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Emma looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table. 11:00. She looked around the room, the darkness quietly taking over the room as the light flipped off in the living room. From experience, she knew that her dad was going to bed, leaving one little light on for when her mom got back from the office downstairs. She'd been called away just as they were about to have dessert.

Emma tossed the blanket off of her still dressed self, sliding out of bed quietly. Her bedroom, the same as she'd left it, left cozy and like home. She stood at the door, waiting to hear the door shut to her parent's room. Like clockwork, she quietly escaped her room, closing the door and walking out of the Residence. With her shadow completely following her without thought, his silent paws the perfect accomplice.

Her parents had, of course, not let her and Charlotte sleep in the same room – there was no way that Emma thought that would even be an option. They'd given Charlotte Allison's old bedroom. And, while she wanted to go curl up with her girlfriend, she was drawn by something: the past. Her habits.

So she walked out, past the security guard at the bottom of the stairs. She smiled at him, and he nodded knowingly. It wasn't an abnormal part of her routine.

She walked through the long hallways of the White House, ignoring the straggling staffers who were signing out for the night long past when they'd wanted to leave. Soon she got to the part of the West Wing that she was familiar with. The nights ha been so long in the past. The lack of sleep – the turning of scenarios over and over in her head – the nightmares she knew were waiting for her – she'd avoided sleep as much as possible. And while that wasn't the case tonight, Emma still felt drawn to something.

She'd been happy that dinner had gone well. She hadn't expected anything different. She knew her parents. She knew that they loved her no matter what. Sure, there'd been a moment of fear on her part, hoping the worst wouldn't be true. And thankfully, they'd responded quite well. She knew that there were other hurdles to overcome, but her parents wouldn't cause those.

Quietly, she found the space. And settled down on the ground, where she watched Zazu silently sit down, his tail flicking back and forth until he realized she wasn't going anywhere.

There was something to be said about this place – it held history quite well. There was something about sitting there, such a different person, but still overwhelmed with who she used to be.

Used to be the scared child trying to find out where she fit in the world. Used to be the girl afraid of her own shadow. Used to be the one who couldn't trust anyone around her.

But as she sat there, looking up a the picture in front of her, she found herself lovingly caring for her own memory. Like her therapist had reminded her.


"How are you feeling about the trial?" Her therapist asked.

After the first two months, Emma had learned that shrugging her shoulders wasn't an acceptable answer to Karen's questions. "Is it ok to say that I don't really know?"

"Do you need to ask me if it's ok every time?"

Emma shook her head. But, again from experience, Emma knew she had to continue. So she took a deep breath, "I think I don't really care. Whether or not Lydia is convicted doesn't change what happened. Nothing is going to change that. And then, I feel bad because shouldn't I care more?"

Karen sat there for a second. Then asked, "Are you afraid to care?" That stung. "Is there a part of you who, if you engage with placing meaning behind her conviction, might be hurt if that doesn't happen?"

"I guess so." Emma agreed.

"And that's a very normal response." Karen said. "And you've had so many times in your life where what you wanted or thought didn't matter."

"So I decide I don't care." Emma concluded. "At least that's a decision I make."

"You're getting good at this." Karen encouraged.

Emma nodded, "I'm good at most things."

"My only suggestion going into the trial, is to listen to the girl who was so afraid. Remember to take care of her. This might be a scary time for her."


"You put a whole new spin on sneaking out of the house."

Emma pulled herself from her memories to see her mother at the end of the hall.

"You need time or can I…"

Emma shook her head, patting the ground next to her, "Come."

"Talk about a blast from the past." Her mother said as she sat down.

Emma smiled, "It didn't feel right to just go to bed like an adult."

She watched her mother look at the painting on the wall. "Any special reason you're here?"

Emma looked up at the picture she'd had engrained in her memory since it's unveiling. The cheekbones, the commanding, towering figure, the smile. "He called me again this week."

Her mother exhaled loudly. "I'm sorry."

Emma shook her head, "He wanted to meet me for coffee before the trial."

"What did you say?"

