Disclaimer, Version 3.1: Good evening, from Los Angeles, I am not Dan Rydell, nor am I Casey McCall. The Rangers aren't mine (well, in certain fantasy worlds they are, but this isn't one of them) and some of the dialogue was originally penned by Aaron Sorkin. (Ha, I said penned like people actually write these things out on paper anymore.) No warnings that I can think of, this one's pretty straightforward, and was written in several spurts, the last of which occurred while battling a horrid case of plantar faschiitis. (that's an inflamed tendon in your foot, which makes standing painful and walking a chore. Ouch!) Yes, I am still here, just incredibly busy. But with Thanksgiving around the corner, you can expect the next chapter sometime late next week. So, without further ado, you're watching WWPR on CSC, so stick around!

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11:00 a.m., Roosevelt Room

The Roosevelt Room is kind of a conference room, used primarily for cabinet meetings and intense negotiations. But at the moment, there was only one person sitting in the room, an African-American gentleman who had no idea why he was there in the first place. He was sure that there had been some sort of mistake, but he would rectify things as soon as he could talk to someone.

That someone appeared in the form of Rocky DeSantos, who entered in accompanied by Whitny, Tommy's secretary, who handed him a stack of manila envelopes with her right hand while holding a pen and notepad in her left.

"I would like a sandwich, a salad of some kind, a bottle of water, and if you can run across anything fruit-related, hang the expense," Rocky told Whitny, who was in charge of taking everyone's lunch orders that day. She quickly scribbled down what she could remember of the request and started to walk off to get everyone else's order.

"You know what, never mind the salad, I'm not going to eat it anyway."

"That would be a first."

"You know, I've had it up to about here with the jokes about my stomach," Rocky exasperatedly told her, placing his right hand against his neck for added emphasis.

"Still funny, though. So, no on the salad?"

"Right. But I would like a bottle of water as soon as humanly possible."

"As you wish," Whitny said, kind of sarcastically but not expecting him to get the 'Princess Bride' reference.

As she left, Rocky took a look at the folder she had given him, then shifted his eyes to the young man in the room. "Ethan James?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hi, I'm Rocky DeSantos, Deputy Chief of Staff," Rocky told him, not knowing that no introduction should have been necessary.

"How do you do?" Ethan responded, too nervous to recognize the name or the face in front of him.

"I'm supposed to vet you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Vet you—investigate to discover—if there are any problems. Go ahead, have a seat."

"I don't mind standing."

"Don't worry about it. It's an interview, not a criminal investigation. Just have a seat."

As Ethan sat down in a chair just around the corner from Rocky, Mr. DeSantos continued going through his spiel. "I'm sure you understand why we have to go through this. It's a very sensitive job. It's also a very hard job. Twenty-hour days are not uncommon, long trips at the last minute; a lot of hurry-up and wait. Moreover, there will be times when you'll have to make yourself invisible in plain sight, as well as an undeniable force in front of those who want more time than we're willing to give. Sometimes the people I'm talking about will be kings and prime ministers. Do you understand so far?"

"Uh, sir, I'm sorry, but I think there's been some kind of mistake."

"Really."

"See, I came here, and I filled out an application for…"

"Yeah, I've got your paperwork right here."

"So, I came here, I was looking for a job with your IT department."

"Yes."

"And I had an interview with a Mrs. Rawlings, and she told me to wait."

"Yes."

"And then she told me to come here."

"Yes. That's because we asked Mrs. Rawlings to keep an eye out. She's recommending you for a different job."

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking…"

"Personal aide to the President. And you don't have to call me 'sir.'" At this point, Rocky realized that Ethan hadn't looked up at him since they had sat down, so he decided to try and lighten up for a moment. It didn't work.

"I don't understand."

"Personal aide to the President: traditionally a young guy, somewhere between 20 and 25, excels academically, presentable appearance, strong on personal responsibility and discretion."

"Sir…"

"Obviously we get a lot of people who meet those qualifications, so the rest is just gut instinct…or you could bribe me."

"Sir…"

"Seriously, Ethan. We call the President 'sir.' Everybody else is 'Hey, when am I gonna get that thing I asked for.'" Right on cue, Whitny came back in the room with the bottle of water Rocky had requested when this conversation had begun. She handed Rocky the bottle as he glanced at one of the reports strewn across the table.

"See, that's not…there's been a mistake," Ethan tried to explain again, only to be interrupted again.

"I'll say. Whit!"

As the lady came back into the room, wondering what was wrong now, Ethan made an attempt to leave so that he could regain some sense of normalcy. Though he should have realized by now that that was a lost cause. Whitny was now standing in the doorway, cutting off his only obvious way of retreat.

"Did Aisha write this one up?" Rocky asked her.

"As far as I know, she did."

"Could you hand it back to her and have her check a dictionary."

"What do you mean?"

"Insuccessful?"

"What's the problem?"

"I don't think we're allowed to make up our own words."

"Oh, like there's no chance it's a typo."

"Well, have her fix it, will you? Serious people are gonna read that."

Whitny walked over to the table and picked up the report in question. As she turned to leave, she glanced over at Ethan, who was still standing by the table, and gave him a look that tried to communicate if you value your sanity, leave NOW!

"Ethan, you're standing again," Rocky said as he turned his attention back to the young man he had come in here to talk to.

