LONG CHAPTER. TRIGGER WARNING - sexual circumstance.

I've updated so much these last few days. I hope you've enjoyed it. I have a few more days off - let me know if you are dying for more.


Emma took a deep breath. She willed her hands to stop shaking, thankful in that moment that they'd decided on the diamond bracelet on her right hand rather than the set of gold ones. She was afraid everyone would've been able to hear the fact that her hands were shaking so badly.

She told herself, You'll be fine, no matter what you look like. It's how you look. They'll get used to the only first daughter who looks like something from a horror movie. Once she gathered up the courage, she finally looked up into the mirror in front of her.

She barely recognized herself.

Her hair, half up in a braided bun, the rest were perfectly defined curls cascading down long past her shoulders, was just the beginning. Allison had helped her with her makeup, and it was not too much at all, like Emma had been worried about. A quiet darkness around her eyes, and a light lipstick didn't make her feel like she had paint on. Teardrop earrings were enough sparkle for one night.

But the dress.

It fit her perfectly.

And not just the perfectly like it was her measurements.

It hid what she wanted without making her feel like she was back in Iran. On each shoulder, the dark blue material gathered, allowing only her neck and tops of her shoulder bone to show. Then the sleeves, made of a dark and glittery material, draped down over her arms, loosely wrapping down her arms. On her left arm, the material gathered again just below her thumb, like it was made to drape and swing like it did. It didn't look like it was hiding anything. And from the shoulders, the rest of the dress folded over her body down to the floor. Emma swayed, mesmerized by the way the dress followed her movement like the dresses in any princess movie she'd ever seen. An open-toed nude heel kept the dress from dragging on the floor, elevating her body in a way she'd never seen before.

She felt…

"You look beautiful."

Emma didn't turn, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. And she said, "Thank you."

Henry walked up, so she could see his reflection there behind her. Emma said, "You look like that guy from those movies Jason made me watch… the Bond guy."

Henry laughed. "Well, thank you."

A knock at the door to the room startled Emma, and she again remembered how nervous she was as someone reminded the two of them that the President would be making her entrance in five minutes.

Emma swallowed hard. "I'm really regretting agreeing to this." She confided in Henry and turned to face him. "You think it's too late to back out?"

Henry reached his hand out, and Emma put her right hand into his. He squeezed it and said, "Emma, I'm really proud of you."

"I really want to kill Russell." She said, a nervous laugh following her confession. "I can't believe I let him talk me into this." He'd been so persuasive. Telling her that it was a small thing – a way to get the bullshit PR things out of the way in the easiest and least stressful way possible.

Henry chuckled. "Tell me about it. He said the same thing about the whole First Gentleman thing."

"We both got scammed."

Henry nodded. Then, quietly, he said, "I know you're going to have to do some… acting tonight."

One of her parts to play. The loving daughter. "I know." Her voice fell flat. "And she knows that? You talked to her about… the ground rules?"

"Nothing overly emotional." He reaffirmed. "And only for tonight."

Emma hated that she felt this way. Hated that she'd talk to her mom tonight for the first time in three months. Hated that Henry had to act like a mediator between them.

But she couldn't. Well, she could for tonight. But even Emma, as angry and confused about her mother as she was, she didn't want her mom to think it was genuine. She'd hate to hurt her by getting her hopes up. Keeping everyone's hopes low was Emma's one contribution to the family – hopes that were low didn't get dashed and crushed against the rocks.

"Pictures. Dinner. More pictures. And a dance?" Emma repeated the schedule over for what seemed like the fifth time in the last hour.

"Yup" he said, "One dance with this Bond guy."

Then she said, "You're going gray, not blonde."

Riley, her secret service agent for the last two months, knocked at the door, "Emma, Dr. McCord, they're ready for you."

Henry held his elbow out to her, "Ready for this?" He asked

Emma shook her head, but threaded her arm and said, "Let's go before the scotch wears off." Then, when his eyes widened just a bit, she rolled her eyes as they walked to the door. "Calm down. Joke."

They walked to the foyer where Jason and Allison were waiting. Well, now they were all waiting for the actual guest of honor. Jason pulled uncomfortably at his tux, and muttered, "Why couldn't mom be like something cool that requires less starch? Like a gunslinger? Or a jockey?"

Allison didn't pay any attention to Jason, but ran to Emma, her own knee-length gown twirling. "Oh, Em, you look GORGEOUS."

Emma sheepishly smiled, and said, "What, this old thing?" And she stepped back so her siblings could get a look as she did one twirl. "Bought it off the rack."

Jason laughed and winked at her.

Allison tossed a snide look to her brother, "You've got to stop teaching her mean stuff." Then, to Emma, she said, "I mean the dress looks amazing, but you look like a princess." Like a schoolgirl, Allison clapped and in a high-pitched voice, begged, "Ok, it's a little bit about the dress. Spin, one more time."

