PART II
Leo had listened to the charges, his outrage growing with each
word. Afterward, the room was silent for a long moment.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Leo almost
shouted. "You're insane."
Tom ignored him. He looked down at Jed with contempt. "I've
been chosen to carry out your sentence," he said with
malicious pleasure. "The method has been decided. A quick
death would be too good for you and so your sentence will be
carried out over the next three days. Do you have anything to say
for yourself?"
Jed looked up at him. His blue eyes were intense, steely and full
of righteous passion. "You call yourself patriots. This
country was founded on certain principles. Principles of freedom
and equality." His gaze moved over each man. "And not
just for Christians or white people or men. Those were the
ideals. Yes, I'll admit it took time. They made mistakes. They
gave some more freedom than others, and some none at all. But
things changed. They're still changing. I thank God for
that."
The room was silent for a moment. Then Tom snorted derisively.
"He can still make pretty speeches even without his
writers," he said. "Who knew?" His fist shot out
and connected with Jed's temple, knocking the President to the
floor. "Speech time's over, Bartlet."
Another man lifted Jed back to his knees and held his shoulder as
Tom hit him again. And again. The others were solemn, as though
they were watching a grave ceremony. The only sounds were the
crack of fist on flesh and Leo's shouts. Leo's heart almost broke
when he saw how hard the President was trying to keep silent.
Leo cursed, threatened and finally pleaded for them to stop. It
was as if he weren't even in the room. He gripped the bars
tighter as he watched as his best friend began to slump in his
tormentors' grasp.
Jed's stubborn silence seemed to only make Tom angrier. The blows
fell heavier, blood ran from the President's mouth and nose, and
from a cut on his cheek to leave bright red spots on his white
shirt.
Finally, after an eternity, Tom stopped. He entwined his fingers
in Jed's hair and yanked his head back.
"You make me sick," he ground out from between clenched
teeth. Jed's eyes rolled back in his head, he was barely
conscious. "You act so high and mighty, Mr. President, but
you let a filthy nigger fuck your daughter." He shoved him
away roughly and stared at him for a moment. The President didn't
even flinch as he hit the floor, nor did he move after.
"That's enough for now. Put him in with the other one. We've
got things to do before morning."
"Good morning." Steve held out his badge to the Secret
Service agent at the door. "I'm here to see CJ Cregg."
Before the agent could question him, a woman's voice interrupted.
"Steve!"
The tall blond woman rushed toward him, smiling. But he could see
that it didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's okay," CJ
said to the agent. "He's with me."
She grabbed Steve's hand and pulled him into the room. "I
saw your name on the report," she said.
"Yeah, I heard your briefing."
"Ron says you're going to be helping out. Is that why you're
here?"
Steve put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her to a stop. She
turned to face him fully, her eyes surprised. He studied those
eyes he had looked into so many times before. They were red and
tired looking.
"No. I came to see you. How are you? Really."
She stared at him for a long moment. "I- Busy. Really busy.
We- nobody knows quite what to do. I mean, when the President was
shot at Rosslyn, we at least knew where he was. But this…
Vice President Hoynes flew back to the White House. He doesn't
want us there, he has his own staff. But I still handle the
press, and I'd rather do that here. I want to be here when they
find him. I *need* to be."
Steve took her hand. "I know. Listen, I know you're busy.
This is hell. I doubt you're even going to go back to your hotel
to sleep, I know you. But, I'm here for you, okay? Remember
that."
She finally smiled, a real smile. "You always were. God,
when I was working for that studio, you'd listen to me bitch
about it for hours. I hated Hollywood people so much."
"You did your fair share of listening too." He paused.
"I've missed you, CJ"
"Me too." She glanced away, then back as if his blue
eyes drew her gaze against her will. "So, you married with
six kids now?" She asked with forced lightness.
He responded with a chuckle. "Six kids? In three years, huh?
I'd have to be pretty busy, for that." He shook his head.
"No. and not married, either."
"Me neither."
"Yeah, I know. It'd have made national news if you had, I
guess."
"Not really." CJ tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
"CJ!" A man's shout came from behind her.
"Yeah, I'm coming!" She shouted back. "I'm sorry.
I've got to do a thing."
