AMENDMENT XXV
Passed by Congress July 6, 1965. Ratified February 10, 1967.
Note: Article II, section 1, of the Constitution was affected by the 25th amendment.
Section 1.
In case of the removal of the President from office or of his death or resignation, the Vice President shall become President.
Section 2.
Whenever there is a vacancy in the office of the Vice President, the President shall nominate a Vice President who shall take office upon confirmation by a majority vote of both Houses of Congress.
Section 3.
Whenever the President transmits to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives his written declaration that he is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, and until he transmits to them a written declaration to the contrary, such powers and duties shall be discharged by the Vice President as Acting President.
Section 4.
Whenever the Vice President and a majority of either the principal officers of the executive departments or of such other body as Congress may by law provide, transmit to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives their written declaration that the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, the Vice President shall immediately assume the powers and duties of the office as Acting President.
Thereafter, when the President transmits to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives his written declaration that no inability exists, he shall resume the powers and duties of his office unless the Vice President and a majority of either the principal officers of the executive department or of such other body as Congress may by law provide, transmit within four days to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives their written declaration that the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office. Thereupon Congress shall decide the issue, assembling within forty-eight hours for that purpose if not in session. If the Congress, within twenty-one days after receipt of the latter written declaration, or, if Congress is not in session, within twenty-one days after Congress is required to assemble, determines by two-thirds vote of both Houses that the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, the Vice President shall continue to discharge the same as Acting President; otherwise, the President shall resume the powers and duties of his office.
"Morning," Roberto called as Chris charged distractedly down the corridor.
"Morning." Chris stopped, turned on his heel, and took a few paces back in Roberto's direction. "Is she in today?"
"You know Evie," sighed Roberto. "Frankly, I think she'd rather be here than anywhere else, at a time like this."
Chris looked down at the ground.
"You've seen her?"
"Very briefly. Just wanted to give her my condolences and let her know that we're all here for her. She's not doing too great, Chris."
Chris nodded.
"I'll go over and say hello, at least."
"Yeah." Roberto clapped Chris on the shoulder. "Take care."
A few minutes later, Chris knocked gently on Evie's office door, and, without waiting for a response, slowly pushed it open.
Evie was staring at a the top page of an amicus brief with a dazed and frustrated expression that suggested that she had been re-reading the same sentence over and over without absorbing a word. All of the lights were off, and the only illumination in the room came from the dazzling sunlight lancing through the half-shuttered window onto Evie's desk. She blinked resignedly when Chris entered the office.
"Hi," he said quietly, hovering by the door. "I don't want to intrude, I just wanted to let you know that I'm here if you want to talk, and that I'm so, so sorry..."
Chris trailed off helplessly. Evie swallowed and gave him a stoic nod.
"Thanks, Chris," she replied, her voice weak with suppressed emotion. Then, as though the very act of speaking had wedged open a door that she had been desperately trying to keep shut, she began to cry, first in tiny, clenched gasps, and then in full-throated sobs.
Chris was the type of person who always thought things through carefully and methodically before acting – a trait that had made him a miserable athlete in his youth and an unparalleled attorney in his litigating prime. Yet, for once in his life, before he even had time to question if it was the appropriate thing to do, he had rushed around Evie's desk and knelt down, gathering her in his arms as she sobbed into his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she choked in a small and unfamiliar voice. "I was holding everything together so well up to this point..."
"It's OK," Chris said soothingly. "It's OK, Evie. You don't have to apologize for grieving."
Evie sniffled and sat back in her chair, covering her face with her hands. Chris dragged a tissue box across Evie's desk so that it was at her easy disposal and sat back on his heels while she collected herself.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked uncertainly. "Water?"
Evie emitted a somewhat strangled laugh.
"No, thank you," she said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue and tossing it in the wastepaper basket under her desk. "Although I'll probably have to run out and get more Kleenex midday. Maybe I'll ask Jake to pick some up on his way over."
"He's flying in?"
"Caught a red-eye to BWI last night. He should be getting into Union Station right around now."
"I'm glad to hear that," said Chris. He studied his friend critically. "Evie, are you sure you should be here today? No one will think any less of you if you take the next few days off, spend some time with Jake..."
"No," said Evie flatly.
"Evie..."
"Look, as much as I would love to fall asleep for the next few days and enter some oblivion in which none of this had happened, that's not going to do me or anyone else much good. I'd really rather be here, trying to do something constructive with my time. It's a good distraction, at any rate."
Chris gave her a skeptical look.
"I'll take a long lunch with Jake," she argued. "And then get back to work. He'll undoubtedly have things he needs to get done, too."
"If you're sure. But I hope you realize that the Court can get by for the next few days without its Chief Justice, much more easily than Jake can get by for the next few days without his mom."
"Hmm." Evie frowned pensively. "Jake's an adult who will no doubt be working through this in his own way. And taking time off would mean leaving all of you with Ron as Acting Chief Justice, which, frankly, I don't think anyone wants."
"It's not an ideal situation," Chris admitted, "but it would be temporary, and you need to think about your own well-being, before anything else. Plenty of people are obligated to worry about the functioning of the Court, but no one is going to look out for you, if you don't."
"On the contrary," said Evie through a teary smile, "isn't that exactly what you're doing right now?"
Chris smiled back at her, and then pushed himself to his feet, wincing as a dozen of his bones creaked and crackled their discontent.
