A/N: You'll notice as we move forward that the breaks in between scenes/chapters will get longer. I got to a place where I wanted time to ride out but I didn't want to write all that time out...if that makes sense? So from here on out, if something happens, I'll write about it. And it something doesn't happen, just expect things to be going business as usual for our favorite couple :)

Chapter Thirty-Five

The dreams had started to occur again. Not dreams. Nightmares. It had been years since Christine had seen her father in her dreams. Every time it was the same. She sat beside him in the hospital bed as he slowly decayed before her all the while repeating the words, "Sing…sing for me." A nightmare. The first time the dream came to her after so many years of dreamless sleep, she had managed to wake herself up before it progressed into her waking up hoarse and screaming. However, as she found herself staying up later and later just to avoid her subconscious terror, she found it harder and harder to wake herself.

Next, it was not only her father but Meg. One moment her father lay thin and hallow and the next it was Meg. Her face, usually so crisp and vibrant with snarky comments and funny banter on her lips was pale and cold. The arm she had been shot in, the same arm that had already healed and with hardly any marking on it, suddenly had an infection. Meg tried to raise it to Christine and it made her gasp in horror at the sight of such awful blues, blacks and yellows that seemed to swallow her arm. Christine urged herself to reach out to her friend. She wished to be brave and look past what she had ultimately done. This was her fault. If she had been a better friend. A better anything Meg would not be in pain.

But then it wasn't Meg. It was Erik. Erik Underwood with his violin across his chest and wearing a fine suit. Blood dripped from his fingers.

"I can fix this," Christine whispered.

"You can fix this?" he repeated but when she looked back at him he was unmasked and pointing to his face with his red-strained fingers.

She would never forget the time she had seen him without his mask, but something about her dreams made it so much worse than she remembered. It wasn't just the deformity. It was the hatred in his eyes. There was a coldness she had only ever seen when he spoke about those who may threaten her but in her dreams, it was finally directed at her.

Christine looked back to his violin and tried to stammer out any sense of belief in herself, "I can…I can…"

"Sing for me," Erik echoed in the same sickly voice.

"What?"

When she looked up Erik and Meg side by side on an enlarged hospital bed. Both were cold and unmoving and covered in awful sickness from either face or arm. A voice broke through her vision and she heard her father speak straight into her ear, "Christine, what have you done?"

"I didn't…they said…"

"How many have to die for you, daughter-mine?"

"No. No, Daddy, it isn't like that. I would have done anything. Anything! Daddy, don't you know that?"

A voice that was no longer her father's or anyone else's she had seen struck her between her eyes. It struck her so hard it hurt her straight into reality. It was her own and it was the worst voice of all. "Nothing you do is enough because you aren't enough."

XXXV

Despite her dreams and despite herself, Christine pressed on. She made a point to be as useful as possible even when that involved being in the public eye. Erik had told her how important it was for her to help his image and so that is what she set out to do. She visited schools and read books. On the weekends she went to different animal adoption agencies to encourage attendance. At night she was sure to finish all of the homework Erik gave her for the day. Her spoken language improved. She was having conversational Italian with both Clara and Meg. Each day she would give an hour of her time to meet with different representatives on various subjects. Part of her effort led to a new physical education initiative for public schools to be sent to the Department of Education. She even took a stronger initiative to get more wedding plans in order.

To the public eye, everything she did was perfect. During a press conference, one reporter had joked if he could talk to Christine instead of Underwood. Erik's ratings had improved and he was being seen as less of a dictator and more of a politician with a drive. To humor Erik, Christine did start to hold her own press conferences primarily to allow the public to know what she was up to. She believed herself to be doing well until a lower-tiered columnist asked her what her personal goals with Erik were. Christine responded with the obvious, "We'll be married."

"Rumor is you have separate bedrooms."

"That is not uncommon in the White House," Christine clipped back in response.

"Even for two people as in love as you'd have us believe?"

Christine bristled and the tension in the room grew, "I wasn't told I'd be humoring gossip today."

"So what can you tell us?"

