Walking out of the Park View Arena, Emily felt tears prick the back of her eyes and a lump forming in her throat, no longer able to contain the heartache she’d felt for the last few days. Her mother was dead. The man she’d considered a father had now sunk to new lows she never believed he was capable of reaching. She’d always admired his honesty, his values, his integrity. But watching him speak so cheerfully, the fakest of smiles plastered on his face as he wove some bullshit tale of peace, justice and the ‘American dream’, she decided she couldn’t take it anymore. Her gut had turned at his mention of her name. Once upon a time, she would have stood proudly beside him, but no longer. She refused to support him anymore. She’d lost all respect for him.
And with the grief over her mother’s death truly starting to eat her alive, Emily knew the best thing she could do right now was go home. Go anywhere. So long as she was far, far away from the White House.
The casual greetings offered by the Secret Service agents went by unacknowledged as she walked back to her car. Her mind was swimming with thoughts. She wondered whether she should have said something sooner to open Tom’s eyes and make him realise what he was doing.
Those thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an earth-shattering bang. She fell onto her knees, hands scraping along the gravel to stop herself from falling on her face. Her ears were ringing so loudly she couldn’t even hear the deafening noise of the crowd like she had been able to before. The ringing faded a little, and she could feel the urgent rate of her heart. Her palms felt sticky with what she realised must have been blood from the rough surface of the ground. Light grey dust and small rocks stuck to her coat and beneath her fingernails. She stood with some difficulty, finding her body shaking. Emily also felt a breeze on her legs, noticing two holes in her tights, both at the knees, where two grazes had arisen. Everything still seemed to echo, voices sounding distant, like she was underwater. Something also felt incredibly warm.
Turning around, she gasped at the sight of the arena, or what was left of it, cast in a blazing inferno. Emily could still make out the dark smoke rising from the building, even against the night sky, obscuring all the stars even the city lights hadn’t been able to hide. She coughed helplessly, the smell so pungent, she would think she was at the epicentre of it all. Her mind flashed back to the night the Capitol Building exploded. The same ominous sea of oranges and yellow flames, so stark against the darkness of night. The same feeling of queasiness in every part of her body. Shadows suddenly obstructed her view. Before she could even open her mouth, a hand was grabbing her arm, dragging her further away from the arena.
“Ms. Rhodes, we need to leave immediately.” The voice said sternly. Looking up, she watched the Secret Service agent speak into his comm device.
“What?-”
The agent pulled her away from her car and towards one of the Cadillacs used in the president’s motorcade. Specifically, the one she had sat in with the president and Aaron on numerous occasions. Except neither of them were anywhere to be seen, making the back seat feel awfully spacious. Two agents sat in the front, constantly looking back at her and then between themselves, muttering things into their comms. Again, she tried to speak, but they hushed her.
“What’s going on?” She cleared her throat, trying to harden her voice. “Where are you taking me?”
“Back to the White House, Ms. Rhodes.”
The car was speeding so fast it was making her head spin. She could hear sirens around her and see flashes of blue and red whiz past the window, some heading in the opposite direction, some alongside her. Before she knew it, they were back at the White House. Neither agent went to move as the engine died down, one of them still listening to their comm, the other watching him intently.
“Copy that.” He affirmed.
Turning to her, there was a grave look in his eyes.
“What is going on?” Emily repeated.
“Phoenix is down. Coast is down.”
She gulped. Did she hear that right? Tom and Aaron were dead?
“Most of Kirkman’s cabinet is likely dead or otherwise incapacitated. Which means being Chief of Staff, you are the only eligible person right now to lead this country.”
Her eyes widened. “B-But I resigned! I can’t be the president, this is insane-”
He shook his head. “Ms. Rhodes, you need to be sworn in. Now.”
They rushed her down the hallway, the chatters of the skeleton staff who’d remained at the White House so loud and overwhelming. People already had their phones out, probably eager to start spamming news outlets with photos of the vulnerable and slightly dishevelled new president of the United States. After all, this was a chilling repeat of Tom Kirkman’s swearing-in. The press would have a fucking field day, comparing her to him, making note of the fact that if it wasn’t for the Capitol being bombed all those years ago, she never would have even had a shot at being White House Chief of Staff. They’d dig up the news of her mother’s death, and not just that, the controversial nature of it too. Hell, she was going to be the first female president of the United States; that alone was enough pressure.
Before she knew it, her trembling hand was splayed across the front of a Bible, the other rising slowly. The woman in front of her was the same woman who had sworn Tom in. She smiled, clearly enunciating the words of the oath for Emily to repeat.
“I, Emily Rhodes, do solemnly swear,”
She was surprised that her voice remained even as she started to speak.
“that I will faithfully execute the office of president of the United States,”
There was no going back now.
“and will to the best of my Ability,”
No running away.
“preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
No pinching herself to wake up from what she sorely wished but now knew for sure was not some farfetched dream.
“So help me God.”
Emily gulped, the rapid thump of her heart still louder than the voices around her. It took a few seconds for her to respond to one of the Secret Service agents calling her Madam President. She’d told any senators running after her to leave her until she felt ready. At least that was one perk of being in charge of the country. By the time she made it to the Oval Office, things felt somewhat calmer, what with most of the staff lingering in the hallway and being directed to go back to work, the soundproof nature of the walls providing some semblance of peace. That was until she felt the insistent vibration of her phone in her coat pocket. As the lock screen flashed, she saw several missed calls from various people. So many, in fact, she had to scroll down to read the entire list of callers.
One of the Secret Service agents stuck his head through the door before she could decide who to call back.
"Yes?"
“Madam President, I have some… somewhat fortunate news.”
Her eyebrows lifted a little. Somehow, she didn’t believe ‘fortunate’ meant they’d found somebody else to do this. Still, good news was good news. “Fortunate?”
“Penny’s alive. So is Sasha, but she’s in critical condition. They’re not as sure she’ll make it, but they're doing everything they can.”
She nodded before thinking about the last time she’d seen them, both smiling proudly on stage beside Tom. Emily had grown fond of Penny and Leo, having watched them both grow up. Leo, as far as she knew, was doing well at college. Penny, too, was slowly entering adolescence but was still so young. Too young to deal with any of this. She shuddered to think they were both orphans now. They didn’t deserve that. They shouldn’t have been dragged into this mess. Alex shouldn’t have been either.
“How? Weren’t they only a few feet away from Tom?”
He grimaced. “It appears Sasha had shielded Penny. Judging by how they fell, Tom went for Penny just after Sasha did, so he took most of the damage.”
Another detail came to mind.
“Who will take custody of her?”
“We’ll have to take a look at Kirkman’s will. I’m assuming either his brother or Sasha.”
Emily hummed in assent.
