Washington, DC – October 2014

Henry holds Stevie close to him. They've been watching Jessica pace the room back and forth for hours. When Elizabeth had hung up the phone Jessica had screamed. She screamed at him and Stevie for twenty minutes before finally calling the guy with the gun off. Henry had wrapped his arms around his daughter, but she'd pushed him away. She'd called him a liar, she'd called him a traitor, and he'd sat and taken it, and Stevie had cried through all of it.

Henry watches like a hawk—looking for any moment he can exploit to get out of here with Stevie. He needs to get to the others. Stevie had said the agent who brought her here had hit his father. He's worried.

"Jess? Honey?" Henry says softly, and his wife spins on him.

"Shut the fuck up, Henry. I swear to god." Jessica says. "Do you even get it? What your little whore did to me? She's taking my family!"

"Honey, she's not going to take us," Henry tells her. He knows he needs to walk a tightrope here. "We're not going anywhere. We're a family. And you have the power to make this all stop, Jess. It doesn't have to be like this. Let's get the rest of our babies back up here. We need to be a family through this, honey. Please? Please let me prove to you how much I love you, Jess."

She eyes him. Suspicious.

"Stevie and I are just as trapped in here as you are, Jess. This doesn't have to happen. Let me prove to you that I want to be here with you." He says softly.

Jessica looks at her husband and oldest daughter. She looks at Stevie. Stevie, who isn't even her flesh and blood. Stevie has her mother's face and her mother's smile. But yet, Stevie is hers.

"Baby girl," She sighs, "Oh baby. You're my baby, you know that?"

Stevie nods when she feels her father's grip tighten, "Yeah. Yeah, mom, I know."

Jessica continues her walk toward the couch. "I just wanted a normal life with you and Dad and your siblings. I just wanted a family."

"We are a family, Jess." Henry assures her, "We're right here. We can still have a normal life. Come on, honey. Let's get our kids up here. Let's get through this together," Henry keeps his tone soft and his words measured. He needs to see his other children. He needs to see them safe. He needs to be there with them. He wants to know what's going on. He needs to see them and hug them. He needs to know they're okay.

"They're with your dad," Jessica whispers.

"I know," Henry nods, "But Stevie said my dad could be hurt," Henry's voice breaks at the word.

"Stephanie?" She questions, moving closer to her daughter. "Is your grandfather okay?"

Stevie looks up at her father, and her father nods, "The guy who brought me up here hit him with his gun, Mom. Jason was helping him up, but I saw blood. And Allie was so scared," Stevie cries.

"Allie was scared, sweetheart," Henry echoes, "You can help them. We need to be a family. We have to get the twins and Jason and Allie. They need to be up here with us, Jess. They need us. We're their parents. We need to help them through this. Together. Please, Jess?"

Jessica sits down on the other side of her oldest daughter and pulls her into a hug. Stevie starts to cry again, "It's okay, Stephanie. Mommy's here. I'm so sorry," She says, looking at her husband.

He nods. He has to hold back his tears. This is exactly what he wants. He needs her to be soft again. He needs her to believe he is on her side.

"You've seen the light?" Jessica asks him.

"She hung up the phone," he whispers, and he hates himself for it. However, part of him does wonder if Elizabeth had made a selfish choice- if the truth is that she doesn't care. But rationally he understands why she hung the call up.

"Oh, thank god," Jessica sighs, and she pulls away from Stephanie and leans in to kiss her husband. He kisses her back, and he tries not to feel repulsed, "I'll get them back up here, Okay?"

"Okay, sweetheart," He tells her.

"Are you sure you love me, Henry?"

"Always," he promises.

"I'll be back," She says, standing. She walks over to her husband and kisses his cheek. Henry watches her walk away before looking back at his daughter.

"Are you okay?" he asks her.

Stevie sniffles and nods.

"I love you," He whispers, and he holds her. She hugs him back. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, "I'm going to get us out of here, okay?"

I-70 East, Near Hagerstown, MD – October, 2014

Elizabeth is catching only pieces of what Jay is telling them. She hears words like testimony and Texas and fly-in. It all blurs together. The only thing that is clear to her is the memory of the sounds of her daughter crying. She's never heard Stevie cry like that.

"Bess," Mike prompts her softly, looking at her in the rearview mirror as he drives.

"Jay's dad can testify, back up the story. I got it," she mumbles.

Mike looks to Isabelle for help. The woman has been practically carrying Elizabeth since Elizabeth got the phone call. He assumes she knows more about Elizabeth's current headspace than he does.

