TITLE: Those Who Show Up



RATING: PG, prolly.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine.  Y’know the drill.  Oh, and at some points you may be wondering who the hell I’m talking about…that’s the point.  Call me weird…but hey.  It’s my story, I’ll do what I want! ::Grins::


Josh peered through the fence.  Where were they?  CJ and Leo and Sam and Toby…The President? He could only hope they were safe.  Bodies fell rapidly and he thought he saw the top part of Toby’s head going down in the mob


He felt a sharp pain jabbing at him four…no, five times…And that was all he could comprehend before he blacked out.



Danny Concannon had been with the rest of the reporters when the shots had rung out.  He immediately had to know more - but not for his paper, just for him.  CJ was there, where the gun was aiming for…He rushed over, only to be held back by police officers.


Luckily, Sam was standing nearby, looking around frantically for a familiar face.  "Danny!  Let him in," he told the policeman.


"Where’s CJ?" Danny demanded.  Then he looked down and saw her body lying limply on the pavement, a pool of blood under her head.  "Oh God," he whispered.  "Same, give me your coat!"  Sam shrugged out of it and handed it over, and Danny lifted CJ’s head as slightly as possible and began to gently apply pressure to her head.  "You hurt?"


"No, I um…I got pushed and then pushed into CJ, we both went down…"


"Did you hit your head?"


"Sorta, it’s not bad…" Sam swayed a little on his feet and steadied himself on Danny’s shoulder.


"Sam, sit down before you kill yourself," Danny ordered as he repositioned Sam’s coat.  "Dammit," he muttered.  Why wasn’t any help around?



Getting off the ground with only one useable arm was difficult but not impossible for Toby.  An EMT was checking him over - much to his annoyance - and began to splint his broken wrist.


From his vantage point, he could see Leo sprawled on the ground in a spread eagle positions and several Secret Service agents hauling themselves off the pavement.


And then Toby - somber, dry, morose Toby who very rarely so much as smiled - began to laugh.  Once he started, he couldn’t stop.  "He’s going into shock," the EMT called to a colleague.  "Get him over to GWMC."  She finished splinting his arm and another EMT took the still-laughing man to the ambulance.


Leo might’ve laughed too…if it wouldn’t have been for the bullet embedded in his leg.



"He’s losing consciousness!  Liberty’s unconscious!  I repeat, Liberty is unconscious!  No sign of bullet would or blood, possibly a concussion…"



He could see a woman walking toward him.  She looked like an angel, but there was no mistaking that face, those curly auburn locks.  "Hey…Joanie…" he whispered.



They were finally at GWMC before they knew the other one wa sokay.  The embrace they shared was long and fierce, as was usually the case when two people thought they’d lost each other forever.  "Is my father…?"


"I’m sure he’s okay," he reassured her.  He gently clasped her tiny, trembling hands between his own dark hands, and wished he could forget that the two of them had been the cause and target of gunfire not twenty minutes before.



She sat down with her class’s latest history tests.  They had finished their presidential unit, one she enjoyed because she knew the current president personally and had all her life.  She turned on the radio and got to work.  The first test was nearly done when the music stopped.  "This just in.  there was an assassination attempt on the life of the President at approximately 10:30 pm tonight as he and his staff left the Newseum in Rosslyn, Virginia.  There is no word on his condition as of yet…"


Mallory tried not to panic. Her father, her godfather, the man she loved…she had to know if they were okay. 


She looked down at the test she’d been grading.  The next question read:  "Who was the last president to be assassinated?"



The Valium was kicking in, he thought with a drugged smile.  That and the painkillers…absolutely amazing.  He couldn’t feel a thing.  What shooting?  There was no shooting…Just the cottony goodness of dreamland.



They hadn’t asked him for a medical history.  There hadn’t been time to do that when they’d brought him in.  So they had no way of knowing not to give him painkillers.  No way to know what would result. After all, it was standard procedure…


Just not for a recovering addict.



Sam paced nervously around the waiting room.  Why was there no news on anyone yet?  He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice the red-head enter the room until she threw herself at him, shedding tears of worry and relief against his shoulder.  "Mallory?  What the -"


"I heard…the radio…I had to see…"


"They said where we were on the radio?"  She shook her head.  "You’ve been driving to every hospital in the city?" Mallory nodded slightly, still leaning her head on his shoulder.


"My father…?"


"I don’t know," he answered honestly.  "He’s still in there, that’s all I know.  They aren’t telling us anything."  He gently ran a hand over her hair.  "It’ll be okay…Trust me…"



"Give him Betaserone," he heard a familiar voice say.  "We’ve been through this before."


"Ma’am, what business -"


"I’m a doctor. Now give the man Betaserone before he dies."



"You don’t want to be here, yet, Josh."


"Why not?  I see no pitchforks or flames," he joked.


"Because now, everything you’ve done is still there, only you’re not…"


"You always did have a way of stating the obvious, sis."


"Your friends are down there scared to death that you’re dead, Josh.  You can’t see these things yet, but I…Sam’ll never be the same, Leo’s about to get hooked on painkillers again, and with you being gone, alcohol will follow…They need you, Josh.  Don’t follow me yet."



The whine of the monitor seemed to ignore the doctor’s orders and the <<schzack!>> of the defibrilator paddles.  "Time of death…" As the doctor began to state the time, the drone stopped, and became a regular, rhythmic beeping.



She couldn’t believe the phone call she’d just received from Sam.  Gun shot wound?  Josh?  There was no way...She had to be sure he was okay!  "C’mon, Margaret, let’s go!"she called to the woman who was as worried about her boss as she was about her own.  They exited into the balmy spring night, fearing what news they’d get when they entered the hospital.



Mallory was nearly dizzy watching him pace back and forth, waiting for news on his boss and close friends.  As she watched, he stumbled, then went down. "Sam!" she cried, leaping from her chair and kneeling beside him, gently cradling his head in her lap.



He sat beside his terrified daughter, his leg propped up on a stool.  The cane he’d been given to use was nearby, and a prescription was in his pocket, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone about that.  "Leo!  You’re okay!" Margaret cried as she rushed into the waiting room.


"Yes," he replied quietly.


"Where’s Josh?" Donna demanded as she dashed in.  But she didn’t like the look on Leo’s face when she asked.



"Where’s Mallory?" he demanded as he looked around.


"Relax, sir," a nurse warned him.  "Everything’s okay."


"Mr. Seaborn, you have a concussion," the doctor said in the usual oddly calm voice that made people despise workers of his profession very often.  "Did you hit your head during the shooting?"


"I…I think maybe…"


"Okay.  We need to keep you back here for a little while."




"She’s okay.  Her father’s out with her now."




He had his ways of getting what he wanted, whether it be information or admittance.  Sometimes it was charm, sometimes wheelin’ and dealin’, but it always happened.


Only sometimes, even getting what he "wanted" wasn’t really what he wanted.  He’d gotten admittance to the area by the door where CJ was…but as he stared through the doors, he couldn’t take anymore.  Tears began to crawl down his cheeks, slowly at first, then more, until he could barely see.  "Great job, Concannon," he muttered.  "You shouldn’t have come in here."  But he knew he wouldn’t have been able to take the sitting in the waiting room and wondering like everyone else.


[End Part I]


Those Who Show Up - 2



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