Disclaimer: "The West Wing" and all related materials belong to Aaron Sorkin, NBC, etc.
Barely distracted from more looped footage--the impacts, the collapses, preliminary aerial and land video of the site--Josh tried to listen to the attractive anchor woman as she told him, "Senior FBI officials informed CNN National Security correspondent David Ensor that they are working on the assumption that the four planes involved in today's fatal collisions were hijacked as part of a terrorist attack."
"Well, yeah," he replied dazedly.
Sam smiled wearily, hitting 'save' triumphantly. "Finished. Where's Toby?"
"He left with CJ. Do you think she's single?"
"CJ?"
"This CNN chick."
Giving the brittle-faced young woman a cursory glance as he got up from the bed, Sam said, "Not for you."
Setting his cup back on the table, Toby shook his head. "I can't call them."
"They need to hear from you," CJ insisted gently. "You have to."
He pressed a hand to his cheek and looked out the window, muttering, "What can I tell them but 'yeah, this sucks?'"
She folded her slender hands around his coffee cup, trapping his left hand. His wedding band felt clammy under her palm. This is important. "How about just saying hi and seeing where it goes from there? It's your family, Toby. You don't have to have a prepared statement covering all political bases."
"Why not? I'm good at those," he complained halfheartedly, glancing at her as she squeezed his hand reassuringly.
Since it was Friday before anyone flew again, it really doesn't matter that the FAA cancelled all commercial air traffic until noon EDT on Wednesday.
"How callous is that?" Josh asked Sam disbelievingly as a Giuliani considered his answer to 'what do you think the death toll will be?'
Sam nodded.
As flashbulbs popped, the mayor replied with a disgusted look on his face. "I don't think we want to speculate about that--it's more than any of us can bear."
"At least bus and subway service are restored," Josh said flippantly, going back to the wet bar. "You sure you don't have the key for this thing?"
Sam shook his head.
They were ushered back outside shortly thereafter. There was no minibar in this car.
Marine One touched down two blocks from ground zero, sending up a cloud of dust. Disregarding the plastic overcoat Leo held out to him, the President disembarked and started walking south with two Secret Service agents on either side. A dozen FBI field agents were strung up and down the sidewalk.
They walked slowly down the middle of the wide street, dust settling on their suits and caking the soles of their shoes. Following at a faster pace, Leo snapped on a white facemask and unwrapped one for Bartlet.
The President swallowed his coughs stoically, but fit the mask over his mouth when Leo offered it to him.
Off-white particles of dust grabbed his eyelashes as he craned his neck, looking up at the cracked windows of nearby buildings, approaching the rubble-heaped gap in the skyline. Black and yellow striped ants scurried over the wreckage. Ambulances were parked six deep on all sides of the site, as close as they could get.
Rubbing the dust from his forehead, Bartlet suppressed another cough. The dust was thicker in the air here. The sun filtered through it, spilling over the dulled scene as if it were underwater.
As they threaded their way through emergency vehicles and the quickening movement of rescue workers with survivors and bodies, a few people looked over at them curiously.
Then a fully suited firefighter, standing watch as a body bag was zippered, recognised him under the mask and the dust.
"Holy shit," the young man breathed, coming closer, "It's the goddamn President."
One of the bodyguards stopped him with a look. "Sorry," he said reverently. Then a dazzling white grin split his soot-blackened face. "I knew you'd come," he shouted as they moved on, the President's gaze not flickering from the piles of concrete a few yards away.
Leo nodded at the firefighter as he passed him. He'd known it too.
"The President is where?" CJ asked, aghast, as she climbed from the car back at the White House.
"In New York," Carol replied, handing her a fax. "They're waiting for you."
Toby severed himself from the group as they made their way to the Press Room, walking down the oddly quiet and nearly deserted hallways of the West Wing to his office. He closed and locked the door and sat behind his desk, pulling the phone in front of him with both hands.
After a moment, he picked up the receiver and dialled long distance to Brooklyn.
"The President is at an undisclosed location right now, conducting a National Security Council meeting by phone. Vice President Hoynes is at Barksdale Air Force Base in Louisiana. National Security Advisor McNally is at a secure location here at the White House, as is Secretary of State Berryhill. Secretary of Defence Hutchinson is at the Pentagon, preparing to hold a briefing. I'll now take questions. Yes, Marianne?"
Sam hooked his laptop up to the printer backstage in the Press Room and printed out his speech. "I think he'll like it," he confided to Josh, who was drinking spring water from a paper cone.
"Hopefully, yeah."
There was no answer.
"Josh?"
"Yes, CJ?" He did a little end zone dance as the cone hit the wastebasket.
She waited until he was done and she had his attention again. "I'd like you to speak to John King."
"The guy that's always trying to sneak onto my schedule?"
"He's the Senior White House Correspondent for CNN, but sure."
Marine One was utterly, utterly silent as it continued on to Maine. Jed scribbled on the backs of faxes from the Pentagon.
Toby put down his phone and turned on his TV. The dial tone rang in his ears.
"Ensor says--"
"There are good indications it was bin Laden. New and specific information."
"Are you okay, Sam?" CJ asked carefully.
