He wanted to go, now! Everything narrowed - his vision blurred and all sound became muffled. His heart began to pound as adrenaline flooded his system. He couldn't stay he had to go; he had to get to her!
Lizzie!
"Dr. McCord," He blinked and tried to focus on the face in front of him. "Sir, please sit down."
He fought against the strong arms that pushed him down onto the couch.
"Sir, please."
"I have to . . . I . . . Let me . . ." He couldn't breathe. Lizzie!
"Put your head down." A firm, yet still gentle hand was on his shoulder. "Dr. McCord, put your head between your knees."
He leaned forward, trying to catch his breath. Even as he did his eyes caught the image again on the screen as they repeated it. It started out calm - a normal, boring reception. Elizabeth's face lit up with a typical Elizabeth smile, and then suddenly, her eyes grew wide. She turned her body as if to run, and then she was being propelled through the air, and out of camera range as everything exploded. He lifted a shaking arm pointing.
"Do they . . . what about . . . is she . . ." He couldn't manage a full sentence.
"Turn it off!" One of the agents shouted and the TV turned black.
"Dr. McCord." The agent's earnest face seemed suddenly unfamiliar and unsettling. He glanced around the room feeling panic setting in, and he desperately tried to calm his racing heart. Who are all these people? How did we get here?
He somehow managed to focus but was unable to think of the name of the agent in front of him. Byron? Brian? He blinked trying to somehow form words.
"Wh . . . Wh . . .what is . . ."
"It's going to be a few minutes." The agent squatted down, meeting him at eye level. "Things are chaotic right now. We are waiting to hear from Fred. I know it seems like an eternity, but we should have something soon."
Brad. That was his name.
"Brad." His voice sound hollow and flat even to his own ears. "Don't . . . Just tell me . . .If she's dead . . ." He swallowed unable to continue as thousands of images of Elizabeth flooded his mind.
"We don't know anything, sir. We can't get information. The bombs interrupted our system. We sent someone there. They'll check in with us as soon as they can." He squeezed his shoulder.
"Bombs?" He shouted. Oh, God! Please, no! Not Elizabeth!
"Sir, we don't have all the information just yet." Brad's voice was steady, and calm. "There were three bombs. We don't know the extent of the damage. But Fred was there. He will contact us."
"Unless he is dead." Henry spit out, his face a mask of anger.
"Were they broadcasting the speech?" Brad asked him. "Do you remember if Nadine said anything about it? Would it be on the news?"
"The kids!" He choked out, fumbling for his phone.
"It won't work." Another agent said from across the room. "Everything's jammed. It's like the whole country is trying to call at the same time."
"Get the sat phone." Brad demanded and Henry looked up surprised by the agent's tone. He glanced down at Henry - their eyes meeting. "She always watches her mom." Brad explained.
Oh, God! Noodle!
He was right, of course. He'd been the agent most often stationed at their house. He was just as familiar with his daughter's habits, as he was. Alison had watched every speech, every press release - she memorized her mother's schedule.
Brad handed him the heavy satellite phone. He tried to dial but his eyes were still blurred by tears and his hands shook. Lizzie! What am I supposed to do? What the hell was he going to say to them?
Brad took the phone and dialed before handing it back. "Tell them Fred is there with her. Tell them we are handling it."
***MS***
She was supposed to be finishing her chapter summaries. But Stevie had gone outside with Jason. She could hear the steady thump of the basketball and the constant chatter of their voices as they trash-talked each other. She knew she should get right to work. It was late already. But she also wanted to watch another episode of Pretty Little Liars and this might be her only chance. It was embarrassing to admit it but she was hopelessly addicted, but there was no way she would ever tell anyone in her family. They would tease her if they knew. Her mother would lecture her on female stereotypes and the misrepresentation of the teenage female. She clicked the TV on and was about to switch over to Netflix when she saw a scene of utter chaos.
"Everything is just coming in now," The reporter was saying. "We know very little for sure. It has been confirmed that there was a bomb and Secretary of State, Elizabeth McCord was in attendance. We do not know, at this time, if she survived." The words echoed over and over again in her ears.