"Take it easy, and please, please, let me know if there's anything I can do for you." He paused and looked down at his hands. "I hope you realize how much you are loved, Evie. No one can replace Bill, but I and many, many others in this building care tremendously for you, and you can lean on any of us as much as you need to, professionally or personally. Just remember that."
Evie smiled and seized another tissue.
"I will," she said, her voice wobbling a bit. "Thank you, Chris."
Chris nodded and left the office. He ran into Jake Lang halfway down the corridor outside.
"Justice Mulready," said Jake politely. There were deep circles under his eyes, and both he and his suit had the crumpled look that came of having been crammed hastily into a tight space and left there overnight. Chris was struck once again by how much Jake reminded him of Evie, even though the young man was the spitting image of Bill; it was really because all of Jake's mannerisms were the same as Evie's, and so was his smile.
"Chris, please," he corrected Evie's son, putting a hand on his shoulder. "How are you doing?"
Jake sighed.
"Not fantastic," he admitted. "I think I'm still in shock, to be perfectly honest."
"It's understandable, given how sudden it was. I'm so sorry."
"Thanks," said Jake with a curt nod. "I should go..."
"Of course. Take care. And try to convince your mom to take a little time off, if she needs to."
Evie looked up when she heard the wheels of Jake's rolling suitcase whir across the floor outside her office.
"Hey," she said, moving around her desk to give her son a prolonged hug that under most circumstances would have made him roll his eyes in mild protest. "Thanks for flying in on such short notice."
"God, Mom, of course." Jake stepped back to get a better look at Evie. "You doing OK?"
Evie shrugged and put on a brave smile.
"I'll be fine," she said. "Do you need to rest up a bit? Take a shower? Or would you rather get food first?"
"Whatever works best for you." Jake rolled his suitcase into a corner of the room and pushed the handle down. "I ran into Chris Mulready outside your chambers. He told me to convince you to take a break."
"He told me as much himself," Evie sighed, sitting down in an armchair.
"You'd better not. I assume that, the second you stepped away, he and Ron Dreifort would foment some nefarious conservative coup d'état... coup de cour, rather."
Evie shook her head.
"It's not like the Presidency, dear. Even if I did hand my administrative duties over to Ron for a few days, I'd still have my usual vote on all cases pending before us, so long as I didn't become permanently incapacitated."
"Well, thank god for that," muttered Jake, throwing himself into the adjacent armchair. "Chris Mulready seems to make his way through this world with a perpetual lean and hungry look. I wouldn't put it past him to try something sneaky in your absence."
Evie sighed.
"I know you don't like Chris in concept, Jake, but he's a really good person..."
"Who just wants to gut voting rights protections for minorities, undercut the gains made by the LGBTQ community over the past few decades, allow corporate money to dominate our elections, and overturn Roe v. Wade," Jake retorted. "He'd ban Jesus Christ himself from entering the country for looking too Middle Eastern, if someone gave him the chance."
"That's enough," Evie ordered. "Politics aside, he's my friend, Jake. And so is Ron Dreifort, who, by the way, thinks very highly of you."
Jake made a face. Evie laughed, in spite of herself.
"It's good to have you home, kid. I just wish it were under different circumstances."
"Yeah." Jake sighed. "Can I ask how it happened?"
"Quickly." Evie's voice caught in her throat. "He was unconscious by the time the ambulance arrived. There wasn't much they could do for him by then."
"Poor Dad." Jake rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Poor you."
Evie took Jake's other hand, and he curled his fingers tightly around hers.
"We'll get through this together," she promised, her heart hurting for her son. She suddenly felt very guilty for how selfish she was being. "Would it be helpful for you if I took some time off?"
"Hell, no," replied Jake vehemently.
"You're not just saying that out of spite, because I can't deputize Roberto Mendoza or one of the Santos appointees to act as Chief Justice in my stead?"
"Thrilled as I'd be if the nation could be treated to a Chief Justice Jennifer Chang for a few days, I'm not." Jake regarded his mother pensively. "You need to be here, Mom, not for the Court, but for yourself. And I respect that."
"Are you sure...?"
"I am your son, after all," Jake reminded her. "I deal with loss by distracting myself with other things, just like you do; so I brought my own work and intend to keep myself occupied with that. And I know what your job means to you, what a sense of purpose it gives you, especially in moments like these. Look, you were married to Dad for almost thirty years, and even though you've always been your own person in every way imaginable, it's got to a big shock to your identity to suddenly no longer be Bill Lang's wife. If there's anything that's going to keep you from feeling too off-kilter right now, it's going to be grounding yourself in the identities that you know you still have, and that means that you need to be here."
Sometimes, Evie was pretty blown away by what a thoughtful young adult she had raised. She sat back in her armchair and thought about who Evelyn Baker Lang still was, even after a jolt like this.
Jacob Alexander Lang's mother. Christopher Mulready's friend.
And the Chief Justice of the United States.
"Well, then, if you're sure, let's go find something to eat," she said, standing. "Because I've got plenty of work to do, when we get back from lunch."
Author's Note: I had written into Penumbra, my first "West Wing" Supreme Court fic, that Evie's husband had passed away by the timing of that story, which took place circa December 2016. So I felt I had no choice but to off poor Bill Lang at some point during this series. And now I'm rather peeved that I let myself get so emotionally attached to a character whom I knew I was going to kill eventually.