"Okay. I just wanted to let you know… If you need
anything…"
She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Thanks. I'll call you, I
promise."
"Okay. I'm going to go talk to Agent Butterfield while I'm
here."
"CJ!"
"Keep your shirt on, Toby!"
Steve stifled a laugh. "You'd better go."
"Yeah." She smiled, just a little. "Thanks for
coming. It means a lot to me."
He watched her walk away, then turned and headed back out the
door.
Sam Seaborn glared at his empty coffee cup. He needed to stay
working, but he needed the caffeine more. He hadn't yet been to
sleep when the news about the President had turned their
temporary offices upside-down. Add that onto a nineteen-hour day,
and he was a little cranky without high doses of caffeine.
Intravenously, if he could get it.
He levered himself out of his chair with a sigh. The work could
wait. It was mostly to keep him busy anyway. Being the
President's speechwriter, he didn't have much of his own work to
do under the circumstances. But it kept him from going crazy with
worry. Over the past three years Jed Bartlet had become like a
second father to him. Certainly a better one than his own father,
who, he had recently learned, had been cheating on his mother for
the last two decades. Sam was still trying to sort out his
feelings about that one.
And Leo. Leo was the one who protected them, watched over them
and guided them all through the murky waters of professional
politics. This whole thing was like an unending nightmare. And he
had the horrible feeling that it was going to get worse.
The coffee in the lobby was hot and fresh, due to the simple fact
that the staff was going through it far too quickly to allow it
to cool. He filled his cup gratefully and slowly walked back to
his makeshift office. He missed his real office. He missed the
White House and Leo's stern mentoring and the President's
lectures on the history of eggplant. He smiled. Or whatever inane
bit of trivia the President felt like quizzing them on any given
day.
He wandered back into his office. In the center of his desk,
lying neatly atop his portable computer, was a small package.
Curious, he picked it up and examined the front. It was addressed
to Josh Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff. It had no return address.
"Josh?" He called. No one answered. A second look at
the package revealed it had already been opened, probably by Josh
who must have left it there for him. He tipped it and videotape
slid out. He raised his eyebrows.
He'd had a VCR and television brought in last night, continually
tuned to CNN. Now he slid the tape in and grabbed the remote,
starting the tape.
He slumped in his chair, picking up his coffee cup. As the image
on the screen changed from Andrea Thompson to a featureless,
concrete room, it's two visible occupants drawing the eye and
attention; the cup fell from nerveless fingers.
"Oh, God." Sam froze, his gaze riveted to the screen.
"Oh my God."
The first muffled sound of pain jolted him out of his shock. He
leapt out of his chair and stopped the tape, frantically stabbing
the eject button.
"Kathy!" He shouted. "Kathy!"
His secretary appeared in the doorway. "What-"
He held up the tape. "Where did this come from?" He was
distantly aware that he was still shouting. "Who brought
this?"
"Some delivery guy. A messenger. He was looking for Josh,
but Josh was in a meeting with…" She trailed off as she
finally took in the stricken expression on his face.
"Sam?"
"Some delivery guy." Sam repeated grimly. He strode
over to her with sudden quickness and grabbed her wrist.
"Come with me."
Ignoring her questions and the looks from the other staffers
around them, he practically dragged her down the hall to the
office the Secret Service was using as their command post.
"Tell them everything," he said, without preamble. He
turned to the Special Agent In-Charge. "Ron?"
Ron Butterfield nodded. He turned to a tall blond man in casual
clothes and gestured for him to accompany them. They followed Sam
back out into the hall as the younger man headed back toward his
office.
"What's this about?"
"The President." Sam didn't elaborate and Ron didn't
press. "Who's this?"
"Detective Steve Sloan, LAPD." Steve spoke up.
"Ron?"
"He's okay."
Sam nodded. They paused briefly by Toby Zeigler's office where
the Communications Director was speaking in hushed tones with CJ.
"Toby, CJ," he said. Nothing more. His tone of voice
spoke volumes. Toby stood and they followed.
"Donna!" He called to the blond assistant to Josh
Lyman. "Find Josh right away. Get him over to my office.
Doesn't matter what he's doing, get him here now."
Donna nodded and hurried off.