Happy to oblige, Emma turned on her heels, looking down at the dress that followed her every movement. When Emma had turned all the way around, she looked up with a huge smile on her face.

And found herself right in front of her mother.

Her mother looked regal. Fitted jacked to a matching taffeta ballgown, not a hair out of place on her head. A diamond necklace matched her earrings. And her eyes. When Emma met them, she couldn't look very long. Couldn't feel the emotion. Not yet.

For the only time that Emma could ever remember, she was glad for the swarm of agents that moved towards the doors. It allowed her to focus on something other than what she had to do on the other side of the doors.

"Emma, you look beautiful." Her mom whispered. The first words her mom had spoken to her in three months. And Emma felt the pain of that. Pain that she'd inflicted. But the feelings. They came. The pictures on the floor of the Oval Office. The pictures of the DNA test. The family pictures in the Residence. All still there. All without her. All…

She didn't know what to say.

She just stood there, her eyes falling to the floor. A habit. Still.

Allison came to the rescue, grabbing Emma's hand and pulling her into the space where she was supposed to be. "So we go behind Mom and Dad. Mom goes like one step ahead of Dad, and, while they're not supposed to hold hands, they do." Allison paused for a breathe in the midst of her speech, "And then we go in. It's a thing." And then Allison whispered to Emma, "And, cause you're like, the cool person tonight, you get to go where Stevie would go."

"Seems so complicated," Emma muttered. "Seems like there should be some manual or something."

"Oh, there's like a whole class." Jason interjected, "Worst five hours of my life."

"It's a 30 minute briefing, you idiot." Allison hissed. "You just couldn't remember anything."

Henry turned around and said, "Enough, kids." Then he winked at Emma and said, "Break a leg."

Emma swallowed. Hard. She could hear her heartbeat, and she wiped her sweaty hands on her dress. She looked at her Mom, who was poised and ready. Emma wanted to turn and run. And she took a step back, but then her mother's hand gave the signal.

From inside the ballroom, Emma heard, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States, Elizabeth McCord."

And the doors came open.

And it was too late to turn back.

Suddenly a band was playing something that sounded patriotic, hands clapped and few cheers, as well as lights flashing.

She wished she'd moved faster and left.

But she followed her family in. And the lights. All the lights.

She smiled. The smile she'd practiced with Daisy until her mouth hurt. But at that moment, she could hug Daisy for drilling the need to smile and how to smile into her until Emma had wanted to slap Daisy.

Blurs. A few photographers started taking pictures of her, getting about six feet in front of her. She just stood there, smiling. Racking her brain, trying to remember what else she was supposed to do.

Then she felt Allison's hand on her left elbow, and her sister leaned in and whispered, "Keep walking. Now we shake everyone's hand."

"Just randomly?" Emma whispered back.

"No, watch… Mom's going to…"

And it began.

Her mother's hand on her back as she smiled at each person she introduced Emma to, "… I'd like to introduce my daughter, Emma. Emma this is…"

Emma smiled, shook the hand, and said, "Very nice to meet you."

And she alternated it with each person, "Pleased to meet you," then, "Lovely to meet you." "So nice to meet you." "Glad to meet you." And then back to the "Very nice" one.

Everyone smiled at her. And quite a few said things that if Emma hadn't been terrified she was going to mess up, she would've been offended.

"We're so glad you're out of that place."

"We prayed for you everyday."

"I can't believe what happened to you"

Others tried to ask her questions. Questions she could barely hear, much less answer.

"How are you adjusting to things back here?"

"I work in a region like where you were at. We're so glad you're ok."

"Your mom has told me so much about you."

She kept smiling. And nodding. And "Thank you." Over. "Thank you" and "Thank you." Over. "Thank you."

Once she got into the rhythm, the more the hand on her back, that sometimes shifted to her shoulder, or that took her hand and bragged about her dress – her mother's presence stopped being one of directing her, and began to grate.

Between the smiles and people, Emma turned to her mom, and whispered in her ear, "How much longer?"

Not about the party. Just the shaking and commenting on the fact that, yes she was here.

"Not much." Came the whispered response.

Financial Secretaries. Ambassadors. Donors. Some of whom couldn't believe she didn't know that they were millionaires. Of course they only said that when her mother wasn't looking.

All the touching. All the hands. All the smiles.

Finally. Her mother said to the Assistant Secretary of the Board of Education's Brother's Sister or something like that, "If you'll excuse us, we've heard stories about the pate, and I promised Emma she could try some."

Following any lie to get away from touching any other stranger, Emma agreed, "We bet money on how much Mom could eat. She can really shovel that stuff away."

Once they'd extracted themselves from that interaction, Emma looked up to see her Mom genuinely smiling. "I can't believe you talked about me shoveling food."

