, somewhere in the huge place the world called the White House.

She tried to make herself as small as possible, curling her knees to her chest, tucked away from the prying eyes of what felt like the entire world on her.

How could she have done that to her family? She wrapped her arms around her knees, and her jeans were covered in the tears she'd tried to keep hidden until she was alone.

The look on Henry's face. Or her dad's face. She rocked hard against the wall behind her, from anger and frustration. She didn't even have the language to know what to call him. But his face. And his arms. She looked under her fingernails and could see traces of dried blood on her right hand. His blood. How could she?

And her mom. Holding her so tight. Restraining her. Refusing to let her go. Afraid she would hurt someone else. Afraid she'd hurt her.

She didn't mean to. As frustrated, angry, and misplaced as she felt with those people, they were her family. They were the people she'd waited to see again for as long as she could remember. She'd whispered, "I want my Mommy" over and over the first few months. And, if she was honest with herself, even in the last compound, where Isabelle found her, she would rock herself to sleep in the cell whispering those exact words.

And she'd just terrified them. They thought she was a danger to them. What if she'd hurt someone else? What if she'd done more than just scratch him? What if she'd had something else in her hand?

The fear of waking up and not knowing what she had done had brought tears to her eyes as she ran away, the look of horror on her brother's face had made her feel like what she looked like. A monster. She had the hand for it, apparently.

But she'd cried all the tears she had left. She felt empty. Not just from the tears. But the raw reality that no matter what, she didn't fit. Her family didn't struggle with the nightmares she did. Her mom hadn't been afraid that her brother would assault Henry in his sleep. The way her mom's eyes had stared at her. Fear. Something Emma knew all too well. She'd lived what seemed like forever fearing any and everything that could happen.

Now she just stared out one of the windows in whatever room she'd ended up in. Some office it looked like. The desk hid her from view. Away from the eyes. She'd run throughout the White House, her one measly security guard assigned to keep track of her in the White House had called out for her to stop. But she was small. She could hide behind a door, duck under a curtain, or, like now, hide behind some person's desk. She just hoped that maybe they were out sick or dealing with some crisis so they didn't need their office for a while.

She peered out the window, just a bit. Trying to figure out where the heck she was in this place. She'd lost her detail, but she'd gotten a bit turned around in the process. She wiped her nose on the arm of her sweatshirt while she looked outside, and all she could see was people around. She hadn't been on the outside of the place much, so she had trouble orienting herself to where she was anyway.

"I swear, you are like the most annoying kid I've ever searched for through the White House."

Emma whipped around, looking fearfully for who had found her out.

Russell stood there, looking a bit angry and annoyed. But from what she'd seen of him, that didn't seem out of place. But it had been a while since she'd been called annoying. She pushed herself back into the corner, but retorted, "Don't you have people?"

"What?" He said, pushing the askew desk chair away from the desk so he could lean against it.

"If you're so important, why do you have to go looking for me? I don't need a babysitter."

Russell shook his head in amazement, "There's no doubt you are your mother's child."

She rolled her eyes before she looked away from him. "That's not the parent people have doubts about, dude."

She did a doubletake when Russell did a small laugh. "Cynical too, I like it." He crossed his arms, looking down at her, and she couldn't tell if he was now judging her or just trying to intimidate her. "You actually lost your secret service detail."

"Dude should learn to run faster." She said flatly. "What does it matter to you anyway?"

"I'm tempted to not tell you." He said, raising his eyebrows like he was challenging her to ask.

She gave him a thumbs up then gestured to the door, "Ok. Bye then."

He playfully stomped his foot. Then, like he was getting his a tooth pulled, he said, "Goddamn it, I like you. You don't take shit from anyone."

She shook her head. "I'm really just not in the mood. If you have to tell me, just tell me. If you're just getting a kick out of this, then leave."

He pursed his lips for a second. And waited until she looked expectantly at him before randomly saying, "Having a bit of a hard time around here, aren't you?"

Now it was her turn to sarcastically laugh. "What do you mean? People who are handling things normally sit in random offices because they get lost in their own house all the time."