"Are you doing okay?" Isabelle asks

"My daughter is being held at gunpoint, and it's my fault. My only hope is a literal group of mercenaries, and I have no idea if they can really get them out and keep them safe," Elizabeth's voice shakes, "I am far from okay. And they won't be either. Things like that... They don't go away, Iz. Stevie... she's my kid and Henry's, and I'm sure that means she's strong. But the kind of trauma she is enduring now, it stays with you,"

Isabelle nods, "It does. And it would be stupid to think that your family is not going to come out of this with trauma. They will. But you know it's possible to live with it and heal. It's possible, and you are going to make sure it happens for them,"

"If they survive this," Elizabeth says.

"Hey, Bess, we're going to get your family," Mike says, "They'll be okay,"

"You can't promise that," Elizabeth says. She sounds so defeated. She knows that. The last time she remembers feeling this defeated, she was still in Iraq—still with Rodriguez every day, the same torture over and over.

"Bess," Isabelle sighs. She knows that Elizabeth has done nothing but decompensate since landing at Thurgood Marshall. She has seen her best friend's mental health spiral into the abyss. She's afraid that Elizabeth may have crossed a point of no return.

Elizabeth swallows, "Mike, have you heard back from the team you sent yet?"

Her sole focus is on her children. She can't think about the pending impeachment. She can't hear the story about Jay's father. She can't process the idea of the Senate trial. All of it, the entire situation, is just noise in the background.

"No," Mike admits, "I'm sure it's nothing, though,"

"Nothing," Elizabeth laughs, "The team you sent, they are some of the most elite, you're sure none of them would be loyal to Dalton?"

"Elizabeth, I am sure that these guys will do what they're told for a paycheck. I'm giving them that paycheck. And as far as Bishop goes, no, he wouldn't be loyal to Dalton."

Elizabeth doesn't say anything else. She returns her attention to the streetlights out the window. The lights on the ground blur together like stars. Elizabeth closes her eyes. The image of her children, of the gun to her daughter's head, is all she can see.

"Jay, I'm sorry for not listening earlier. Can you tell me about your dad?" She asks, needing anything to drown out Henry's voice and Stevie's sobs.

"Uh, yeah. I called him. He's going to fly in from Houston to turn himself in," Jay says softly, still grabbling with his father's shaky words.

"Okay, he can testify, can't he?" Elizabeth asks, turning her attention back to the two men in the car with her.

"I think he can. I mean, he doesn't know about anything happening right now in terms of your family. But he did confirm to me he did know Conrad Dalton and Samuel Rodriguez back in Uruguay. I guess... he was a merc before he moved my mother to the US."

Elizabeth can tell, based on his tone of voice, that this kid she just met did not know about his father's past until this phone call. She can read that in his face. There's a certain innocence that has been stripped from him.

"He, um, also knew your friend, George Peters," Jay continues, "I mean, he didn't say how. But that is all useful information for our new objective,"

Elizabeth takes a breath and refocuses, "So, we have the files that came from George. George got them from your father?"

"My dad didn't say. He said he didn't want to speak over the phone," Jay answers, "But I think that's the most likely explanation,"

"Okay," Elizabeth mumbles, "So we assume for the time being that is true. We assume the Vesuvian team finds my family and keeps them safe. We assume your dad has valuable testimony and turns himself in,"

"Yes, and when we get those things, we'll get our proof the files are legitimate," Jay adds.

"Then, what?"

"Then, we leak it to the media," Jay says, "People only die political deaths when the court of public opinion turns against them,"

Elizabeth notices the shift in Jay as he moves the conversation from his father to politics.

"So, you have a plan, Jay?" Elizabeth asks, trying to hide the skepticism in her voice.

"Yes, ma'am," he nods, "Two front assault. First, media. We tell your story as loud as we can. I know that requires you to be on the news—all over the news cycle."

Elizabeth winces. Her stomach churns at the idea. The very thought of being on camera, of talking about any of this, makes her sick. She is not an introvert, but she is not used to the limelight.

"Okay," Elizabeth breathes, "What's the second line?"

"Politics. We need to convince the Republican speaker of the House to go against the popular Republican President. But that is why the media comes first," Jay says. His tone has completely shifted to political strategy.

"How?"

"When the American people love you, politicians don't have much choice. What do Americans love? An—I apologize for my bluntness—attractive woman with a traumatic story and a family to save? If the American people hear your story, they're going to side with you. You'll have the moral high ground," Jay says.

Elizabeth feels sick. She doesn't want to talk about this, and she definitely doesn't want to be a part of it. But she understands it. She has known all along that going public was the ultimate way to do this. She has not wanted to, and she still does not.

"That's the plan?" Elizabeth asks. She needs clarification. She needs to hear it again.

"That's the plan," Jay affirms, "We leak your story. At the same time, we begin working in Congress and whipping votes,"

"Being public also protects your family," Mike adds.

Elizabeth nods, "He can't kill them when there are too many eyes on him. It'd be too suspicious."

"Exactly," Jay agrees.

Elizabeth takes a deep breath. The idea of being a media spectacle is almost too much. But her children are still in danger, and she will do anything to get them back to safety.