Agent Fred Cole wanted nothing more than to get the Secretary of State to the speech platform. However, Madam Secretary had other plans. She always had other plans. She shook the hands of twenty-four people on the way to the platform and paused for pictures with two little girls. He could hear Carl grumbling in his headset the entire time.
Guarding her wasn't easy. She was unpredictable and far from passive. She asked questions and made suggestions. Being ex-CIA, she tended to be just as hyper-aware of her surroundings as he was. And she was completely unwilling to sacrifice the "normalcy" of her children's lives. She was polite and would apologize to him and every single member of his staff, but if her son Jason wanted to go to Fright Night at the local theme park with all his friends - then his security detail damn well better pick out their costumes. It made his life complicated and his work more difficult, from time to time, but he respected her for it. At least he wasn't wasting his life trying to guard a man with secret girlfriends and a lifetime of lies.
He admired her. She wasn't like anyone he'd protected before. She wasn't a political insider. She had her own approach to things - and she managed things herself - didn't pass it along to an underling. If something needed to be done, she got it done. She wasn't controlled by the "D.C way of doing things." He would smile inwardly when her staff would tell her, "That isn't how it is done." He would watch her face change - almost as though accepting a challenge, and she would raise an eyebrow, and say, "Oh, really?" Then he knew it would be a late night at the office or in meetings, but somehow he didn't mind. It was good to watch someone do something for a change.
And it was certainly different to guard an intact, honest to God, real family. The first time he'd stepped into her office a beat to quickly and found her with her arms wrapped around someone, lost in a passionate kiss, he'd been stunned to discover it was her husband who broke away, blushing and embarrassed.
"Hello, Fred." He had said politely. "We, uh, didn't hear you come in."
He was used to people with complicated lives with secrets and lies. The McCords were nothing like that. And despite his training, he found himself becoming attached. He realized he'd probably have to be asked to be reassigned - caring about people was never helpful, but he'd miss it; miss them - miss her stubbornness and sharp wit.
He had been scanning the outdoor venue the entire time the speeches were given. He'd had an unsettled feeling about this whole trip. And just this morning had awakened from a strange dream - his feet in quicksand and him unable to move - unable to run. He chalked it up to strange places and strange food but still he'd told her just this morning, "If it's not too much trouble ma'am, could you avoid darting into the middle of a crowd?"
"Oh, Fred!" She'd laughed. "You are always worrying! I'm not important enough for someone to try and kill."
"All the same, ma'am. It's easier for my staff if you stick to just a straight walk in."
And she'd grinned that damn grin of hers and offered with a wink, "But easy doesn't build character, difficulty does. Don't you care about the people on your staff having a strong center?"
He'd just shook his head. There was nothing to say to her. If Dr. McCord were here, he would raise an eyebrow and offer a knowing shrug. He never minded the husband tagging along - it was like having another agent. Dr. McCord was razor sharp and kept a constant watchful eye on his wife. His staff had pinned the code name: James Bond on Henry McCord. And it was a fairly accurate fit. Twice, Henry had pointed out suspicious people in crowds before his agents had noticed it. Fred was pretty sure that if anything ever did go down, Dr. McCord would do his job for him and he'd play backup.
"There's a disturbance in the crowd." Carl spoke in his ear. "Nine o'clock."
He looked in the crowd and could see a man shifting as a little girl reached for a doll which had fallen. It was one of the two little girls the Secretary had taken a picture with.
"All clear. Kid dropped her doll." But even as he said it , it didn't ring true. What was a little girl doing here? Why would kids be at speeches for an economic summit?
"Wait." He spoke into the mic at his wrist again. "Something isn't right."
The Secretary of State had turned her head - hyper aware of all around her, as always. She raised eyebrows in question and took a half-step toward him. The man who was handing the doll back to the little girl, didn't hand it to her. Instead, he rushed toward the platform, the doll under his arm like a football.
"Shut it down!" He shouted and everyone sprang into action then. The attacker continued forward, undeterred, as the crowd began to move - unsure of what was happening. She was already moving toward him, and away from the center of the platform, one hand stretched out behind her to pull at least one ambassador with her. The two ambassadors and their staff looked around, confused and unaware of danger.
