Part 10C
Press Room Corridor
7:34 PM
Toby inhaled sharply, and Abbey's eyes flicked upward, landing upon the door as it cracked open slowly. Her hand involuntarily gripped his shoulder, and he winced at her strength as her nails bit into his flesh. The doors slid open the rest of the way and the Press Corps began filing out, one at a time, their steps first filled with trepidation – as if they were waiting to face their executioner – then eagerness, as they realized that they were truly safe. And then the door was again sealed shut, and the two stood as they had before, Abbey's hand digging into his shoulder, his gaze fixed on the television. The first nineteen meandered toward the two agents that were motioning toward them, and they never broke their single file line. All nodded in respect to the First Lady, then gazed with pity, worry, confusion, at Toby. Still, they had not moved.
Finally, the last in line passed them by, then halted, glanced ahead, and turned to face the First Lady and Toby. Lowering to their knees, the men lowered the one they carried between them to the ground before her, and the single woman looked up at Toby without pity but with concern, and then watched as Abbey finally released her hold on the Communications Director, knelt to the floor, and began assessing the Marine's condition.
"She's doing well, Toby. CJ knows what she's doing, you have to believe that. You have to," Katie whispered, locking his eyes with her own.
He nodded, frowned, and wondered if he should ask if she was sugarcoating it for him. She'd been in there with them, she knew the atmosphere, knew how they felt. And he had to understand, had to know, that CJ really was okay, not as shattered as he felt he was.
"She's really okay," Katie affirmed, understanding the expression, and his face began to turn a light shade of pink before he knelt beside Abbey.
Curtly, she informed him, "It's not good."
Toby nodded, then glanced upward at the other two men. "Paramedics can't get in, we have people with medical training on staff, they're heading down here shortly."
"We'll stay until then," Katie informed the rest, and Abbey nodded absently as she removed CJ's bloodied jacket, unthinkingly laying it between her and Toby.
His eyes strayed, fingers poised over the garment, an expression of loss and fear overtaking his countenance. "CJ…" he almost whispered, but shook himself, closed his hand into a fist, then turned back to watch Abbey's ministrations, forcibly reminding himself that it wasn't his CJ's blood that had been spilled.
"Dammit," she hissed, having ripped the fabric of his uniform away from the wound, "must've nicked the aorta, he'd be dead already if it had severed it." The three men and one woman watched with an almost morbid fascination as she probed the wound, wiped at the blood, then lifted smeared fingers to his neck, the pounding of feet growing closer – help.
Katie turned away, moving to the television, and pressed her finger into the volume button. The 'trained professionals', she had deemed them, had arrived, and the blood was causing her stomach to churn, thinking of what could have been, what still might be, and her own children sitting at home with Daddy, waiting for Mommy's return. Not for the first time, she was eternally grateful that they were still so young as to hate the news channels.
Katie watched as Bowman again moved into the line of the video camera, grinning scornfully at Will, Danny, and CJ, who stood protected between them. Behind her, she heard Abbey inform the man and woman that had arrived that the Marine's pulse was weak, thready, that his breathing wasn't good. She blocked it out, and focused in on the television, and soon, another reporter stood beside her, and Toby turned his face again to the scene.
"So concerned for the welfare of your fellow men… and women," he shook his head, "But you've made such a big mistake, Claudia, such a big mistake," his eyes narrowed with a sadistic sort of glee, "Think about it, Willie, Danny, Claudia… Willie, hmm, I like that." CJ withheld a shudder at the playful, familiar tone his voice had taken on, and she felt Danny press his hand against her back to steady her. This time, he laughed aloud, "Okay Claudia, have a seat, you too, boys, and the games will begin." He whirled in a circle, stopped, and watched them, waiting for them to move.
And yet they didn't.
"Always so concerned…" Bowman chuckled, lifted the gun, cocked it, then lowered it again, "I have a surprise for you, but I don't think you're gonna like it," he informed them. "Think about it, guys," his tone was mocking, condescending, "how do you think I really got in here? Computers can only do so many things, Claudia. I had to have… assistance. The inside kind."
Silence descended in the Press Room, and Will and Danny collectively wracked their brains, looking for an answer to the riddle, trying to piece together the jigsaw puzzle.
"Oh, my God." It was whispered, full of an emotion the men couldn't identify. The camera did not pan away as it did at Rosslyn, and her face was tired, angry, morose. "My God." Her legs seemed to give way beneath her, and Danny threw his arm back around her, his strength needed to hold her up until she could steady herself. "He…" she looked up at Bowman with an expression of childlike hurt, "The Marine. The Marine," she repeated, "he helped you? He let you in… he… helped you!" Her voice had risen to an almost unbearable crescendo.