Emma could hear the questioning worry in her mother's voice. And Emma looked away from Conrad's presidential portrait and into her mother's worried face. "I asked him why. And he told me that he just wanted to catch up and talk about what was going to happen." Emma looked back at his picture, "I told him I was going to testify about how his wife had imprisoned me and attempted to have me killed multiple times. Then he was quiet. And he said he was worried about her." Emma's jaw unintentionally locked when she repeated, "Worried about her."

"Jackass."

"Agreed." Emma said. Then she laid her head on her mother's shoulder. "I just told him that if he'd been more worried about me, then this might not have happened."

A pause. And then her mother, knowing Emma, asked, "What else did you tell him?"

"I told him to go fuck himself with a cactus."

Her mother's shoulder moved with laughter. "You are so brazen and I love that about you."

Emma sat up, turning her body to face her mother. And she said, "I'm sorry about what the optics with Charlotte and I are going to do to you." Emma looked down at her hands, and said, "I know it was weird to not talk about the whole… girlfriend thing… but…" Then she looked up, "I didn't think it would be a problem at all and talking about it like I was not normal would just make it that I wasn't normal. And… you didn't love me because you thought I liked dick. So I didn't think anything would change when you met Charlotte."

Her mother's eyes were kind, and loving, and she said, "She's really good with you."

Interested in hearing her mother's point of voice, she smiled and asked, "What makes you say that? We just had dinner…."

"You're safe with her." Her mother stated plainly. "You let her hold your left hand. You had told her about the trial. You were so open with her. You aren't that way at all with people you don't trust or feel safe around."

Emma listened, taking in what she'd only felt, but now someone else noticed. And, since it was her mom, she added, "She insisted that she would come when I gave testimony if that would make me feel better. Which, I think after everything, I never thought someone would want to listen to me."

Her mother leaned back, feigning hurt, "What about me?"

Emma said, "Let me clarify, MOTHER. I never thought that someone who's been in my pants would want to listen to me."

"Ok, you always just …"

"Say it like it is?"

"Sure." Her mother conceded, "Speaking of which, have you been to see Russell?"

Emma shook her head, "I think he invited me and Charlotte over for drinks later this week. After the trial."

"You're not even twenty." Her mother protested with a bit of joking nature, "But you international people just do whatever you want to do."

"I can go get a drink now?" Emma taunted.

"At someone else's house. Not here." Then they both laughed.

Getting back to the subject matter, Emma said, "If you want, we can wait to like… be together in public… around the press… if you need to wait until after the election."

Her mother shot her a look. A look that did not believe her. A look that was answered in her response, "Are you just testing me? Because you know I will not make you be anything you aren't for cameras. I don't even care."

"A lot of other people will." Emma reasoned. "Mike?"

"Look, I don't want to talk politics tonight, ok?" Her mother said. Emma could see her mother's mind turning to other matters. "How are you feeling about testifying?"

Emma thought back to the turning in her head after her meeting with her therapist. "I'm fine about testifying. It's facts and they can't do anything about it." She paused, in thought, "I just wish that something good would come out of it. There's nothing left for me, that's for sure. Seeing whatever sentence they give Lydia won't make anything better."

Her mother shifted her head to look off into the distance. And Emma continued, "I've dealt with, and am dealing with the fallout of all of it. That's not going to change based on anything that is or isn't said. I still feel alone in being the one who survived."

Her mother let out a long breath. "Not having anyone who experienced what you did has got to be hard."

Emma nodded, knowing no words would change that.

Matt came up and said, "Madam President… they're ready for you."

It was never simple with her mother's work. "Gotta go save the world again, Mom?"

Her mother stood to her feet, "At least save the world for one person." Then, to Emma's surprise, her mother asked her, "Want to come take a late-night drive with me?"


Elizabeth sat in her motorcade, her adult daughter sitting next to her. The memories of that night, where she was covered in blood and sure she was going to lose her daughter, came but felt distant. That was in the past. Not that it was ever erased. But safety had taken over where insecurity had reigned for what felt like forever. Now, as they pulled up to Andrew's Airforce Base, she squeezed her daughter's hand as they got out onto the tarmac.