Her phone buzzed again. The caller ID displayed Kendra’s name. Since they’d both left the White House, they’d grown much closer. Kendra had called only recently, asking if she could be one of the bridesmaids for her and Trey’s wedding. Emily braced herself for having to break the news. Although given the time and knowing Kendra, Emily had a feeling she already knew.
“Hey.”
“Emily, are you okay? I was watching the ceremony, but then everything cut out. I’ve been trying your number, Tom’s, Seth’s, Aaron’s-”
She cleared her throat, tears welling in her eyes again. Bringing herself to actually say it brought a whole new wave of grief to the surface. “The arena exploded. A minute or so after I left to go home.”
“Wait… oh God, don’t tell me the reason I haven’t been able to get through to anyone is-”
“Tom’s dead. So is Aaron." She said, not even recognising the flatness in her voice. "I’m assuming Seth and most of the others are too.”
Through the speaker, she heard Kendra let out a breath. “Oh my God… how am I going to tell Trey?”
“But Penny’s alive. Possibly Tom’s sister-in-law as well.”
“W-Wait. Who’s acting as president then?”
Emily found it in herself to let out a small laugh of disbelief. “Me.”
“What?”
“I… I just got sworn in. I have to make an address soon, but… yeah… I’m the… president now.” It sounded like a deluded fantasy. She didn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. She didn’t think she ever would.
There was a muffled sound of sheets ruffling. “We’re… we’re coming down there.”
“Kendra, you don’t have to-”
“N-No. I need to look through Tom’s will for Penny’s sake. I doubt that’s taking utmost priority right now. And besides, I want to make sure you don’t get into any legal trouble. Being in the position you’re in right now could be dangerous.”
She laughed derisively. “Yeah. You got that right.”
“Trey and I will be on our way.”
“Thank you,” Emily said gratefully before hanging up the phone
Now, the silence around her in the Oval Office meant something different.
She needed to build up a cabinet. And fast.
Because, right now, the person, or people, who’d wiped out Tom Kirkman’s party almost in its entirety were still out there.
Which meant she had to surround herself with those she could trust.
Lyor was on his way. He’d apparently heard the news through one of his gaming chat rooms. Mike was on long service leave, but she’d convinced him to come back. She’d even managed to look up Andrea Frost’s number and get her to come down. Telling her had been hard. While Emily was somewhat sure nothing had ever come of it, there had been a very meaningful connection between Tom and Andrea. That connection was what was making Emily place her trust in Andrea right now. She needed people who knew and understood and appreciated the honest Tom Kirkman. The old Tom Kirkman. The real Tom Kirkman.
Several hours had passed. Emily looked through her missed calls and noticed one person who, surprisingly, hadn’t called yet. While she and Isabel had really only just made amends, given that she had left roughly the same time as her, she was surprised she hadn’t made any attempt to call back. And given that Aaron wasn’t exactly just a ‘colleague’ to her, she would certainly want to know what had happened. As though on cue, Isabel’s caller ID flashed on the screen. She barely greeted her before Isabel’s voice sounded through the phone loud and frantic.
“Yeah, what the fuck is going on?” Her breaths sounded shaky. “I-I wasn’t feeling well. I went to sleep. I wake up, and my phone’s blowing up. My parents are calling because they thought I was dead. I can’t get through to Aaron, and I cannot believe that he’s still the first person I thought to call-”
“There was an explosion…” Emily said calmly. “They’re quite sure nearly everybody in there died. Tom and… Aaron included.”
Isabel choked back a sob. “What?”
“I-I’m sorry, Isabel.”
She took a few deep breaths, moving away from the phone. If Emily wasn’t mistaken, she could hear slightly garbled screams and curses in the background. “Wait. You were there. How are you okay?”
“I-I left. Not long after you.”
“Where are you now?”
“The White House.”
Wiping under her eyes, Isabel agreed. “Who’s… who’s going to be acting president then? If Tom and Aaron are both out?”
Emily let out a breath, wondering if this would become any easier to tell people. “I am. I’m guessing you haven’t checked the news yet.”
“This is insane.” She muttered. “This is insane.”
“I know… I know…” Emily said tiredly. “I think you should get down here too. For your safety. Nobody knows who did it yet. And truth be told, I need people I can depend on right now.”
“I-I’ll be there. Just give me a second to get my shit together, and I’ll be there. You need all the help you can get.”
“Thank you.”
One of the Secret Service agents stuck her head through the door as she hung up the phone. “Madam President, there are issues that can’t wait. Please, come with me.”
She expected as much. She’d probably have to make a speech soon. Address the nation. Her nation, now. Her mind instinctively told her to go ask Seth. He was better with words than she could ever be. But, of course, that wasn’t going to be possible. Her clothes smelt faintly of smoke. Sweat, too, from the anxiety of the past hour or so. She stifled a yawn, realising just how exhausted her body was, yet the adrenaline still hadn’t quite worn off. Still, looking at the time, a part of her brain desperately wanted to be in bed, pretending this was all some feverish nightmare.
Sighing, the agent guided her down the hall, and as she approached the boardroom, she heard a cacophony of voices growing louder and louder. When the doors opened, the volume amplified tenfold. Nobody seemed to notice her enter, even as the Secret Service agent cleared her throat loudly.
“E-Enough!” Emily shouted.
As the various senators and workers turned to face her, they fell quiet, taking their seats.
“I have to address the country as soon as possible.” Somehow, she found it in herself to raise her voice and be assertive. “So I need someone to write me a speech. I need someone to get me clean clothes. I want an updated list of everybody confirmed dead and those still missing from the FBI. Until that speech happens, I don’t want to hear about anything else. Is that clear?”
They nodded, dispersing themselves and volunteering for the various necessary tasks.
“Uh, Madam President?”
She turned to face a man in an FBI jacket. “I’m one of the liaisons for the FBI. I can show you what we have so far.”
He pulled out a tablet, flicking through various photos of the debris and the inside of the arena. Emily could vaguely make out where the stage had been. There was a lot of rubble. A lot of blood, too. It was a miracle Penny and Sasha had survived. But these images only confirmed to her that the likelihood of any other survivor was slim.
“Has… has Seth Wright’s status been confirmed?”
There were so many people she wanted to ask about, but he was the first one on her mind.
The agent hummed, switching tabs rapidly and scrolling down. He bit his lip.
“I’m sorry, Madam President, he’s been confirmed dead.”
Her breath got caught in her throat. Suddenly, she felt desperate to know about the others. Seth’s daughter. Mars. Dontae. Countless other agents and staff members she’d worked with over the years. Emily let a small amount of hope rise within her, thinking surely that someone was hanging on and had gotten lucky. But that hope faded after the first couple of ‘Deceased’s. Even with all the noise, the White House still felt so empty. She felt isolated, helpless, even. The few people she trusted were still on their way. Otherwise, the people left were merely acquaintances, colleagues, people she knew of, but hadn't really spoken to before. They hypothesised that Penny and Sasha’s position on stage had protected them, something about where the bomb was, which, yes, they were investigating the origin of as they spoke. But the details got lost on her. The feeling of discomfort suddenly turned violent, and she promptly excused herself.