He looked at her hollowly. "I'm fine. You know, I'm fine. Yeah. The World Trade Centre just blew up, but I'm fine."
"You didn't know anyone...did you?"
"I'm not sure," he shrugged. "It's possible, I guess. That's not the point. I'm full of images and sound bites and I'm really really tired, CJ."
As if to reassure him, she said, "Governor Davis is dispatching the urban search-and-rescue teams--"
Lifting his head from his chest, Sam shouted, "That's what I'm talking about! It's too much information! Just shut up! Everybody!"
"You're telling me, Bob," Bartlet scoffed at the television in Maine. "Bob Graham says he's not surprised by the attack, but he's surprised at the specificity. Shocked at the extent of what actually happened. No kidding. This man speaks for the country, Leo."
"Jed, that'd better be sarcasm I'm hearing," Abbey warned from the doorway.
He turned his head and their eyes met. What they said next is not important because, well, it's private.
The facts rolled through CJ's head as she stared at Sam after his outburst. The ASE, Nasdaq, and NYSE remaining closed until Thursday. The number of critically injured in New York was reported as 200, with 2 100 injuries in total. 50 flights in US airspace reported that they weren't experiencing any trouble.
Slowly, the staff milling around in the back of the Pres Room started moving again, speaking very softly.
Looped footage played over and over in her mind's eye. Faces, blood, ambulances, a tsunami of dust, impact, explosion, fire trucks, shocked officials, strained eyes, faces, blood, ambulances...
CJ is a fact-based person. This is important.
Leo pulled down the divider on Marine One to give the President and First Lady some privacy. "The kids will be there when we land, right?" he asked the pilot.
"That's what I'm hearing from the ground, Mr. McGarry," the young woman replied, "Please have a seat and fasten your belt, sir, we'll be in DC in no time."
Fires were still burning in the Pentagon. No death figures had been released.
"Sam, I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "No, I shouldn't have yelled like that. I need some coffee. You?"
CJ shrugged and they started walking towards the mess together.
Watching live footage as Building 7 collapsed, Toby reached for his phone again.
John King held onto his earpiece and said, "Officials say the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania could have been headed for three possible targets: Camp David, the White House, or the Capitol building."
Josh fumbled for his chair and sat heavily. His hands started shaking and he let out a low cry as tears rolled down his face.
"We have nothing to do with it, Leo," Nancy assured him when she picked up the phone.
"I should hope not," he replied angrily. "Since the President didn't tell you to blow up bloody Kabul."
She sighed. "It's probably the Northern Alliance. They're having a war with the Taliban, you know."
"Yes, I know, Nancy. Thank you."
Barely distracted from more looped footage--the impacts, the collapses, preliminary aerial and land video of the site--Josh tried to listen to the attractive anchor woman as she told him, "Senior FBI officials informed CNN National Security correspondent David Ensor that they are working on the assumption that the four planes involved in today's fatal collisions were hijacked as part of a terrorist attack."
"Well, yeah," he replied dazedly.
Sam smiled wearily, hitting 'save' triumphantly. "Finished. Where's Toby?"
"He left with CJ. Do you think she's single?"
"CJ?"
"This CNN chick."
Giving the brittle-faced young woman a cursory glance as he got up from the bed, Sam said, "Not for you."
Setting his cup back on the table, Toby shook his head. "I can't call them."
"They need to hear from you," CJ insisted gently. "You have to."
He pressed a hand to his cheek and looked out the window, muttering, "What can I tell them but 'yeah, this sucks?'"
She folded her slender hands around his coffee cup, trapping his left hand. His wedding band felt clammy under her palm. This is important. "How about just saying hi and seeing where it goes from there? It's your family, Toby. You don't have to have a prepared statement covering all political bases."
"Why not? I'm good at those," he complained halfheartedly, glancing at her as she squeezed his hand reassuringly.
Since it was Friday before anyone flew again, it really doesn't matter that the FAA cancelled all commercial air traffic until noon EDT on Wednesday.
"How callous is that?" Josh asked Sam disbelievingly as a Giuliani considered his answer to 'what do you think the death toll will be?'
Sam nodded.
As flashbulbs popped, the mayor replied with a disgusted look on his face. "I don't think we want to speculate about that--it's more than any of us can bear."
"At least bus and subway service are restored," Josh said flippantly, going back to the wet bar. "You sure you don't have the key for this thing?"
Sam shook his head.
They were ushered back outside shortly thereafter. There was no minibar in this car.
Marine One touched down two blocks from ground zero, sending up a cloud of dust. Disregarding the plastic overcoat Leo held out to him, the President disembarked and started walking south with two Secret Service agents on either side. A dozen FBI field agents were strung up and down the sidewalk.
They walked slowly down the middle of the wide street, dust settling on their suits and caking the soles of their shoes. Following at a faster pace, Leo snapped on a white facemask and unwrapped one for Bartlet.
The President swallowed his coughs stoically, but fit the mask over his mouth when Leo offered it to him.
Off-white particles of dust grabbed his eyelashes as he craned his neck, looking up at the cracked windows of nearby buildings, approaching the rubble-heaped gap in the skyline. Black and yellow striped ants scurried over the wreckage. Ambulances were parked six deep on all sides of the site, as close as they could get.