Will met the other reporter's eyes over CJ's head, and they seemed to agree without speaking that it was time to follow Bowman's rules, time to sit before they fell. Anger boiled within both men, and as they sat, Will was poised to ask, "What do you really want?" but was not given the chance to finish.
Clapping his hand against the handle of the gun, Bowman laughed, "Bravo! Bravo, Claudia, bravo! You've done an excellent job, thus far. Your Marine, the one whose blood you're soaked in, the Marine whose life you bargained for – is now free and clear - he's out of the Press Room, and you're still here. What do you think about that, children?" His eyes were dark, full of laughter and glee, "Why, how do you like that!"
"Oh, shit," Katie whispered, her eyes gravitating toward CJ's pale, anxious face. "Oh, shit."
Abbey's hands had stilled above the wound, leaving it gaping and open. "Stop it," Toby commanded, "stop it!"
Her eyes moved to meet his, "Stop what, Toby? I took the Hippocratic Oath."
"She's going to die in there, Abbey," Toby's voice broke, formalities forgotten.
"Don't think like that," she ordered, turning back to the man, eyes searching his lifeless face, hands again pressed against the wound.
"I have to, Abbey, I have to think like that. That's my … that's CJ, and Rachel, in there, I have to think like that, like this. That goddamn… she could die in there Abbey, because this sonofabitch helped that psychotic bastard get into the Press Room! Goddammit!" His voice continued to rise, and Katie attempted to put a hand on his arm, but he shook it off, "Goddammit!"
"I took the Hippocratic Oath," she wanted to say, "I took that oath and said I would save lives, no matter whose life it happened to be, no matter what they'd done, whether they had the right insurance or enough money, no matter what. Politics, blame, ruins that, you can't… you can't say "I'll always try" because sometimes trying doesn't work, sometimes trying doesn't save lives and sometimes people do things like this, sometimes people pull shit like this, and you don't want to try. But I took an oath and… and I'm breaking it, I'm not trying, I'm not doing my best. First do no harm… Oh God," her eyes were almost blurred, "I've treated rapists and kidnappers and murderers and soldiers who've committed war crimes, I've treated the rape victims, the children who've been kidnapped, the men and women who've died by poisoning and stabbing and shooting, I've seen so many things, unthinkable, unbelievable things, and I shouldn't be questioning myself or my faith or the Oath I took almost 30 years ago, but I am, and I can't do this." Hesitantly, she removed her hands from the wound, allowing one to hover over Toby's, the other to press into the pulse point on the man's neck a little too long, horrified by the blood flowing from the uncovered wound.
Toby's face was a deep red, flushed with rage, and he caught her eyes with his as her face turned to him, fingers still pressed into his neck. "Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit," she almost said, but repeated it in her brain instead. "What am I doing?" Toby said nothing, but saw the pain and the emotions in her eyes, and it seemed to deflate him, and his shoulders fell, and the tears filled his eyes as he moved quickly away, turning to the television.
"I took the Hippocratic Oath, Toby," Abbey finally said, her face still not turning away from him, though his back was now to her.
"So weak, so thready," she thought, then shook her head. "Nothing we can do," she informed the other two, quietly, finally turning to them. "He's gone."
One of the medics reached forward almost out of reflex, fingers moving toward his neck. "I've been practicing medicine for thirty years," she informed him, and caught his stare with her own. His hands hovered in midair, and then he nodded, moved away, and left with the woman who had accompanied him.
She turned to Toby again, looking at the spot of blood that was now smearing the television screen, making the path his finger had taken. CJ was seated elsewhere, and he no longer caressed the screen as he would her face, for he had decided that he would touch her soon enough, because he'd get her out there himself if he had to, he would not let her bleed there, either of them. "That's my family," he thought, "And I'll do what I have to do."
Abbey stood to her feet, walked over to Toby, and ignored his flinch as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I took the Hippocratic Oath, Toby," she whispered, and Katie took one last look before turning from the room, sensing that her presence was no longer expected. "I took the goddamn oath, Toby," she repeated, then lifted a hand to his face and forced him to turn from the screen to look her in the eye. "First do no harm," she recited, her gaze piercing his with an emotion he wasn't sure he could understand. It wasn't quite guilt, and it wasn't quite peace.
"He's dead?" Toby whispered, voice ragged, eyes still welled with tears – not for the Marine but for his fiancé and his child.
Abbey turned away and looked at the Marine, the man she'd left lying bleeding on the floor, and then glanced back at Toby with a determined expression. "Yes."
"I took the Hippocratic Oath," she wanted to cry, "and I broke it."
7:53 PM.
