Kathleen A. Klatte
kat@g...
Kath725@x...

"Reconstruction" 

Feedback and commentary are most welcome. 

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the property of NBC, et al; this is a
recreational endeavor, no profit is being made and no copyright
infringement is intended. 
Season two premiere speculations. 
**Spoilers for "What Kind of Day Has It Been." 
Thank you to Lisa for proofreading. 

******************************************

Danny Concannon shoved his way through the crowd of stunned
on-lookers. "C.J.!" he yelled, but his voice scarcely carried amidst
the din of a dozen voices shouting conflicting orders and the shrill
of approaching sirens. "C.J.!" He saw her then, struggling to sit
up. There was someone on top of her, a man whose shirt was stained
with blood. 

******

All in a daze, C.J. Gregg tried to push herself up off the pavement. 
There was something - someone - lying on top of her. Her sluggish
mind finally registered that it was Sam...and that there was blood on
his shirt...and that he wasn't moving. "Sam?" she whispered in
horror. "Oh, my God..." C.J. struggled to sit up, resting his head
in her lap. She tried to see where he was shot, but there was so
much blood...

"C.J.!" 

"Danny?" She scanned the crowd frantically for his familiar sandy
head, needing an anchor in all this insanity. "Danny!" 

An armed Secret Service agent saw Danny coming and automatically
tried to steer him over to the remains of the rope line. "I have
Flamingo, but Princeton is hit," he said into his comm unit, "repeat,
Princeton is hit." 

"Please!" C.J. begged as she tried vainly to staunch the flow of
blood from Sam's wound. 

"Let me help," Danny said quietly, holding his hands out and standing
very still. 

The agent hesitated a second. Emergency protocol stated that all
civilians who weren't hurt should be removed from the scene at once,
but...he knew Danny, and they were damn short of hands right now. 
"All right," he said, jerking his head towards Sam and C.J. 

"You OK?" Danny asked as he knelt beside the White House Press
Secretary. 

C.J. nodded once, her eyes wide and shocked. "I think so. Sam..." 

"Here," the Secret Service agent said, grabbing Danny's hands and
placing them over C.J.'s. "Press here, as hard as you can. Don't
let go until the paramedics tell you. OK?" 

"Got it," Danny replied. 

"Ms. Gregg, are you hit?" 

C.J. shook her head. "No." 

"We'll need to move the gunshot victims first, then we'll get
everyone else checked out." He didn't like the vacant expression in
C.J.'s eyes and suspected that she was slipping into shock, but there
was bound to be alot of that going around tonight and he had to get a
better idea of what the hell was going on right now. "Ms. Gregg?" he
prompted, wanting her to answer. 

"I'll take care of her," Danny promised. "The President?" 

"We don't know yet." 

Danny nodded sadly. "C.J., how are you doing? C.J., come on, honey,
answer me!" 

"I don't know," she finally whispered as tears began to seep from her
eyes. 

"That's OK...just stay with me, all right?" Danny eyed her
critically...aside from a livid scrape on one cheek from when she'd
hit the roadbed, C.J. seemed unharmed. He looked down at Sam, who
was still bleeding, despite their best efforts. 

C.J. looked at him, feeling more helpless and powerless then she'd
ever felt before. Her hands were crimsoned with Sam's blood and she
could feel the irregular flutter of his pulse against her hands. 
"Danny?" she whispered. 

"It's going to be all right," he murmured, leaning across Sam's body
to kiss C.J. lightly on the temple. He rested his forehead against
hers, wanting nothing more at that moment than to be able to hold her
in his arms. 

"C.J.! Danny! You guys all right?" Josh asked. "Oh, hell...Sam?" 

C.J. gave a startled jump as his hand descended on her shoulder. 

"Hey...take it easy...it's just me," Josh soothed. 

"We're OK, Josh," Danny answered for both of them. "Paramedics are
on the way for Sam. You?" 

"I was on the other side of the gate," he replied hollowly. "What
the hell happened?" 

"I don't know," Danny started to reply, only to be interrupted by a
Secret Service agent. 

"Mister Lyman, I need to get you back to the White House immediately.

"Me? But what about...God...Leo?" 

"Sir, we need to go right now," the agent said urgently. 

"What about Sam?" Josh called back as the agent hustled him off to a
waiting car. 

"I'll stay with them," Danny promised. 

