LONG CHAPTER HERE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

When the realization hit Elizabeth, she could feel the world crumbling around her. She felt her knees weaken, and she fell against the counter behind her, She would've hit the ground had Henry not grabbed her arm and held her up.

She couldn't breathe. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel the tunnel vision starting as the room faded away.

Throughout the last few hours, she'd been worried. As any parent would have been. She'd been fearful of what Isabel was telling them - having just found out days before that Emma had taken such a self destructive road. Will's conversation with both of them had brought Emma's situation into crisis mode.

And when Izzie called, they'd both jumped into action. The trip on Marine One had been a whirlwind, as all she'd wanted to do was make sure Emma was alright.

But throughout the whole ordeal, the waiting to see if Emma would come to the farmhouse, the communication with Izzie, the entire time, Elizabeth had been able to keep the finality of the situation from being a reality in her mind. She'd thought that they'd maybe read the situation wrong - Will had told them about how unpredictable someone in the midst of addiction could be.

But as she looked at a map, following along with Isabel's instructions of where the ride was going, she'd seen the road - once she'd realized.

She knew it was real.

"Henry…" She whispered, "She's… it's…"

The strong arms helped pull her to her feet, hands wrapped around her shoulders. And she heard his voice - insistent. Strong. Pulling her from the tunnel that seemed to swallow her.

"Elizabeth," She heard her name, and her eyes started focusing on the face in front of her. She could see his lips moving as he again said her name. "Elizabeth."

He said her name so surely. And her eyes found his. And she stared deep into them, eyes that knew who she was more than she knew herself. And she slowly allowed herself to breathe again as she laid her head against his chest, grasping onto whatever form of certainly that he had right now. Her fingers clung to his shirt, wanting to hold on and never let go - it was the only thing keeping her from the panic pulling at every fiber of her being.

And she took a few deep breaths. Pushing her fear and terror down with each inhale.

Once she could breathe on her own, she knew.

"We have to go." She said, telling herself more than telling Henry.

And she kept telling herself to breathe the entire way to the cemetery. The presidential detail was limited, as the night quietly overtook the sleepy rural landscape.

She listened as Henry kept abreast of the situation with Isabel, who was both communicating with them and the detail. She listened as Isabel described pulling into the cemetery. She heard the driver tell Henry they were about six minutes away from the destination.

She could hear it all. All while she was worlds away from them. Years ago, when she thought she'd never see her daughter again.

Her knees dug into the cold ground, and she didn't know how long she'd been kneeling there. Time refused to move but also flew by. She couldn't stop staring at the words. She couldn't figure out how words etched into stone held more of her daughter than the casket below did. How the movement of each letter, the ups and dows, the curls, the shapes - how that name spelled out was the only thing of her daughter's that was here.

She imagined the other gravestones - they were describing the names and dates of people that were laid to rest there. Their bodies were there, and the headstone simply bore an explanation of the person contained underneath. And that other mothers came and grieved and maybe even talked to their lost children. The headstone was a marker of something more meaningful - that they were visiting someone they'd loved and cherished.

And Elizabeth choked on tears as she realized she just came for the stone. The cold, dark stone that bore her daughter's name - that was all she was coming to see. Nothing was underneath that stone. The ground was empty. And hollow.

Yet, here, Elizabeth sat, her eyes staring and tracing every letter in her daughter's name - that was all that was here for Elizabeth. And she dug her fingernails into the ground, reveling in the way each gritty piece of dirt embedded into her skin. There was nothing here for her. Her heart was as empty as the grave was.

She startled out of the memory as Henry slipped his hand into her clenched fist. When she looked over at him, as their eyes met, she saw he knew where her mind had been. She hadn't been back to this place since Emma had been rescued. As the vehicle turned slowly into the dark place, Elizabeth squeezed Henry's hand, trying to draw strength from him.

As if he knew she had spaced out, he repeated, "Isabel said Em's just sitting at the plot."

Elizabeth nodded, sitting up a bit more in her seat. She couldn't go down the road of what ifs. She needed to stay focused .

