DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Charles Logan is an utterly fascinating character, and Gregory Itzin does a fabulous job portraying him. How did Logan get to be such a misguided, directionless President anyway? This is my answer.
GREAT EXPECTATIONS
Charles Logan's entire life had been a sham. A sham designed to meet expectations.
He'd never really wanted to be a politician. It had just sort of happened, for lack of anything better. He'd stayed there because it was expected of him. He played the part, debated on the senate floor, ran for governor, accepted the offer to be Vice-President and, when the time came, President. It was expected.
He hadn't really wanted to marry Martha, and had often wondered if she'd really wanted to marry him. No, Charles Logan had married Martha because she was pretty and good with the whole PR thing. Martha married him because he was important and wealthy and powerful. It was a sham, just like everything else. It had become more of a sham since Martha had been loaded on Vodka and Valium for the last three years. But they stayed together. It was expected of them.
Charles Logan's presidency was also a sham. Rushed into office when Keeler died, Logan took that oath of office for the same reason he ran for state and national senate, and governor, and became VP-it was expected of him.
That was Logan's entire life-having great expectations thrust upon him and charging to meet them. Politics, Martha…all of it. Now, all of that had led to today. Today, when Charles Logan had conspired to have David Palmer assassinated. Today, when Charles Logan had become an enemy of the country he was sworn to protect.
Why did you do this? Some little voice in his head asked.
Because it was something I could control, Logan answered with surprising ease. For once, I didn't want to be at the mercy of others, doing what they wanted. I wanted to do something on my own. He gave a defeated sigh as he admitted that last part. And I had to resort to terrorism to do it. Like a rebellious teenager, Logan had run to Henderson as an opportunity to do something he could control.
Logan fingered the weapon in his hands. Smooth, cool metal slid between his fingers. He put a bullet in the chamber and placed it to his forehead.
This, too, was something he could control.
The phone rang.
Logan froze. Part of him wondered how on Earth he'd explain this if Martha or Mike were to walk in.
The phone kept ringing,
Logan lowered the weapon and picked up the phone. "Yes?" Not the most Presidential way to answer a telephone, but he was tired of being Presidential.
"Mr. President, it's someone from CTU, sir," the respectful female voice on the other end said.
"I don't want to talk to anyone from CTU," Logan said shortly.
"Sir, he says it's urgent."
Here it goes again. Expectations, expectations, expectations. A good President would talk to whoever-it-is from CTU.
Charles Logan was not a good President.
"Put him through."
But for now, he'd pretend to be. Because it was expected.