Author: Sirius
Rating: PG-13 for some description of violence and a few words. If you think it needs to go up or down, let me know.
Disclaimer: If you recognize the characters, they don't belong to me. The plot, however, is mine (Should I be proud of that?).
Author's Note: I have, unfortunately, missed many, many episodes for various reasons, so some of this will fit with the timeline, and some won't. Therefore, I should probably class it as an AU. As I don't recall hearing anything about how old Deanna (nicknamed Deena) Young is, I have made her just shy of 17, and a junior in high school. In this fic, Charlie and Deena do not have living grandparents or an aunt (just to let you know – it's just Charlie and Deena and nobody else in their family – unless I decide to give them a pet). Also, this is my first published fanfic, so feedback would be good. I know roughly where I'm heading with this, though some of the details are a little sketchy. Sit back, enjoy, and tell me what you think.
Timeline: Somewhere between the second election and Bartlet's second inauguration, which means pretty much anything I've actually been able to catch up to now is fair game where spoilers are concerned.
Summary: What happens to Charlie when his world falls apart?
Warning: There will be mention of violence, and some slightly graphic description.
This day was no different than any other when one worked three feet from the Oval Office – busy. Charlie was at his desk, doing his usual job of attempting to maintain his boss's sanity (even this early on a Saturday morning). It wasn't even nine yet, but he was expecting Deena to call sometime before noon. He grinned as he remembered his little sister's face last night. He'd snapped a picture (as his mother would have done, and so he could tease her about it later) of Deena heading out to the Prom with her date. He knew that several of Deena's friends had planned a slumber party of sorts for after the Prom (not co-ed – Charlie had called and talked to the chaperoning parents; there would be no boys). He'd also taken care to remind Deena's date – Andrew Yahze – that his boss commanded the 82nd Airborne and if anything happened to his little sister… Andy got the point. Charlie didn't think he'd really needed to have that chat with him – after all, Andy was a nice guy – but it was the "Big Brother Talk" and mandatory for any and all of Deena's dates.
Charlie placed the newly-opened envelope on his desk and picked up the ringing phone, thinking that it was a little early for normal people to be awake on a Saturday. Of course, this is the West Wing. None of us are normal. When was the last time I slept in on a Saturday, anyway? "Charlie Young." In response to his unspoken question, he heard the guard at the visitors' desk say that there was someone to see him – a Captain Anthony DiMenna, DCPD. Why would Mom's partner come to see me here? With a rising sense of unease, Charlie said that he'd be right down. Debbie looked at him with a raised eyebrow as he left the room, but, thinking he was retrieving something for the President, said nothing.
*****
"Charlie." There was no response.
"Charlie." Still no response.
President Josiah Bartlet looked at the clock. Almost one. Maybe he's getting lunch. He probably told me before he left. He finished off the remains of his own meal and asked Debbie to call Toby into the office. There was nothing left in the schedule for today… and Toby was a worthy opponent to face across a chess board. The competitive gleam might have warned Toby off if he'd actually been in the room.
"Oh, Debbie," he added, as she was about to leave, "when Charlie comes back from lunch, let him know that he can take off. Deena went to her Prom last night, and Charlie had plans to do the "Big Brother Thing" – make sure the date didn't do anything he'll regret."
"Yes, sir," she said. If he had looked up from his papers, he would have seen the worried look on her face. That passed in a moment. He's pretty certain that Charlie went to lunch – he probably called. And Charlie could have come back in when I was out of the office. That's probably it. I'll leave a note on his desk… in case I miss seeing him. Debbie picked up the phone; if the President wanted to see Toby, he would see Toby. Charlie would be ok. She hadn't seen anything yet that really frazzled him, so she was sure he was just off on errands… or getting lunch… he'd be ok.
The phone rang as Jed sat staring at Toby across the chess board. A smile grew on his face as he remembered the identities of the very few people who knew the direct line to the Oval. Picking up the phone, he did not hear the "Hey" that he'd been expecting to hear – Abby was in California and had called this morning, but he'd hoped to have her voice whisper over him again. What he heard instead was Zoey's voice, soft, worried. "Dad," she said, "this is going to sound weird, but is everything ok there?"
"As far as I know, and with this job, they usually tell me if something's wrong." She couldn't see the smile on her father's face, but she could hear it in his voice. Something still drove her to go through the list, whether it was the earlier feeling of dread, or the anguished whisper that had prompted her to make arrangements for the first flight home from France, she didn't know. She'd told her detail to keep quiet, though. She didn't want to worry her father until and unless she knew that there was something to worry him about. Without pause, she continued the conversation.
"You're ok? Taking care of yourself?"
"Following your mother's orders, for once," he replied.
"And Mom, the family?"
"Abbey's at a conference in California, and Ellie, Elizabeth and Annie are fine."
"Josh and Donna?"
"Aside from selective blindness, they're not having any problems."
Zoey chuckled. "Meaning that they're still refusing to see what's right in front of them?"
"Yeah."
"CJ, Toby, Sam, Ainsley?"
"All present and accounted for. Ainsley keeps winning arguments with Sam, CJ enjoys keeping a firm grasp on her Press Corps, and Toby is sitting here being a sore loser. That's a bad thing when you're playing chess."
"Toby is being Toby. Got it." Zoey paused for a second. There was only one person she hadn't asked about, and she was afraid. She'd never quite gotten over him, never wanted him to let her go. The next question she asked was only whispered.
"Charlie?"
"Should be annoying his little sister. I sent him home after lunch. Deena went to the Prom last night, and I thought they'd want to talk."
"Ok."
"Sweetheart, what's bothering you?"
"Nothing much, Dad, it's just… something's wrong. We'll figure it out when I get there."
"You're coming home?"
"My flight leaves in thirty minutes, Dad. I just can't shake the feeling that I need to be home right now. My detail has probably managed to inform Ron somehow… they always do. And…. There's the First-Class boarding call for my flight, Dad. I'll be home in ten hours. Love you."
"Zoey…" She'd already gone. He hung up the phone, uneasy, and glanced over at Toby. "Well, then, shall we finish this?" The game would be a welcome distraction.
Near the end of the chess game, at five o'clock that evening, Jed took a moment to turn on the closed-circuit television in the office. Both he and Toby wanted to watch CJ's evening briefing with the Press Corps. His conversation with Zoey was still weighing heavily on his mind, distancing his thoughts both from the game and the briefing. He didn't hear the question when it was first asked, but his attention suddenly narrowed to focus on the TV screen as he heard a familiar name. CJ's face had paled, and he heard her – over the sudden noise of several startled reporters – say, "Could you repeat that, please?"
"Certainly, CJ." The reporter – Timothy Albrecht, Danny's temporary replacement from the Washington Post while Danny was on vacation – smirked a bit before continuing with the question, and Jed thought to himself that the little pipsqueak had something that would hit them hard in one way or another. "I was just wondering if the White House had any comment on the murder of Deanna Young late last night – in what appears to be a gang-related shooting – and if it would affect the administration's views on the Juvenile Offenders Bill that the GOP is trying to push through Congress. Of course, Charlie was only informed this morning. Did he leave without mentioning it to anyone?"
The look on his face would have made CJ want to slap him if she'd had time to think about it. Instead, her anger took a back seat as her professionalism started to drive. At that moment, she had to use nearly every bit of experience she had gained in her career simply to say her next words in a calm manner. "The White House has no comment at this time, and will have more for you tomorrow. No more questions tonight." She walked out of the Press Room and when she was out of sight of the Press Corps… she started to run.
Back in the Oval, a chess piece fell unnoticed from the President's hand.