"Isabel said she's watching, but wanted to wait until we got there unless something else happened."

Looking at her watch, Elizabeth realized that they were only 5 minutes behind Isabel and Emma. The decision to go to the farmhouse had been the right one.

"Matt?" Elizabeth said to the detail driver, "Pull off here and cut the headlights." She instructed. "Henry and I will go from here."

And of course, as Elizabeth had expected, Matt shook his head, "Ma'am, I can't do that. It's against protocol." As the vehicle slowed to a stop, he said, "You can't go alone. And we need the lights to see. This area has not been cleared."

"Fine." She caved. But then said, "You can come, but just, I don't want the lights to put her on edge anymore…" She could see it hadn't moved him. But she whispered, "Matt, please."

Her agent took a deep breath. He was such a stickler for protocol, which is part of what made him so good at his job. But something about her plea must have moved him just a bit. Because as he looked into the rearview mirror as he radioed to the rest of the team, "Lights off. We're going in on foot."

Elizabeth mouthed a quick thank you to him, and then reached for the door. As she stepped out onto the soft ground, she was thankful she'd taken Henry's advice to change from her suit and heels into an oversized sweatshirt, jeans, and most importantly, the ratty old pair of tennis shoes she'd had laying around the farmhouse.

Her eyes started to adjust to the darkness around her. As she stepped onto the gravel path, she began to pick up the speed, jogging a little ways until she could see something up ahead. The light from the moon reflected two cars ahead. Her eyes kept scanning the area around the vehicles, and she saw Isabel leaning against the hood of her car, looking straight ahead intently. When she approached the car, she just quietly asked, "Where…" Isabel gestured ahead and Elizabeth kept moving, trying to ignore the headstones lining the way.

With each step, she tried to push the fear down. Tried to forget all the times she'd been here alone. Tried to keep from thinking about what could happen. Tried to calm her nerves. When all she could do was look.

And as she approached the spot, she saw.

The gravestone was gone. After Emma had returned home, Henry had made sure they'd taken the marker down. So the plot was just a patch of grass now, as if the ground had tried to start over. And in the middle of the grass, Elizabeth saw a figure, kneeling. Hands folded in her lap. And when Elizabeth slowed to a walk, she could hear the sounds of crying.

All she wanted to do was walk over and wrap her daughter in her arms. Pull her close. Make her know she wasn't alone. Not wanting to scare Emma, she quietly said, "Emma…"

Emma's shoulder's jumped just a bit, as if startled. But as Elizabeth took just a few steps between, Emma choked out, "Go away."

"I'm just here to talk." She said, trying to keep her voice calm and measured. Trying to sound as non threatening as she could, Elizabeth added, "What's going on?" She took a few more steps and squatted down behind Emma, trying to get down to her level as much as possible.

Emma, with her back to Elizabeth, wiped her face with the back of her hand and sarcastically said, "Oh, nothing much. Just about to kill myself, that's all."

Elizabeth's heart dropped into her stomach. Isabel hadn't read the signs wrong. And the sarcastic way that her daughter spoke about it showed how much she'd dwelt on the issue. Elizabeth, desperate to connect Emma with reality, she reached out and set her hand on Emma's shoulder. "Well, how about we go back to the house and talk…"

Emma twisted her shoulder to get away from Elizabeth's touch, turning her face towards Elizabeth's for the first time. In the limited light, Elizabeth could see Emma's eyes narrowed as she snarled out, "Go. Away."

Eyes sunk in, lips trembling, cheeks wet with tears.

If this had been any other time, Elizabeth had conditioned herself to pull away from Emma. That had been what she needed for a long time. The fights they'd had where Emma screamed at her to go away, to leave her alone. And that had been the agreement for much of their adult lives.

But this was different. And instead of retreating, Elizabeth stared past the anger in her daughter's eyes. This was the time to stand her ground. And without emotion, Elizabeth blankly said, "I'm not leaving you this time."

Elizabeth watched her daughter's nose flare, anger spewing forth as Emma hissed, "I said get the fuck away from me!"