Press Room Corridor
7:34 PM
Toby inhaled sharply, and Abbey's eyes flicked upward, landing upon the door as it cracked open slowly. Her hand involuntarily gripped his shoulder, and he winced at her strength as her nails bit into his flesh. The doors slid open the rest of the way and the Press Corps began filing out, one at a time, their steps first filled with trepidation – as if they were waiting to face their executioner – then eagerness, as they realized that they were truly safe. And then the door was again sealed shut, and the two stood as they had before, Abbey's hand digging into his shoulder, his gaze fixed on the television. The first nineteen meandered toward the two agents that were motioning toward them, and they never broke their single file line. All nodded in respect to the First Lady, then gazed with pity, worry, confusion, at Toby. Still, they had not moved.
Finally, the last in line passed them by, then halted, glanced ahead, and turned to face the First Lady and Toby. Lowering to their knees, the men lowered the one they carried between them to the ground before her, and the single woman looked up at Toby without pity but with concern, and then watched as Abbey finally released her hold on the Communications Director, knelt to the floor, and began assessing the Marine's condition.
"She's doing well, Toby. CJ knows what she's doing, you have to believe that. You have to," Katie whispered, locking his eyes with her own.
He nodded, frowned, and wondered if he should ask if she was sugarcoating it for him. She'd been in there with them, she knew the atmosphere, knew how they felt. And he had to understand, had to know, that CJ really was okay, not as shattered as he felt he was.
"She's really okay," Katie affirmed, understanding the expression, and his face began to turn a light shade of pink before he knelt beside Abbey.
Curtly, she informed him, "It's not good."
Toby nodded, then glanced upward at the other two men. "Paramedics can't get in, we have people with medical training on staff, they're heading down here shortly."
"We'll stay until then," Katie informed the rest, and Abbey nodded absently as she removed CJ's bloodied jacket, unthinkingly laying it between her and Toby.
His eyes strayed, fingers poised over the garment, an expression of loss and fear overtaking his countenance. "CJ…" he almost whispered, but shook himself, closed his hand into a fist, then turned back to watch Abbey's ministrations, forcibly reminding himself that it wasn't his CJ's blood that had been spilled.
"Dammit," she hissed, having ripped the fabric of his uniform away from the wound, "must've nicked the aorta, he'd be dead already if it had severed it." The three men and one woman watched with an almost morbid fascination as she probed the wound, wiped at the blood, then lifted smeared fingers to his neck, the pounding of feet growing closer – help.
Katie turned away, moving to the television, and pressed her finger into the volume button. The 'trained professionals', she had deemed them, had arrived, and the blood was causing her stomach to churn, thinking of what could have been, what still might be, and her own children sitting at home with Daddy, waiting for Mommy's return. Not for the first time, she was eternally grateful that they were still so young as to hate the news channels.
Katie watched as Bowman again moved into the line of the video camera, grinning scornfully at Will, Danny, and CJ, who stood protected between them. Behind her, she heard Abbey inform the man and woman that had arrived that the Marine's pulse was weak, thready, that his breathing wasn't good. She blocked it out, and focused in on the television, and soon, another reporter stood beside her, and Toby turned his face again to the scene.
"So concerned for the welfare of your fellow men… and women," he shook his head, "But you've made such a big mistake, Claudia, such a big mistake," his eyes narrowed with a sadistic sort of glee, "Think about it, Willie, Danny, Claudia… Willie, hmm, I like that." CJ withheld a shudder at the playful, familiar tone his voice had taken on, and she felt Danny press his hand against her back to steady her. This time, he laughed aloud, "Okay Claudia, have a seat, you too, boys, and the games will begin." He whirled in a circle, stopped, and watched them, waiting for them to move.
And yet they didn't.
"Always so concerned…" Bowman chuckled, lifted the gun, cocked it, then lowered it again, "I have a surprise for you, but I don't think you're gonna like it," he informed them. "Think about it, guys," his tone was mocking, condescending, "how do you think I really got in here? Computers can only do so many things, Claudia. I had to have… assistance. The inside kind."
Silence descended in the Press Room, and Will and Danny collectively wracked their brains, looking for an answer to the riddle, trying to piece together the jigsaw puzzle.
"Oh, my God." It was whispered, full of an emotion the men couldn't identify. The camera did not pan away as it did at Rosslyn, and her face was tired, angry, morose. "My God." Her legs seemed to give way beneath her, and Danny threw his arm back around her, his strength needed to hold her up until she could steady herself. "He…" she looked up at Bowman with an expression of childlike hurt, "The Marine. The Marine," she repeated, "he helped you? He let you in… he… helped you!" Her voice had risen to an almost unbearable crescendo.