"Sorry," Ethan responded, then rather meekly sat down.

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11:30 a.m., Situation Room

"As you were," Jason told the group in the room. (The same group of seven that were there when he left in a huff at the end of the last chapter, plus a couple of other folks.) Everyone sat back down as Jason continued. "I was just putting in a cameo at a meeting of cardiologists up in the Blue Room. You wouldn't think you could find a group of people more arrogant than the dozen of us, but there they are, upstairs in the Blue Room." This brought a round of laughs from the group assembled. Turning to Andros, Jason addressed the order he had handed down when he had left the room previously. "You got something for me to see?"

"Yes, sir." Andros took a deep breath as he stood up, then walked over to the wall and pulled up a map of what appeared to be an airfield. "Mr. President, we've put together a scenario by which we attack Hassan Airport, which consists of three main terminals and two runways. In addition to the civilian casualties, which could number somewhere in the thousands, this attack would also cripple the regions ability to receive both medical supplies and bottled water. Now, I think Ms. Earhardt and Secretary Matlock would each tell you what you already know, sir: that this attack would be seen—both here and around the world—as a staggering over-reaction by a "first-time" Commander-in-Chief. That without the support of our allies, without a coalition of any kind and without Congress, you'll have doled out $50,000 worth of punishment for a $50 crime."

Jason had been staring at the map in silence the whole time, so Andros wasn't sure if he had really gotten the message. He started again. "Mr. President, a proportional response doesn't eliminate our options in the future the way an all-out assault…" Jason waved at him to stop. The ball was in his court now.

"When the time comes, you'll know what to do." The words Trini had spoken to him just before she left for the last time rang in Jason's head. She wouldn't want this, Jason thought to himself. Would she? Probably not. It sure would feel good, though. But I can't wantonly destroy that many innocent lives. On top of which, I'd rather not have a mutiny in this room. And on one point, they're right: we can always break out the heavy artillery later. Turning to Andros, Jason gave him the response he was hoping for. "This other plan you talked about earlier?"

"Yes, sir. Drago One," Andros responded.

"No civilian casualties?"

"We can't guarantee that, sir."

"But you're as certain as you can be?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the military ramifications?"

"We'll cripple their intelligence network and their surface-to-air strike capacity" responded one of the other generals at the table.

"Fine. So—how exactly do we do this?"

"You give me the "go" order, sir" Andros told Jason as he stood up and walked over to a red phone that was mounted on the wall.

While he had talked himself into the plan the generals had originally set forth, Jason's heart still wasn't really in it. He just sat there for a minute, saying nothing, then simply nodded his head. Taking that as the yes it was meant to be, Andros picked up the phone and told the person on the other end of the line: "This is Hammond. I have a "go" from the President. Start the clock on Drago One and stand by for the confirmation code."

As he hung up, various voices around the room congratulated the President on his first military action in office. Jason was of a different opinion as he took a sip from the glass of water that had been sitting in front of him. Setting the glass back down, he stood up and muttered, "$50 crime? I honestly don't know what the hell we're doing here." He marched out of the room, still angry. Andros looked over at Billy and the two held a wordless conversation in which Billy promised to have a word with the President as soon as possible.

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12:05 p.m., Roosevelt Room

"Okay, I'm going to ask you some questions" Rocky told Ethan. "Strictly routine, we ask these to everyone, do you understand?"

Ethan responded with a silent nod, and Rocky began. "Question One: have you ever tried to overthrow the government?"

"Is this because the IT job is no longer available? Because I can come back…"

"Ethan, this job is actually better than the IT job. It pays better, you don't have to put up with getting yelled at for 15 minutes at a time before telling someone to just hit the reset button, and instead of that, you get to be Personal Aide to the President."

"I see,…so, maybe if I came back…" Ethan was interrupted by a knock at the door, which proved to be the last face Ethan had expected to see: his old leader, Tommy.

"Hey, Rock—Ethan?"

"Dr. O?"

"What are you doing here?" they simultaneously asked.

"I was just looking for a job, and Mrs. Rawlings sent me here."

"Angela's got an eye for personnel."

"I'm gonna take a wild, flying, half-court stab in the dark and say that you two know each other, then?" Rocky said.

"You could say that, sir," Ethan told Rocky.

"He's an old student of mine from Reefside, who wore a lot of blue, if you know what I mean." Tommy continued, while Ethan wondered what the good doctor was doing blabbing such information to a co-worker. Unless…

"No kidding," Rocky said. "Well, then, I guess we can just bypass the rest of the questions, then."

"Wait, you mean, you know?"

"About your day job saving the world? Yeah."

"But that would mean…"

"I was working with Tommy on the same project while you were sitting on Santa's lap and asking for a Sega Genesis, Ethan."

"Wait a second…you're that Rocky?"

"Guilty as charged."

"Okay, I am officially weirded out."

"What? No awe at being face-to-face with another of your elders?"

"Sorry. I ran out of awe pretty quickly. You might want to try Conner."

"Now he tells me."

Before the bizarre reunion could continue, Adam came sprinting by, popping his head in the door to round up the gang. "Guys, Billy's office, now. It's happening."

Before racing out of the room, Tommy turned back to Ethan. "Seriously, you ever try to overthrow the government?"

"No."

"What's been stopping you? But, seriously, you got the job. Welcome back, and welcome to the White House."

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