Pacing quickly down the hallway, it was somewhat of a miracle she made it to the bathroom, tasting the remnants of the glass of wine she’d had several hours ago. She sniffled, tears sliding down her face and into the toilet bowl. Placing a hand over her mouth, she muffled the sob that left her throat. But Emily quickly realised she wasn’t the only one in tears, hearing similar quiet cries from the stall next to her. And, as Emily continued to listen, a similar loss of stomach contents. She wondered who it could be.
Eventually, she opened the stall door and walked out to the sink, noticing her mascara was smudged beyond belief. She was surprised people had even taken her seriously when she looked like this. Another door creaked open, and she met the eyes of a rather pale Isabel. For a minute, Emily recalled the nature of the bioweapon they supposedly had just found and destroyed not too long ago. Dear God, that was not a disaster they could afford to deal with now.
“Why the hell do they call it ‘morning’ sickness if it’s going to happen before the sun even rises?” Isabel muttered.
Or not.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, her voice croaky.
"With... Aaron's?" Emily asked warily, and Isabel nodded.
“Went to call the bastard because I still felt like he had to know, and he had to go and die on me.”
“I’m… I’m so sorry.” If anybody was dealing with Aaron’s death the hardest, it was likely her, the rawness of the emotions of their break-up being magnified by the shock and grief of losing him for good. And pregnancy hormones surely wouldn't help with that.
Isabel shrugged. “I don’t exactly know what I’m supposed to do about it. It didn't even hit me until I started throwing up. I didn’t really want a baby right now. Someday, yes, but not now. At the same time… it’s all I have left of him now. Is that fucked up? Keeping a baby because I’m not over my ex?”
“This whole thing is fucked up. Regardless of what you do, no one should judge you for the choice you make.” She said earnestly.
“Thanks.” She said quietly. “How are you holding up?”
Emily snorted. “It doesn’t even feel real. I keep thinking Tom’s going to show up. Like I’m just filling in for him or something, but…”
She moved closer, Isabel’s teary eyes meeting hers.
“Look, Emily…” Isabel sighed. “I know we haven’t always gotten along the best, but... I want to help you in any way I can. You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone, especially since you’re already grieving over your mom. And despite all of the tragedy that has taken place… you are in a position where you can do some real good. For God’s sake, you’re the first female president of the United States. It’s not going to be easy. But you’ll be an inspiration for a lot of people. And I support that. I support you.”
"I need people I can trust right now. And I trust you." She affirmed. "So I appreciate that a lot."
"Let's start by fixing your makeup." Isabel offered with a smile, placing a large bag on the counter.
Maybe she wasn’t so alone after all.
Emily brushed off the lapels of the blazer she’d borrowed from Isabel. They hadn't exactly found any clothing stores open right now. Emily ran her eyes over the transcript in her hand, noting the few amendments she’d made in the short time she’d had to edit the speech. It had been about three hours since the explosion. It was time to address the country. The country she was now supposed to lead out of this mess. She remembered watching Tom give his speech from the Oval Office desk when he was in this position. How nervous he’d been, cautious to read every word on the teleprompter properly, desperate to try and sound confident as he spoke.
He’d been so honest, so solemn. It still hurt to think of how far he’d fallen, how, in only a couple of years, he’d regressed to the same level of underhandedness as his fellow politicians. The ones he’d sworn for so long that he’d never become like. The ones he’d openly shamed, the whole motivation and ethos behind his decision to stand as an independent. When she’d confronted him that last time, he’d seemed to insist it was a matter of circumstance, that he didn’t have a choice. Emily realised that now being in the very position he’d been in would put all that to the test.
Part of her felt determined to prove him wrong, to prove that she could and would do this, but do it right. She’d stick to her principles, she wouldn’t sell out, and she wouldn’t let anybody try and manipulate her into being a puppet for something she didn’t believe in. But at the same time, she was scared. She had experience with the inner workings of the White House, yes. She had intimate knowledge of how it all worked. But still, she wondered if she was going to be taken advantage of. Somebody would eventually see through the mask she was desperately trying to put up and realise just how vulnerable she was, in a state of unbearable grief that hadn’t quite hit yet. Emily realised she was an easy target. It wouldn’t take long for someone to make her look like a fool. She hadn’t checked the news on her phone since she’d gotten here, but it wouldn’t surprise her if details of her mother’s death were already plastered everywhere as some indication of her political views and what she considered ethical.
Emily took a deep breath now, sitting down. Briefly, she met Isabel’s eyes again. Lyor stood not too far from her, his eyes wide as though still trying to process it all. She couldn’t blame him. Kendra and Trey were apparently at the hospital with Penny now. Sasha was still in surgery, but she supposed no news was good news. Andrea was still trying to get a flight from San Francisco. At least that part of her mind could calm down, knowing a few things were sorted.
The camera operator counted down with his fingers, the almost unnoticeable chatter of the Oval Office falling silent as the teleprompter started to scroll. Emily looked directly into the camera, digging her nails into her palms discreetly as her hands were clasped tightly on the desk. She had to look strong. She had to look capable. She had to look like she could do this.
“My fellow Americans…”
She cleared her throat again.
“Tonight, a horrific tragedy came upon our country. A tragedy that killed President Tom Kirkman and Vice President Aaron Shore, among others. As a result, I, Emily Rhodes, former Chief of Staff to Tom Kirkman, am now the acting president of the United States. Before he became more commonly known to you all as our president, I worked under Tom Kirkman when he was the secretary of Housing and Urban Development.”
If only she could go back to when things were simple. When her mother wasn’t battling a horrific disease. When she felt able and in a good position to do her job, rather than riddled with imposter syndrome like she was now. When Tom and his family were safe and happy.
“He was a great man. And he will be dearly missed by the American people. I understand now that many of you are likely afraid. After all, there is something to be said about the fact that I have been sworn in under very much the same circumstances as Tom Kirkman. The bombing at the Capitol that had killed President Richmond and most of his cabinet led to his presidency, as the bombing of the Park View arena that killed Tom Kirkman and most of his cabinet has now led to mine. But now is not the time to be fearful. Now is not the time to worry about the integrity of this nation because I can assure you, with my years of experience, I can and will lead this nation out of the darkness, just as Tom promised you.”
It still felt like a lie. The FBI had no leads so far on the perpetrator. There was no hope that solving this mystery would happen sooner rather than later. If it was some foreign enemy, the fear of war would be struck into the hearts of the American people. If it was a domestic group, or God forbid, people from either Tom’s independent, the Democratic, or the Republican party, how in the world was she going to convince people to have faith in the government? As Emily pondered this, she was surprised just how much she cared and was already considering the American people as those she owed, those she had a duty to serve.