The First Lady to-be's eyes narrowed. She straightened her shoulders and spoke softly and clearly. "I can tell you that Erik Underwood is the hardest working person I've ever known. He has no days off. He barely sleeps. He turns down vacation time and weekends. Few presidents have ever been so dedicated to this country. I have to share him with all of you. So you can consider our sleeping accommodations as proof of that and…" her words faltered as she felt a prick in her eyes, "And this isn't easy. And I miss him. But I also know that he's doing great things for these United States. And that's enough for me." She took a breath and finished, "That's all for questions today."

At first, the reality of what she had said did not hit her. She was through the door to the hallway before the adrenaline had begun to fall through her body like a cold chill. Then her head was spinning. What had she just said? Had she seriously just said that she missed Erik Understood live on C-SPAN? How stupid would that sound? And how would he react to such a stupid word being said about him? And what was she even talking about? Her time had always been limited with him except for twice in their time together. Did she suddenly want more of him when she had her quota already? A music lesson, a meal or a glass of wine at the end of the day. That was their agreement. There should have been no missing. She had gotten everything that should have been when it came to his time. None of this was making sense.

Things transpired quickly within the hour. Of course, her confession had made national news. Of course, there was a public cry for Underwood to take a vacation. And of course, all the added pressure was her fault. When no one was looking, she put her face into her hands and released a shaky sigh.

Christine's phone buzzed nearby. It was a double buzz she assigned to one person.

Meg.

Cool move, Chica. I got my work cut out for me with all these tweets 3

And now she was adding to Meg's workload too. What had she done? What had she caused? And how was Erik going to react? Her own voice whispered in her head, You're not enough.

That was it. She wouldn't do any more damage that day. Fortunately, it was already late in the day. She would take her dinner to her room, sing once Erik returned to the west wing, then immediately go to sleep. Or at least retreat to her room. Sleep was the enemy. Sleep was just making things worse.

Her plans were short-lived when she found Erik waiting for her at the foot of the stairs to their living quarters. Neither of them said anything as Christine switched her balance from foot to foot awkwardly. She was sure she was in trouble and was about to face the brunt of Erik Underwood. She was sure she had caused him more work and his least favorite kind: silencing gossip. He would have been better if she hadn't started speaking to the public so often. Her face and neck heated up and her eyes fell to the ground as the time wore on. It was awful. What could she even say that would fix what had already dropped off her tongue? Before her mind completely took a drive off the deep end, Erik cleared his throat.

"The Spanish ambassador canceled our meeting," he said casually.

Christine waited for more information until she eventually asked out of confusion, "I'm sorry?"

Erik pressed forward on the topic but looked up at the ceiling as he spoke, "He said that he would sum things up in an email. How very uncharacteristic, wouldn't you think?"

Christine had only met the Spanish ambassador once and remembered him to talk a lot. She nodded and continued to avoid his eye contact as his eyes were back on her with a heavy gaze.

"The last thing he said," Erik continued, "Was that I owed you a 'romantic evening.'" Christine's eyes went wide at the thought of whatever that meant and let her weight fall to the nearby wall, "Any idea why that was?"

The ravaged woman sighed and put her face in her hands, "I'm a disaster."

"Are you?" he countered almost playfully.

His light tone made her look back to him, "You know I am."

Erik laughed a little and the rarity of the sound caused Christine to relax only a little, "I assure you that was not what I thought when I heard you 'missed' me."

Christine closed her eyes and moaned as she finally fell all the way to the stairs at his feet, "I don't ever have to do press conference ever again."

"You will. And not because I ask you to. You will because you enjoy feeling useful. I told you that you could be lame for all I care so long as you be my wife. And look at all you've done."

"Yeah, I think I've done enough," Christine muttered through her hands as they continued to cup her face. When she heard Erik squat to her level - something he had never seen him do - she peeked through her fingers. His facial expression appeared…kind?

"I find your press conferences rather refreshing. You always have something delightfully hopeful to say. Dogs being adopted. Children listening to books. And even with your own busy schedule - one that you have created entirely on your own - you have figured out a time to miss me, too? However, do you manage all of it?"

At hearing his dry humor Christine sneered back at him. Why was he making fun of her efforts when she was already mortified?

"I would like to go to my room now," she managed to say through her teeth.

"And I would like to avoid the long-lasting and passive-aggressive disappoint of the ambassador of Spain."