There was no time and he stepped between them. He had no patience for her heroics. He had to get her out of harms way. He yanked her up off her feet, surprised by how very little she weighed and propelled her foreword. The blast hit as they both were mid air, and he landed, hard, his body curled over hers; protecting her.
"Get the car! I can get her to the south portico." He yelled but could only hear static in his ringing ears. "Ma'am!" He rose, pulling her with him.
"The little girls . . ." She gestured behind her - unaware that her face was covered in blood. Her wrist dangled awkwardly as she tried to point. But grabbing her, he ignored her completely as the second and third bombs hit - somewhere behind them. She was able to keep her feet under her and they ran forward together.
"Keep moving." He commanded. "Can anyone hear me?" He spoke into his headset, but still he got no response. He continued forward and around the side of the museum, leaving the smoke, chaos and screaming behind. There were three secure cars parked nearby. The closest was not too far from them. She was still keeping pace with him, but he could tell she wouldn't last much longer.
"Henry?" She asked somewhat dazed. Her pace slowed as the impact of her injuries surfaced. She was probably in great pain. Reaching over he lifted her up into his arms and doubled his pace toward the waiting car. She made no protest which concerned him greatly.
"He stayed back, ma'am. He's at the hotel, remember?"
He reached the car and entered the code on the door, gently setting her in the back. He climbed in front and reached for the radio, even as he revved the engine.
"Can anyone copy me? This is command, I've got Sharpshooter in the car. We are en route to Mercy." Again there was no response. He felt uneasy. Where was everyone? They'd been struggling with their communications systems since they'd arrived. Protocol was always to get the principal away from the scene at all costs, but no one would know where they were, and he had no way of knowing what had happened. He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw that she was half leaning over, her shoulder against the seat. She held her cell phone in her hand and kept attempting to push buttons though the face of the phone was completely shattered.
"I gotta call, Henry." She said seeing he was looking at her. "He's gonna be pissed!"
Her bright blue eyes shone but she shed no tears. He had only once seen her cry - and then not even for herself. They'd visited a children's cancer center, and in the elevator as they'd left he'd glanced down to see her crying silently. He'd turned his head, looking away, respecting her privacy as best he could in cramped elevator.
"We'll get word to him, ma'am. But we have to get you to the hospital."
"That's twenty-five minutes from here! I'm fine. Taking me to the hotel first. Henry will be so worried!" This speech would've been much more convincing if she wasn't holding a hand over the side of her head, her fingers red with blood. They'd both landed hard on the ground. He'd heard the sound of her head striking the concrete.
"No, ma'am. He can meet us there." He reached into his pocket to find his backup phone and radio but his pocket was gone, the equipment along with it - and he realized the whole side of his jacket was torn. He glanced back into the mirror again glad she was still sitting up enough so that he could see her face.
"Annie was behind us. Did you see her? Was she okay? My staff was in the back or in the hall still, right?" She asked, her voice high-pitched and the pace of her words rapid-fire fast. Her voice was too loud for the confines of the car, but he realized, like himself, her ears were probably still ringing from the blast - blasts. He was grateful that she was still talking, though. He was worried about her head injury and at least this way he would know if she began to slur her words or lose consciousness.
His mind flicked back over the last few minutes considering her question. Annie was standing behind the two speakers - slightly to the left. He sighed softly. The blast had probably killed her. It was a damn shame. It was her first big job and he had been impressed with her - she would've been a great agent.
"Daisy was in the back." He told her, knowing from experience that trying to dodge the question would never work. "The rest of them wanted more of that coffee."
"Henry's gonna be so ticked." She repeated, her voice catching on her husband's name and he looked up to meet her eyes in the rearview mirror. Her face was bloody and scratched, her blue eyes giant with fear and bright with tears. He found the sight of a lone tear making it's way down her cheek more terrifying than any bomb.
"We'll get you to him, ma'am." He said pushing the gas pedal all the way to the floor.