The rest of the speech read well, and Emily found herself believing the words more and more. No matter what she thought, she had to give the people hope, tangible belief that the country would recover again, just as it had four years ago.
“You did good, Em,” Lyor said. They’d managed to sneak away to one of the conference rooms, fudging some story that she was briefing him as a returning staff member.
She shrugged. “Reading from a script is the easy part. Following through is a little different.”
“Still… you showed your face. You told the American people to have faith, and they will.”
Emily scoffed quietly.
“Hey. I’d like to see one of those asshole journalists try to pull it together in your position.”
“I guess…” She muttered. “Still... I’m terrified. I can’t afford to make any mistakes here. And I refuse to let myself stoop to new lows. I can’t let myself turn into a lying scumbag.”
She’d confided in him somewhat about Tom’s change of character. No confidential details, of course, but he was a good friend, one she trusted to believe her and understand.
“You’re not going to. You’re so aware of that, you can’t possibly-”
“So was Tom,” Emily reminded him. “I remember Tom telling me the same thing, that he would never corrupt himself. And look what happened.”
“Well, at the end of the day… if ghosts or Heaven or whatever is real - I doubt it - but anyway, the point is, I don’t think Tom would want anybody else standing here in his place right now more than you. I think he’d be proud you’re trying to do it right.”
Emily smiled a little, feeling better than she had before.
If she had the right people on her team, she couldn’t go wrong, right?
Because, at the end of the day, this was her job now.
And she’d been damned if she didn't do it the way she wanted to.
Technically, she had the President’s residence to herself now. Penny was still in the hospital, and, thankfully, Sasha had made a full recovery, so she wasn’t alone. Trey and Kendra had gone to visit them. Tom’s will stated that Penny would be in joint custody of Trey and Sasha, much to Emily’s relief. Leo had been picked from college by the Secret Service and taken to Washington. At least they were both safe and sound. As for her, she'd been permitted to get some rest, but she didn't think that was going to happen. How could she sleep when she knew that, at any moment, a senator or officer or agent could decide to inform her of something critical?
When she opened the door to the bedroom, she felt a churning sensation in her gut. It didn’t feel right. She still felt like she wasn’t supposed to be there. This wasn’t her room. These weren’t her belongings. More than that, how could she sleep in his bed just hours after his death? It felt disrespectful, and truth be told, Emily wondered whether she could ever get over that feeling of invasion. So, she wandered over to one of the guest bedrooms, taking the gym bag of her stuff with her. Mike had gone and gotten her personal effects from her house. That would help to make it feel like she was sleeping in a hotel room, although it was definitely the nicest 'hotel room' she'd ever slept in.
Although she’d cried in bursts over the last few hours, it’d been mainly out of shock and anxiety. Now, as she laid down and settled into bed, she cried with sadness, with the pain of all the losses that were now sinking in. When Emily’s eyes eventually closed and her shaking breathing settled, she found herself horrifically replaying the explosion in her mind, the chaos that had ensued. Waking with a scream, her hand came to splay across her chest. Footsteps thundered down the hall, and one of the Secret Service agents opened the door to the bedroom.
“Everything okay, Madam President?”
She nodded, speaking hoarsely. “Just a bad dream…”
The very beginnings of the sunrise were starting to peek over the horizon. Great. It wouldn’t be long before someone realised she was up and desperately bombarded her with information. The agent let her sleep for a couple more hours before, finally, the soundscape of voices around the White House became too loud to bear. She stumbled into the staff break room, an old habit creeping up on her, smelling the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. People looked at her strangely, like she was some kind of zoo animal. Some of the younger interns even rapidly stood from their desks.
“It’s fine, take a seat,” Emily said shortly. Yeah, she could use that coffee.
She then grabbed a protein bar from the vending machine and poured herself a cup before walking back into the Oval Office with a sigh.
It was going to be a long day.
—
With fatigue still shadowing her, she wasn’t surprised that despite the additional cups of coffee she drank throughout the day, by about eight in the evening, she could barely keep her eyes open. The FBI still had nothing on the bomb besides a manufacturer label on one of the parts. It didn’t exactly mean they could narrow down their potential bomber, or bombers, though.
At two in the morning, another nightmare struck, and she woke up again. At least this time, she felt a bit more refreshed from her rest. Still, Emily knew it wouldn't be easy falling back asleep. So, after tossing and turning for a while, she decided to get up for a glass of water. That wouldn’t require security detail, surely. After ducking past some night-shift staff, she made it to the kitchen. She’d never really been in here before. Come to think of it, Emily was sure there was a great deal of the White House she hadn’t explored. After all, if it wasn’t directly related to her work, she would never have had a reason to venture out further than the usual meeting rooms and offices.
Curious, Emily started down a hallway she was somewhat sure she hadn’t been down before. The lights seemed to grow dimmer, making the paintings on the wall appear more haunting, as though she were being watched. Yet there were no Secret Service agents in sight. Logically, the rooms here were most likely no different from the others, just spaces with tables, chairs, and desks for people to work in. Still, there was something eerie about this whole thing. The White House was supposed to be busy at all hours of the day, the most secure place in the country for the President to reside. But Emily believed it wouldn’t be too difficult for someone to hide around here. It didn’t help that many of Kirkman’s security team had been in the arena when it had exploded, meaning the building was far less guarded than it should be.
Eventually, she reached the end. It wasn’t bright, but she could still clearly see the landscape painting on the wall, the cornices along the walls. She squinted at the sight of a vertical ridge running from floor to ceiling. No, make that two, separated by a distance about the size of a door. Applying some pressure with her palm, the wall seemed to move. It creaked loudly, as though barely used, before stopping as it became perpendicular to the wall, revealing an empty, dark room. Furrowing her brow, she quickly looked around her - not that anybody should object to the President opening a door in the White House - but still, she felt like she wasn’t supposed to be there. Walking in, she pulled her phone from her pocket and turned the flash on.
Emily gagged, her eyes watering, her throat tightening and causing her to cough. She didn’t smell anything but still felt she couldn’t breathe. There was a soft, hissing sound emanating from something. What, exactly, she couldn’t see. With her shaking hand, she moved the phone around, finding a large metal canister set high on a shelf near the vents in the ceiling. As she neared it, faintly seeing the air bend around the object, her eyes started to sting, and her vision blurred. Attempting to take a few photos, Emily dashed out of the room, spluttering, as she restored the door to its original position. After taking a few deep breaths, she noticed the door acted as a seal. Now that it was shut, it was almost like she hadn't gone in there at all.
How long had it been there? What exactly was the gas, and how far into the White House could it drift? Was it lethal? Was she spending the last seconds of her life wondering what was about to kill her?