"Huh?"

"Take a walk with me," he offered his hand to her.

"What?" she asked staring at his extended limb in complete confusion.

"To the rose garden." He said casually, "We can discuss where you'll be planting yours next year. As tradition dictates for each First Lady."

"I don't really want to be seen by anyone else today," Christine mumbled, "I'm pretty sure my makeup's come off since the press conference."

"You degrading your appearance is unbecoming, Christine." Erik said rather seriously then changed his tone, "Especially when you're next to me. No one would dare define you as anything less than perfect next to me." He adjusted his mask for further effect. She knew he was doing it as a reference. His mask never moved out of place.

Christine looked away, "I'm not perfect. Meg says I have to use this cold rose quartz roller thing on my face at night to keep it from being puffy."

"Barnes is ridiculous when it comes to physical expectations and you're aware of that."

"Still…"

"Enough of this." Erik persisted and offered his hand again. "I don't want to be seen as a neglectful partner. Come and walk with me, Christine."

He wasn't going to take no for an answer. And she felt that she had insulted him or showed him to be inadequate as a husband-to-be. Now he had to save his reputation by being seen outside. All her hard work dashed with one stupid word. What a stupid word!

"I'm sorry," she sighed and looked away.

He sighed too as he sat down beside her on the stairs - another thing he rarely did was ever been found sitting on a floor. Christine couldn't remember a time he had down that outside of the rare nights spent by the fire so long ago. Erik spoke again, "Your apology means little when no wrong has been done…unless you really are denying my effort to spend time with you for…what reason exactly?"

"No," she clipped, "I'm sorry for saying it. I'm sorry for your meeting being cancelled. I'm trying to do better and to look better and just to…" she had to think for a moment before she continued, "I'm trying to be better. And I messed up. So I'm sorry."

When he spoke again his words seemed to be tied together softly and musically. The same way he used to lure her with his voice. Goosebumps were suddenly covering her arms, "I am unable to accept your apology, dearest."

That word and the way it was said made her look up at him. He knew it too. She could see it in his mismatched eyes. Why would he say that now?

"What do you mean?" she whispered as she found herself unable to find the tone of her own voice after hearing him speak like that.

"I am not angered that you said what you did. You, after all, got me out of what would have been a long overdrawn and one-sided social exchange. I had some other things to attend to today but you were correct in what you said."

"But I wasn't." Christine threw her arms down in frustration, "I let her get to me and I messed up!"

"I've been neglecting you, dearest." He said still using his previous full-bodied tone.

Christine clenched her fists in an attempt to shut his hypnotic voice out, "Why are you calling me that?"

Erik smirked, "Does it upset you?"

"It's throwing me off," she said through her teeth.

"Because you've missed me?"

"Yes." She blurted then tried to cover herself, "NO! Stop spinning your words! You know I hate when you act like a politician to me!"

"Take a walk with me," he said as he tipped his head to the side.

She looked back at him with a scowl over her features, "Only if you stop messing with me."

"A fair negotiation made from a fine civilian," he raised his hand again and Christine realized she never realized when he dropped it. With a huff she took it. He stretched his legs and pulled her to her feet. She staggered a little on her thin heels. She only ever wore them for press conference days as she hated heels. Erik took the opportunity to place her hand in the crook of his arm. Christine recovered her balance and even felt a little warm standing so close to him. Touching him. It was familiar territory to the public. They were going outside after all. And Erik had gotten the bullet-proof glass inclosure up around the area for a week now. Oddly enough, Christine hadn't even made the time for herself to enjoy the outdoor space. She really had made herself busy.

The two began to walk down the hall. As they passed both staff and employee they were met with knowing smiles. Christine hated it. All gossip was hot gossip at the White House.

"How have you been?" Erik asked without looked down at her.

"I think you know," she grumbled as she tried to look away from everyone's eyes.

Erik acted as if he did not notice any of them. He acted as if they were the only ones in the entire mansion. "I never seem to know as well as I'd like. Enlighten me with something new."

"I'm tired a lot," she admitted with a sigh.

He looked down to her, "Oh?"

She kept her gaze down with her confession, "I"m not sleeping."

"Why is that?" Erik asked as he held a door open to her. They were getting close to the exterior door to the rose garden.