They waited in uncomfortable silence. Steve and CJ exchanged
glances and he moved to stand near her. Without seeming to mean
to, the back of his hand brushed hers. She looked at him
gratefully.
Donna worked quickly. Josh arrived mere minutes later and each
looked at Sam expectantly.
Without a word, he slipped the tape back into the VCR and started
it.
Startled exclamations then stunned silence were the only
reactions. Outwardly, Ron didn't react at all, except for perhaps
a change in his eyes. If possible, they became even colder and
more resolute.
They watched in horror as their President, their *friend*, was
viciously beaten before their eyes. When the tape ended with Jed
Bartlet lying unconscious and bleeding on the floor, Sam looked
around the room at his friends.
Josh looked like he was having trouble catching his breath. His
face had paled alarmingly. Sam moved to his side, offering silent
support.
CJ had her hand over her mouth and her eyes were bright with
unshed tears. Steve moved closer to her, dropping all pretense of
formality and putting his arm around her shoulders. Toby stood
alone, staring blankly down at the floor, his shoulders slumped.
His hands shook visibly.
"I'll take the tape to have it examined." Ron's even
voice broke the stunned silence. He stood. He took the tape and
abruptly strode out of the room.
Donna appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide and frightened.
"Josh! Turn on CNN!"
"Don't you knock?" Josh snapped, adrenaline still
running high. .
"Josh! It's the President!"
The four exchanged horrified looks. Josh lunged for the remote
and quickly changed the connection back to cable TV and CNN.
The horror each of them were feeling was magnified as they saw
the same footage they had just seen being aired on worldwide
news. The news anchor was reporting in a shaken voice that they
had just received a videotape from an anonymous source.
The stunned silence in Sam's office was echoed outside its door.
Sam looked up, his expression dismayed. "Mrs. Bartlet,"
he breathed. The First Lady was in her hotel room, awaiting news.
He prayed she wasn't watching television.
Josh met his eyes. "Oh, God."
Abby Bartlet slipped her arm out from beneath her youngest
daughter's head, trying not to wake her as she rose from the
couch. Zoey had finally fallen asleep after the two of them had
talked and cried until they were emotionally spent. It had been
Spring Break for Zoey, and she had left Georgetown University to
join her parents for this trip.
"Mom?" Her voice cracked.
"Shh, baby. Go back to sleep."
Zoey sat up and ran a hand through her hair. "No, it's okay.
What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to go get a drink of water.
"Okay." She reached for the blanket that had slid to
the floor. When she looked up, she automatically glanced at the
television, hoping for more news. The sound was turned down low,
but she heard her father's name.
"Mom," she called. "They're talking about
Daddy." She reached for the remote and turned up the volume.
The shot cut away from the news anchor and to the videotaped
scene in the concrete room.
"Oh, God." Zoey's hands gripped the blanket tightly.
"That can't be real."
Abby's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a cry.
"Jed…"
Leo leaned back against the wall and gently lifted Jed's head
into his lap.
"Sir? Mr. President?" He paused, studying the still,
battered face. "Jed?" His voice lowered to a shaky
whisper as he brushed the President's damp hair off his forehead.
"Come on, old friend. Wake up. God, this is so wrong. This
should never have happened. Not here."
"Then where?" Jed asked in a groggy voice, his eyes
still closed. "'Cause I really can't think of a good
place."
"Mr. President! Are you all ri-" He broke off.
"Never mind. That was a stupid question. Just try to lie
still."
"Yeah." He slowly opened his eyes. "It wasn't a
horrible nightmare caused by eating to many crab puffs at the
reception, huh?"
"No."
Jed sighed. "Are you all right?
"Yes, sir."
"Leo, I think it's okay for you to call me Jed, under the
circumstances."
"No sir. I think, under these circumstances, you need to be
reminded who you are."
Another sigh. "Yeah. I just…"
"Yeah."
"So… What's next?"
"Sir?"
"What do we do now? Obviously we can't just sit here and
wait for them to come back to use me as a punching bag again. I
have to tell you, Leo, that I won't be filing this under Things I
Really Want To Experience Twice. We've got to do something."
"What do you suggest?"
"Okay, I'm going to ignore the sarcasm, there. How many are
there, do you think?"