Whatever was in that room was obviously meant to stay hidden. And considering the last president of the United States had just been assassinated, along with his entire cabinet, Emily had to assume the same people were likely still after her. She had to keep this private. After all, it still couldn’t be said whether all of this was an inside job.
She dialled Mike’s number, and he was quick to come to where she was, albeit a little delayed by her lack of recall for how exactly she’d gotten to where she was now. It was strange. It had only been about ten minutes since she’d left the kitchen. He, too, reacted the same way once he opened the door. But, they soon realised that since neither of them seemed ill. Maybe there was something else to the nature of this gas. It wasn’t a typical gas leak. It wasn’t chlorine. It certainly wasn’t carbon monoxide, judging by the fact that they were both alive.
“We don't want to create any widespread panic. We don’t know what we’re dealing with. If it was supposed to kill us, we'd be dead by now. We should keep this secret for now.”
“I think I know someone we can call. Someone with no connection to any political parties. Someone who can be trusted.”
“Who?”
“Doctor Eli Mays.”
Mike had discreetly ushered Doctor Mays into the White House, keen to keep it between the two of them for now. He was taking samples and analysing them in his lab as they spoke. Meanwhile, she had to keep things calm and under control. Right now, she was in the bunker with various generals and members of the defence department. Andrea was there too, having proved highly useful in this department many times.
“Madam President, the public needs to be able to put their faith in you.” The general started. “Which means you need to take decisive action soon in regards to the defence of this country.”
Her brows knitted together. “What do you mean? The FBI doesn’t have anything on the arena bombing yet.”
“Yes. Which is why it’s important you assure the public about something else in the meantime.”
The general moved over to the screen, tapping at a nearby computer before displaying a map, some satellite imagery, and a few profiles. They were familiar, something she’d seen in a military debrief just a few weeks prior before the bioterrorism threat became a greater priority. There was a lot of controversy surrounding this terrorist cell, not just because of its history of attacks, weapons theft, and all-around violence, but because of its members: six highly decorated US veterans. The knowledge possessed by them made the cell incredibly powerful and elusive.
“What about them?” She asked, folding her arms.
“We have a definitive location on their base.” He flicked the screen to change the information on the projector. “More importantly, we have reason to believe they’ve acquired a large shipment of IEDs. So we need to act fast before they decide where to use them.”
Emily nodded.
“The trouble is, if the media got hold of you killing US veterans, all hell would break loose. They’d accuse you of being unpatriotic, traitorous, even. And raiding their base could be disastrous. These people are former military specialists. They would easily escape and reform somewhere else.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
“We make this a discreet operation. And make the explosion look accidental. A malfunction of the group's weapons storage.”
Her eyes widened. “Wait… you’re suggesting we lie?”
“If we do this, then the people of this country will feel safe, we can protect the economy, and minimise the impact of what’s already enough disruption and change as is.”
“I agree,” Andrea said, to Emily’s surprise. “We’re not going to be able to justify it otherwise. If you do nothing, you look weak. If you do something... then you’re killing Americans. We need to make Emily and Tom’s party look strong. Otherwise, they’ll use it against us in the elections.”
Emily wondered how she could already be thinking about politics and her reputation. Right now, all that should matter is finding the people responsible for the attack. Tom and so many other people, good people, were dead. They couldn’t just think about political image at a time like this. But at the same time… she couldn’t help but agree. Yes, they were all mourning. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t take advantage of the situation and use it as an excuse to take out a known enemy, make their defence look strong, and, more importantly, make her appear as a fierce and determined president. The media was already questioning her ability to make hard decisions, claiming she was too soft. In fact, she was quite sure one of the alternative, right-wing radio stations she despised was using the government’s lack of military action so far as the perfect justification for why women shouldn’t be leaders. Fuck that.
“How soon can we attack?”
Nobody even batted an eye as she asked this. Not even Lyor, someone she knew would want to be more logical and sure here. In fact, everybody seemed to be intrinsically agreeing with her. Was this what presidential respect was supposed to be? It still felt wrong to her, like someone should be jumping in to correct her. Emily wondered if Tom ever got used to it. In fact… his recent behaviour was perhaps an indication that he had. That something had risen within him, convincing him that anything he said or did should be taken at face value and those who questioned him were wrong.
“Within half an hour.” The general replied.
“Do it.” She nodded. “I want to be able to address the country tonight and tell them they can feel safe again.”
Emily dismissed the generals, leaving them to the planning. She walked out of the room, heading to the balcony for fresh air, finding the bunker had been awfully stuffy. The cool breeze felt nice against her skin, helping to clear her mind and make her feel calm for the first time in days. Throughout her career, she was pretty sure she’d never spent so much consecutive time in the White House. A couple of nights asleep at her desk, yes. But full-time living, breathing, and working in the White House was still taking some getting used to. So was all the authority. She’d just authorised a deceitful attack on a terrorist cell.
Or ‘accident’ rather.
The meeting replayed in her mind, word for word, and the words suddenly sounded different. Emily’s memory seemed to surprise her, feeling as though she had somehow missed half the information in the meeting or lack thereof. She racked her brain trying to recall their justification since she would need it to help the speechwriter later. Why exactly wasn’t this public knowledge?
“If the media got hold of this, all hell would break loose. They’d accuse you of being unpatriotic, traitorous, even.”
She gasped. This was to protect her reputation. Protect the party. This was being swept under the rug. This was lying straight to the American people.
“Without truth, there can be no trust. If everybody is so afraid of losing, how on Earth can anyone ever win?”
More than that, she’d agreed? This wasn’t right. This couldn’t happen. They were going to do this properly. They could and would find the people responsible. In the meantime, she could keep making public appearances and throw whatever money was necessary at the FBI. The people who died would get justice. But not like this. This was a lie. This was for nothing more than to protect her credibility. Even then, if the public eventually discovered that the attack had been no accident, that would look even worse.
She had to stop this.
Moving as fast as her legs could carry her, Emily burst into the bunker, shoving past every agent standing in her way and pushing the door open herself. She gulped upon seeing the displayed schematics and hearing what sounded like communication to the Air Force.
“Turn the planes back around.”
The general seemed to be intently engaged in his conversation.
Emily slapped her hand on the table. “Turn the planes back around.”
“What? They’re under a minute out from-”
“As President of the United States, I am ordering you to stop.” She demanded.
He obliged with a confused look on his face.
“We are not attacking this group covertly,” Emily said firmly. “We will initiate an air strike. And we will tell the public who we took out and why. We will remind them that these people are blatantly un-American and should be considered with as much disgust as any foreign terrorist group. Is that clear?”
Nobody seemed to want to question her, to her relief.