"Stupid dreams," muttered as she walked through and waited for him.

"Hmm." Erik caught up to her and slipped her hand back into the crook of his arm with another one of his half-smiles, "Would medication be of service to you?"

"I'd rather not."

"Therapy, then?" he asked as he tipped his head to a saluted service member who had been walking down the hall.

"What good does another person knowing what I'm thinking about do?"

"I do enjoy our private lives," he all but whispered into her ear making her shiver, "Still," he continued normally as he looked forward again, "Mental health is important. The option is always available to you should you choose to take it."

The two were about to be outside when she stopped, "What's up with you?"

"How do you mean?" he looked back at her.

"Why are you in such a good mood? It's weird."

Erik smiled again - this time a little more to himself than to her - as they continued through the doors and out to the brick walkway.

"It's not every day one hears they're wanted." She heard him say with such raw honesty that she looked down just to unpack his works, "Especially from the most cherished woman in the country. I would have thought you were lying and playing at something but that's only what a politician would do." He spoke into her ear again and she could almost feel his smirk as his breath tickled the little hairs on her neck, "You're too wholesome for such a devious ploy."

Christine pulled away from his proximity and raised her eyebrows, "If you're trying to compliment me it's not working."

"Indeed." He placed his free hand lightly over the hand she still had in the crook of his arm, "You so rarely accept compliments."

She looked at the hand that covered her then away, "Can we sit down?"

He nodded. She pulled her hand free and kept some space between them once they had sat on a nearby bench.

"I've been doing okay, haven't I?" Her hands fumbled a little in her lap until she clasped them together, "Like, to the public and stuff. I've done enough, right?"

In response, he looked at her oddly and admitted, "More than enough. I told you that none of this was necessary. You could vacation plenty and I would expect nothing less. All I wanted was a wife."

"So it's not enough." She said lowly, "I've done more than I should have."

"I wouldn't say that-"

Her voice quivered, "I just can't get anything right."

"Christine?" he waited for her to look at him, "Where is this coming from?"

"What do you mean?" she asked honestly.

"This demoralization. It doesn't become you."

She looked at him and for once was amazed by his ignorance. How could he not know what she meant? She was messing everything up! Her fists clenched in her lap as she spoke, "I do nothing for a month and then I go outside and my best friend gets shot. Then I do all of this to make you look good and you say none of it was what I was supposed to do either. Can I even vacation anyway? Where would I go that people wouldn't see me? My only opinion is to do whatever you do and try to make you look good and when I try that I mess up and it's not enough."

"Would you care to sit back down?"

She hadn't realized she was standing, "I… I should go."

"I don't believe you should," he said matter-of-factly.

"But why?"

"You said my name this morning."

"What?"

She looked down at him as the sunlight seemed to illuminate a curiosity in his eyes. She had never seen them so bright before. Something about either the color or the soul behind it steadied her.

"I was on my way downstairs and I heard you through your door. Were you dreaming?"

Christine looked away, "I don't want to talk about it."

Tentatively, Erik reached out for her hand. At first, Christine flenched as he usually verbally requested to touch her before ever doing so. In hindsight, she thought about how she had hardly ever returned the favor. Visions of her helplessly falling into his arms while in tears came and went through her head and embarrassed her enough to make heat rise on her neck. However, as she had flinched, he paused before actually taking her hand. Not wanting to deny his touch as it came so rarely on its own, she steadied her hand. A moment later he closed his fingers around her own almost as a man would do before kissing a woman's hand. The idea sparked a strange feeling in her stomach. Finally, Erik spoke.

"You've been restless. I've seen it and done little. I wanted to give you space. I thought that might be what you wanted and you were doing so well and achieving so much. I don't want you thinking I'm listening on the other side of your door, but I did hear you this morning." His thumb ran across her knuckles, "You sounded distressed and you said my name. And then when you said what you did in the press conference I knew I had made a mistake. I've been neglecting you."

Christine lost herself for a moment before shying away. All the while, she never moved her hand from his. Still, her words spoke against her feelings. "No, Erik, you've done enough."

"Will you sit with me?"

Her eyes went from their conjoined hands to the open seat next to him.