***MS***
The ride to the hospital was interminably long. Henry kept glancing around and it seemed he was looking at the same damn tree - as if they weren't moving at all. They chattered all around him - speaking to each other and into headsets which were finally working again, but he couldn't understand their words - couldn't hear them over the loud pounding of his own heartbeats. He turned to Brad beside him.
"What did they say again?"
"Fred got her to a car and took her straight to the hospital. The whole communications system went down in the blast, and he couldn't let us know where she was until he got to the hospital."
"But she's okay?" He asked again.
"The doctor is with her, Dr. McCord. She was injured. We don't know how badly, yet."
Henry nodded his head and turned to look out the window again. He was pretty sure Brad did know how badly she was hurt, but for some reason didn't want to tell him.
"She was conscious, though? Did they say that?" He asked.
"I don't know, Dr. McCord."
Be thankful. He told himself over and over. She's alive. "Be patient in affliction." He quoted to himself. He let out a long sigh turning toward Brad.
"I guess it's time to find out if all those words I've read really hold up." He told the young agent.
Brad nodded his head, but Henry could tell he didn't understand. Maybe he'd forgotten that Henry's life work was the study of the very things that sustained people when calamity befell them. Elizabeth would've understood it. He thought bitterly. She would've laughed. But even thinking of her, he felt dangerously close to losing it. He was trying very hard not to think of the sound of her laughter or way her hand felt in his - fitting perfectly.
***MS***
Fred had entered the hospital with the United States Secretary of State in his arms. She had lost consciousness just as they pulled up the front of the hospital. He lifted her up into his arms and sprinted all out toward the door of the hospital. Two orderlies who thankfully spoke perfect English, brought out a gurney. They were very calm - no doubt used to hysterical people in a crisis.
"We'll get her inside." One told him. "But you are injured, too. Why don't we . . ."
"That is the United States Secretary of State, I am Agent Frederick Cole, and we need to get her into a secure room, now." He interrupted them, startling them. He held out his badge and they immediately took her inside.
"Level Four!" The orderly shouted as he entered, and then the hospital seemed to explode with action. He never left her though, sticking close to the gurney as they wheeled her away and up several floors to a secluded hall of the hospital. He had followed her into a small room, when two men approached him.
"I am Dr. Chen." The shorter of the two men told him. "I"ll be taking care of the Secretary. This is Ahmel Aziz, he is head of security. He will brief you while I see to her injuries. Then you will allow someone to make sure you are alright."
"You are injured, sir." A orderly said as he watched the doctor step into the small room.
"I need a phone." The doctor had already turned from him, and to Secretary McCord. "Get him a phone and then take him to . . ."
"I'm not leaving." He glared at the doctor.
"If she requires surgery, you will." The doctor glared back.
They had compromised and he allowed a doctor to look at him as he stood in the corner of her room. He was relieved when she had regained consciousness, but was being anything but cooperative. If it wasn't for the dire situation, he could've laughed at the doctor's attempts to keep her still.
"They are bringing everyone injured here?" She asked. "What about those little girls? Is Daisy alright? Can someone bring me a phone?"
"Ma'am, please. You have a serious concussion. I need you to lie back and be still. We need to get you to x-ray. I know that wrist is broken, but it is unclear whether anything else is broken, too."
She completely ignored the doctor, turning instead to Fred. "Did you talk to Henry? What about the kids? Allison always tries to watch my speeches or at least any reports about them."
The doctor had just finished wrapping his arm and putting it in a sling. He raised an eyebrow in question to the doctor who nodded and stepped back. He moved closer and stood beside her bed.
"I talked with everyone. The kids are fine. Henry is on his way here."
"Why can't I have a phone? I am alright." She leaned forward as though to climb out of bed.
"Madam Secretary, please!" The doctor cried out in frustration.
"Madam Secretary, you are injured. You are in shock right now, but trust me. You are not alright. And if you don't lie back in that bed right now and listen to the doctor, I will force you to do so." His voice was cold and stern.
She sat back, her shoulders resting against the pillows. "I don't think you are allowed to put your hands on me, Fred."
"Well, I'm the top of the chain of command right now."
