Blood and State

By Anne Callanan and Kathleen E. Lehew

Part 6/22

"Henry?" Abbey asked, glancing once again at her watch.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Can I ask you a favor?" At his slightly constipated expression, Abbey quickly added. "Nothing big, just a bit... out of the ordinary."

The agent nodded. "If I can, ma'am." Since Vaughn was still relatively new to her detail, Emil Torres had warned him that the First Lady had a habit of doing this. With her, the rules tended to get bent quite frequently, if not broken.

"If they run to pattern, and they've been depressingly predictable this evening," the lady in question was saying, watching him carefully, "the Chief of Staff and your boss should be descending on my husband," - for this, she put the emphasis on my - "in about twenty minutes." Oh, yes. They were being very predictable; who needed a watch?

Neither the time frame mentioned nor the pointed emphasis was lost on Vaughn. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stood at attention, head to one side and let his charge finish. There was respect in his posture, as well as understanding. He had a pretty good idea where this was going.

"Would you send them to me, please?" the First Lady asked. Not demanded or ordered, asked.

"Of course, ma'am."

"No problems?" Considering the events of the day, the kicked-up anthill that was the White House and its jumpy occupants, it wasn't something Abbey, even now, felt safe in asking. Jed was her husband, and Ellie's father, but these men had their jobs.

She was sadly aware that everything took a back seat to those considerations.

A suspiciously humorous twist appeared at the corner of Henry Vaughn's mouth. "I didn't say that, ma'am." He shrugged. "But when I tell them that you made the request..."

"Enough, Henry." Abbey held up her hand, bringing that observation to a close. However, a reputation did have its uses. "Thank you."

"Thank you, ma'am." Vaughn actually smiled then. "Can I go know? Set up the barricades? Write my will?"

Abbey laughed, a true outburst of gratitude and relief. "You almost sounded human there, Henry."

"I did? Really?" The Secret Service Agent shook his head as he opened the door. "Gotta work at that."

The door closed behind him.

Looking again at her watch, Abbey counted the seconds. Predictability did have certain advantages. You just had to know how to use your aces properly.

Sure enough, the bedroom door opened and C.J. Cregg quietly stepped out. Shutting the door, she leaned against the frame, let out a very long, deep sigh, and gave the smiling First Lady a narrow look. "Abbey?"

One elegant brow rose and Abbey countered simply, "C.J.?"

The Press Secretary smiled. Oh, yes. She had definitely planned that timely little interruption. "You're a conundrum, you know that?"

"Maddening, isn't it?"

"Sneaky."

"Of course."

"Is it just me, or is there going to be fireworks in there?" C.J. glanced at the door.

"I hope so, C.J." Abbey spoke softly, dropping on to the sofa and rubbing eyes burned dry from tears and fatigue. "I hope so."

~ooOoo~

As C.J. Cregg hastily - and with a quickness and obvious relief that bordered on the comic - left the room, Ellie found herself falling into old, familiar patterns. She was alone with her father. Holding close to the wall, she dropped her head, refusing to look at him. As always, she felt her hair fall across her face. Unsure of herself, it was easier than trying to bridge the emotional gap between them. Being out of sight and out of mind always was with him.

Hiding from her father.

She could feel him studying her with a curious, almost sad intensity. Ellie heard the rustle and creak of the bed as he shifted, a soft grunt of pain at the ill-considered movement. Waiting for him to say something, anything, she was almost disappointed when he didn't.

This wasn't going to work. She shouldn't have come. Whatever her mother had planned or hoped for - and Ellie understood her well enough to know she'd something up her sleeve - hit a blank wall. Whatever she'd hoped for, wasn't going to happen either. The urge to leave, to escape, became almost unbearable.

A mocking voice inside her wondered why. Why are you doing this? Look at him, girl! He's your father! Listening to the internal gibes, she found her anger again. Anger at the world, the person who did this and a God who would allow it to happen.

The silence between them lengthened, fueled by her own fears and insecurities.

Not this time. Tossing her head defiantly, flinging her hair out of her eyes, Ellie looked up. She observed him lying propped up on the bed through lowered lashes. A phone lay next to him and papers were scattered across the covers. Even now, he wouldn't quit. Oddly, looking down on him she found herself at an advantage.