Emma walked alongside of her, the darkness cut out with the huge lights coming from the landing strip in front of them. Jay was there, and nodded knowingly at Elizabeth as they walked past. She took her place at the front of the welcoming committee, a few yards away from another group of people anxiously waiting.

"Is this what you felt like, waiting for me?" Emma whispered.

Elizabeth nodded, "It was. Worry and nervous." Then, thinking through it, she said, "But you're safe. I thought you might be able to see that you aren't alone."

Emma smiled. And they watched as the loud plane landed. Emma snuggled into Elizabeth's side, sometimes the little girl while also the grown woman.

As the steps to the plane came down and settled, Elizabeth told her heart to calm. Told her to not add any of her anxiety or apprehension into the atmosphere. The medical team in the field had said that the returnee was in stable condition.

And she looked over at the family a few feet away. She watched them with an understanding of the turmoil they were feeling. The uncertainty of what would come next. Would their loved one be who they left as? Would they ever be able to reach out and understand what had gone on without intruding on the pain that had been suffered?

Then the door to the plane opened. And Elizabeth waited.

And out walked a woman who looked worn by life. Pale. Thin. Reacting to the lights around her.

And the mother and father waiting next to them ran without thinking. Running and needing to touch and hold their loved one. The moment that the woman recognized those who were there – she ran down the steps as best she could. And she fell into her mother's arms, weeping tears of joy and loss. Clinging with hope and desperation.

And then Elizabeth turned her attention to the girl standing next to her. The girl who's hand had clamped down on Elizabeth's and hadn't let go. Emma's eyes were wide, watching the scene in front of her. And her body couldn't hold still, her shoulders moving, and then, when Emma tore her eyes away from the scene, Elizabeth looked into Emma's questioning eyes.

"Is…"

And Elizabeth nodded. "It is."

Emma's lips trembled; her hands shook.

Then, Elizabeth watched as the woman and her family turned towards where Elizabeth stood with her daughter.

And Elizabeth saw it. She saw the recognition.


It couldn't be.

But the minute the woman looked into Emma's eyes, she knew.

Lea.

The face she'd seen in her dreams. The face she'd wondered about every day since she'd been rescued. The woman who suffered while Emma's life moved on.

She was here.

Emma took off in a full sprint, her body carrying her towards someone she'd given up hope of ever seeing again. There she was, standing there. And the minute she felt Lea's touch on her, the minute Emma fell into her arms, Emma knew. A part of her came to life again.

"It's you." Emma cried. "It's really you."

And she heard Lea's voice. "Emma. Emma, you're alive!" The way her name sounded from Lea's mouth was the same way it had been when Emma hadn't heard her own name for weeks there in the dungeons. Emma looked up, into the green eyes that had been her rock, and she couldn't let go. Lea pulled her against her again, holding her tight. "I thought you were dead. But you're here."

Emma let herself be held. And held Lea. Tears flooded both of their faces, and Emma's entire body shook with sobs. Cries of relief. "I thought I lost you." Emma said, looking up again. Lea placed a kiss on Emma's head, just as she'd done so many times. She'd held her through the nightmares. She'd been there when no one else had. And now, Emma could not believe she was here.

Once Emma caught her breath, she stepped away from Lea, but grabbed her hand instinctually. And Emma lightly gestured for Lea to follow her.


Elizabeth watched as Emma brought Lea closer to where Elizabeth was standing.

Emma said, "Lea, I want you to meet my mom."

And Lea's eyes grew wide, and she said, "Madam President…, I just want to say thank you."

Elizabeth shook her head, stepping towards the woman and extending her hand, "No, Lea, I owe you my thanks." The woman's hand shook in Elizabeth's hand. And Elizabeth looked into Lea's eyes, and with everything in her heart, she said, "I owe you my life. You took care of my little girl when no one else did."

Lea just shook her head, "You brought me home. I can't begin to…"

Elizabeth could keep her heart from exploding no longer. And she wrapped her arms around the woman and held her tightly. And in a quiet whisper, Elizabeth said, "Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."

When Elizabeth stepped away, Lea looked down immediately to Emma. And she said, "I still can't believe you're here."

And Emma grabbed for her mother, burying her head in Elizabeth's shoulder. And Emma whispered, "Thank you."