Elizabeth didn't have time brace as Emma's backhand whipped through the air, slapping Elizabeth's cheek. The impact knocked her off balance from where she was squatting next to Emma. And she fell to her knees, catching herself with her free hand. Her cheek stung as she closed her eyes, trying to get her bearings.

"Madam President" She heard Matt call out. The footsteps of agents started towards here.

And even before she could register how horribly her face hurt, she called out, "Matt, it's fine. Don't." She knew just how quickly they could mobilize. But that's not what she needed right now.

She moved her jaw back and forth. And turning back to Emma, she said, "I'm still not leaving."

There was no way she was leaving her daughter. She knew it deep down inside. And Emma had now turned her head to look away from Elizabeth sitting down behind her.

Elizabeth wanted Emma to know why. "There are so many things I regret." Her daughter's shoulders tensed, but Elizabeth kept going. "I regret not putting a detail with my twelve year old child. I regret not listening to what you needed and wanted when you came back from Iran." All the guilt she felt when she closed her eyes at night came to the surface. "I regret not telling you about Conrad. I regret that I didn't let you tell me who you were as a person - I didn't listen. I just did what I thought would keep you safe, but that wasn't what you needed." She took a breath. "I regret every day not stopping you from walking out of my office. I should've come after you. I should've…" Elizabeth bit her bottom lip, willing the tears to stay away. Willing her voice to stay strong. "So I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to regret this."

Emma sat like a statue. Like she hadn't heard a word of what Elizabeth had just said.

Elizabeth reached her hand out again, this time reaching around her daughter to touch her arm. "I love you, Emma. And I'm not going anywhere."

Emma again pulled away, this time turning towards Elizabeth as she yelled, "Get away!"

But Elizabeth wasn't watching Emma's face. Wasn't watching for another backhand. Wasn't even processing all of her own emotions at finally having confessed into the world what she felt horrible for everyday.

No.

Because her eyes fell on the item in Emma's lap.

Gun.

Everything else faded away. The CIA training kicked in immediately. She knew that if her detail caught sight of this… she couldn't go down that thought pattern. Her next step was to meet Emma's eyes.

They were wide with panic at having revealed the weapon. And they held each other's gaze for a second.

And Elizabeth was determined to move first. The minute she broke eye contact with her daughter, she grabbed for the gun, trying to wedge her body in between Emma's arms and the gun. Her fingertips grazed the cold metal, but Emma raised her elbow up, meeting Elizabeth's cheekbone.

Elizabeth never stopped reaching for the gun, despite the force of bone against her face. But Emma was one step ahead of her, and angled her body away from the lunge. Elizabeth was left grasping at the ground.

In a split second, Emma was on her feet, leaving Elizabeth on the ground.

"Stop." Elizabeth said, getting on her hands and knees and trying to grab for Emma.

Emma just took a step back, staring down at her with an icy glare.

Looking up at her daughter, the thoughts flew through her mind in rapid succession.

She couldn't let the Security Detail know that Emma had a gun.

She needed to get the gun away from Emma.

And if she could get Henry or Isabel to…

Emma, now breathing hard, stood above her. The gun tucked on her left side, away from the detail.

Elizabeth sat back, starting to get to her feet.

"I'm done listening to you." Emma spat out. "I've tried. I've tried to do it all… I've…"

Elizabeth listened as she stood to her feet, all the while trying to triangulate how she'd have to stand to keep Emma's secret. She angled herself to be standing about 4 feet away from Emma, between Matt and the rest of the detail behind her.

Emma's voice broke as she continued, "There's nothing else for me here. You don't even know the half of it."

Never taking her eyes off the gun in her daughter, Elizabeth took a step towards her. "You'd be surprised, Em." She knew more than she wanted to, that's for sure.

"Fuck off," Emma yelled between tears, and Elizabeth watched her daughter's hands trembling at her side, "You don't know everything."