The screen changed and she could see her mother, smiling, and for half a second she thought, "Oh, there she is! She's alright!" And then it all changed. Her mother was standing beside two men who shook hands with each other. Another man, a soldier maybe, it was difficult to see clearly, rushed forward. She couldn't see her mother's face. And then she watched, pale and shaking, as her mother turned- moving as if to run away. And then all she could see was Fred's shoulder as he pushed her mother forward, propelling her away from the view of the camera as everything exploded.
***MS***
"Where's Noodle?" He fought to keep his voice even and calm.
"I. . . I . . . Dad, she's, I dunno." He could hear as Stevie fought to keep things in control.
"Honey, can you . . ."
"They went upstairs to find her. Did they say anything yet?" She kept an arm tight around Jason, who was uncharacteristically still.
"They? They who?" He was finding it difficult to focus. Everything was taking too long.
"The State Department. Jay is here and a couple other people - I don't, I can't remember . . . Dad?" She stopped talking then, as she began to cry.
Listening to his children sobbing shattered what was left of his heart. He brushed at his face, wiping away tears, and tried to ignore that seven agents were in the room with him.
"Stevie, c'mon, honey. We just got to wait. Okay? Sweetheart?"
Was this his future? Trying to convince his children that the world would go on spinning without Elizabeth in it? Spending his days and nights attempting to comfort them; alone without her - without his heart? He shuddered.
"They found Ali." Stevie sniffed. "She was in the closet, hiding."
Oh, God! She had been watching.
"Put her on the phone." His voice came out harsher than he'd intended. He wished he could see their faces - longed to wrap his arms around them. The ocean that separated them seemed an impossible void.
"She won't come here." Stevie sighed and despite the horrific situation he recognized the usual big sister/little sister tension in her voice.
"Take her the phone." He spoke slowly. Stevie was a lovely mirror of Elizabeth - generally capable in any situation. It was uncharacteristic of her not to understand that Ali was upset - and afraid - too afraid to talk to him. He highlighted the fact that she was in shock - they all were. He tried to keep his voice even and reassuring - although he had no real assurances to give her. "Honey, she was probably watching the speech."
"Yeah, she was." Stevie responded, meekly. "Daddy, I'm sorry. Just a sec."
Daddy? Jesus! He couldn't remember the last time she'd called him that!
He felt himself slipping - losing control. He wished that Jason would talk - that he could see Stevie's face - that he could wrap comforting arms around Ali's thin body - that he and Elizabeth were snuggled together on the couch watching a movie. He waited, hearing muffled voices and then he heard Alison - not the sound of her voice - but her sobs.
"Hey, hey, Noodle. Honey, listen, I know it looked really . . ." He closed his eyes as the images came rushing back. "Ali? Sweetheart. . ."
"Daddy, she's dead. I saw it."
"We don't anything, yet. Fred was right there. He got to her right away." He attempted.
"You . . . you are okay? You weren't there?"
It wasn't an accusation but it hit him like a ton of bricks. He was openly sobbing now; helpless. He was aware of a commotion behind him, but tried to comfort his weeping daughter.
"No, I'm fine. I," He struggled. "I saw it, too, baby. They can't communicate with us yet. The . . ." He couldn't say the word bombs. "They had to go there and then they'll be able to tell us. We don't know anything yet." He looked up as Brad walked toward him.
"CNN said six people were killed." Her voice rose in pitch. "They said it was unlikely she could have survived. Daddy?"
He had missed the last part of what she said, as Brad had leaned in, whispering two words in his ear. He found himself sliding to the floor, the phone in his lap. Great heaving sobs shook his body.
"Dr. McCord," Brad was kneeling in front of him again, pushing the phone back up to his ear. "Tell them."
He nodded, drawing in a deep steadying breath. "Noodle, listen Noodle. Are you listening?"
"Yes." Her response was a near whisper.
"Put me on speakerphone, honey." He waited for the familiar click. "Jason? Stevie? Are you listening?"
"We are all here." Stevie's spoke for them, and he could easily picture her in the center, her arms around them both.
"Okay. I gotta . . . I gotta go in a sec. One of the agents," He glanced behind him, searching their faces.
"Adam." One of the agents said before he even asked.
"Adam is gonna get on the phone with you guys. He'll answer all your questions, but I've got to go."
"No! Dad!" Jason shouted, his voice heavy with anger and fear.
"I'm going to your, Mom, buddy." He said choking on the words. "She's alive."