Author: Sirius
Author's Note: This part gets rocky. If you're not sure that you can stand people (i.e., Charlie) going through emotional torment, you might want to turn back now. Also, be aware that there are themes in this story that are not necessarily suitable for younger children. If you think the rating should be higher than PG-13, please let me know.
Disclaimer: See Part I.
Nothing was said in the room for several seconds. Then, the Senior Staff heard DiMenna put out an APB on Charlie, specifying that he was not a suspect in any crime, but was being threatened and could be in grave danger. "Bring him back to the station if you find him," he said, "but remember that we're protecting him, not arresting him."
"Captain." Again, Ron spoke out, astonishing everyone in the Oval, most of whom hadn't heard him say as much in the past year as he had in the last few minutes. "Have your men call us, instead of approaching Charlie, unless he looks to be injured."
"Why?"
"If they approach him and he doesn't want to go with them, they won't be able to make him and you might end up with a couple of injured officers. As of this moment, there are very few people in DC who could match Charlie's skill, outside of the Secret Service and Special Forces."
"Charlie? He's that good?"
"Admiral Kaersi has a rule, Captain. He doesn't train civilians. I knew about his rule, and still took Charlie to meet him, expecting to be turned down. I couldn't even begin to tell you why Kaersi agreed to it. The fact remains that Charlie is the only exception, and yes, he is that good. If your officers try to force him to come with them – in his current state of mind – there could very easily be serious trouble. Charlie's trying to protect the only family he has left… by staying as far away from us as possible." Ron looked around the Oval, listening to DiMenna change his orders to "notify, but do not approach." His eyes rested first on Josh Lyman's pale, agonized face, then moved on to Donna Moss – angry and supportive – who, unknowingly, had a death-grip on Josh's hand.
Bartlet said his good-byes to DiMenna as Ron continued to scan the room. Sam Seaborn, on Donna's other side, looked as though any remaining naiveté had just plummeted – burning – to the ground. Ainsley and Debbie looked to be in a state of shock, and the rest… the rest of the staff – CJ, Toby, Leo and Bartlet – all had looks on their faces to mirror the one on Donna's… anger. In the case of Leo and the President, that anger was turning into a deep, smoldering rage. This would not make Ron's job any easier, but he could certainly understand where they were all coming from.
"All right, the DC cops are looking for him. Debbie, you're going to keep calling him while we all hope that he picks up. I want to go looking, but Ron would veto that and Charlie would see me coming a mile away. Donna, you, Sam, Ainsley and Josh look anywhere that you can think of, call if you find him, and be back here by nine. Toby, CJ, Leo, I'll need your help. We have to say something to the press tomorrow, and I'd like to know what that is before we actually go on the air with it. Oh, and Leo, if you wouldn't mind, could you head to National around 2:30? Zoey's plane should be coming in then, and I'd like her to be met by someone she knows. I don't know if she's bringing him or not."
"Not, sir." Ron answered quietly.
"Thank you, Ron. Dismissed, everyone. If you've got any prayers, I would suggest saying them. Charlie's gonna need all the help he can get."
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
The small chorus of answering phrases echoed through the room, and when the searchers had left, the Oval held only four people – Toby, CJ, Leo, and the President. There were five if one counted Ron – motioned by Bartlet to stay in the office, rather than nearby – but he was blending into the woodwork again, as usual.
"So, CJ, what do we tell them?"
Saturday – 9:30pm – West Wing
The guard in the lobby had been on break when he'd come in fifteen minutes ago, and Charlie hadn't recognized either the person covering the desk or the nearby Service Agent, which meant that both had probably been assigned to the White House only recently. Charlie heard voices in the Oval – though he couldn't tell what they were saying – and walked quietly to Debbie's desk, placing there a sealed envelope addressed to the President… and his White House ID. None of them would be safe if he stayed. Then, he went to his own desk to retrieve his coat and keys. Lying on the desk was the open envelope from that morning, and, as it was addressed to him, he picked it up. Slipping the contents out just far enough to reveal that they were nothing official, he slipped it into his coat pocket. He'd deal with it later.