The paramedics arrived seconds later, taking over and moving Danny
and C.J. out of the way. They stumbled to their feet and watched as
Sam was loaded into an ambulance that immediately roared off with
lights and sirens screaming at full volume. 

An EMT approached them solicitously. "Ma'am? If you'll come with
me, we'll take you to the hospital." 

C.J. stood as if she hadn't heard him. 

"C.J.? Come on, honey...I want you to get checked out," Danny
coaxed. He had a steadying arm around her waist and tried to lead
her towards the waiting van. She was trembling violently and her
breath came in ragged gasps. Danny reached up to touch her face, but
froze as he realized that his hands were still stained with Sam's
blood. 

C.J. saw the blood, too and her tears escalated into violent,
wracking sobs. Danny wrapped both arms around her tightly, rocking
her and whispering meaningless words of comfort. 

"I was so scared," C.J. whispered against his chest. 

"I know...I know...so was I..." Danny rested his cheek on top of her
head and just let her cry. He didn't notice that some of the tears
were his own. 

******************************************
GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

C.J. entered the waiting room that had been set aside for the
President's staff. She was surprised to see Danny there, sipping a
cup of coffee. He bounded to his feet when he saw her. 

"Hey, gorgeous." 

"Yeah, right," she muttered, running her fingers through her tangled
hair. 

"Are you OK?" Danny asked, concern evident on his open countenance. 

She nodded. "Just a few bumps and bruises. I guess I was lucky. 
Have you heard anything?" 

"Yeah," he replied gravely. "Sam is in surgery. They say the fact
that he made it this far is a good sign. They won't tell me anything
about Leo." 

"Leo's...pretty bad," Toby said quietly from the doorway. One arm
was in a sling and his face was bruised and battered.

"Toby! What happened?" C.J. asked, then mentally kicked herself for
asking such an inane question. She guessed how bad things must be
when the usually acerbic Communications Director let that pass
without comment. 

"Were you shot?" Danny asked, gently grasping Toby's good arm and
guiding him to a chair. 

"No," Toby answered slowly. "I was walking the rope line with the
President...I got shoved down into the barricade...I guess...I got
trampled. Look, C.J., we need to get back to the White House...we've
got to get the President on the air so the American people can see
that he's all right." 

"Toby," Danny protested, "I don't think either one of you -"

"It's our job, Danny," C.J. reminded him gently. 

He stared back into her eyes and saw fear and exhaustion...but also
courage and determination. He nodded slowly. "OK. Mind if I tag
along?" 

"Why not?" Toby replied, "We're all headed in the same direction." 

A Secret Service agent stuck his head in the door. "Mister Ziegler? 
The car is waiting, sir." 

Danny helped Toby to his feet. 

"Thanks," Toby muttered. "How come you're not busy writing all this
up for your paper?" he asked curiously. 

"Because I'm too close right now," Danny replied soberly. "I will
write about it, but...I have to sort some things through first." 

Toby shook his head wearily. "I think a couple of the people who
stomped on me were reporters running for the nearest pay phone." 

"Yeah, well...I had more important things to do." 

Toby raised an inquiring eyebrow, so C.J. continued, "What Danny's
not telling you is that Sam would have bled to death if he hadn't
helped me."

Toby gave the reporter another long look, this one filled with a new
respect. He nodded. "OK." 

******************************************
THE WHITE HOUSE

Carol met them at the door. "Are you all right?" she asked
sympathetically. 

"We'll make it," C.J. told her, mustering a small smile. 

"They're waiting for you in the Oval Office." 

"Help me get cleaned up a little?" C.J. asked her assistant. 

"Josh said the minute you got here," Carol replied apologetically. 

"You look fine," Danny whispered in the Press Secretary's ear. 

"It's OK, really," Carol assured her. "Everyone who was there
is...you're fine," she concluded lamely. 

Margaret came out to meet them, wringing her hands nervously. "How's
Leo?" 

"He's still in surgery," Toby explained in a surprisingly gentle
tone. 

"I called Jenny and Mallory...they're on their way to the hospital." 

"Thank you," Toby replied. 

"Is there anyone I should call for Sam?" Margaret asked anxiously. 

C.J. said 'no' and Toby said 'yes' at the same time. 

"Toby," C.J. said warningly, "you can't...they won't let her in." 