Rubbing the dust from his forehead, Bartlet suppressed another cough. The dust was thicker in the air here. The sun filtered through it, spilling over the dulled scene as if it were underwater.
As they threaded their way through emergency vehicles and the quickening movement of rescue workers with survivors and bodies, a few people looked over at them curiously.
Then a fully suited firefighter, standing watch as a body bag was zippered, recognised him under the mask and the dust.
"Holy shit," the young man breathed, coming closer, "It's the goddamn President."
One of the bodyguards stopped him with a look. "Sorry," he said reverently. Then a dazzling white grin split his soot-blackened face. "I knew you'd come," he shouted as they moved on, the President's gaze not flickering from the piles of concrete a few yards away.
Leo nodded at the firefighter as he passed him. He'd known it too.
"The President is where?" CJ asked, aghast, as she climbed from the car back at the White House.
"In New York," Carol replied, handing her a fax. "They're waiting for you."
Toby severed himself from the group as they made their way to the Press Room, walking down the oddly quiet and nearly deserted hallways of the West Wing to his office. He closed and locked the door and sat behind his desk, pulling the phone in front of him with both hands.
After a moment, he picked up the receiver and dialled long distance to Brooklyn.
"The President is at an undisclosed location right now, conducting a National Security Council meeting by phone. Vice President Hoynes is at Barksdale Air Force Base in Louisiana. National Security Advisor McNally is at a secure location here at the White House, as is Secretary of State Berryhill. Secretary of Defence Hutchinson is at the Pentagon, preparing to hold a briefing. I'll now take questions. Yes, Marianne?"
Sam hooked his laptop up to the printer backstage in the Press Room and printed out his speech. "I think he'll like it," he confided to Josh, who was drinking spring water from a paper cone.
"Hopefully, yeah."
There was no answer.
"Josh?"
"Yes, CJ?" He did a little end zone dance as the cone hit the wastebasket.
She waited until he was done and she had his attention again. "I'd like you to speak to John King."
"The guy that's always trying to sneak onto my schedule?"
"He's the Senior White House Correspondent for CNN, but sure."
Marine One was utterly, utterly silent as it continued on to Maine. Jed scribbled on the backs of faxes from the Pentagon.
Toby put down his phone and turned on his TV. The dial tone rang in his ears.
"Ensor says--"
"There are good indications it was bin Laden. New and specific information."
"Are you okay, Sam?" CJ asked carefully.
He looked at her hollowly. "I'm fine. You know, I'm fine. Yeah. The World Trade Centre just blew up, but I'm fine."
"You didn't know anyone...did you?"
"I'm not sure," he shrugged. "It's possible, I guess. That's not the point. I'm full of images and sound bites and I'm really really tired, CJ."
As if to reassure him, she said, "Governor Davis is dispatching the urban search-and-rescue teams--"
Lifting his head from his chest, Sam shouted, "That's what I'm talking about! It's too much information! Just shut up! Everybody!"
"You're telling me, Bob," Bartlet scoffed at the television in Maine. "Bob Graham says he's not surprised by the attack, but he's surprised at the specificity. Shocked at the extent of what actually happened. No kidding. This man speaks for the country, Leo."
"Jed, that'd better be sarcasm I'm hearing," Abbey warned from the doorway.
He turned his head and their eyes met. What they said next is not important because, well, it's private.
The facts rolled through CJ's head as she stared at Sam after his outburst. The ASE, Nasdaq, and NYSE remaining closed until Thursday. The number of critically injured in New York was reported as 200, with 2 100 injuries in total. 50 flights in US airspace reported that they weren't experiencing any trouble.
Slowly, the staff milling around in the back of the Pres Room started moving again, speaking very softly.
Looped footage played over and over in her mind's eye. Faces, blood, ambulances, a tsunami of dust, impact, explosion, fire trucks, shocked officials, strained eyes, faces, blood, ambulances...
CJ is a fact-based person. This is important.
Leo pulled down the divider on Marine One to give the President and First Lady some privacy. "The kids will be there when we land, right?" he asked the pilot.
"That's what I'm hearing from the ground, Mr. McGarry," the young woman replied, "Please have a seat and fasten your belt, sir, we'll be in DC in no time."
Fires were still burning in the Pentagon. No death figures had been released.
"Sam, I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "No, I shouldn't have yelled like that. I need some coffee. You?"
CJ shrugged and they started walking towards the mess together.
Watching live footage as Building 7 collapsed, Toby reached for his phone again.
John King held onto his earpiece and said, "Officials say the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania could have been headed for three possible targets: Camp David, the White House, or the Capitol building."
Josh fumbled for his chair and sat heavily. His hands started shaking and he let out a low cry as tears rolled down his face.
"We have nothing to do with it, Leo," Nancy assured him when she picked up the phone.
"I should hope not," he replied angrily. "Since the President didn't tell you to blow up bloody Kabul."
She sighed. "It's probably the Northern Alliance. They're having a war with the Taliban, you know."
"Yes, I know, Nancy. Thank you."