"Sorry." Emma said with a bit of a laugh, "I got nervous."

The hand rubbed into her back, "You're doing great."

For a minute, Emma smiled. Then remembered. And she tightened her shoulder and said, "Just tonight."

She could tell her mother heard her and understood. Just as they were about to reach the huge table filled with candles, lights, and food on tiny plates, a woman with a big camera came to her mom and asked, "Can I get a picture of the two of you?"

"Of course!" As the photographer stepped back to get the perfect shot, Emma felt her mother's arms wrap around her shoulders, and pulled Emma to her side. And they smiled. The photographer thanked them. And then Emma felt her mom kiss the top of her head, and whisper, "I love you, baby girl"

Emma shook her head and stepped away. "I'm… hungry." And she turned away and tried to find someone or something that wasn't… that. "I don't… can't we be done pretending for a while?"

Confusing. She'd fit perfectly there in her mom's arms. And it had felt right.

But she couldn't. It wasn't…

She tried not to look like the lost sheep in the middle of people who all knew what they were doing, who they were, and where the food was.

But she didn't have much luck. Emma's feet started hurting the minute she finally sat down next to Henry at the table. She groaned, and shook her head, "There's a lot of stuff…"

"What is on your plate?" Russell asked from where he was standing a few feet away.

She shook her head in exhaustion. "I think there's some kind of meat and then like a jello thing that tastes like tomatoes but then a chocolate fruit cake thing."

"Ummm…" Henry said, "What…"

She shrugged "I panicked."

Henry laughed, "Very normal for your first one of these."

Then, turning to tear Russell a new one, she realized he'd been swallowed up in the sea of rich people. By the time she turned around, someone had pulled Henry away from the table, leaving her sitting there with a plate of weird food in front of her. She took the moment to breathe.

Her mother stood, talking with someone Emma may or may not have met before. And Emma just watched her mom for a while. She wasn't ever in a position lately to be in the same room, much less be able to just watch her without being caught. And not that she regretted the decision. She knew it was best for her right now. She didn't understand why. But it was.

Emma reached down to try the red tomato goop, but when she looked up, she saw someone across the room.

She dropped the tiny cup onto the table. Her heart stopped. And she couldn't breathe. There he was. Staring at her. Smiling.

Cold. She was suddenly cold. But her mouth was dry.

All she wanted to do was crawl under the table. Crawl and hide there. Never come out.

She looked around, searching for a lifeline. Anything. Her mother was talking. Henry was off somewhere. And there were people everywhere.

Emma's lips started to tremble. Cold.

Go. She just needed to go. Somewhere. The churning in her stomach said to go to the bathroom. She stood up, lost her balance for a second due to the heels. But she caught herself on the table. When she looked up, he was gone.

She ran her eyes around the room, looking for the dark hair. The snide smile. Smirking. Tall. She couldn't find him.

Run. Her body told her.

Stay. Her mind said. It was just your imagination. There's no one there. She was just uncomfortable and … her body was playing tricks on her.

Air. Fresh air. Something.

She walked as quickly but as inconspicuously as possible. Smiling at those who reached out to talk to her with their arms. She just had to make it to the hallway.

Once she slid through the doors, trying to not attract too much attention as she lost her mind, Riley came up to her. "Are you alright, Emma?"

She found it surprising she could form words. Especially when her vision was tunnelling. And a loud humming. She could barely hear anything. "I just need some air." Then she swallowed, "And water."

He agreed and led her down the hallway to another one. And she paced. Paced while he walked into the bathroom and got her a water. She smiled and tried to tell him thank you, but no words came out. Riley watched and asked, "Just need a break?"

She nodded, willing her heart to stop pounding. She was fine. Why couldn't she breathe?

She could hear him talking, but it felt so far away.

Then Riley said, "I'm just going to step back in and let them know we are taking a break, ok?"

Emma shook her head no. She didn't want to be left alone right now. But he'd turned away, and assured her, "I'll be right back, Emma. Just give me one minute."

Humming. Loud. Explosion.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall. Her breathing was jagged. Riley would come back. She was fine. The water shook in her hand, but she tried to drink it. Why was she so cold?

Her eyes flew open in terror the minute a large hand covered her mouth and nose. Her head hit the wall behind her hard. And she looked straight into his eyes.

"Miss me, baby girl?"

She struggled, tried to pull in enough air to scream. It came out as a whimper as the hand again rammed her head back against the wall. His eyes, dark, like hell, matched his face as he smiled sadistically.

Emma tried to move her hands, but he'd pushed his body against hers. He'd towered over her. He was heavy. And she tried twisting away, trying to get one bit of air to scream and call for help.

He leaned his face against hers, whispering in her ear. Her entire body was shaking from fear. She tried to turn her face away from his.

She tried to stay here. She tried to stay out of the past.

But his words. Always his words.


Back in that little cell.