An advantage she didn't want, not like this. The courage it gave her was false.

He continued to say nothing. Not a good sign. Ellie almost bolted at that point.

The med student took over. He was pale, the cuts across his cheeks and lower chin standing out starkly against that ashen background. Only an effort of will kept her from gasping aloud at the sight of the closed wound that slashed across one eyelid. So very close.

Too close.

A few stitches showed through the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow. The graying stubble on his chin did little to hide the angry wounds. Clinically, she observed that they'd done a good job on that; the scaring would be minimal, but he was still going to have fun shaving for a good while to come.

Or her mother was. Ellie almost laughed at that. She knew her parents; at times it was almost embarrassing. They both would have fun with that.

Still, he said nothing.

Elevated on several pillows beside him was his left hand. Poking out through the bandages she counted one thumb and four fingers. All there. Ellie had heard the reports; the snatches of information that had slipped from her agents before she'd made her frantic break. They'd slipped up there. That had been what had set off her panic, the need to see for herself, to speak with him. The broken snatches of speculation from the TV reporters and the radio in her car hadn't helped. Without answers, they'd kept repeating the same thing over and over again till she'd wanted to scream.

There had been an explosion in the Oval Office. Her father's office.

Her father. Who was still not saying anything. His steady regard could have burned holes through casehardened steel. The scream of frustration building just at the back of her throat was definitely becoming an option.

His eyes searched her face, reaching into her thoughts and feelings like he always did. Hiding had never really worked with him and right now Ellie couldn't think of why she'd ever really tried.

Now, if he would only say something, they could get this show on the road.

No such luck. Her father continued to... stare at her, waiting. For what? To her vast annoyance, Ellie felt herself starting to blush. That was new. Was he trying to embarrass her? If that was his plan, he was doing a pretty good job. The alternative, that he was just too far down the emotional scale to even work up the energy for a good, righteous tear, frightened her more than the first reports of what had happened.

Knowing her father, Ellie was putting her money on the former. At least, she hoped she was right. Anything else was too awful to contemplate.

She swallowed and squared her shoulders. Not this time. He wasn't going to get away with it. If he wouldn't say anything, start the ball rolling, she would. What was it her mother had said? Wake him up? That she had trusted her with this gave wings to her courage. Love did the rest.

"Woof, Dad," she blurted, scarcely aware of her own voice. Had she just said that?

Apparently she had. Her father's brows arched and he inquired coolly, "Woof?"

"Woof." Ellie repeated, fighting the urge to drop her gaze. It would have set him off, maybe, but not the way she wanted. The familiar, rich tones she'd grown up with sounded so tired, harsh and grating, resigned. There was no fight, no fire or fury. Just a blank, exhausted withdrawal.

For the first time she understood her mother's fears and added them to her own. Ellie dropped her eyes from his steady regard, focusing her gaze on the bed stand. Looking anywhere but at him kept her from losing what little determination she'd managed to salvage. A glint of simple gold sparkled on the table corner. Her eyes widened. His wedding ring. Because of the swelling, they'd had to take it off.

Her breath caught in her throat. More than anything, that undeniable and dreadful sight gave the reality a fearful clarity. Never in her life could she recall her father without that precious band on his finger.

"What are you doing here?"

That voice, full of a depth and authority she both feared and loved, snapped Ellie back to the present at hand.

"Isn't it obvious?" she replied, proud that no hint of a stammer cracked her facade. There was the question. Ratcheting up her courage, surprised she could actually find it, Ellie shrugged with forced nonchalance and moved towards the bed and her father. Each step made the next easier.

Bartlet's eyes followed his middle daughter, calculating. "Eleanor..."

"I'm defying you, Dad." Oh, that was good. Eleanor. She'd got that much at least. Multiple syllables from him were a clear indication of parental wrath. Good! This was getting easier by the minute. She carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. "Willfully and with malice aforethought disregarding your executive orders, violating goodness knows how many traffic laws, probably burning out my clutch in the process and..."

"My orders..."

"Your orders," - Ellie wasn't about to let him finish that statement. She knew where it would take them and it wasn't her path of choice at the moment - "were to keep me away. Is that what you wanted?"