"I know they won't let her in," Toby answered in an overly reasonable
tone, "but they're close enough friends that she shouldn't have to
hear about it on the news. No offense," he added quickly, looking at
Danny. 

"None taken," the reporter said mildly. 

"Margaret, look in Sam's Rolodex. He has a friend named Laurie,"
Toby began. 

"Oh. That friend?" Margaret asked. 

"Yeah, that friend. Just give her a call, let her know what's going
on. Make sure she understands that she shouldn't go to the
hospital." 

"Isn't that a little blunt?" Danny asked. 

Toby sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Margaret, be nice and
sweet and all those things that you are that make Leo and me crazy. 
Explain to Laurie that she shouldn't go to the hospital because A,
Sam's still in surgery, and the doctors won't let anyone near him,
and B, the Secret Service has the whole damn place under wraps and
they'll only admit family members, OK?" 

"OK," Margaret nodded. She headed off to Sam's office as the agents
standing guard opened the door to the Oval Office for Toby and C.J.

Danny laid a hand on C.J.'s arm. "I have to go call my editor." 

"You can use my office," she offered. 

"Thanks." He flashed a quick grin and squeezed her arm lightly
before walking away. 

Abigail Bartlet bustled forward to meet them, first hugging both
staffers, then giving them a professional once-over. 

Jed Bartlet sat in a corner of the couch. Zoë sat beside him, curled
against his side with a heavy blanket hugged tight around her. Her
eyes were red and puffy from crying. He looked up, smiling in spite
of himself at the sight of his wife 'mother-henning' Toby. 

"I'm glad to see you're all right, sir," the Communications Director
said quietly. "Zoë?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light. 

"She's OK," the President replied slowly, the words dragged from him
with obvious difficulty. "Gina pushed Zoë out of the way. She...she
took a bullet in the back, and...ah...Charlie..." 

"Charlie was shot!" Zoë wailed, fresh tears streaming down her face. 

The First Lady sank down onto the couch, embracing her distraught
daughter. 

Toby looked at C.J. who was struggling to contain fresh tears of her
own, then to Josh, who shrugged slightly. He cleared his throat
slightly. "Mister President, I realize that this is a
very...difficult time, but we need to get you on the air right away. 
We need to reassure the American people that the President is all
right." 

"Toby..." the President began. 

"He's right, Jed," Abby stated firmly. 

******

Jed Bartlet slumped wearily as he exited the Press Room. "Toby, you
need to get home," he said reprovingly. 

"Your wife said the same thing, Mister President." 

"Where is my wife, anyway?" 

"She took your daughter and Charlie's little sister back to the
Residence, sir," Toby informed him, keeping one eye on the platform
where C.J. was giving a final recap of the night's events. Her eyes
were wide and glassy in her pale face and Toby was glad he'd asked
Josh to stand with her for the briefing. 

"What about you, Toby? I'm not so sure you should be fending for
yourself right now...there's got to be a spare bed somewhere in this
drafty old barn of a place."

Toby smiled wryly at the President's feeble attempt at a joke. 
"Thank you, sir, but Josh has instructions from your wife to drop me
off at Andrea's tonight." 

"Good...good. I wish I could tell you not to come back in the
morning," he glanced at his watch in disbelief. "Later in the
morning, that is, but...anything you need, you just ask, all right?" 

"I understand, sir. I'm fine." 

"You're not fine, Toby. None of us are fine." The President's eyes
grew distant for a long moment. "None of us are going to be fine for
a long, long time." 

******

"...White House Chief of Staff Leo McGarry is still in surgery at
this time. Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn is listed as
critical, as is the President's personal aide, Charles Young. Six
Secret Service agents are also hospitalized with gunshot wounds and
an as yet undetermined number of government personnel and civilian
bystanders have been treated and released from local hospitals. 
President and Mrs. Bartlet ask for the prayers of all Americans on
behalf of those who have died, and those who are still in danger." 

C.J. swayed slightly on her feet and Josh stepped up and put his arm
around her waist to steady her. He leaned forward slightly and spoke
into the mike. "That's all we have right now," he announced firmly. 
"Good night." 

Danny pushed his way forward to join them. "C.J.?" he asked in
concern. 

"Can you take her home?" Josh asked. "I don't think she should be
alone right now." 

"Sure," Danny replied with a crooked little smile, "I already got my
orders from Mrs. Bartlet." 