You do realize there's nothing you can do to get away, don't you?

Emma hadn't been able to move. He always made sure of that. He always let her scream. But she couldn't get away.

Do you like that?

Sometimes she couldn't breathe. Sometimes she couldn't see. But she could always hear.

You look just like your mom, did you know that?

He would play with her hair.

You're almost as beautiful as your mom.

She was always naked in the cold cell.

Your mom doesn't love you. She said I could do whatever I wanted to you because she didn't want you anymore.

Over and over again.

She wanted you gone so she could be the President. She couldn't have you around.

Sometimes he'd beat her. Sometimes just hurt her. She would bleed. Other times he would watch her suffocate until she almost passed out, and then he'd hurt her more.

I know your mom called you her baby girl. I like that.


Anyone.

He was so much bigger than she was. Taller. Muscular. The more she struggled, he lifted her off the ground, pulling her up against the wall.

And she still struggled. Still tried to move. But she never could.

"Now, listen to me, baby girl."

She was only breathing through her nose, fast and hard. She couldn't look into his eyes. She couldn't look at hell.

She closed her eyes.

But his words. She could always hear his hissing words. Even in her sleep.

"If I want to get to you, I can."

His knee pushed her legs open.

"If you ever try to turn me in, baby girl, I'll make sure you watch your sisters go through what you did." Then, like a father scolding a naughty child, he hit her head against the wall again, and said, "Do you want that to happen?"

Emma shook her head and whimpered.

"Of all of your siblings, you've got the most men on your detail. And look…" He ran his tongue along her jawbone, "look what I can do. Imagine what I could do to your sisters." He laughed. "Or mother."

She shook her head. No. She just wanted it to stop.

"And if you get any bright ideas about turning me in before I could hurt your family…" He slammed her head and said, "Look at me, bitch." And she opened her eyes, searching back and forth for any sign of anyone, "You're just a traumatized baby girl who is confused and no judge would convict me."

And then he squeezed under her jaw, right on her jugular. She didn't want it. She shook her head. Make it stop. She wanted to scream. But the darkness came slowly, his eyes burning into her long after the darkness closed in.


She didn't know how long she'd been out. It hadn't been easy to tell back in that place either. Always dark.

Here, it was cold. But it was light.

White tile under her fingers as she sat up. The toilet and sink.

Bathroom.

"Emma, are you ok?"

Riley. She looked up. And immediately crawled away until she recognized him completely.

"I just went to let them know you were taking a breather, and I came back and you'd passed out." He said quietly. "You even spilled your water."

He helped her to her feet, holding her steady. She still was shaking.

"You want to go back to the party?"

Emma shook her head. The massive headache building behind her eyes. The pain from the ground. "I just want to go to bed." She started to take a step, but fell just a bit before he caught her.

He opened the door, and said, "There's a bench right out here. Let's just take it there and I'll call Ron to come and check you out."

"I don't need your boss, Riley." Emma protested as she sat down on the bench. "I just need a second to rest." Then, she asked, "Anyway you could give me some space? Like not leave, but just…"

"Out of sight, but not where I can't see you?" He nodded, understanding. "Take your time. Big party. Lots of things."

Emma nodded quickly. She sat on the edge of the bench, watching him go around the corner. And she jumped to her feet and got down on her knees, her dress catching on the carpet underneath her. Feeling by the door to the bathroom, she traced her fingers over the carpet. Grid-like. Constantly looking over her shoulder. And then she felt it.

Water.

Her water.

Not in the bathroom.

She hadn't been dreaming.

Her body started to shake.

He'd been right here.

She tried to breathe.

She crawled backwards, away from the spot.

Away from there.

She wanted to be small. Disappear.

And against the opposite wall, she pulled her knees to her chest, placing her forehead on the soft material of her now torn dress. And she tried to breathe.

Count to ten.

Just breathe, she begged her body.

"Emma!" She heard her mother's voice. And then it started to come closer to her.

But her mother's secret service agents got to her first, "Miss, are you hurt?" Another asked her, "Did something happen?"

"NO." The word flew from Emma's soul. "I'm fine. I'm fine. Please don't touch me." She told them. She was fine. There was nothing to tell.

Riley came up and said, "She just had a hard time at the party. She needed a break from all the people." Then, realizing who he was addressing, he added, "Ma'am President McCord…"

Emma pushed away from them.

Emma heard her mom's voice. Sweet. Kind. Wanting to help. The voice she'd wanted to hear for years. The person she wanted to snuggle up with and be safe under the warm covers away from everything else.

"Emma, what's wrong?" Emma looked up, into her mother's eyes. "Little girl, you've got to tell me what's…"

The switch turned. And Emma yelled, "Fuck off!" And when her mother didn't move, Emma stared into her eyes and flipped her off. "Fuck OFF! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

And then she was left alone.