"Lost too, huh? Doesn't get better than that."

"Maybe it does." She found herself enjoying being nasty. "I don't know how to get back to the actual house." And then she sent him a smile that probably was imperceptible to the naked eye.

He took a deep breath. Just looking at her. Then he looked at his shoes. "So I don't know if you remember, but you and I didn't get along much before."

"What, cause you knew I was whoever the fuck I'm supposed to call the dude we're talking about's kid and you knew if anyone found out, it would be job suicide?"

He just stared at her in awe, "How do you know the word 'fuck' but don't know the term career suicide?" Then he brushed it away, "ANYWAY, moving past that, when you were…"

Emma interrupted him, her frustrations from every encounter where people were awkward coming to the surface, "Kidnapped and held for ransom then fake executed by terrorists then sold into servanthood before being held for ransom again? What are people so afraid of saying."

"All of that." Then the frustration built up from him and he bent a little towards her, eyes wide, and said, "To quote you, 'Dude, will you shut the fuck up' so I can finish my story?" She nodded, a little impressed and let him continue. "Anyway. Your mom spent some time away from DC at the farm, so I had to go down there, leave work, and convince her to come back to work. And in the process I had to hang out with her for a day, in which she punished me by making me accompany her to do random chores all around the farm." He paused for a breath, and Emma opened her mouth to comment, but he interrupted her, "Shut the fuck up, remember?"

"Ok dude."

"Anyway. In the process she told me about how when the family was still living there, how you'd spend hours outside in the barn with the animals." Then he squatted down beside her and gave her the most intense yet playful stares and whispered, "If you tell ANYONE that this came from me…" He looked up and then smiled, "They won't believe you, so, I guess it doesn't matter."

Now Emma was curious. She watched him intently.

"Since you can't have all the animals here, and, you might not know it, but I do like watching certain animals at certain times."

Emma hurried him along, "Panda cams, we know, Jason told me the second day I was back or something."

"That bastard." He cussed, then he gave her the stare again, "You have to promise that you'll still be afraid of me, ok?"

She smiled just a bit more.

And she watched as one of the most stoic people in the entire White House, the man that she'd heard countless stories about how cutthroat he was when he had to be – she watched as he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a tiny ball of fur.

Emma couldn't contain herself. Within seconds, she was out of the corner, holding her hands out for the squirming little… "It's a kitten!" She squealed, then remembering she was hiding, she checked around Russell's back before sitting down and holding the kitten.

It was no bigger than both of her hands cupped, fitting perfecting the her imperfect hands. Completely black fur, long haired. Emma just brushed her fingers over the back of the tiny thing, as it opened it's eyes, adjusting to the light that wasn't Russell's pocket.

"So according to the guy I got this 'dude' from, the dude is a dude, and he's either 2 months or six months old. I forget. You'll figure it out."

She couldn't take her eyes off of the now squirming kitten in her hands. She held him up to her nose and whispered, "Hey, you." And she scratched the top of his tiny head, and he exploded with the gorgeous sound of baby purrs. And he ran his cheek against her face. And then back across her misshapen hand.

"If you ask me about his bathroom habits, I will take him away from you."

She tore her eyes away from the kitten in her hands and looked up at Russell. And quietly, from the bottom of her heart, she said, "Thank you." She hoped he understood just how much it…

He replied quietly, "You're welcome." Then, he didn't change his voice at all, but he said, "I figured you'd need someone who didn't ask you questions or mistakenly say something wrong. And, since that will NOT be me, and this guy was selling kittens on the side of the road on the way to work, I thought I'd save myself the job of being responsible for your mother, the country, and the disappearing White House Teenager."

"DWHT." She said, "Can that be my new code name?"

"You'd better be careful or your next code name is going to be 'First Daughter under House Arrest."


"Will, I don't know what to do." Elizabeth said, exasperation filling the entire span of her telling her brother what had been going on.

Her brother sat back in the couch, looking over the documents on the coffee table in the Oval Office. She could see him thinking. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath, "Lizzie."