"I saw eleven."
"Okay." He was silent for a moment. "Nothing's
coming to mind. Nothing that's not incredibly stupid and wouldn't
be doomed to failure, that is."
"Yeah."
"You've been giving this a lot of thought, haven't
you?"
"You were unconscious for a while."
Jed looked up at Leo. "How are you doing, really?"
"Better than you."
"I don't mean physically. I was thinking of your tour in
Vietnam."
Leo swallowed but didn't answer.
"Leo…"
"Don't." His voice was sharper than he'd intended.
"I- I'm okay. Just… don't, okay?"
"Okay."
They sat in silence for another few minutes.
"I was in that POW camp for almost six months."
Jed gazed at him with sympathetic eyes. "You were shot
down."
"Yeah."
"But you were rescued."
"Somedays I didn't think that was ever going to
happen."
"It did, Leo. It did."
"Yeah."
Leo took the bit of cloth he'd torn from his sleeve and dabbed at
the cut on the President's cheek. "Is your vision
blurry?"
"No."
"Are you lying?"
"You've got to stop talking to my wife."
"Sir?"
Jed closed his eyes. "Yes."
"Probably a concussion."
"Yeah."
"Are you having any trouble breathing?"
"Leo…"
"Are you having any trouble breathing?"
"Not really. Just hurts."
"All right." Leo gently brushed his hands over Jed's
hair in slow rhythmic motions. The President slowly relaxed in
his friend's arms as the pain and fatigue overtook him. "All
right," Leo repeated.
Steve threw the phone back into its cradle. "Dammit!"
He shouted.
His partner looked up from her own desk. "Steve?"
"No one knows anything. I've talked to everyone I can think
of. Anyone who might have heard something."
"Something'll break."
He wiped his hand over his face. "I hope so." He pushed
his chair back and stood. "I'm going to go try to find some
of the people I couldn't reach by phone. If anyone calls, give
them my cell number, okay?"
"Sure. You want company?"
He shook his head. "No, thanks. I'll call you." He
strode out of the bullpen, heading for the elevators. Cheryl
watched him for a moment before returning to her own work.
Steve slammed the truck door and pounded his fist on the steering
wheel. If he heard the words "I don't know," out of one
more of his snitches, he thought he might shoot him, just out of
frustration. He took a deep breath and started the truck.
Disheartened by so many dead ends, and unsure of where to go
next, the vehicle seemed to make its own way back to Community
General.
"Hey, Dad."
Mark looked up from his desk, startled. "Steve!" He
scrutinized his son. "Have you slept?"
"Since when?" Steve asked dryly. He slumped into a
chair.
"That's what I thought." He paused. "Have you seen
the news lately?"
"Of President Bartlet? Yeah." He stared down at his
hands and made a conscious effort to unclench his fists. He took
a deep breath. "Dad, I'm not getting anywhere on this. It's
like they disappeared from the face of the earth."
Mark took off his glasses and rubbed tired eyes. "No leads,
then."
Steve shook his head. "None."
"It's not like you're the only one, Steve. Every law
enforcement agency is working on this."
"I know."
"The Secret Service must be going crazy by now."
"Are any of the agents conscious yet?"
"Not yet. Two are in ICU, one is still in surgery."
Steve nodded wearily. They both sat in silence for a long moment.
"I went to see CJ Cregg this morning."
Mark brightened. "Really?" His smile quickly faded.
"How's she holding up?"
He sighed. "You know CJ. She puts on a good front, but I
know this is hitting her hard. She likes and respects the
President a lot."
Mark nodded. "So do we all. But she knows him a lot better
than we do."
"Yeah. From the emails she's sent over the last few years,
it sounds like they're pretty close."
"I was sorry to see her leave LA. I know she couldn't pass
up the opportunity she had, but… She's a nice girl."
Steve smiled a little. "Yes she is."
"Are you planning to see her again?"
"I-" His cell phone rang. He held up a hand. "Hang
on." He flipped open the phone before it finished the second
ring. "Sloan." He listened for a moment. "Okay.
Yeah. Thanks." He snapped the phone shut as he stood.
"Dad, I gotta go. See you later?"
"Okay. Be careful, Son…" He shook his head. Steve
was already out the door.
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