Washington DC – October 2014
Elizabeth's head tilts as she looks at the name emblazoned on the gold nameplate on the closed door to the outer office: Nadine Toliver, Representative of New York's Ninth Congressional District; Speaker of the United States House of Representatives. Her right thumb taps over her other fingers in a tight, fast rhythm—a habit she picked up at George's apartment based on a physical therapy exercise. She's ready to fall into her feelings, but she can't. Her internal struggle is palpable, a battle between her emotions and her resolve. She's nowhere near close to being able to fall apart—she held herself together for longer than a few weeks in Iraq. She can do it again. She wonders for a brief moment what Dr. Sherman, her trusted therapist, would think about that.
She takes a deep breath, trying to keep her heart from racing. She can't tell if it's a long-overdue panic attack or the overwhelming mix of excitement, anticipation, and nervousness that's making her feel this way. She fights to keep her emotions in check and maintain the facade of composure.
"She's a known hardass, right?" She mumbles to Mike, trying to ease some of her tension.
"It's a hard-won reputation," Mike nods firmly, "But you'll be fine." His words, filled with confidence, wash over Elizabeth, soothing her nerves like a warm blanket on a cold night. Or maybe the warm blanket is Henry's presence, rejoining their small group after his phone call to check on the kids.
The door swings open to reveal a tall, well-dressed man—too well-dressed for a staffer. His hair seems to be a production, seemingly perfectly pomaded and combed into place. His expensive three-piece suit is perfectly tailored and accompanied by accessories that ooze subtle wealth and sophistication, from his designer watch to his silk pocket square.
"Congressman Hirst, Agent McCord, I'm Blake Moran, Speaker Toliver's Chief of Staff. You and your guests can follow me." His smile, though practiced, is warm and inviting. His extended hand is a gesture of welcome, and his firm and quick handshake is a sign of respect.
Blake's stride is fast, his gait wide, "There is fresh coffee, water, and pastries here in the conference room. Speaker Toliver should be joining us momentarily,"
Elizabeth takes a seat at the table, noticing Henry pouring two cups of coffee. She finds the routine he's falling into of doing small things to take care of her intimidating. There was a time she lived for them. Those little things made her feel loved and secure, and now, they feel like an intrusion. Their history is vast and deep, filled with a richness she still craves. She's not sure how to respond to his kindness without hurting him. The thought makes her heartache and her stomach clench. She's so tired. She's tired of the fight, tired of the struggle, tired of the pain, and most of all, tired of the uncertainty that looms over their foreseeable future like a dark cloud.
"Thank you," she whispers as he slides her the mug filled with the perfectly proportioned potion of coffee, milk, and sugar.
"You're welcome," he says with a soft smile. She averts her gaze before the danger of something intimate and lingering begins as it did when he woke her up this morning or before he left her apartment in LA.
"Here, try one. They're really good," He extends a bear claw toward her, offering half.
"Maybe later," she mumbles, feeling saved when the door to the conference room opens, revealing the Speaker.
For a petite woman, her presence is looming and demanding. Elizabeth notices the contractions in her style with the demure makeup, but her white shirt is unbuttoned lower than one would expect of an old-school Washington insider. Toliver is a known establishment Democrat and a member of the centrist New Democrat Coalition. She's known to be a progressive, but she's also a pragmatist. Elizabeth can't help but wonder if her image and her style are carefully constructed tools meant to serve the needs of her district or her party. Either way, her reputation precedes her.
"Congressman Hirst, you've brought me quite the challenge right before the midterms," her greeting is less than warm, but her tone is polite.
"Yes, Madam Speaker, I know. Let me introduce you to Elizabeth McCord," Mike gestures toward Elizabeth, who stands and extends her hand.
"Agent McCord, nice to meet you," Toliver's smile is warm, but her handshake is firm and efficient. "I'm very sorry to have heard of your ordeal. I do have to confess two weeks out from election day is less than ideal. Most of our 435 representatives can be called back from their campaigns—at least the ones in safe districts. Still, I do fear how quickly we'll actually be able to get the oversight committee gathered, seeing as twenty-two of the forty-seven members are in swing districts and not running unopposed this cycle." The Speaker lays out the facts bluntly as she dips a black tea bag in and out of hot water that Blake had sat in front of her so habitually; it must be part of her daily routine.
"Yes, I am aware it's an election year," Elizabeth says slowly. Playing politics is outside her skill set, and she feels out of her depth. "But what we're talking about is the current President of the United States being a war criminal. He is actively trying to eliminate me and my family. If this isn't an emergency, I don't know what is." Her voice is even, but her heart races. The last thing she wants is to appear rude.
