SHORT CHAPTER. JUST WANTED YOU TO HAVE THIS TO READ. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK - BECAUSE THIS ONE MIGHT BE CONTROVERSIAL.


Elizabeth looked up at the knock on her door for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

"Ma'am?"

Blake sounded timid. He was usually so confident in his ability to do his job that when he was unsure in any way, it made Elizabeth double take.

Setting her glasses on the desk, she said, "Yes?"

"Two things," He started, stepping into the office. "First, you're needed in the Situation Room in five minutes."

Her heart fell at the sound of that. It meant that there was, ironically a situation – one that hadn't been averted. The gnawing in her stomach that she'd started to identify as her President's gut dug deep into her, the realization and heaviness of her Office yet again preparing her body for difficult decisions she was sure to need to make.

She nodded. "Ok." Then, she asked, "And?"

Blake swallowed, stepping aside, and Elizabeth could see Charlotte standing in the doorway. "Charlotte's here to see you, Ma'am."

She knew the stiffening in her spine originated from the uranium issue. And she also knew she should set that aside before talking to her daughter's significant other. That would be the mature thing to do. It wasn't Charlotte's fault that Elizabeth was trying to avoid a dirty bomb from being set off.

But then she really looked at Charlotte as the girl walked into the room. Charlotte's arms were crossed in front of her, and her jaw was set. Tight. Eyes were narrowed. And the girl took only a few steps into the office before she stopped.

And Elizabeth bit out, "Well, looks like they didn't need to use force to get you here." She pushed her chair away from her desk and stood up, the heels that normally irritated her to no end now sending even more confidence as she was at least a few inches taller than Charlotte.

Charlotte didn't break Elizabeth's stare. And, through clenched teeth, she spit out in her British accent, "So did you have a ceremony when you crowned yourself America's dictator?" Then Charlotte gestured around the room and said, "Did you think bringing me here would make me respect you more?"

Elizabeth felt the anger that had been stirring in her all day come to the surface, and she shook her head in amazement, "I am the President. And, maybe you need a lesson in American etiquette, but this office demands respect."

"Really?" Charlotte exclaimed, "You demand I drop everything and take your call." She took one step towards Elizabeth, which did nothing to close the distance between the two women. "And when I tell Blake that I would like to exercise my right to decline, you threaten to bring me in like some common prisoner? What part of that am I supposed to respect?"

"Who do you think you are?" Elizabeth raised her voice, not yelling, but not quite NOT yelling. "I am one of the most powerful people in the world!"

"That's enough."

Henry's voice shattered through Elizabeth's death glare at the girl across the room.

Her husband walked into the office, stepping around Charlotte and making a beeline to where Elizabeth stood. She could see the fire in his eyes, staring her down as he stepped between the two of them. Inches away, he hissed through clenched teeth, "Elizabeth, what the fuck are you doing?"

She stared at him. Her eyes darting between his, trying to find the words to express her deep rage at his intrusion. And she said, "Get. Out. Of. My. Way." Spitting the words out.

He shook his head. "I don't know what's going on with you today, but you're about to do something you can't take back."

She stepped past him, turning her head to the side to keep holding his gaze, and she snarled, "Don't question me, Henry." Then taking another step towards Charlotte, who still stood there, defiant as ever. "Do you know where Emma is?" It should've sounded like a question, but it came out like the accusation she meant it to be.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. Which just ran like nails down Elizabeth's nerves. And the girl responded, "I'm sure you've asked her. What did she tell you?"

Elizabeth cleared the distance to Charlotte in three steps.

Elizabeth knew how to interrogate people. She knew how to stand up to dictators. She'd stared down terrorists while she questioned them, threatening them until they were afraid.

But that had been for country. Today. Today, it was for her daughter. She needed to know if Emma was safe. And the audacity that this girl had, standing in front of her, to disrespect her – to turn her question around and point the finger back at Elizabeth's inability to get her daughter to talk to her – Elizabeth could barely contain herself.

Elizabeth pointed her finger only inches away from Charlotte's smug face, and she snarled, "Tell me where she is." And the reservations about her daughter's girlfriend that had been building, the argument yesterday still fresh on her mind, the rejection of her daughter's text that morning – it all came out. "You think you know my daughter, but you don't understand that she still has things she has to work through. You have no idea about what my daughter needs. And…" She leaned her face close to the girl's face, imagining flipping her face first into the carpet, "… when I ask you a question, you will answer me."

"No." Charlotte bit back. "You think you know Emma. But, there's one problem you have, and until you figure that out, you're going to continue to feel like the powerless woman you look like right now."

Rationally, Elizabeth knew she was wrong. Elizabeth knew she was taking it too far. She knew that there was something wrong here. She knew this wasn't who she was. She was more composed than this. She was more than simply wanting to throw a practically helpless girl onto the floor of the Oval Office. But she couldn't control anything. She was supposed to be able to. She was supposed to keep her daughter safe. She was supposed to protect her. And no one would let her do that. No one.

And as Charlotte called her a powerless woman, Elizabeth craved feeling powerful again.

But her rationality came back as she saw Blake behind her.

Situation Room.

Uranium.

Bomb.

She knew she had to go. She knew that she had to deal with problems that needed her more than telling this girl off.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. And she said, "Fine. No one wants to believe that I know something is wrong. Fine. Just go."

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "Even if something is wrong, do you really think you can fix it? What if she can figure it out herself?"

Elizabeth couldn't look at the girl anymore. She turned to where Henry was standing, and she held her hands up in mock surrender, "That's worked really well in the past, hasn't it?" Then, unable to stand to be in the same room any longer, she said, "I've got to go."

And she walked. Stomped. Stormed. Perhaps all three. Knowing she had to shove her anger and angst about Emma down. She couldn't go in and deal with a crisis and have Emma in the back of her head. She had to deal with them separately.

Sometimes, she hated her job.