She waited for him to say something else, but when nothing came, she huffed, "Well don't leave me hanging, Will. What do we do with her?"

"I'm going to be straight with you." And he pulled himself to the edge of his seat, picking up the stacks of papers, and held them up in front of her, "You should not have read this."

"I know." She agreed.

He shook his head, "I don't think you do know."

"Don't treat me like I'm stupid." She bit back.

He unceremoniously dropped the papers that scattered across the floor of the Oval. "What part about reading an interview where your daughter, in order to help save her friend, explains in detail everything that happened to her during four years of brutal captivity – what part of that doesn't scream ultimate stupidity."

She tried to interrupt him, but he held up his hand and said, "No. You pulled the sister card and I came here immediately from work to help you. So you're not going to be the big sister now." He also gestured around the room, "You're also not going to be the President right now."

She crossed her arms in front of her, "Well then, tell me who I'm going to be, since those are both things that I actually am."

"You're going to be the parent that brings their teenager into the doctor, absolutely terrified about things that their kid is doing. You're the parent who has no other recourse but to listen to the reality."

She stood to her feet, needing to remind him at least of a bit of her authority, even just as the mother of four who, unlike her brother, was still married. "You think you understand reality more than I do? I've sat with the information from that interview overnight. You're still processing that."

Just like he'd always done, he leaned back and smarted off, "You want me to put on a pair of heels so I'm taller than you so you don't screw your kid up?"

"I didn't screw her up…" She bit at him, "I just need advice, not some power kick from my little brother who wants to best his big sister."

"I tried to be nice." He said, standing to his feet.

"That was nice?" She asked. "You must have the worst bedside…"

"Shut the fuck up, Liz." He said. "Here it goes. People misuse the term 'trust issues.' The whole 'I have trust issues because of oatmeal raisin cookies' thing – misuse. But let me tell you, your daughter is the poster child for trust issues. The first eleven years of her life she grew up with her mother and father living on a horse farm. Then, her mother became the Secretary of State, which changed her life, but she still always knew that her mother and father would do whatever they needed to do to take care of her and keep her safe. Then one day, she was abducted on her way to school, thrown into a dark cell where she didn't speak the language of her captors. maimed on camera in a ransom video, watched another girl her same age beheaded in her place, and listened as you told her that you were sorry you couldn't save her and that you loved her. Then, you were gone. In her mind, you gave up looking for her because you thought she was dead. Now the two people that she trusted the most couldn't be trusted to find her."

"Ok." Bess said, holding her temple and sitting down. "That's enough."

Will shook his head, "I tried to be nice. You get the whole thing."

"You're just trying to make me feel bad."

"I'm making a point. Now shut up." He continued. "Then she was given to a horrible man in a country that she still can't speak the language, forced to work while being beaten and abused. And she trusted that no one was looking for her, so she had to make that her life the only way she knew how. But at least she was just a slave who was 'sometimes but not regularly raped' to quote Emma herself, so she trusted that her new reality was how her life would be."

"I get it." She said, "I…"

Will shut her up as he talked over her, "THEN she was bought by someone else who told her that she was going to be ransomed, during which time she was raped countless times while being told that her mother was the president, her father, the one she'd prayed would come rescue her, was not her actual father, but that her father was the PREVIOUS president, and that no one would love her after what men did to her."

Bess clenched her eyes shut, willing the horrible thoughts not to come in. She bit her lip and dug her fingers into the arms of the chair. But this time she didn't argue. Maybe this was what Henry would call penance. Sitting and listening to her utter failings listed with the trauma they inflicted.

As he spoke, his words got louder, more pointed, and even more cruel. "So she's rescued, she comes 'home' to the White House, where nothing is the same. You tell her that you wouldn't leave her, and minutes later she's on an ambulance without you. And Henry went with her. Did you see in the interview how she stumbled over how to refer to Henry and Conrad? She doesn't even have language to ask you about how she's supposed to navigate that. And she finds out that the entire world knows about the scandal that she can't even find words to ask about. Then her friend, the ONE CONSTANT throughout all of this, is not rescued. Then she has to give her testimony, her story, the ONLY thing that she has that belongs to her and her alone – she has to give up the last piece of herself in order to try and give enough grotesque information to confidential investigators – and her MOTHER reads about every detail."