Will met the other reporter's eyes over CJ's head, and they seemed to agree without speaking that it was time to follow Bowman's rules, time to sit before they fell. Anger boiled within both men, and as they sat, Will was poised to ask, "What do you really want?" but was not given the chance to finish.
Clapping his hand against the handle of the gun, Bowman laughed, "Bravo! Bravo, Claudia, bravo! You've done an excellent job, thus far. Your Marine, the one whose blood you're soaked in, the Marine whose life you bargained for – is now free and clear - he's out of the Press Room, and you're still here. What do you think about that, children?" His eyes were dark, full of laughter and glee, "Why, how do you like that!"
"Oh, shit," Katie whispered, her eyes gravitating toward CJ's pale, anxious face. "Oh, shit."
Abbey's hands had stilled above the wound, leaving it gaping and open. "Stop it," Toby commanded, "stop it!"
Her eyes moved to meet his, "Stop what, Toby? I took the Hippocratic Oath."
"She's going to die in there, Abbey," Toby's voice broke, formalities forgotten.
"Don't think like that," she ordered, turning back to the man, eyes searching his lifeless face, hands again pressed against the wound.
"I have to, Abbey, I have to think like that. That's my … that's CJ, and Rachel, in there, I have to think like that, like this. That goddamn… she could die in there Abbey, because this sonofabitch helped that psychotic bastard get into the Press Room! Goddammit!" His voice continued to rise, and Katie attempted to put a hand on his arm, but he shook it off, "Goddammit!"
"I took the Hippocratic Oath," she wanted to say, "I took that oath and said I would save lives, no matter whose life it happened to be, no matter what they'd done, whether they had the right insurance or enough money, no matter what. Politics, blame, ruins that, you can't… you can't say "I'll always try" because sometimes trying doesn't work, sometimes trying doesn't save lives and sometimes people do things like this, sometimes people pull shit like this, and you don't want to try. But I took an oath and… and I'm breaking it, I'm not trying, I'm not doing my best. First do no harm… Oh God," her eyes were almost blurred, "I've treated rapists and kidnappers and murderers and soldiers who've committed war crimes, I've treated the rape victims, the children who've been kidnapped, the men and women who've died by poisoning and stabbing and shooting, I've seen so many things, unthinkable, unbelievable things, and I shouldn't be questioning myself or my faith or the Oath I took almost 30 years ago, but I am, and I can't do this." Hesitantly, she removed her hands from the wound, allowing one to hover over Toby's, the other to press into the pulse point on the man's neck a little too long, horrified by the blood flowing from the uncovered wound.
Toby's face was a deep red, flushed with rage, and he caught her eyes with his as her face turned to him, fingers still pressed into his neck. "Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit," she almost said, but repeated it in her brain instead. "What am I doing?" Toby said nothing, but saw the pain and the emotions in her eyes, and it seemed to deflate him, and his shoulders fell, and the tears filled his eyes as he moved quickly away, turning to the television.
"I took the Hippocratic Oath, Toby," Abbey finally said, her face still not turning away from him, though his back was now to her.
"So weak, so thready," she thought, then shook her head. "Nothing we can do," she informed the other two, quietly, finally turning to them. "He's gone."
One of the medics reached forward almost out of reflex, fingers moving toward his neck. "I've been practicing medicine for thirty years," she informed him, and caught his stare with her own. His hands hovered in midair, and then he nodded, moved away, and left with the woman who had accompanied him.
She turned to Toby again, looking at the spot of blood that was now smearing the television screen, making the path his finger had taken. CJ was seated elsewhere, and he no longer caressed the screen as he would her face, for he had decided that he would touch her soon enough, because he'd get her out there himself if he had to, he would not let her bleed there, either of them. "That's my family," he thought, "And I'll do what I have to do."
Abbey stood to her feet, walked over to Toby, and ignored his flinch as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I took the Hippocratic Oath, Toby," she whispered, and Katie took one last look before turning from the room, sensing that her presence was no longer expected. "I took the goddamn oath, Toby," she repeated, then lifted a hand to his face and forced him to turn from the screen to look her in the eye. "First do no harm," she recited, her gaze piercing his with an emotion he wasn't sure he could understand. It wasn't quite guilt, and it wasn't quite peace.
"He's dead?" Toby whispered, voice ragged, eyes still welled with tears – not for the Marine but for his fiancé and his child.
Abbey turned away and looked at the Marine, the man she'd left lying bleeding on the floor, and then glanced back at Toby with a determined expression. "Yes."
"I took the Hippocratic Oath," she wanted to cry, "and I broke it."
7:53 PM.