And Elizabeth let herself ramble, a skill she sometimes was glad to have. She could ramble while her brain worked through the next steps she needed to take. "Ok. I know Charlotte broke up with you. I know that you stole your uncle's prescription pad." Elizabeth realized she needed to get closer, to try and get the gun away yet again. She took a step forward, using her best acting skills to appear like she was just rattling off words and moving while she talked - like she tended to do. Needed it not to set alarm bells off. "I know that you've successfully filled eleven prescriptions for Oxy."

Emma stared at her, her lips shaking, and Elizabeth didn't have time to figure out whether it was from fear, cold, or shock at the moment.

And Elizabeth took another step forward while continuing, "But I know you tried to fill the twelfth prescription, but they started to suspect…"

"Stop." Emma yelled. "Don't come closer."

She didn't have time to stop. Elizabeth just pretended she hadn't heard. Running her hand through her hair, Elizabeth tried to look as non-threatening to her daughter. "See, I do know a bit about what's been going on." If she could get Emma focused on what she was saying and not her movements, maybe, just maybe she could get closer. "Is there anything I'm missing?" She said, allowing the sarcasm to come out. Emma was not one to shy away from a verbal sparring match with her mother.

"I said." Emma hissed. "Stop."

Elizabeth put her hands up in mock surrender. "Fine. Then let's talk." Diffuse the situation. Get her talking. Then she could get closer. Her heart was pounding through her ears, but she continued. "You know this isn't the answer, Em."

"How do you know what I know?" Emma said. "I might not be as cold and callous as you are."

Elizabeth really didn't care what came out in the conversation. "How am I cold?" She asked, then she pointed her finger at Emma, using the movement to inch forward without being noticed. "You tell me, how your mother, who loves you and wants the best for you is cold?"

But Emma didn't answer her question. Emma just stared int Elizabeth's eyes, and in a calm voice, said, "You know I'm going to die here, right?"

And now Elizabeth heard Isabel's voice from a few feet behind her. "No, Emma, that's not the answer."

Emma's sarcastic laugh chilled Elizabeth's blood. "Then what is the answer?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, but Emma interrupted, "I'm a failure. What comes next? What's next for the broken, messed up drug addicted daughter of the President?"

While Emma talked, Elizabeth took another step forward, but Emma noticed. And Emma's tone lowered. And, with words as cold as ice, Emma said, "And I won't even have to do it."

Elizabeth shook her head, and the panic now had reached the surface. And the panic was evident as she whispered, "No, Emma. Don't do it."

As they locked eyes, Elizabeth's world narrowed as Emma silently turned.

And with that, she heard the agents behind her yell, "Gun!"

And "Drop the gun."

"Drop it."

Elizabeth was three feet away from Emma now. But she still held up her hands and said, "Matt, don't shoot." She was waiting.

In a tone only Elizabeth was close enough to hear, Emma whispered. "All I have to do is point this at you…"

Elizabeth tried to calculate who would shoot first. Which agent behind her. Who would go first. That was the direction she had to jump.

Then she knew the answer. She knew the move.

And as fast as she could, she turned around to face the guns pointed at her daughter. With her hands still in the air, Elizabeth took a step backwards, towards Emma. Trying to close the gap, "Don't shoot. If you shoot her, you'll shoot me."

Another step backwards.

Agents still yelling.

Another step as she said, "It's too dangerous. I will jump in front of that bullet."

One more step back. If she could just keep them distracted. Keep in front of them. Not give them a clear shot.

And she felt the icy metal against the back of her head.

Nothing else mattered.

"Emma. Listen. Please." She heard Isabel yell out.

But everything dropped out of focus the minute the cold moved from her head. If it moved from her head, that meant that Emma had turned the gun on…

As Elizabeth turned needing to see her daughter, needing to stop it, the deafening sound of a gunshot knocked her to the ground.

There was something growing. Something that had never left her - not through the time she thought her daughter was dead - not through the time she was worried about her daughter readjusting to society - not through even the horrific separation that had come multiple times throughout the last few years - not through the past months, where she'd tried to tell herself that she was doing what was best for her daughter.

It had never left.

The fear of losing her daughter.