Will had made his way to the window during his unending tirade. Bess just sat, her eyes closed as tears streamed down her face, dripping onto her shirt.

He let the silence sit for a minute. When she could hear that he'd turned away from the window and was facing her again, she turned away like she was bracing herself for the worst part.

His voice was quiet. He'd already cut her open. Now he was salting the wounds.

"Now her body is betraying her. Her sisters see the marks that never bothered anyone before, but here, everyone will see how horrible it is. She found out in an exam that you and Henry want to get her hand fixed, but no one talked to her about it. She can't find words to speak – to express what she's feeling. And then, she wakes up to find her family terrified for and from her. So she can't trust anything around her. But now she can't trust her own body."

And Bess opened her mouth to say something. But nothing came out. Nothing except an anguished cry as she buried her head in her hands. The gut-wrenching guilt felt like it would tear her apart. She almost wished it would. If it could fix anything.

When she could find the words, she gargled out, "Is it too late?"

Will knelt beside her said, "No." And she gasped air at the slightest notion of hope. "But you're gonna have to fight like hell, Lizzie."

She looked at her brother, her eyes darting between his, and she begged him, "What do I do?"

Will sat down in the chair across from her and he said, "First, she's not the twelve-year-old that you remember. She's also not Jason when he was sixteen." Bess wiped her face with the back of her hands, focusing and listening intently. "She navigated horrendous situations. Here, you scheduled her appointment for the doctor without asking her about it."

"Give her control?"

"Choice. She hasn't had choices. And make sure you explain them to her without treating her like a child. And Liz," Will said, "Ask her what is the hardest part right now – and listen to her."

Bess nodded again. "What about sleeping and that? Just ask her?" She felt like she should know this. But she'd fucked up enough. Maybe trying whatever Will recommended would help.

"Tell her you and Henry both have gone through combat. She not going to hurt you. Tell her that. And ask if she wants to be woken up in the middle of a nightmare. Maybe touching her is what set her off, in a way that she couldn't control. Or you can offer to sleep on a mattress on the floor of her bedroom if that would make her more comfortable. If not, tell her she can come get you if she can't sleep and just wants to watch a movie. That seemed to help the sleep. When you're at the doctor appointments that you check in with her before you make them, encourage her to ask questions about things that can help with things she's struggling with. Empower her. She's had no power."

"Ok. We can do that. Henry and I will talk with her."

"No." Will said immediately. "You need to talk to her first. Because she doesn't know how Henry fits into everything."

Bess balked for the first time, "Will, he's her father. He was there when she was born, there for her first day of kindergarten, he's all she's known as dad for as long as she's been alive."

"Let's test who is right about is." He suggested, "When you talk to her, ask her what the hardest part about it all is. And then point blank ask her how she feels since finding out about Conrad."

"Why?"

"Because. You both need to talk about it. Because, Liz, I can guarantee you are going to be surprised."

"Fine." She said, standing up and looking at the clock.

"Rushing me out, are you?" He chuckled as he stood up. "I mean, I've got to get back to work too."

She'd finally bested him in the smallest and insignificant way of the whole conversation. "Actually I was going to ask if you wanted to say hi to your youngest niece since you're in the neighborhood."

He agreed, and Bess told Blake to have Emma's security meet them at the Residence so Will could say hello.

As they walked to the residence, Bess leaned her head on Will's shoulder, and said, "Thank you."

He shrugged and said, "You're welcome." Then, sarcastically he added on, "Hey, just a thought. In terms of the White House, isn't the entire DC area your neighborhood?"


"So the word 'dude' isn't common anymore?" Emma asked Russell, who now was sitting right next to Emma while she had the kitten playing with the extra long sleeve of her right hand.

"Not really."

She liked that they could sit in quiet and not feel awkward.

"So you really got lost?" He asked, "How dumb do you have to be?"