A few short moments after Charlie had quietly and swiftly left the outer office, Debbie exited the Oval and went to gather her things from her desk. They were still looking for Charlie, but the President had told her to go home and relax. Charlie can't go too far, can he? His car's still in the lot. As she sorted through her things, she noticed two new items on her desk. Recognizing what they were, she immediately took them and walked back into the Oval.
"Sir."
"I thought I told you to get out of here while you still could, Debbie."
"Charlie's been in the building, sir. These were on my desk and his coat's gone."
The President's reaction was instantaneous. "Ron, find him. I don't want him alone tonight, and if that letter's what I think it is, Hell would have to freeze over before I'd accept it."
Ron nodded and quietly alerted all security personnel to prevent Charlie from leaving the grounds – preferably without physical confrontation. Meanwhile, Josh quickly walked to an alternate exit, hoping to get to Charlie's car before he did. When he got there, Charlie was already in the car, but hadn't yet started it.
"Charlie!" The younger man's head snapped up, and the look in his eyes stole Josh's breath.
God, this is torture for him. Charlie's face defied description – rage, anguish, determination and terror vying for dominance – and he seemed to age years before Josh's eyes. Then, a mask slid over Charlie's face, making him cold, withdrawn. Josh shivered; this was not a Charlie he knew.
"Charlie, man, you need to stop for a minute."
"Not an option, Josh. I can't stay here; don't you get that? I will not bring this insanity into the President's House. I refuse. Enough people have already died. Zoey's safe enough – she's in France – but I have no intention of risking him along with everyone else."
Shit, Josh thought. Charlie doesn't realize that Zoey's on a plane back here right now. Oh, boy.
"Charlie," he said, "you need to listen to me. If you try to drive out that gate, you will be stopped. He's not going to let you spend this time alone, man."
"Damn it, Josh, he's already been shot once because I love Zoey; so have you. I'm not risking anyone else. If they want me, they can come after me… the mood I'm in now, I might actually appreciate a fight."
"Self-destructive urges are not an option, Charlie." Bartlet's voiced boomed out from behind Josh, but the Deputy Chief of Staff didn't turn around. Charlie was his focus right now; he knew the President would understand.
Charlie closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "I cannot put you in danger, sir. Please, don't ask that."
"Charlie, get out of the car. Just get out and talk to me."
Jaw clenched and hands shaking, Charlie opened the driver's side door, deliberately taking slow breaths. He couldn't lose it now. He had to get out of there; he couldn't let his family stay in the line of fire. He stepped out of the car, but stood outside the nearest circle of light provided by the lamps in the parking lot. Bartlet couldn't see the sickly pale cast of his aide's face, but he could hear the barely concealed strain in his voice.
"Come inside, Charlie."
"I can't do that, sir. If you aren't already a target, you will be soon. I have to distance myself from you… from everyone here." From my family, he thought. The images of the day rushed through his mind, sneaking through the cracks in the wall he had built. Charlie stumbled… and Bartlet caught him. With Josh's help, they walked him into the West Wing, Ron shutting and locking Charlie's car door as they turned away.
They had just stepped inside the entrance when Charlie spoke, his voice no more than a harsh, anguished whisper. "They raped her, sir. They beat her, they raped her, they killed her, and they carved a message in her skin for me." Charlie let out a shocked half-laugh. "Or maybe they carved the message before they killed her; Tony didn't know. They killed her because of me. She was my little sister – I had to protect her – and they killed her because of me."
Bartlet, not having known the extent of the violence, didn't know what to say. He held tighter to Charlie, eyes burning with tears and anger. I can't let them do this, he thought. Those sorry SOBs are trying to destroy my son, and I'm not going to let them succeed. His eyes met those of his companions – first Josh on Charlie's other side, and then Ron in back of them. Someone would pay for this.