"I can't -" C.J. protested weakly, "I have a job to do." 

"Hey, none of us are going to do our jobs very well until we get a
little sleep," Josh told her. "The President has gone back to the
Residence and you are going home." 

"What about you?" she asked. 

"I'm going to take Toby home, then head back to my place...I have
orders from Mrs. Bartlet, too," Josh assured her with a wink. 

"OK." 

Josh wrapped his other arm around C.J., hugging her tightly for a
long moment. Finally, he stepped back, waiting for Danny to take
C.J.'s arm before moving too far away. "You guys get some rest, OK?"

A reporter separated himself from the milling crowd, trailing after
them. "Hey Danny? Where ya been? I've already got the front page
locked up. What a coupe!"

Danny eyed the other man as if he were a particularly noxious form of
insect. "It's been a long night and we all need to get some rest. 
Some of us aren't thinking too clearly," he added rather pointedly. 

"Senior White House Correspondent! What a joke! The biggest story
of the decade and you're nowhere to be found. What the hell kind of
reporter are you?" 

Danny just kept walking. 

Bristling, Josh stepped out in front of the offender and jabbed a
finger in the other man's chest. "While you were off looking for a
pay phone to call in your 'hot lead,' he was down on his knees in the
road, saving a man from bleeding to death. What the hell kind of
human being are you?" 

******************************************
C.J.'S APARTMENT

C.J. rolled over and checked her alarm clock. Eight A.M. She hadn't
had nearly enough sleep, but she stumbled to her feet anyway, knowing
there was an enormous amount of work to be done this morning. Maybe
if she drank an entire pot of black coffee...

With that thought in mind, she slipped into a robe and padded out of
her room. 'Half a pot of black coffee,' she amended silently as she
saw Danny sprawled on her couch. His shoes were discarded on the
floor and his tie hung at half-mast. The shirt was a total loss,
C.J. noted absently as she shook an afghan over him - it was stained
and spattered with Sam's blood. 

She perched on the edge of the coffee table just watching him sleep. 
His hair was tousled and her fingers itched to smooth it back from
his face, but she squelched the urge firmly. Damn! What was she
doing, sitting here woolgathering? She had a million things to do
this morning. 

As she moved to get up, Danny reached out and caught her wrist. 
"Hey," he mumbled. 

"Go back to sleep," C.J. whispered, smiling a little in spite of
herself. "I'll come get you when breakfast is ready." 

"Wha time zit?"

"A little after eight." 

"Mind if I call my editor?" Danny asked, struggling to sit up. 

"Help yourself. Just -"

"-don't tie up the line too long, 'cause you have to call in," Danny
finished with his familiar warm grin.

"Yeah." She tried to smile, but winced at the pain in her face. 

Danny reached out and lightly traced the edge of the scrape with his
fingertips. "Ouch. How are you doing?" he asked, gazing intently
into her haunted eyes. 

"I don't know," C.J. answered frankly. 

"OK. Look, if you need to talk, or anything..." 

"Thanks, Danny. I...I know I've been kind of rotten to you
lately...I wouldn't have made it through last night without you. 
Thank you." 

"You're welcome," he said softly. 

There was something shining in his eyes that C.J. wasn't quite
prepared to deal with just then, so she got up and headed for the
kitchen. 

"Want me to call Carol for you after I check in?" he teased. 

"God, no! I'd never hear the end of it." She shuddered in horror at
the image of Danny chatting with Carol, complete with domestic sounds
in the background. "How do you like your eggs?" she asked in a
carefully controlled voice. 

"Don't go to any trouble. Toast or whatever is fine." 

"Danny, we were up half the night running on pure adrenaline. Now, I
don't know about you, but I need some real food." 

"Well, in that case, I'll have whatever you're having." 

"Fine. We're having scrambled eggs and bacon." 

"OK." 

******************************************
THE WHITE HOUSE

Toby poked his head into C.J.'s office. "Did you just drive up with
Danny?" he asked. 

C.J. peered at him over the rims of her glasses. "Danny drove me
home last night, remember?"

"It's just that I noticed he's wearing the same clothes he had on
last night."

"Yeah. That's because he slept in them. On my couch. He didn't
think I should be alone after seeing my friends and co-workers shot
down in the street, and I didn't think he should be getting back
behind the wheel of a car at that hour," C.J. replied, folding her
arms across her chest and glaring at him defiantly. 