"Won't you?" he pressed again.

Feeling helpless she did as he requested. She did not remove his hand from hers. He covered her hand with his free hand and she felt warmth fill her fingers on a higher level than before.

"You deserve to feel safe," he said quietly.

She looked at their conjoined hands, "I'm safer now than I've ever been."

"Christine, you deserve peace and a restful sleep," she felt him squeeze her hand a little, "You've done more than enough."

"It's not true," she muttered feeling a prick in her eyes.

When he pulled his hands away from her she suddenly felt so cold. It was enough to make a tear fall at the feel of rejection from her awful words. A new warmth crossed her cheeks as he gently put his hands to her face. Her eyes widened in shock as he delicately and pulled her face up to look at him, "I would never lie to you. You are that valuable to me. You are my partner. What am I without you?" He paused before saying, "I've missed you too."

Christine looked up to him fully, not knowing what to say or how to say it. He cleared his throat before asking, "Would it offend you if I held you?"

Rather than verbally respond, Christine closed the gap around them by throwing her arms around him and placing her head into the crook of his neck. The warmth he offered her before returned as he enclosed the space between them further by wrapping his arms around her. And for a few moments, they only breathed together just as they had time before. It was simple. Something, even something small, was finally simple between them. She felt his heart thump in his chest and skin on her neck tingled as he lightly slid his fingers over the tips of her hair. Her eyes stopped stinging and she finally let her tense muscles relax into him. She had missed him indeed.

A few days later, she would discover that the White House photographer had taken some pictures of their exchanges out in the rose garden. A small voice made her wonder if Erik had staged it all for his public image. The idea hurt. However, an even smaller voice, a voice she would not ever truly admit to, said that even if that had been the case it was worth it. It had been worth it to feel listless even if was for a few moments. It had been worth it to relax. And while she dared herself not to even consider it, she even thought it was worth it to have been held so closely by him. It would be an ongoing job, but when she found herself in his arms that was when she felt the safest. All the same, she swore to herself that she could never ever let him know.

XXXV

"Christine, I figured it out!" Meg bolted into Christine's office unannounced one afternoon. Before Christine could respond or even finish the sentence in the email she had been composing, Meg had discarded her rose gold designer bag on the unused plush chair beside her as she sat in its twin. "Chris, you've got to listen to me this is important."

The woman behind the desk sighed. Clearly, Meg was in one of her tunnel-vision reporting moods again. "What is it, Meg?"

"It's the unregulated social media platforms."

"What about them?"

"Look at it this way: social media is set up to be reassuring. It's meant to make us feel good, right?"

"Um." Christine looked away to her desk and the unwritten email for a moment, "I never really felt good on social media."

"Okay, but you're an outlier." Meg rolled her eyes then redirected her attention to Christine, "Go with me on this for a second. They have a set algorithm that plays us to what we want to view so that we stay on longer and drive deeper. It's to keep us on, but I think it may actually be doing damage to our social structure."

"Okay…how?"

"By only showing us what we want it's like…" Meg swirled her hand in the air as she tried to find her words, "Like doughnuts for dinner. Satisfying but we have to keep coming back for more. It never challenges our ideas. It discounts the facts and emphasizes our feelings. Do you get what I mean?"

"Uh…" Christine pinched her nose as she tried to keep up, "Keep going?"

"Christine," Meg leaned forward and whispered, "I figured out the root of the extremist groups that have been targeting you and Walker and everyone."

Christine leaned forward across the desk and lowered her voice, "You found them?"

"I found their communication source. And it's been open and obvious. It's the algorithm. It's the unchecked bias of radical people out to spread their agenda to those easily swayed. The big corporate news networks do it too. It's put across as entertainment but what the anchors don't realize is the effect they have on everyday people on the streets. And those people go to their social media for comfort. And they're starting to find it in what can be defined as domestic terrorist extremism."

Christine sat back in her chair and sighed, "This is a lot to take in."

Meg leaned back with a confident smirk on her face, "Just wait until we explain it to Underwood."

Christine cocked an eyebrow, "Meg, you can't just barge into Erik's office like you just did with mine. You don't have the clearance. Or an appointment."

"You do,"

Christine looked back at her friend, "You're sure about this."