"My husband might have something to say about it."
"I am confident that Dr. McCord would be in total agreement with me, ma'am. Stop being difficult and listen to the doctor."
She glared at him, but settled back, turning to the doctor. "You did an x-ray, already."
"That was a CT scan, Madam Secretary. We need to x-ray your arm."
"Oh." She closed her eyes briefly, her face tense with pain.
"Now, can you tell me, completely honestly," Dr. Chen, continued gently, "Are there any other injuries? Do you have pain anywhere else?"
She laughed at this, but lifted her hand to her head as she did so. "I have absolutely no idea. I don't really feel anything at all. Like I told you. I've got a headache and my ears are ringing." She hesitated, her voice softening. "Fred, you said Henry is coming here?"
"Yes, ma'am. He's on his way." He moved a step closer, unsure if it would be in appropriate to put a reassuring hand on her arm.
She turned back to the doctor. "I'm sorry . . .I'm . . . I know I need the x-ray, but can it wait?" There was a catch in her voice, and she hesitated before continuing. "I'd like to wait until my husband is here."
The doctor nodded his head. "That would be fine." He turned to Fred. "Tell me when her husband arrives." And with another nod at Elizabeth he left the room.
"What about Daisy? You said Daisy was at the speech." She closed her eyes again, her right hand lifted to shade them. He crossed the room, dimming the lights before responding.
"Daisy is fine. She was far from the blast. They got her back inside."
"Good." She said softly, but after just a second her eyes snapped open. "You didn't say everyone was alright. You should've said that. 'They got Daisy inside, so everyone is alright.' That's what you should've said." She leaned forward. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Why don't we wait for Henry." Hoping that just this once she would allow him to dodge a question.
"Henry? You don't call him that! I've never heard you call him that! Fred! Tell me!" She was sitting up now, and her monitors began to beep, bringing in a nurse.
"Sit back, please, Madam Secretary. You need to calm down." The nurse turned toward Agent Cole, glaring. "What did you say to her?"
"She was asking about the people on her staff." He said. The nurse turned back to the Secretary of State, pushing her back down against the pillows.
"Ma'am. I know you are upset. He is in surgery, right now. We will have to wait and see, but Dr. Patang is one of the best surgeons we have. I'm sure he will be able to save the leg."
Her eyes grew huge, and she sat up again. "FRED!"
"Matt decided he wanted to hear it after all. He came out and couldn't find Daisy, so he," He sighed. "You know how clumsy and awkward he is. He meant to stay toward the back, but somehow found himself near the front on the opposite side of the platform. He was hit in the secondary blast. His leg was badly injured." He moved closer to the bed, gently pushing her shoulder so that she lay back against the pillows. "Henry will be here. I'm going to meet him downstairs and bring him to you. Matt isn't going to die. They just aren't sure about his leg."
She said nothing, a hand to her mouth. She nodded her head or started to, but her eyes clouded with pain, and she stopped. "Alright."
"I'll go get your husband, ma'am." He said gently. He turned to go but she reached out and caught his wrist with her hand.
"I'm so sorry, Fred. I didn't even ask. Are you alright?"
He laughed out loud, stunned by the ridiculousness of the question - it was so typical of something she would do. He could easily imagine her blown into twenty pieces, but everyone of them trying to check everyone around her. "I'm fine, Madam Secretary. Lie back and rest. They said they are about three minutes out, and if I don't get down there, Dr. McCord is going to tear this building down looking for you. Okay?"
She squeezed his hand before letting go, and stepped out of the room. He paused before heading downstairs, sucking in a big gulp of air. He was most definitely going to have to be asked to be reassigned. Looking at her lying in that hospital reminded him way too much of his little sister Evelyn. He had completely lost all sense of professional distance.
***MS***
Despite their best efforts otherwise, the main floor of the hospital was chaos. The press had completely surrounded the place, as had both supporters and protesters. He fought his way through the crowd to the car that held Dr. Henry McCord. He opened the door without realizing the sight his own injuries would have on her husband.
"My God, Fred! Are you alright?" He asked with wide eyes.
