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"Ma'am?"

Bess stirred. Not from sleeping. Dear lord she wished she could sleep. Not that the uncomfortable chair they'd set up in one of the rooms would allow her to.

Every muscle in her neck ached as she sat her head up to look – finding Blake standing there in the doorway to the make-shift office her staff had erected at the hospital. He held a folder.

"Yes, Blake?" She mumbled, slowly trying to focus more on what was at hand.

And not focus on her little girl.

He stuttered for a second, "Ma'am, we got this folder for…" He reached over and handed it to her, and she took it, careful not to stir Henry beside her, where he slept, head against the wall behind him, looking incredibly uncomfortable. But Bess was just glad that he was getting some sleep.

She took it, and then took the glasses that Blake handed her. "What am I looking at here?"

"It's Isabelle's debrief." He paused for a moment, "And, she… she said…"

Bess jumped just a little when the voice came from behind them.

"You don't have to read that." Bess looked up and saw Isabelle, standing in the doorway. Her friend looked exhausted, but she looked good if she'd just finished hour long debrief session. Her hair tucked behind her ears, Isabelle suddenly looked her age, almost like Bess felt. "I'll save you the trouble of reading it."

Bess cleared her throat, "Tell me."

Isabelle walked past Blake, who graciously stepped out of the room again – but Bess knew he'd be close if she needed him. But Isabelle sat down on the chair across from Bess'.

It took her friend a minute to clear her mind – to adjust to the seat – but Bess knew she was trying to figure out how to tell her.

"First, tell me. How's she doing? What's the doctor saying?"

Bess' eyes closed in a bit of defeat. And exhaustion. "She's in surgery now. The doctor said she was bleeding internally, and they had to go in and surgically stop the bleeding."

"I'm sorry." Isabelle comforted, laying her hand on Bess' knee. "Did they…"

Bess continued, "They said it should be ok, barring any other complications." She looked up at her friend and whispered, "I just can't lose her."

Isabelle nodded, understanding. "Bess, she's a fighter, just like her mother. If anyone has a fighting chance, it's that miracle child."

Bess again nodded, then asked, "What happened, Isabelle?"

Isabelle began, "I found her in the compound. She was… hurt, but strong. I lost contact with the rest of the squad, but…"

Bess needed to know, "What were the conditions like?"

"Um. Bess, I don't think you want to know." They made eye contact, and Bess urged her on. Reluctantly, Isabelle continued, "It was a small compound. Men were housed in different rooms than what they were keeping her in. She was in a very small… cell. Tied hands. Free feet. She… it looked like…" Isabelle seemed to be having trouble saying it, "She was very disheveled."

"Don't." Bess commanded. "Tell me like it was. Don't sugarcoat it for me." She couldn't not know. She needed the details. Needed to know what her little girl went through.

There was a moment of silence. As Isabelle weighed out the command.

"The reason I got into the cell was because there was a man coming out after… violating her."

Bess couldn't move. She couldn't move anything but her hands, which clenched along the arms of the chair. Strangling them.

"I shot him in the head."

Her little girl.

"Then, because I couldn't make contact with the squad, I knew we had to get out – to get out before the gunshot drew others in. So we escaped out a window – but it was night."

Bess still couldn't say anything.

"Emma led me to safety – even wrapping my headscarf correctly so when we ran into someone in the small city, she could talk her way out of it. She spoke like a native. Kept her cool."

Nothing.

"We had to hide, and when the compound blew up, I knew we had to hide until the rendezvous."

Finally, when Bess could speak, she whispered, "Did she say anything about…" All she could think of were the scars riddling Emma's torso – the broken wrist that had never healed – the amount of pain she'd had to go through.

Isabelle shook her head. "I knew she needed medical attention on the plane – before then, I couldn't really tell at all that she was in pain. And we spent days together." Isabelle put her head in her hands. "If I would've known – if she would've shown any sign – I would've stopped right there. I would've had them sedate her right away at the transport. Bess – I'm so…"

But Bess tuned her out as the doctor came in.

Her world became a tunnel – focused on him. Her baby had to be ok. And she asked, "Is she ok? Is she…"

Henry startled away beside her.

"Madam President, your daughter is going to be fine."

Bess thought it was too good to be true. And she felt Henry grab her arm.

"There was a lot of blood, and quite a bit of scar tissue, which made the surgery take longer. But she's going to need a lot of rest." Bess squeezed Henry's hand. "And, from what the recovery nurses tell me, she's asking for you."

Bess felt tears of happiness coming to her eyes, and she nodded. And breathlessly whispered, "Thank you, so much."

The doctor smiled, "Would you like to see her?"