"On my life." Meg narrowed her eyes a little, "And I seriously consider it my life now."

Christine's eyes shortly darted to her friend's arm and back to her eyes. The scar was hardly visible. Meg had used the right treatments and had even gone to a masseuse to ease the scar tissue underneath. She had even joked about getting a tattoo over it saying something ridiculous. For Queen and Country. Ridiculous. Still, despite how coolly Meg was accepting the threat on her life, she was right. It was her life that was in danger just by association. Christine knew that even Meg wouldn't interrupt Erik's day unless she meant business.

Christine looked down to the landline, pulled it to her ear and asked her receptionist to transfer her through to Erik. So many changes had been made in such a short time. She had an office, a receptionist, and now - apparently - a best friend who was ready to take down the tech gods of San Francisco. After politely asking her reception, Jean, to patch her through she waited a few moments. She had to admit she liked Jean. She wasn't assuming or suspicious. She even had a lock of green hair under her short blonde hair. It wasn't much but it was just enough of a rebellion against the Washington masters of style that Christine found herself in high respect of the woman who was a little older than her.

"Christine?" came Erik's sharp voice over the receiver.

"Hey, Erik," she started nervously.

A moment passed where neither of them said anything.

"Is something the matter?" he inquired.

"Well, no." Christine looked back at her friend's face and countered her words, "Well, maybe yes."

"Yes!" Meg barked as she leaned over the desk to listen in.

"Is that Barnes?" Christine could hear Erik's impatience.

"She came to see me and I think we should talk to you as soon possible," Christine tried to cool the annoyance on the other line.

"Like now," Meg said again making Christine hug the receiver to her ear and giving her friend a dirty look.

"Do you have a minute?" Christine inquired.

Underwood sighed then said, "If it's important to you I'll make a minute. Come over. I'm in the oval."

"Thank you-"

"Thank you!" Meg followed up leaning right into the phone as had popped her way around the back of Christine's chair with a dancer's dexterity.

Both Erik and Christine sighed as they hung up their perspective phones.

The walkover from Christine's office to the Oval Office was short. They were in the same wing of the White House, after all, however, Christine had never actually gone from her office to his before. It seemed strange if not foreign. She knew exactly where she was and yet the feeling of seeing him outside of their normal time together - especially during the workday - made her a little nervous. She swore to herself that she would not be willing to work with or around him during the day and it was clear that he understood that when he had an office assigned for her use. They would still discuss various topics at night and Erik still took time to ask of her opinions on what was to be voted on and so forth. It wasn't every night that he did this. Clearly, he was just fine leaving work behind him when it came to their time and music, however, when he did bring up the politics of the day, Christine found herself beaming at the opportunity to have him consider her thoughts.

Once the pair had arrived at the waiting area outside of the Oval Office, Doug was seen heading to his own office nearby.

"Hello, Doug," Christine offered politely making him look up from the cup of coffee he held lovingly in his hands.

"Good afternoon, Christine," He looked over to Meg, "What a surprised to see you both here. Did you make an appointment?"

"Not exactly," Christine drifted in her response.

Meg spoke up, "Is there any more of that coffee, Doug?"

Doug smiled knowingly, "Plenty. It just came up from the kitchen. Would you like some?"

"More than you know. I haven't slept in twenty hours."

Christine turned to her friend with wide eyes, "Meg, are you serious?"

"Caught a lead, have you?" Doug inquired.

"More than a lead. Something big."

"Oh?"

"Doug," Christine considered, "Maybe you should join us. We're about to speak with Erik on what Meg found."

Doug looked at the two of them and Christine saw a more serious look in his eye when he picked up on the urgency in theirs. He nodded and said, "I wouldn't miss it."

Once reception had arranged for a very large cup of coffee for Meg and herbal tea for Christine, the three of them were escorted into the Oval Office. Erik was busy reading something on his tablet when they walked in but quickly put it down once the three of them sat on the two facing sofas in the middle of the room with Christine and Meg at one and Doug across from them.

Erik's eyes narrowed as he looked from the cup in Meg's hand and back to her, "I see my time is only of so much value when there is coffee."

"I'm drinking tea," Erik's eyes moved to Christine once she spoke and softened just enough, "Lesson and all."