"I'm fine. We've got her up on the fourth floor." He told him as they stepped inside and away from the noise of the crowd. He indicated the people outside. "They think she's in a suite on the second floor."
"Is she? They said she was . . ."
He put a steady hand under Dr. McCord's arm. "She has a serious concussion, bruises and cuts on her arm and face - like mine." He indicated the cuts on his own face. "Her wrist is broken. They thought she might have broken a rib and there was some concern about a cut near her eye - that maybe she'd broken a cheekbone, but it is just badly bruised. I'm sorry but she has a lot of bruising, Dr. McCord, but she only lost consciousness for a few minutes." They reached a bank of guarded elevators, and Fred nodded at the agent before pushing the up button. The doors opened immediately and they stepped inside.
"She saw it happening and that probably saved her life. She was turning to run when I grabbed her." He admitted. "I'm sure she was a very good agent."
"She was." Her husband admitted. "She's conscious?"
"Yes, and giving her doctors hell, I'm afraid. You spoke with the children?" He asked.
"Yes. I was on the phone with them when you checked in."
"I'm very sorry about how long that took, Dr. McCord. I am really sorry. I didn't want to stop until she was here. I know that must have been unbelievably difficult for you, but I was worried. She hit her head very hard."
Dr. McCord nodded his head, saying nothing, blinking back tears. The doors opened and they stepped out into a hallway that was full of agents.
"She's back this way." Agent Cole said, indicating the direction with his good arm. "I just," He paused and Henry glanced his way, surprised by the unsure tone of Fred's voice.
"What?" He asked.
"I want to apologize." Fred paused in his steps and faced Dr. McCord.
"Apologize . . .?"
"I forget how small she is. She doesn't seem small. And when I pushed her . . . I miscalculated. I threw her really hard - and so she landed on the concrete - not the grassy area. I didn't think about how little she weighs. The head, the wrist - that's my fault."
Henry McCord bent over, his face away from Agent Cole, and Fred stepped back afraid that the man would attack him in a burst of furious rage, but when he straightened, he saw that the man was laughing.
"Fred! You are apologizing?" He wiped tears of laughter out of his eyes. "God, I know I'm completely hopped up on stress and near hysteria, but that's about the damned most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." He reached out and put a tight hand on Fred's good arm. "She seems like a giant. I know just what you mean, but that woman weighs 80 lbs after a big meal! You don't have to explain it to me. And if you hadn't tossed her away from those bombs . . . Fred, you wouldn't be walking me to her room! You'd be taking me to the morgue where her body was laid out." Tears filled his eyes again on this last sentence. "I can never thank you enough for what you did, Fred. Never."
Agent Fred Cole, met Dr. McCord's eyes for a long minute, before the agent, cleared his throat and said, "Just another day at the office, Dr. McCord." He held out his hand and the men shook hands before resuming their walk down the hallway. "She's just up there. The room on the end. If you need anything, we set up command near the nurses station. She knows about Matt because she's impossible when she wants information, and she's still in shock - hasn't processed any of it yet."
"Of course not." Henry McCord sighed. "Thank you, Agent Cole."
"Yes, sir." Fred said, moving to step away. "And for the record, sir. I would never be walking you to the morgue. If she were there, I'd be laid out beside her." He turned without another word and walked down the hallway.
***MS***
It was less than a hundred steps to her room, but it felt like miles. He'd been shocked to see Fred so injured and couldn't imagine what she'd look like. He'd never known the tall agent to be so rattled. Three bombs. Three. And Elizabeth at the center of it. His Elizabeth. He understood that all things considered they'd been damned lucky - although a concussion was nothing to joke about. He stepped into the doorway of the room.
She lay on the hospital bed, her eyes closed. Her face, which was bruised and covered in scratches was turned toward the doorway, no doubt avoiding the light that streamed in throughout the window. His chest felt tight, and breathing became difficult as his vision clouded by tears. He drew in a deep gasp of air trying desperately to fill his lungs.