When crossed, Ellie knew her father's temper was formidable. Frightening sometimes in its intensity. She waited for the flare, the familiar growl. It never came.

A long, drawn-out breath. "What I wanted was to keep you safe."

"Safe? Not knowing anything? No calls, nothing? Just those agents you've hung all over me scrambling around like chickens with their heads cut off?" Angry now, surprised at her own reactions, Ellie snapped, "It got staffed out, you know that? You couldn't call?"

"I assumed your Mother had called." His tone didn't quite accuse, but the defensive censure was there, a brief spark of parental anger as he waved at the papers scattered across the bed. "I do have a job, you know."

That was weak, not at all like him. The job had never been an excuse. This wasn't a situation Ellie was comfortable with, at all. It was more Zoey's territory than hers. The verbal clashes between her father and his youngest child had become the stuff of family legend. Maybe comparing a few notes with her baby sister before she'd started this might have helped. She had him on the ropes and he wouldn't fight.

She wanted him to fight. The safety of the familiar was all she had left.

Still, Ellie's gaze softened and she reached out. Unsure of what was safe, she dropped her hand on his right shoulder, felt him tense. "Mom had other things on her mind, Dad."

He flinched, subtly pulling away from her touch as best he could within the confines of the bed. "There were reasons." His winced reply lacked any real ring of truth or finality.

Eyes narrowing suspiciously at his unexpected reaction to her touch, Ellie quickly snatched her hand back. He wasn't denying her, it was something else. Maybe she should have asked her mother exactly what his injuries had been before barging in here. She hadn't felt any bandages under the pajama top, but there may have been secondary bruising. Maybe...

"There are always reasons, Dad." Clasping her hands in her lap, she asked reasonably, "Why not try giving me a few?" She was rather proud of the strength in that question, the quaver she kept out of her voice.

This wasn't as hard as she'd thought it would be.

"Reasons?" The President regarded his middle daughter with open astonishment, not the least of which was inspired by her uncharacteristic defiance. Truthfully, tired as he was, he was beginning to enjoy it.

Raising his bandaged hand, he managed to wiggle a few fingers. "How's that old saying go? 'Here's five good reasons'? Besides, aside from the fact that I can issue a few executive orders…"

Ellie laughed. She couldn't help it. He was trying so hard. Sarcasm? Not quite sure it was a good thing or not, Ellie also detected a thawing in his voice. Maybe she'd taken the right tact on this after all. It was certainly proving to be educational, a side to her father she'd never seen before.

Or maybe she just hadn't been looking close enough.

Bartlet's eyes had narrowed. "Are you laughing at me, young lady?"

Ellie raised her hand to her breast, blinking her eyes with patently false innocence. "Would I dare?" Would she? Goodness, but she was. An interesting turn of events and one she found heady to the extreme.

"I'm your father."

"True." Ellie smiled. He was actually sulking just a bit.

"You should have listened."

"Don't you mean obeyed?"

One brow rose with elegant sarcasm. "There's a difference?"

"Depends on who's doing the defining. I'm not going to fight with you, Dad." Her smile faded and she regarded her father with all seriousness. It hurt to see him lying there, not quite broken but so very close. He'd never truly dominated her, not willfully. But still, he'd intimidated just a bit and she found she missed it.

She missed the fire. Time for that wake up call. "I'm a grown woman, Dad. I make my own decisions." Ellie paused, letting that first sink in before adding firmly, "I decided to come home."

"This isn't home." Bartlet's head fell back against the pillows, closing his eyes. "And it isn't safe."

"Yeah," Ellie muttered, unable to argue with that. Taking his good hand, she tried to bring him back from the tired resignation so apparent in his voice. She felt him stiffen at her touch, almost anticipatory. "It isn't home, but it's where I belong."

She gently squeezed his hand.

Wincing, her father wasn't quite able to prevent a hiss as he jerked his hand out of her grasp.

Shocked, Ellie almost jumped off the bed. Restraining herself, she stammered, "I'm sorry… I should've asked…"

"It's nothing." He forced a laugh, flexing his fingers to show no harm had been done. "Between your mother and Hackett, I think I ended up with more bruises and contusions than what I started with."