Leaving the room, she found herself struggling to breathe, feeling the shock of what had almost just happened set in. A bald-faced lie to justify an attack. An attack on her watch, her command. Solely to give the people a sense of hope so they could trust in her and keep voting for her. She was disgusted with herself for even thinking and agreeing with the general. But more than that, with everybody. It didn’t seem natural; it seemed out of character, like an out-of-body experience. The fact that she had barely remembered the conversations five minutes later was a testament to that.
Really, she couldn’t give a shit right now about whether or not people voted for her. She was quite sure one term in office would be more than enough stress. All she truly cared about was getting justice for the people they’d lost and keeping her integrity while she was at it.
So she’d be damned if she let something like this happen again.
“Doctor Mays would like to see you, Madam President,” Mike said, causing Emily to look up from her desk, immediately interested.
“Send him in.”
The doctor walked in carrying a large file and his laptop. Mike stayed in the room, standing sentry at the closed door.
“I have the results of the analysis from the sample of gas I took.” He placed his computer on the desk, turning the screen so Emily could see, not that it made much sense to her. “I was surprised you didn’t evacuate the White House at first, assuming it was some kind of biological weapon. But your instincts have certainly paid off because that’s not what this is. Not at all.”
She furrowed her brow. If it wasn’t a biological weapon, then what was it? It wasn’t in a maintenance room, so it couldn’t have been a coolant for the air-conditioning unit or something else trivial.
“I guess you could call it a… psychological weapon.”
Now, she and Mike looked even more confused. Eli chuckled.
“The gas is a mixture of chemical agents including nitrous oxide or ‘laughing gas’ like you get at the dentist. It has a suggestive quality and triggers the parts of their brain related to logic, decision making, and empathy.”
“So it affects a person's thinking?”
He nodded.
“To what extent, I cannot say. Based on someone's existing neurochemistry, this has the potential to drastically reconsider their priorities, what they consider ethical, the lines they would be willing to cross. But then some people are mentally stronger, more likely to be able to resist and stick with their beliefs.”
Her gut sank. The events of a few days ago replayed in her mind, how she’d felt almost compelled to allow the attack, how she’d been seemingly okay with the lie… until she stepped outside, away from the bunker, away from the unbearably hot air. She had to wonder how long the gas had been releasing into the vents, whether it had been affecting her for longer than she’d realised. Tom came to mind, his abnormal behaviour. Emily thought about Aaron, Seth, Mars, Lorraine, anybody and everybody in the White House. Had this been the reason for everyone acting up? Had this lowered everyone’s standards? Had this made the so-called ‘breath of fresh air’ political party with more integrity than people thought possible sink to the same lows as its competitors?
Eli noticed Emily’s grave expression, how deep in thought she was.
“Rest assured, Madam President, the effects are temporary. Still, quite potent, addictive even. It’s likely to cause typical withdrawal symptoms, such as trembling, depression, anxiety, et cetera.”
Emily recalled the time after she left the White House. Her existing depression she’d battled since she was a teenager, had returned in full ferocity. Initially, she’d put it down to watching her mother’s condition worsen, and she was still sure that had been part of it. But even while her mother’s health hadn’t been as bad, she’d been miserable. She'd desperately needed something. What exactly, she hadn’t known. Again, she’d found a rational excuse and figured it was the lack of socialising and getting out.
“Do you have any idea how long it’s been there?”
He shrugged. “The canister I took was capable of highly pressurising the gas, and it was leaking out rather slowly. That being said, the White House is not exactly a small building. I’m not able to tell just how far it spread. But judging by the schematics of the air ducts, most of it would be concentrated here in the Oval Office and the bunkers since the system is designed to direct most of the air there to compensate for the lack of windows. Chemically, though, it has strong integrity. It’s not likely to break down in the presence of other elements, and even though the canister was removed, I would dare say it’s still lingering.”
“I… I think I know just how it’s been affecting us. It’s led me, President Kirkman, and others I’m sure, to make some… questionable decisions. Not exactly questionable for typical politicians, but considering who Tom was, I have a feeling this gas has been there since he’s been in office.”
“Surely, someone topped it up, though,” Mike added. “One canister couldn’t have lasted that long.”
“How could someone have done that? More importantly, who could have done that? All janitors and maintenance people are heavily vetted, and all their equipment is inspected.”
Mike moved away from the door towards the two of them, lowering his voice. “Then, obviously, it’s someone with clearance. Someone who would have unrestricted access to the White House.”
Her eyes widened. “One of our own.”
“This is… unlike any chemical I have ever studied before,” Eli said, seriously but not without fascination. “Whoever made this was meticulous. They knew just the right balance of each component to prevent any more obvious physical side effects or even complete stupor so that others wouldn’t suspect too much.”
Emily pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head. “I can’t… I can’t believe I was so upset at Tom for something he wasn’t in control of.”
“Emily…” Mike cleared his throat, speaking sympathetically. “You don’t know for sure that that affected Tom or anybody else. For all we know, it could have been recent.”
“N-No.” She said vehemently. “I’ve been out of the White House, I’ve had time to come away from the exposure. Next thing I know, I’m back, I’m here more often than usual, and I start justifying things that I would never allow. Tom’s been in here, breathing in this gas. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Aaron, too. Even Lorraine was more ruthless than I expected when she started working here.”
“Then we need to figure out who did this before they come back to restock and find the canister missing.”
Eli typed something on his computer, zooming in on a small logo on the canister. “I started doing some research on this company, Fern Industries. I obviously couldn’t get to any secured files, and I figured you didn’t want the FBI privy to all of this.” He thought of Hannah and felt a pang in his chest. Why couldn’t she be here? “But they don’t seem to be involved in any scandals from what I can tell.”
“Fern…” Mike said. “That sounds familiar, but I can’t figure out why.”
“If it helps, they also do a lot of collaborations with a biotech company named Apex.”
“Apex?”
“What?” Emily said worriedly. “What’s wrong with Apex?”
“Aside from the fact that they’ve had numerous legal charges of possessing illicit substances, including excessive quantities of ammonia…” Mike met her eyes. “Former President Moss is a major shareholder.”
They soon realised that Moss was more than just a coincidental figure in the grand scheme of things. Being a former president, he was one of very few people not subject to scrupulous background checks upon entry to the White House. Tom had had him around as a consultant since the start of the presidency. There was no telling when he’d planted the canister the first time. Although given Tom’s behaviour had really only started to shift recently, it couldn't have been too long ago. Perhaps when he’d announced he was re-running. Maybe Moss didn’t have faith in the people to vote for him. Maybe Tom’s nobility had threatened him, and this gas was the only way to make him appear no more honest than the average candidate.
While creating a gas with suggestive qualities and dispersing it in the White House wasn’t inherently a serious crime, after all, if there was no explicit harm done, this wouldn’t be classed with the same voracity as, say, ricin, the issue was who the accusation was being directed towards. Charging a former president with any crime was a feat in and of itself. And with Tom dead, this wasn’t exactly something they could prove. The properties of the gas would have to be verified by an external source, and they would need to find evidence of Moss directly planting the canister. But after examining the CCTV footage from his visits, they didn't find anything to go on, anything that could even be probable cause for an investigation.