She raised her eyebrows at him while the cat started climbing inside of her sweatshirt arm. "It might be dumb. But is it as dumb as the secret service guy who got outsmarted by a malnourished child with thirty seven stitches?"

"Touché." Russell said.

And they both smiled.

"Are your stitches healing good?"

"What are you, some doctor?"

"Nope. Just trying to be polite."

"Well. Don't."

"Fine. Dude."

Emma heard the dude before she saw him. It was the pounding of heavy shoes running and stopping and running and stopping. Searching the building. Then she saw him. And the relief on his face was enough to make her feel a twinge of guilt. But that was over the minute he spoke into the earpiece confirming that he was with her and gave their location. Emma looked at Russell and said, "So I feel super safe with my life in his hands."

Russell stood up slowly, but couldn't pass up a dig when it worked, "You can say all that, but were you smart enough to listen to who he reported to just now?"

"It was Matt's code name, wasn't it?" Russell nodded. She grimaced. "I'm probably in trouble."

Pretending to be sly, he leaned over and from the corner of his mouth, he said, "Remember the deal, kid."

The authoritative "What deal?" stopped their plans in their tracks.


As Elizabeth walked past an extremely sweaty secret service agent, she clarified, "Russell, are you making deals with my…" And then. Then saw a tiny animal poke up out of the hoodie that Emma was wearing. Emma shrugged her shoulders and it disappeared, only to pop up a second later. And then the tiny black furry thing meowed loud enough for Will who stepped beside her, to hear.

"What we got here?" Will asked, knowing the gold he'd stepped into.

"Uncle Will, you're here!" Emma said, then she explained in a very rehearsed way, "So dude over there" Bess turned to see Emma pointing at the sweaty agent at the door, "he found this abandoned kitten from a stray cat that gave birth on the back stairwell. He's sweaty because we combed the whole building making sure there weren't anymore."

"Emma, where did you actually… "Neither Russell nor Emma would look her in the eye. Instead they darted between each other, the ground, and the kitten that Emma now pulled out of her hoodie and held against her chest. Bess stifled a laugh, trying hard not to see the humor.

And the loud meowing from the tiny bundle blew her plans, and she let the excitement of a soft and cuddly kitten flow. "I don't care where you got it. Let me hold it." While she did look at the kitten, she was more focused on how big of a smile that Emma had while telling Elizabeth that the kitten was a boy, somewhere between 2 and 6 months. "He's adorable." The kitten was anxious to move around, and Elizabeth suggested, "I think your dad is upstairs" she caught herself after she said it but she kept going just to keep from making anything awkward, "he'll want to see."

Emma agreed, but then, at the doorway, she looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"A right, second staircase, all the way down the hallway to the info desk." Russell said, as if he knew what she was wondering.

Bess watched Emma smile at Russell, and said, "Thanks, dude."

"I'd say anytime," he called after her, "But I do have work to do to run the country."

"I run the country, Russell." Bess prodded.

"Sure, that too."

Emma was already off, and Bess called after her, "Take your Uncle with you." She gave Will a hug before he walked off, muttering something about staying out of the neighborhood next time.

Once the others were far enough out of earshot, Bess stared at Russell and shook her head. "Russell, did you just give my daughter an animal?"

"Dude found it." He said, shrugging his shoulders, walking out in the hallway and turning towards their offices, "You heard what she said."

Few people knew the soft side of Russell, but Bess knew if she showed gratitude, he would say something snide, so instead she asked, "Did you get food or a litterbox or anything to help with the kitten?"

Russell laughed and said, "Don't you have people to do that stuff?"

Bess marveled at the man next to her as they walked in the opposite direction from Emma and Will. Armadillo shell covering a teddy bear.

"Oh" Russell added, "You might want to rotate out 'Dude.'"

"Got outrun by my sixteen-year-old with stitches, didn't he?"

"Pretty much."

Then Bess couldn't believe she'd forgotten to ask. And she turned around, and called to Emma down the hallway, "Emma, did you name the kitten?"

She couldn't see Emma's face, but she knew there was a smile by the way Emma replied, "Zazu!"