"OK," Toby replied evenly. "It's just...you know how things get
around this place." 

"I do, but in view of the fact that someone tried to kill the
President, and incidentally the rest of us, last night, I have
neither the time nor the inclination to concern myself with a bunch
of petty bullshit." 

Toby raised his good hand defensively. "OK." 

Josh appeared in the doorway. "Hey, Toby, how ya feeling? Say,
C.J., did you come in with Danny this morning?" 

C.J.'s withering gaze flickered from one to the other. "Yeah, Josh. 
Danny drove me home last night. You were standing there when Mrs.
Bartlet told him to, remember?" 

"Yeah... How come he's wearing the same clothes?"

"He slept in them," Toby supplied helpfully. "On her couch." 

Josh looked at C.J. incredulously. "That would be your living room
couch?" 

"Yeah, Josh, my living room couch," C.J. replied acidly. 

"So you - he -?" 

"He slept on my couch, Josh. That's all that happened, and even if
it wasn't all that happened, Danny and I are grown adults and it
really isn't any of your damn business what we do outside of the
office. Now, do either of you have anything relevant you'd like to
discuss this morning? Like does anyone know who tried to kill the
President of the United States last night?" 

Josh flinched as though someone had struck him. 

"U.S. Marshals have several suspects in custody," Toby answered
promptly. 

"Good," C.J. replied, somewhat mollified. "Can I get that
information in a format suitable for the morning briefing?" 

"Sure," Toby replied. 

Josh laid a hand on his arm. "I got it, Toby. I know you've got a
bunch of other stuff going on right now." 

"Thanks," Toby responded, looking slightly puzzled. He headed back
to his own office. 

C.J. raised one eyebrow quizzically; it wasn't like Josh to
volunteer so readily. "Are you feeling all right this morning?" 

"Huh?" Josh muttered distractedly. "Oh...yeah. I should be asking
you. How's the...?" he made a vague gesture at his face. 

"It only hurts when I smile, so I guess I'll be fine for the next few
days," C.J. told him, gingerly probing the swollen scrape on her
cheek. 

"Yeah..." Josh studied the floor intently. "Leo's out of surgery,
did you hear?" 

"Carol told me they moved him to ICU around five A.M.," C.J. replied.
"Sam and Charlie are holding their own, and Gina has been taken off
the critical list." 

"That's good..." 

C.J. got up and walked around her desk. "Josh, that's not good, it's
great. It's a hell of a lot better then they were last night." 

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just...it seems so quiet this
morning, you know? I keep looking for Sam to come around a corner." 

"I know." 

There was a discreet tap on the open door. 

"Joey, Kenny, come on in," C.J. invited. 

Joey embraced them each in turn. "I'm glad you're OK," she told them
aloud. 

"Joey, I'm sorry...I should have called you. With Leo in the
hospital -" Josh began.

Joey began to sign too rapidly for Josh to follow and Kenny picked up
her thread of the conversation. "We know what happened. We thought
you could use a couple extra pairs of hands around here. What can we
do to help?" 

"Could I borrow Kenny for a little while?" Josh asked. "Margaret's
going nuts with all of Leo's stuff." 

"Sure," Kenny replied at the same time that Joey signed 'yes.' 

"Thanks for coming," C.J. said after the two men had left. 

"I wanted to help," Joey answered, carefully enunciating each word. 
"How are you?" 

"I'm OK...I guess. I've never been shot at before. I don't think I
quite understand how I feel about all of this just yet. I have no
clue what's going on with Josh." 

"He feels guilty," Joey told her, "because he didn't get hurt." 

C.J. just stared for a moment. It sounded completely absurd, but
with sudden insight, she also knew that it was true. 

******
THE OVAL OFFICE

"Everybody sit down," the President instructed tiredly. "C.J., how
you doing?" 

"I'm fine, sir," she replied automatically. 

"You're not fine, C.J.," Jed Bartlet replied kindly, "none of us are.
Toby, how's the arm?" 

"Broken." 

"I kind of figured that. Josh?" 

"I'm fine, sir. I...was on the other side of the gate
when...everything happened." 

"A fact for which I am extremely grateful. I'm gonna need you - all
of you, but you especially, Josh - to get through these next few
days. Mandy, Joey, Kenny, thank you very much for offering your
assistance. It is deeply appreciated. 