"Lizzie!" He whispered, and she opened her eyes. He staggered back, relief washing over him like a tidal wave. And the only thing he could manage was, "Your eyes are so beautiful." Even as he said it he thought to himself, What a stupid thing to say. He recognized he passed hysterical hours ago. He crossed the room, coming to stand behind her bed. "Babe." He meant to tell her that he loved her, but he found himself unable to say anything more.
"Henry!" And she immediately launched into typical hyper-Lizzie speak - words too fast to truly be intelligible - a pace that only people who knew her well could manage.
"I'm so sorry. We had no phone! I'm okay. I tried to call but my phone was shattered when . . . There was no way to talk to you! The kids are alright? Did you talk to them? They won't let me have a phone! Fred said that they knew I was alright! But Matt is hurt! There were two little girls - they were so small and looked like Stevie and Allison that time we took them to the park with the giant slide, and Allison was too scared to go up it and Stevie didn't tease her at all which was a total surprise because she was always teasing her and they rode down it together. Remember that?"
"Elizabeth." He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Stop talking. Stop, honey. Babe, please, just lie back."
"I'm sorry, Henry. I'm sorry." She had tears in her eyes now, but not one rolled down her face. She had this strange magically ability to almost but never quite cry. She was an amazement to him - a strength he'd never understood - no matter how many books of philosophy he read.
"Lizzie, stop. It's okay. I'm here. You are alright." He spoke slowly, soothingly. She stopped her eyes finally settling on his.
"There was a bomb." She said very softly.
"I know."
"Actually, there were three."
"Yes." He agreed. "But you are okay." Her eyes grew giant at this, and a lone tear made a track down her bruised face. "Shh." He whispered, his fingers brushing at her tears.
"Fred is hurt and Matt . . ."
"Matt's in surgery. We will know soon enough." He understood that it was only now that she was truly beginning to understand all that had happened.
"Okay." She said, swallowing down her tears. "Okay."
He held her hand tightly in his, his other hand on the side of her face. The whole right side of her body was a mess of bruises and scratches, so he sat to her left, her left hand in his his; his fingers dancing lightly over the left side of her face. "Shh." He repeated. "Everything is going to be okay. You are alright."
"My God!" The doctor said stepping into the room. "You are either her husband or some kind of shaman! This is the first time she's been still! Either way, you clearly work miracles!"
"Just the husband." Henry said, rising and shaking the doctor's hand.
"I'm sure you have many questions. She has severe bruising on most of her right side. No broken ribs, although they might just as well be - for the pain they'll cause her. She has temporary hearing loss - particularly in her right ear, but that is temporary from the blast. We contemplated stitches for that cut near her eye, but I think it will heal just as well with glue. Her wrist is broken, although she hasn't let me x-ray it just yet. Our greatest concern is her head injury. Her concussion is severe. We will keep her monitored. If she becomes confused or slurs her words, or behaves in a way that concerns you, immediately contact the nurse. You might notice it before anyone else because you know her well. The next 48 hours are crucial. The hit she took," He paused, shaking his head. "You hit your head very hard." He said to her, seeing that she was ready to protest.
"I don't see the need to cause him more stress." She said to the doctor.
"You might have a point there, ma'am." He turned back to Henry. "She's not an easy woman."
"No." Henry agreed. "But I'm not an easy person myself." He winked at Elizabeth.
"You are well-matched, then." The doctor said. "Now, may I please x-ray that wrist, Madam Secretary?" The doctor asked with raised eyebrows.
"Yes." She responded meekly.
"Ah, good! And then I shall answer your husbands 10,000 questions. I'll get an orderly to wheel you to x-ray - unless you are planning on explaining once again that you are perfectly capable of walking?"
"No." She said with an embarrassed grin.
"Progress!" The doctor said. He left the room but returned almost immediately "And just to ease your anxiety. They are just finishing up in surgery. They were able to save the young man's leg." He smiled at them, and then left with a nod of his head.
"Thank God." Henry said squeezing her fingers again. "He'll be okay, Elizabeth."
"Lizzie." She corrected him. "I've had enough of Elizabeth, Dr. McCord."
He smiled at her, and leaning close, kissed her forehead. "I love you, Lizzie. I can't even manage words for how much."