A/N: I don't have much to say about this chapter other than I'm sorry for the hold-up. What with the holidays, things have been kind of hectic! But now I'm back home with absolutely nothing to do, so I will spend my time here with Misfits, my Glee season one box set, and my laptop.
Once more, I have to thank my amazing beta, UchidaKarasu, especially for tirelessly editing the last chapter with only one usable hand! Thank you so much!
I will try to get another chapter or two written within the next week because next Sunday, I return to my university and on Tuesday (or Wednesday?) I start classes once again. That being said, updates may be slower once it starts up again, but I will never abandon the story, and I hope that you won't, either!
Also, I just wanted to say that even though I did my research about inauguration events for the day, I don't know exactly how everything works, so I did a bit of fabricating and basically wrote how I see it in my head. Try not to be overly critical if it's not exactly right.
Enjoy the next chapter!
Chapter Warnings: Dare I say it – mild violence!
The inauguration is upon them. Sure enough, Rachel is pregnant with Puck's baby. Truthfully, Blaine isn't terribly surprised. They have been together for a while, and Rachel really wants kids. The only reason Blaine has reason to be wary of it is because of the awful timing. Regardless, Rachel remains steadfast in her support of Blaine, keeping to her job in spite of her pregnancy.
Blaine gets little sleep as January 20th continues to creep up on them. Much of his time is spent in his office, either doing work or taking power naps on his couch. Sometimes he's out and about for the press, doing interviews with Good Morning America, 20/20 or something similar. Kurt helps him dye his graying hair one day when they have a couple hours to just sit and talk, though they almost forget to wash out the dye because they end up making out on the couch.
"So on the seventeenth and eighteenth of January, you and Mercedes will be doing a bit of a tour," Rachel explains, pacing about the office while staring at her clipboard. "Then on the nineteenth, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, you'll have a few things to do to commemorate him… and then the twentieth."
Blaine's stomach drops, and he grips Kurt's hand in a death-like vice. "Relax. Everything's going to be perfect," his agent soothes.
"Kurt's right," Rachel agrees. "The weather is looking to be very fair. Maybe a little chilly, but it's supposed to be beautifully sunny with no clouds. The schedule is perfectly planned out. All you have to do is remember the Oath of Office, and your address. After that, it's smooth sailing!"
She makes it sound so easy, but he's still apprehensive. "I need some air," he says suddenly, getting up and walking out of the room. Rachel tries to call him back, but he hears Kurt shush her quietly. He makes it to the east front of the Capitol Building, stepping out onto the massive balcony and folding his arms across his chest, looking down at the steps below. People are coming and going from the building, and it looks just like any other day. Except it's not. It's so close to the end.
"Berry said you might be out here," a voice says behind him.
He turns suddenly and sees President Sue Sylvester standing in the doorway of the glass doors. She's flanked by two Secret Security Agents. "Ms. President," he stammers out, eyes widening. He's met her on a few occasions, of course, but to see her standing there in front of him, just the two of them, sends him into a bit of a spiral. What does he do? She is such an icon – one of the best Presidents America has ever had.
He suddenly remembers how impossible it is going to be to live up to her legacy and tries not to rush off in a panic again.
"Don't just stand there blubbering like a five year old school girl," she says blandly, taking a few steps down. Her agents follow close behind, but she seems to have no qualms about speaking to him in front of those agents. Then again, it's not like any of them could say anything about it, even if they wanted to.
"If you don't mind my asking, Ms. President –" he begins, but she cuts him off.
"Just call me Sue. Might as well get used to hearing the sound of fear radiating through that one syllable again, rather than my entire title," she muses casually, though she continues to stare down at him intently. It makes him flustered, and he focuses on the spot between her eyes, rather than her eyes themselves.
"Sue," he begins again, "if you don't mind me asking, why are you here?"
"I came by to take care of some necessary tasks here in our beloved Capitol Building," she explains, looking at her nails as if bored. "And then I decided I'd swing by. See how you were crumbling under the pressure." She looks him up and down, and then smirks. "Right on schedule."
That makes him a little mad. Of course he's stressing out. He's only forty years old. He has a list of death threats a mile long hanging over his head. He's hiding a secret affair with his personal bodyguard. He's going to be inaugurated as President of the United States of America in just a few short days. "Did you come here to ridicule me, or did you come here for a productive reason?" he demands.
She doesn't look at all surprised at his response. "And ridicule isn't productive?" she inquires. He just gives her a look before he turns back to look off into the city, continuing to watch the people come and go. After a few moments of silence, she steps up beside him and leans on the railing. "Look. I know what you're thinking. How am I supposed to step up to such an iconic role as one Sue Sylvester? I'll answer that for you right now: You can't."
He shakes his head and turns his face away, clenching his hands into fists.