"I'm not arguing that," the Speaker's voice is firm but kind, "But my hands are tied. The politics of your situation are as follows. We have a Republican President and Senate and a Democratic House. The President's approval rating is astronomical for a President. My party is scrambling to keep their seats and maintain the house, plus capture the Senate with the third of it up for election this year. Two weeks from now, while I will still be the Speaker until January 3, I could very well be on my way to the minority leader. While that holds its weight, it's not the speaker. The chair of the Oversight Committee will switch from blue to red, and you're dead in the water. So I agree with you, we should do this now—start it today even. But it will take some time, and there are rules. I can't just snap my fingers and have everyone here immediately. I will call an emergency session to convene the House for an immediate floor vote to approve starting the impeachment inquiry. I will call the chair of the oversight committee so they can start the impeachment inquiry process. The next step will be to convene the committee and begin the testimony and hearings, and that will be a lengthy process—possibly going past election day, but I'll see what I can do. The one thing I can promise is that I will do everything in my power not to allow this to get lost as pre-election political noise." Toliver's voice is firm and steady, with a clear message and a hint of an edge.
"Speaker, thank you. That's more than fair," Hirst smiles.
"Well, that's it for me. I'm going to convene the emergency session and begin this process," Speaker Toliver stands, her chair sliding loudly behind her, "I'll be in touch. And if there's anything else I can do, just let my staff know. Blake will show you out."
"Thank you," Elizabeth mumbles, a mix of hope and dread swirling around her. She had known that this could take weeks—months even. Months to be spent fearing for her life—her children's lives. Months to be spent hiding in a safe house with a private army surrounding her. Months to be spent closed in with the one person in the world who knows her better than anyone, who can read her better than anyone, who she has no idea how to face, talk to, or even be near. Months that are a constant reminder that he's not hers.
"Elizabeth?" Henry whispers when he notices her face go white. Her emotions can no longer be contained in the box in her head.
"I..." she tries to find her words. She's not sure what emotion is winning the internal battle raging inside her. "I'm uprooting everyone's lives. This is going to take so long..."
"You didn't uproot lives. We're here now because it's where we should be. This will transcend politics. When you testify to what happened to you when they see what you went through... It won't matter if they're red or blue or if we're two weeks out from election day. They will want the truth. You will expose the truth." His words are firm, his voice full of conviction.
"How do you have faith like that?" she whispers to him as if she forgets they are not alone in this room—as if she forgets he is not hers to love.
"Because you need me too."
His words, once sweet, are bitter and painful, and she has no idea why. She's thankful to be drawn to Jay's ringing phone and his reply of, "I'll ask Elizabeth."
"Ask me what?" She asks.
"Jessica is asking to speak with you as a condition of her testimony," Jay informs her.
Elizabeth's eyes go back to Henry, seeking his counsel or possibly his permission. He's looking at his mug of coffee with a furrowed brow, deep in thought. He finally looks up and says, "Do it. You should do it."
...X...X...X...
Russell is silent as Andrew finishes the briefing. He sits still for a moment, and his brain works overtime to process all the information that has just been laid before him. He doesn't know why the president has decided to trust him, but he's glad for it.
"So she's innocent," Russell states, "But now she's a liability."
"That's the just of it," Andrew confirms.
"Sir," Russell turns his attention back toward the President, "Why didn't you just kill her when she showed back up in Iraq? What is it about this woman? You kept her alive, knowing that she knew about Bolivia—knowing that she knew what you did to her. Why keep the liability alive for so long?"
"I have my reasons," the President's reply is short and clipped, leaving little room for further questioning.
"Okay, we'll talk about that later. Politically speaking, we have two issues—not letting your approval rating drop to keep allies in Congress and, of course, an impending impeachment inquiry. I still don't think at this juncture we can kill her. If she were to turn up dead, we would lose the support of the American people. This is something that needs to be handled delicately." Russell says, hoping his words don't land on deaf ears. He knows he needs to play this very carefully if he is to get Elizabeth out of this alive.
Conrad sighs, "What are you suggesting we do?"
"We need to suck the oxygen. The good news is, it's easy to do that when you're the president. We'll go to the hill and get your side out there. Let's tell the people you have nothing to hide. We get to let the House do its job and we fake transparency. We have this file that you compiled expertly. She only has her word. We can get this done and have her arrested before election day." Russell says.
Conrad stares at his chief of staff, debating whether or not to trust him. "You honestly think that's the best course of action?"
"Yes, sir. It's the best way to get this done without causing too much of a scene," Russell says.
Conrad is hesitant. "Fine, we'll do it your way. Call the motorcade."
Russell nods, picking up his phone, hoping he can piece together a plan quickly enough to save Elizabeth's life.