The only other option was getting Moss to confess. As if that was going to be any easier. This wasn’t a simple act. This had to have had extensive planning and experimentation. He surely funded the creation of this gas to make sure it did exactly what he wanted it to. And given how long those procedures usually took, Emily had to wonder whether this gas was intended only for Tom or for any political rival of Moss, merely for the sake of exposing or destroying the career of whoever was in the White House, to make him look like a great candidate for re-election. So, to make this happen, they had to let it come up in conversation to make him admit to producing the gas. The question was who, in Moss' eyes, would genuinely be interested in the gas so as not to arouse his suspicion if they talked to him about it. Emily couldn't. That would look far too obvious. It had to be someone Moss knew. Someone Moss wouldn’t bat an eye at if they suggested something ethically ambiguous, like altering a president’s brain chemistry without their consent.
Emily let out a breath as the guard standing outside the front door stepped aside to let her in.
Lorraine sneered at her, and Emily noticed the bulky, black bracelet on her ankle. Judging by the smile on her face, house arrest seemed to be treating her well.
“Well… this is a surprise. Emily Rhodes, no, sorry, President Emily Rhodes.” She said, without a hint of genuine respect.
She squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the urge in every fibre of her being to slap her then and there. Lorraine was the only one who could help pull this off. She was the only one Moss could trust. And besides, her arrest hadn’t become public knowledge on account of protecting Tom's reputation.
“Let me guess… too hard trying to do everything by the rules? You need me, the one you criticised for doing whatever I had to do to help Tom win, to help you now?”
Emily sat across from her, placing the envelope on the table.
“I need you to obtain a recorded confession of criminal activity from Cornelius Moss.”
Lorraine raised an eyebrow. “What’s in it for me?”
Her hand pushed the envelope closer to Lorraine. “Full immunity.”
“What exactly did Moss do? You must be really desperate if you're willing to let me go.”
She proceeded to explain what they’d found on the gas. To Emily’s slight annoyance, this had been one thing they knew for certain Lorraine wasn’t involved in. Lorraine had zero interest or financial investment in Apex. And besides… she’d been infiltrating Moss’ phone conversations, so she would have known if he was doing this. It meant for him to have even kept it secret from her, then this was truly a plot Moss wanted to keep buried. And to Emily’s relief, Lorraine seemed to be on board with exposing him, not just so she could get immunity but also revenge. She felt betrayed. She admired the whole idea and thought it was genius, so she was offended he hadn’t included her.
“So, you’re going to set up a meeting with him. You’ll be wearing a wire. You get him to confess to creating the gas, then that’s all we need.”
“That won’t be easy. If he’s kept it hidden from me, then he's not likely to open up about it.”
Emily hardened her voice, her cheek twitching. She hated that they were relying on her, but her desire for justice was far greater. “Then try.”
Lorraine scoffed. “You’re awfully keen to prove this, aren’t you? He technically hasn’t even hurt anyone. You’re just so desperate to prove that your beloved President Kirkman was better than the average politician. You don’t even know if the gas was responsible for all of it.”
Rolling her eyes, Emily turned to leave. Maybe this was a waste of time after all.
“Wait.” Lorraine groaned. “I’ll still help. This anklet is a pain in the ass.”
Facing her again, Lorraine now appeared serious.
“I’ll call him. I'll say I’m back on his side and that I’ve got some strategies to make you look like a fool.”
“Fine.”
“I take it he has no idea I was leaking his information?”
She shook her head.
Lorraine glanced at the agent at the door, raising her leg. “Then let’s get this damn thing off me.”
Lorraine smiled at him as he walked into the restaurant, a couple of the guards from his security detail still trailing behind.
“Can you confirm you’ve got eyes?”
“Yes,” Lorraine replied quietly to Emily.
“I must say…” Moss started. “I was a little surprised to receive a call from you, given the circumstances. I thought you’d be covering Rhodes’ press detail since you were so eager to help Kirkman.”
The corners of Lorraine’s mouth upturned a little. “Let’s just say I’d rather be on the winning team this time around.”
Moss scoffed. “Winning?”
“Rhodes has never been anything higher than Chief of Staff. She lost her mother just a few days before the arena blew up. She’s grieving. She’s emotional. I’ve seen it. It won’t be long before she slips up.” Lorraine explained. “Then they’ll have to replace her with someone competent. And I think I can help that someone be you.”
He gave her a knowing look. “I thought Tom was emotional. Being younger and female, Rhodes is a loose cannon.”
Emily gripped the edge of the table in the recording room tightly. Chuck was analysing the audio coming in, having been the only FBI agent deemed trustworthy enough. He’d been good enough for Hannah; that said it all. Kendra was also listening in, making sure Lorraine got Moss to say enough from a legal standpoint so they could arrest him. Isabel and Lyor were keeping things under wraps at the White House. They were the only ones who knew what was really going on, and they were determined to keep it that way. Trey and Sasha, who had made nearly a full recovery by this point, just now using crutches, were helping Penny to settle back into the White House and catch up on school work.
“Both of them tried so hard to do things by the book. It was a little endearing at first.”
“Lasted longer than we thought, though.”
“True, but what a sight that was: Tom not letting that… woman speak after promising her she would have the chance.”
“After all he went through to defend her.” She tutted.
“I may have had something to do with that.” He said with a smirk.
“Oh?” She said, feigning surprise. “Do tell.”
Moss looked hesitant. “Details don’t matter.”
Lorraine leaned in closer, keeping their conversation more private from the rest of the restaurant. “You’re telling me you had a hand in making the beloved, honest Tom Kirkman do something for the sake of reputation alone? Cornelius, I’m here to help you look good and take down Rhodes. Whatever you did… I’m sure it can be used again.”
He paused before similarly leaning closer. “With any luck, it’s already in action.”
Emily felt her breath hitch. They were so close. They just needed details.
She met his eyes.
He chuckled. “I had had some people look into manufacturing new drugs for enhanced interrogation back while I was still president. What they came up with ended up being far more useful. A drug with a power of suggestion. It affects decision-making, empathy, all the things that would affect someone’s morality.”
Lorraine nodded. “You drugged Kirkman?”
“The whole White House.” A smile crept across his face. He was undeniably pleased with his work. “I wanted people to realise he and his team were no better than any other political group, throw him off his game. After all, the country couldn’t survive under an independent. It just wasn’t right.”
She furrowed her brow. “But you acted as a consultant for Tom right from the beginning. You’ve been planning this the whole time?”
Moss chewed the inside of his cheek. “I started around the time when people started talking about re-election. I thought I’d make sure he fucked up and got himself involved in a scandal. I planted a gas canister and made regular enough visits to keep replacing it.”