"But let me tell you something, Pretty Boy. No one else can be me. I did things no one would ever consider for this country. I purposefully pissed off the public of this nation on numerous occasions for a reason. I played the antagonist, the instigator, so that there would finally be a reason for America to rally. I played the bad guy to light a fire under their asses to motivate the indifferent, obese demographic of this country."
He listens with a careful ear, wondering where she's going with this. When she doesn't speak immediately, he looks at her curiously. "What are you trying to say?"
"What I'm trying to say is that I made America hate me for a reason. As a result, there was a lot of productivity. Economic boom. Job increases. Diplomatic breakthroughs," she says, but Blaine still isn't following. She shakes her head and looks out over the city, oblivious – or choosing to ignore – his confusion. "I single-handedly put this nation back on a pedestal."
"Are you trying to make me feel better?" Blaine asks, his spirits dropping quickly. "Because it's not working."
She shakes her head and turns toward him. "Don't you get it? I made them hate me so that they'd love you. I paved the way for a better America. Granted," she admits with a wry smirk, "I went about it a very abrasive way." She looks him dead in the eye. "I made sure things got done, and I made them hate me in the process. And that's where you step in.
"You are meant to be the White Knight. The icon. No one expects you to do what I did. No one else has the capacity to even compare to Sue Sylvester – I'll admit that. But you're fresh faced. You're eloquent, you're attractive, you want the best for this country. You will pick up where I left off, but you'll be the leader they deserve. Not the one they need."
Blaine stares at her incredulously, trying to think of something to say. Before he can think of anything, one of her agents taps her on the shoulder and whispers in her ear. "Well, that's that, Pretty Boy. Duty calls." She turns at that and heads back for the door, her agents flanking her.
"Sue, wait," he finds himself saying.
She pauses and glances back at him, raising an eyebrow.
When nothing particularly educated comes to mind, he simply says, "Thanks."
To which Sue Sylvester scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. Don't thank me. You're about inherit the shittiest job you'll ever have."
The tour is tiring, but his speeches are well-received at every stop along the way. When they return to Washington, the streets are bustling with people coming to witness the inauguration of Senator Blaine Dalton – the first homosexual President of the United States of America.
The nineteenth is a slower day, filled with remembrance and memorials for Martin Luther King, Jr. Blaine makes sure he is attentive and sincere in everything he does that day, wanting the people to know that he would fight for equality, much like Martin Luther King, Jr. had done in his time for civil rights.
The night before the inauguration, he can't sleep. There are guards just outside his bedroom, in his apartment. Rachel feels that, as the list of threats continues to grow as the twentieth draws nearer, the level of security needs to be upped. Unfortunately, Kurt is not among them; he has the night off to pick his parents up from the airport because Blaine invited them as honored guests to the ceremony.
Somehow, at some point, he dozes off. When he wakes up, he feels like he's being watched, so he immediately sits up, looking blearily around the room. An agent he vaguely remembers is sitting in the chair across the room. He stares at the agent, the agent stares back, and suddenly, Blaine remembers him. "Puck?"
"Senator Dalton," he says with a smirk.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he demands, climbing to the end of the bed, though he's not upset. In fact, he's grinning.
Puck shrugs. "I heard that you needed a few extra guards. Checked it out with my superiors and… well, here I am."
"Does Rachel know?"
"Not yet, no," he admits, "so don't go spoiling the surprise."
They don't have much more time to talk after that, and in about an hour, Blaine is dressed and ready to leave the apartment. Kurt is waiting outside, near the limo. First event on the list? Morning worship service. He knows Kurt isn't religious, and as they climb into the car, Blaine says, "You don't have to go, you know. There are other guards who could get me to the Capitol Building."
"And leave you to suffer this morning alone?" Kurt inquires, feigning incredulity. "Never."
Blaine just smiles at him and heads inside, heading to the where a few pews are sectioned off for Blaine, Sue Sylvester, Rachel, and a bunch of other political officials. The service lasts about an hour, and once it was over, the procession to Capitol Hill begins. Sue, Kurt, Blaine, and a few other agents climb into an armored limousine and began the short journey to the Capitol Building. They speak very little; Blaine feels all eyes on him as he bounces his knee, trying to remember not only his address, but also the Oath of Office.
"Pretty Boy," Sue finally says. He looks up. She looks like she wants to say something like you'll be fine or relax, but instead she goes with, "You've got some dirt on your face. And your hair is graying. You might want to get that checked out."
Blaine guesses that's the best he's going to get out of her, so he just smiles wryly and says, "Thank you, Sue."
After that, they all process out of the Capitol Building and out to the east front. They're all greeted by the shrieks and cries of support from the crowd. Blaine's heart leaps into his throat as he takes his seat, the US Marine Marching Band playing their normal processional. After that, the reigning show choir national champions perform a selection before the welcoming remarks are given by the Speaker of the House.