Ellie regarded him suspiciously. That was twice. Shoulder? Hand? She knew her mother could get carried away and maybe, just maybe, navy doctors were a bit rougher than most. But neither Admiral Hackett nor her mother were that rough.

"Dad?" He still hadn't opened his eyes, wouldn't meet her concerned gaze. She wanted to look into them, find out what he was hiding. That he was the one doing the hiding was a terrible irony she didn't at all enjoy.

"Why did you come?" he asked quietly, almost fearfully.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the threatening tears. Their last argument, one among many he'd won and she'd lost, flashed through Ellie's mind. She'd thought they'd found resolution there, if not balance. A good movie, a few laughs, and what he'd said… it had almost broken her heart.

Understanding, just a little perhaps, she forced her suspicions to the back of her mind and told him softly in a broken whisper, "All I have to do is come home, remember?" She didn't fight it this time, dropping her head and letting her hair fall across her face.

Old habits die hard.

"Hey." The voice had the familiar ring of authority again.

Ellie sniffed. "Yeah?"

"Lift your head up so I can see you."

Not quite a bark, but close enough. Ellie blinked and looked up, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

With his good arm he drew her into his embrace, holding her tightly as only a father knew how. The only way he knew how. It had been a long time coming and right now it was all he really needed, all he wanted.

Again, before succumbing to the safety of that strong embrace, Ellie felt the subtle recoil in his muscles. An involuntary shudder that quickly passed. Maybe he felt her own reaction to that, or not, but he tightened his hold, giving her no chance to question or escape.

Not that she really wanted to.

The phone rang.

This time, Ellie did jump.

Her father growled something bordering on unintelligible but quite probably foul.

Wiping her eyes, Ellie managed a short laugh. "I'm not exactly a minor, but do you think Mom would approve of you using language like that in front of me?"

Bartlet's laugh was honest, if not up to his usual standards. "What she doesn't know…" he grimaced and let the rest trail off, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "You won't tell her, will you?"

The phone rang again.

This time Ellie's muttered curse wouldn't have passed either parent's approval. Before her father could protest - and ask the ridiculous question of where she'd learned it, as if he didn't know already - she said, "You've a job."

"So it would seem. I've been hit by my National Security Advisor already. It's probably Fitzwallace, getting his licks in," Bartlet muttered. Giving his daughter a profoundly apologetic look, eyes clouded with something Ellie couldn't quite put her finger on, he asked, "You gonna stick around?"

"Feel like trying to order me to leave?"

"Not at the moment."

"Then I'll be here." No, they weren't quite finished. He was hiding something, or at the very least not admitting to it. She needed to talk to her mother. "I'll hang with Mom."

The phone almost sounded furious at this point.

"Damn it!"

Ellie laughed. "Tame, Dad. Way tame."

"Stick around, you'll hear worse."

"I intend to." Ellie got up, watching him carefully as the bed shifted a bit from the weight. He winced, a little, but no more than expected. Right? "Oh, and you're probably going to get billed for something."

"Something?" Ignoring the phone for a moment - after all, whoever was on the other end had to wait on him, not the other way round - Bartlet's eyes narrowed. "Traffic tickets?" Considering her timing, she'd had to have blown through a good set of laws on her way down.

"Hospital bills," Ellie responded lightly, hand on the door and opening it a crack. She may have just been a beginner at this, but her father wasn't the only master of timing in this family. "Nose, maybe not broken, but definitely squished."

"Nose?"

"One of the agents got in the way of my elbow." She was going to have to thank Agent Vaughn for that one. It was worth it to see the look on his face as she pulled the door shut behind her.

His full-hearted though subdued laughter was even better. Ellie caught that just as the door closed. Then the ring of the phone again. The word uttered at that point was definitely one her mother wouldn't have approved of, or her father if he stopped to think about it.

Ellie chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. The whole confrontation hadn't been what she'd prepared for or expected, but she felt some good had come of it. The mouse had roared, surprisingly, and she wasn't quite finished yet. She'd woken him up, maybe just a little. For now, it was all circumstance would allow her.

It was time to really talk to her mother.

To be continued…