"I'm running on fumes." Meg said between sips, "This is big stuff."

"Then get to it."

It didn't take long for Meg to explain all that she had been up to even with the extra details she had left out when having first talked to Christine. However, as none of the people she was talking to used a social media account past having an employed social media manager write things for them, Meg found herself having to explain details more than once.

"The higher-ups who created the technology don't even allow it in their homes." Meg continued, "They don't allow their children to have accounts that millions of others have because they know of the danger and we've got to put a stop to it."

"It doesn't seem like something we can enforce." Doug offered, "They're protected under the first amendment."

"Even when they make blatant threats against people's lives?" Meg countered, "Freedom of speech, yes, but there's a limit to that. They could also choose to limit the technology but they currently won't because it will hurt them because people will be on the apps less."

Doug merely nodded and sipped his coffee.

"What do you think, Erik?" Christine asked when she realized he hadn't offered any ideas.

"If we put too many barriers on them they'll move their base and their money to another country and continue to do the same thing," he responded slowly.

"Then maybe it's the people - their clients - that should be the ones to push?" Christine offered.

Erik smiled, just a little under his mask, "We can devise a campaign to better inform the populous what is happening."

"It would lessen the divide between different groups which could also help your ratings," Doug nodded.

"Is there any funding that could be granted to app developers that put time limits on usage?" Meg asked, "Give them better campaigns to run off of?"

"I'm sure I could find some," Doug offered.

"Barnes," Meg looked up to Underwood, "Can you write up a more formal report and get it published on a major new source within the week? I would like to bring this to the attention of my cabinet."

"The Harold owes me more than a few favors." Meg smiled confidently, "I'll get it to the front page. Who better to slander social media than someone like me who is addicted? I'd like to be taken more seriously."

Erik nodded, "Is there anymore to the subject?"

"There will be," Meg smirked as she stood up, "But not yet."

"Doug," Erik stood as he returned to his desk, "See to it that Barnes returns to her home safely. No use in her getting wounded from exhausted carelessness."

"I'll be fine-" Meg started.

"Now. Get out." Erik clipped making the rest of the group stand, "Christine, you stay."

Christine waited until the other two had left before she stepped closer to the desk. "What is it?" she asked in uncertainty.

Underwood looked at his computer as he spoke, but the words were clear, "I like seeing you during the day." He looked back at her with a new softness in his eyes, "When time allows."

The woman looked down to her now empty cup and laughed awkwardly. There was a pause wherein normal conversation she imagined she would return the compliment, but instead, she just stayed quiet, not knowing what to say.

"I wouldn't enjoy seeing me either," Erik recovered dryly, "Have a pleasant afternoon Ms Gallagher. I'll see you in the evening."

Christine rolled her eyes. Of course, he would call her by her last name. He always did that when he was unbalanced with her. But what was she supposed to say? She couldn't even answer the question for herself.

"See you later," she mumbled on her way out.

"Thank you for drinking the herbal tea," He spoke from behind the desk, "I imagine Barnes addition to coffee was a temptation for you."

She turned. "Not really," she answered casually, "I haven't had caffeine in the afternoons in over half a year. I've gotten used to it so it's not so bad."

"You can see yourself out then."

She noticed his words were said in dismissal but the smirk on the corner of his lips appealed to her. He was happy with her and despite how she wanted to admit it didn't matter, it did. She smiled to herself on the way out.

Could you tell I watched "The Social Dilemma" this year? :D

To those of you who have been reviewing, rereading and checking in with me: thank you. Thank you so much. I had a dream that I might be able to get enough chapters in so that I could release the Christmas chapter I've had written for like 2 years now on our around Christmas...and here we are. So you get a random chapter on New Years Eve 2020.

It's been a wild, slow, and strange year for many people. I wish you the best as we carry on into 2021. My entire life has changed because of the Pandemic, but I don't think it's completely bad...it's just not what I expected (I feel like Christine could relate?). So I hope your lives have seen change too. I hope your lives have seen the change you needed to see. I hope your lives take a turn for the better as a result. It may not be immediate, but good change has got to be coming somewhere. We just gotta get there. Stay true. Stay strong. Much love, - theyellowflower