Blaine hardly pays attention to the rest of the program. He claps when it's appropriate, though his mind is focused on chanting that thirty-five word mantra that will give him access to the Presidency in his mind, while his eyes are roaming over the crowd.
Mercedes takes her Oath of Office.
She has been inaugurated before he has, but to see her standing there, smiling down at all of them, gives him hope. She looks down at him, and winks, and he winks back.
Guards are stationed with guns all around the perimeter, at the ready to shoot if need be. The crowd is contained and security personnel are scattered throughout. And suddenly, they're all screaming his name again. At first, he's confused, but then Sue Sylvester pats his shoulder and he knows it's time.
The Chief Justice opens the Bible Blaine has selected, and turns to Job 5:7; there, highlighted in yellow, is the phrase Blaine will be swearing on.
Yet man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward.
He places his hand gently over the text, his fingertips brushing those words. He looks up and meets the Justice's eyes, speaking slowly and clearly for all to hear:
"I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States of America."
The crowd goes mad, screaming his name. He shakes the Justice's hand as the Bible is snapped shut, and he heads for the podium, standing there and looking out at the sea of people. His people. The American people.
"Former President Sylvester, Chief Justice, honored guests, Congressmen and women alike, and my fellow citizens:
"It is with great honor and privilege that I stand here before you today. This journey has been a long, rocky road, but I am so humbled to be able to stand before you at this moment, as your new President of the United States.
"It's no secret that I am homosexual. I have never tried to hide it," Blaine says, no longer looking at his notes, and just speaking. The words come so easily, because he means each and every one of them. "And to have been elected by the people of this fine nation… well, I honestly believe that shows such progress and initiative. First, we had President Barack Obama, the first African-American President. Then we had President Hillary Clinton, the first female President. Then we had Sue Sylvester – who really needs no introduction. I am so grateful to be able to join among them as the first of, hopefully, many more like me – a proof of progress of this fine nation."
They begin to cheer again, and he smiles widely, eyes crinkling at the corners. He holds up his hands, wanting silence, and they comply, though it takes a few moments for the crowd to settle. He glances at Rachel and Kurt to his left and then Sue and Mercedes on his right before turning back to the people. "It's going to be difficult, I will admit," he says, "having to live up to a legacy like President Sylvester has left for me. But I believe that America is ready, ready to stand on her own and flourish like she did so many years ago. With that strength comes the need for change – and I want nothing more than to assist in bringing that change." The crowd erupts once more, and Blaine smiles. But something's amiss; the crowd is no longer cheering…
They're screaming.
People begin to stampede away, trying to move, when a series of gunshots go off. One is so close that it ricochets off the podium Blaine is standing at. The Senators and honored guests are in a frenzy, trying to run off stage, while security is attempting to stop the shooter.
Another gunshot goes off, and suddenly, Blaine is grabbed by Kurt. "Blaine! What the hell are you doing?"
"Rachel!" he exclaims, looking around. The balcony of the east front is deserted, though people are running from the White House. "Where the hell is Rachel!"
Another gunshot.
"She's with my parents, let's go!" Kurt demands, shoving Blaine through the glass doors he had come through the other day, where he had his talk with Sue Sylvester.
Once they're safely inside, they're running down the hallway, and as they reach the main foyer of the building, Blaine is immediately surrounded by a flock of Secret Service agents, Puck among them. "Mr. President, are you all right?" one of them asks.
"I'm fine, just a little shaken," he assures them, Kurt sticking closely to his side.
"Where's Rachel?" Puck demands as they begin to usher Blaine towards the back entrance, forming a protective perimeter with Kurt inside. They know he's Blaine's personal guard; they know that Kurt will go with him when they cannot.
"She's with my family," Kurt says. "Kurt Hummel, personal agent for President Dalton." They shake hands briefly as they head for the armored limo to take Blaine directly to the White House. "They were escorted out with Sue and Mercedes. They were heading for the Senate Chamber to wait it out."
"Why don't I go there?" he inquires.
Puck snorts. "I know it seems like a good idea, but you really need to be in the White House right now. Symbolism and all that."
Blaine nods as they hurry him into the car, a few agents getting in as well. They make the drive to the White House, and another group of agents gets him out of the car and safely inside. Kurt and Blaine immediately made a bee-line for the Oval Office, with more than a few Secret Service agents on his tail, Puck still among them.
"At the safest possible moment, I need Rachel Berry and the Hummels to be delivered from the Senate Chamber to this room," Blaine orders as soon as he's standing behind the desk, drawing the curtains shut with a snap.
"Yes, Mr. President," two agents say, hurrying out of the room.
He points to the remaining two agents and says, "Set up the press room. I need to make a statement." They nod, salute, and hurry out, leaving Puck, Kurt, and Blaine alone in the room.
"What are we going to do?" Kurt asks.
Blaine heads out of the room and they follow him. "We are going to find ourselves a TV and find out exactly what's going on."