Kendra looked at Emily, who still seemed to be processing the information, almost gleeful with shock. It was horrible, cowardly, what he’d done. But now they had proof straight from the horse’s mouth.
“I can tell Lorraine to stop and send the agents in to have him arrested. Legally, that’s enough to charge him with threatening the president.”
“Wait…” Emily said quietly. “He’s still going.”
His voice then took a gruff tone. “Didn’t count on it taking so long, though. He stuck to his guns. He resisted. And when the gas did start working, it made him more devious than I thought. For God’s sake, he managed to balance the interests of everybody and perfectly walk the line.” His cheek twitched, but he took a deep breath to maintain his composure. “It’s fine, though. He can’t stand in my way anymore. At least that succeeded.”
This time, the surprise wasn’t faked.
“Hang on… you’re saying you were involved with the arena bombing?”
He laughed through his nose. She waited for him to deny it, waited for him to say he was just joking, maybe even admit that he was being callous and making light of a horrible tragedy. But he seemed oddly… proud?
“Oh my God, you’re not kidding, are you?” Lorraine said. “Jesus Christ, you’re insane. Y-You killed thousands of people. That’s a line I wouldn’t cross. I've risked lives, yes, not actively destroyed them.”
Moss shrugged indifferently. “Enough was enough. This country needed a real leader back, and you and I both know there’s no better person to be in that chair than me.”
“So you admit it? And you’re just… telling me this?”
“Oh, please, Lorraine, you know all too well that sometimes drastic action has to be taken. You think like me, that’s why I knew you’d understand. And besides,” He shrugged. “You think anybody would believe you if you ran around screaming that a former president was behind a mass bombing? You think you could try to make me out to be some kind of crazed revenge-seeker?”
“Holy shit,” Kendra uttered. “He just… he just confessed to the bombing.”
Emily looked at her, and then Mike, wide-eyed. “S-Send the Secret Service in. Now. Make sure he doesn’t get away.”
Mike obliged, and Chuck typed away, saving the recording from the wire. He flinched at the sound of Moss’ almost delirious yelling, putting the volume of the speaker down. Chuck looked up at her. “Well… I guess you can tell the American people you have answers then.”
Three Months Later
Emily sniffled, standing near the grave. Of course, she’d been there when Tom and so, so many others had been buried. But with all the hectic work of being president and arresting a former one for duplicitous acts, she often didn’t have the chance to visit alone. Or, at the very least… with Mike and some other agents a few feet behind her. More than that, she’d refused to go to his grave, or anyone else's, until she had answers as to who killed them. And now she did. The court proceedings had been tedious and time-consuming, but he was in prison now. No house arrest, no under-the-table immunity to protect his reputation. Cornelius Moss was locked up for good.
Emily lay the flowers and took in a breath. Lyor had assured her that as Chief of Staff, he would keep things under control, that she needed to do this and could take as long as she needed, even though their Vice President was off getting an ultrasound.
After Moss’ arrest, when things had slowly evolved back to normal, or at least as normal as things could be at the White House, Emily had soon realised that with all of the assistance she had given Aaron in his campaigning to be Tom’s Vice President, there was no better person to be Vice President than Isabel. Lyor had more experience, but he didn’t want to be in the limelight; he didn’t want to be the one shaking hands and putting himself out there. Nor did Kendra, who was serving as Deputy Chief of Staff. And Andrea was now her defence consultant, helping her to make the ethical and fair decisions Tom would have approved of. Despite all the people they’d lost, the White House was still running, still thriving. The media eventually realised Emily was not to be underestimated and that she was a perfect successor for Tom Kirkman.
Isabel’s decision to keep the baby hadn’t been made lightly. She’d thought deeply about what she truly wanted. She loved her work, so she didn’t want to give that up just yet. But at the same time, she did love Aaron. No, she didn’t regret breaking things off with him. Their careers would have always clashed and created a rift in their relationship. But when she'd pushed all that aside, she'd understood that what she and Aaron had had wasn’t something to dismiss. Emily had assured her she would be fully supported, both professionally and personally. Most of all, after so much loss and so much heartbreak, Isabel realised that bringing new life into the world might be the ray of light that everybody needed.
The most prominent reminder of what had been lost was Penny. Trying to navigate life without her parents or brother there to guide her was not easy. After a brief stay, Leo returned to college, managing to use the thought of making his parents proud as motivation to push himself to keep going. But, slowly but surely, Penny adjusted to school and friends and fun again, supported each step of the way by her very big White House family. Trey and Kendra now lived there full time, with Trey taking more philanthropic work in what was now Alex and Tom’s foundation. Sasha did, too, deciding more resolutely to use her voice for good in the messy world of politics with Emily’s full backing.
“It’s funny, I… I think about you all the time. I usually make most of my decisions based on what you would do. But it’s still… it’s still so hard.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Losing my mom was hard. I knew it was coming, but it was still hard. But… I didn’t realise that losing you would hurt just as much. I didn’t realise just how much of a father figure I considered you to be until I lost you. And I hate that I was mad at you. I hate that I’d been so disappointed in you when now I know the way you were acting wasn’t your fault. It’s taken me a long time to work through that. All of it, really. The shock of it all just took so much time to wear off.” Emily stifled a sob. “Especially thinking about who was behind it. It still makes me sick. It still makes me so angry. But we’ve made sure he won’t hurt anyone again. And I know all I can do now is lead the country the way you would have. With honesty, with integrity, with the right people around me.”
She spoke to him for a little longer, feeling some of the weight of grief lifted from her chest. When she walked into the Oval Office, Lyor was already sitting with two cups of tea. She smelt chai and smiled. Her favourite.
“Isabel called me in the car. She’s on her way back.”
“How did she go?”
“Good. Everything’s fine.” He said cheerily. “She’s having a boy. Oh, and I’ve got a few documents for you to sign for Moss’ detainment. DOJ promised these are the last ones.”
Nodding, she took the papers from him, reading each term carefully to ensure Moss wouldn’t receive special treatment. Lyor seemed to be looking at her with sympathy. She could feel her eyes were still puffy so it was probably obvious she had been crying.
“It was harder than you thought it would be, wasn’t it?” Lyor asked softly.
“Yeah… it was. But at least I was able to tell him we caught Moss and that it’s over. I… I didn’t want to see him until I had answers.”
He hummed in assent. “Now you only need to focus on being president. And making him proud.”
“With Moss in jail, I can.” She said assuredly, believing the words. Lyor was right. That was all she needed to do now. “And especially since we upped security around the place. Not going to give anyone the chance to mess with my head or yours, or anybody else’s.”
“So… I take it you’re not so worried about letting this whole thing make you corrupt?” Lyor asked.
Emily shook her head with confidence. “Not anymore. I know now I’m going to do this right.”