"Now, I have a couple of things I want to discuss with you all. Two
of my senior staff members and my personal aide are in the hospital. 
That would create a very difficult situation all by itself, but when
you add in the fact that everyone who was out there last night is
traumatized, and some of you are injured, we've got a recipe for
disaster. So right now I'm relieving you all of the responsibility
for investigating this incident - it is entirely the purview of the
Justice Department. You and your respective staffs will have nothing
- I repeat nothing - to do with the investigation. I want these
creeps caught, and I want their hides nailed to my wall. I don't
want there to be any question whatsoever of impropriety, so short of
an official summons to offer testimony, none of you will go anywhere
near this case. I'll have your word on this, people," the President
concluded solemnly. 

Murmurs of assent rippled quietly around the room and Jed nodded in
satisfaction. "OK. Now, I want the names of the agents that were on
security detail last night so I can issue some commendations. 
Somebody figure out how that works, would you? George should know." 

"I'm on it, sir," Josh volunteered. 

"I understand it was Zoe's bodyguard, Gina Tuscano, who spotted the
guns and gave the alarm," Mandy supplied. 

"And she got shot protecting my daughter," Jed agreed. "She's number
one on the list. As bad as this was, if it wasn't for her..." He
closed his eyes, reliving the horror of the previous night, when he
hadn't understood what was happening, and his panic when he realized
that people were being shot and he didn't know where his daughter
was. "Anyway," he sighed finally, "I'm going to see them all in the
hospital this afternoon, and no, Mandy, I am not taking any
reporters." 

"I'd never suggest such a thing, sir," she murmured. 

"All right...damn!" he swore suddenly. 

"Sir?" C.J. inquired. 

"Charlie, can you..." the President's voice trailed off as he
realized what he'd just said. "Damn," he swore again, softly. 

"What do you need, sir?" Mrs. Landingham asked quietly from the
doorway. 

"I apologize, Mrs. Landingham, everyone," he replied contritely. 

"It's all right," the older woman replied in her best 'mother' tone. 
"I miss him, too. What do you need?" 

"Would you please order a dozen -"

"-roses for Gina. Already done, Mister President. And I ordered
green plants for the gentlemen. I also sent a wreath for the Secret
Service agent who died and arranged a donation for the scholarship
fund that was set up for his children. And they're bringing up the
Suburban now." 

"Thank you, Mrs. Landingham, for everything." 

"Yes, sir," she replied, smiling a sad little smile. 

The President sighed heavily as the door closed behind her. "Where
was I?" he asked the room at large. 

"Commendations for the Secret Service agents," Toby supplied. 

"Thank you. Check with the police, too. I want to demonstrate to
the world that for every rotten apple, there's five fine, brave
Americans willing to put themselves on the line for others." 

"Sir," Josh suggested, "Danny Concannon ought to be on that list." 

"C.J.?" Jed asked curiously. 

"He helped save Sam's life, sir. I...I don't think I could have held
on by myself." 

"OK." The President checked his watch. "I've got a car waiting to
take me to the hospital...I just want to thank all of you, in
advance. I understand that Joey and Kenny are working with Josh and
Leo's people, so Mandy, if you could co-ordinate with Toby and C.J.,
it would be a big help." 

"Certainly, sir," she replied. 

The President rose and shrugged into his jacket. "Toby, could you
walk with me to the car?" he asked as the others filed out of the
office. 

"Of course." 

"You sure?" Jed asked solicitously. 

"As long as you're not asking me to enter the New York City Marathon,
I think I can manage," Toby responded wryly. 

"I hate to have to ask this, but I think you're better suited for
this one than Josh." 

"OK," Toby said cautiously. 

"What I need is for you to co-ordinate with Fitz. Leo used to sort
of keep on top of Fitz's reports for me..." 

'Because Leo's a vet and has some idea of what the hell Fitz and his
people are talking about,' Toby thought to himself, keeping his face
carefully composed. 

"Because Leo has a clue of what Fitz is saying and I don't," the
President sighed. 

"I'll take care of it for you, sir." 

"Thank you, Toby. And, I know you probably won't listen to this, but
try to take it easy if you can, all right? You have a very nice
couch in your office - I expect you to sit on it and let somebody who
isn't hurt do all the running around." 

"It's funny you should say that, sir...your wife told me the same
thing...more or less." 

Jed raised one eyebrow. "More or less?" 

"She said if she saw me out of a chair for longer then ten minutes at
a time she'd sedate me." 

"Yup, that sounds like my wife all right." 

******************************************
GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

The doctor glanced at the door to see who was entering his patient's
room. "Mister Young, you have impeccable timing...you woke up just
in time to say hello to your boss."

"Oh, I don't think his timing's so great," the President remarked in
a cheerful voice, "he should have woken up this morning when there
were three lovely ladies here to see him." 

"Three, sir?" Charlie whispered. 

"That's right - Zoë, Mrs. Bartlet, and your sister." 

"Deena?" Charlie asked, puzzled. 

"Yes. She's staying with us for a while." 

"Sir, I can't impose like that," Charlie protested. 

"Charlie," Jed said kindly, "you're not imposing. It was my wife's
idea, actually. In light of all this, we're all breathing a little
easier knowing that Deena's someplace safe. Besides, my wife and I
have three daughters and one granddaughter...we're accustomed to
having a bunch of girls in the house and we love it. OK?" 

"OK," Charlie nodded. "How's Zoë?" 

"She's scared, and very worried about you, but she wasn't hurt." 

Charlie closed his eyes momentarily. "Thank God. I'm sorry," he
added. 

"For what, son?" Jed asked gently. 

"This was all my fault, isn't it?" 

"No," the President told him firmly. "It was not your fault. Don't
you ever let me hear you say anything like that again. This was the
work of some extremely disturbed individuals who are currently in the
custody of Federal Marshals." 

"But I if wasn't going out with Zoë-"

"Then they would have found some other excuse. Now, you listen to
me, Charlie Young. You are a fine, upstanding young man, and there
is no one - no one - I would rather see my daughter spending time
with." 

"Thank you, sir," Charlie murmured. "Who...who else got shot?" 

The President sighed heavily. "Sam...Leo...Gina." 

"Bad?" Charlie wanted to know. 

"Bad." 

"Was anyone...?"

"Yeah...one of the agents protecting me was shot and killed." 

"You're so calm, sir," Charlie marveled. 

"What I am, Charlie, is numb. At first I was terrified. Then I got
angry. Then I ran out of adrenaline around two o'clock this
morning." 

"Did you remember to take your medicine?" Charlie asked
automatically. 

"You are the tenth person to ask me that so far today, Charlie. Yes,
I took my medicine. Now, I want you to take it easy and think about
yourself for a while, OK? I'll let Zoë know that you're awake." 

"Thank you, Mister President. Sir?" he continued, seeing that the
President was getting up to leave. 

"Yes, Charlie?" 

"How do you...how do we...?" 

"Get through all of this? Speaking for myself, with a little help
from my friends...and a lot of help from the Almighty. You get some
rest." 

"Yes, sir," Charlie murmured tiredly.

******************************************
THE WHITE HOUSE

Danny Concannon stuck his head in C.J.'s door. "Hey." 

She looked up from the mess of papers on her desk. "Hey."

"It's almost ten. Don't you think it's about time you blew this pop
stand?" he asked, slouching against the doorframe. 

C.J. shoved her hair out of her face tiredly. The bruise on her
cheek and the dark shadows under her eyes stood out in stark contrast
to her pallor. "Danny, we are down two senior staff members and one
personal aide to the President. You know that everyone has to pitch
in and help take up the slack." 

"I know that you're gonna collapse if you don't get a good square
meal and some sleep." 

"Danny." 

"Charlie woke up this afternoon." 

"I know. But Sam and Leo..." 

"C'mon..." Danny picked up C.J.'s jacket and walked around her desk.
He held her chair and offered her a hand up. 

Sighing heavily, C.J. closed the file she was working on and reached
out to take his hand. "Danny?" 

"Yeah?" 

"What are we gonna do?"

Danny pulled her gently to her feet. "Right now, I'm gonna get you
something to eat, then you're gonna go home and get some sleep,
and...we'll deal with whatever this is in the morning," he concluded,
gesturing to the mess on her desk. 

"We?" C.J. asked quizzically. 

Danny shrugged. "Figure of speech." 

"OK." 

Fin.

Copyright © 2000 Kathleen Klatte
All Rights Reserved

****************************
Miss Kathleen A. Klatte
kat@g...
kawklatte@a...
http://www.homestead.com/Kath725/

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