Author: Sirius
Disclaimer: For rating and disclaimer info, see Part I.
Chapter Summary: Leo and Ron have a little chat, Danny gets into a fight, and… oh, did I mention that Charlie finds out that Zoey's back?
Author's note: For those of you who are familiar with Bookbag as Zoey's Codename, I offer fair warning. In this universe, they changed it when she went to France. As always, reviews are welcome.
7:30am – Day 2
Jed's eyes rested lovingly on his youngest daughter, who had fallen into an exhausted sleep barely half an hour ago – after four hours of agitated pacing. She had wanted to see Charlie, but the most Abbey would allow her for now was a peek from the doorway. Jed had convinced her to sit beside him on the couch while they talked over things. She had taken a seat, but she had also looked on him with her mother's glare. He, against the better judgment of his "overprotective father" self, told Zoey everything he knew. If the trauma in Charlie's life over the past 22 and a half hours hadn't already gained Zoey's understanding and compassion, he would be worried for the young man's continued well-being. Zoey was… less than pleased… at the arrangements that had been made by Charlie and Ron regarding her safety. Charlie – for the moment – was exempt. Unfortunately, Jed was fairly certain that Ron would not be so lucky in the face of his daughter's wrath.
Zoey's reaction did answer one of Jed's questions, though. Zoey would not have left for France if she'd known that Charlie was still in love with her. Jed smiled at the thought – she's as gutsy as her mother – before carefully removing himself from the couch and allowing her to stretch its length, only afterwards covering her with the soft blanket that had been resting on the back of that same couch.
Letting his daughter sleep while she could, Jed made his way to his bedroom, knowing that if he didn't at least attempt to get some rest, Abbey would hurt him (or have him sedated, whichever she could manage first). Leaving his residential office, he noticed Xander standing at the door.
"Charlie?"
"Phoenix is still asleep, sir."
"Good. Good."
Jed was out cold by the time Leo stopped by half an hour later. Ron, quietly discussing something at the door to the Residence, looked up and nodded to Leo, who responded in kind. Neither had any illusions that the other had slept last night.
"Ron, where are they?"
"Eagle is asleep. Globetrotter crashed on the couch in her father's office – after several hours of pacing and a rant or three. It looked as though Phoenix was waking up about fifteen minutes ago, but he turned over and went back to sleep. CJ slept on her couch."
"The rest of the staff?"
"Donna's car is still in the lot – I think she drove Josh home. The rest went home by themselves. I saw Mr. Concannon stalking through the halls earlier, muttering something. I believe the topic of his diatribe had to do with tossing Mr. Albrecht out of an airplane at 35,000 feet. He most likely saw the briefing last night and caught a late flight back to try and save the Post's reputation."
"I was wondering how well Albrecht's bent to sensationalism would go over with his editor. That means that we won't have to deal with him in the next briefing, then?"
"No, sir. It looks like Concannon placed a call to his editor and had Albrecht removed; I didn't hear much."
Leo's raised eyebrow clearly conveyed his skepticism, but Ron refused to elaborate on what he had – or had not – heard.
The Senior Staff (and everyone else who had been at the meeting the night before) had all stumbled into Leo's office by 10:30am, looking slightly better than they had the night before. Leo knew that none of them had slept any later than usual, but that they had followed the President's orders as much as they could.
When they had all gravitated to Leo's office, he told them to take a seat. "You're all violating an Executive Order, you know."
"Not so much, no" Josh said. "He said he didn't want to see us before noon; he's not here right now, therefore, he isn't seeing us. We're good."
"And if we go down, we'll take you with us, Leo."
"Thank you so much, Toby."
"No problem."
"CJ, are you good to go for the noon briefing?"
"I'm as ready as I can be, considering I want to shove my notes down Albrecht's throat. Anybody have a problem with that?"
"Not me," Sam said, "but Albrecht might."
"Presuming he were here, that is."
"He's not here, Leo?"
"Danny Concannon apparently cut his vacation short and hopped a late flight. It seems he gave his editor a phone call and had Albrecht taken off. He should be at the briefing this morning."
"Good. Danny may occasionally be annoying, but he rarely tempts me to do permanent physical harm. I can handle him."
The staff rose to their feet when they heard shouting in the hallway, and the loud thump against the door a split second later drove them all to the entryway to find out what was going on. To say that the scene they found was unexpected would be an understatement. Albrecht was on the floor, nose and chin bleeding, an enraged Danny Concannon standing over him and being prevented from doing further harm only by the arms of two Service agents.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Danny – relaxed, easy-going Danny – snapped to attention with near-military precision at the bark in the President's voice. Ron noted that the reporter's hands were still clenched into fists, but knew that Concannon most likely didn't realize it.
"Mr. Concannon, I would appreciate an answer. What's going on here?"
"The man's nuts, sir!" Albrecht raved. Danny made to step forward again, but was stopped for a second time by the agents.
"Albrecht isn't supposed to be here, sir," Danny said. "My editor ordered him to drop off his Press Corps ID and reassigned him as soon as I stepped off the plane. Of course, Kendrick might fire him instead, when I tell him what came out of this bastard's mouth – pardon the language, sir. He wasn't originally supposed to be my stand-in at all, and if I'd known he was going to worm his way in here, I wouldn't have bothered to leave. Racist jackass. He kept his ID and he used it to get past Security. Being more than a little aware of some of the things he says at work, I'd like to know why."
"What does he say at work, Mr. Concannon?"
Danny paused, but Bartlet's raised eyebrow, Ron's steady gaze and CJ's demanding one all convinced him to continue. "Things that I would rather not repeat, sir, but they would make me wary of allowing him anywhere near Charlie or your daughter."
Bartlet looked at the two Service agents by Danny, then nodded at Albrecht. "Get him to a conference room, clean him up and call Captain DiMenna. Ron, Danny, let's talk." The sharp eyes noted the concerned expressions on the faces of his staff, family all. "Don't worry too much. I'll fill you in this afternoon."
The ever-present chorus of "Yes, sir" and "Yes, Mr. President" answered his statement as he turned toward the Oval, followed by the always composed Ron Butterfield… and an increasingly nervous Washington Post reporter.
CJ kept the briefing short, refusing to answer questions and stating only that Deena's murder was currently under investigation by the DCPD and that details could not be released at this time. "I have one last announcement before we call a full lid today. I trust that each and every one of you is aware of the ban on bothering members of the First Family?" She paused. "That was a question, guys, so I'd appreciate some kind of response." There were confused nods throughout the room. "Good, you all remember it. The President considers Charlie Young to be a very vital part of his family, and anyone who tries to talk to him without first speaking to yours truly – and a few friendly Secret Service agents – will have their credentials revoked. This is not an easy time for any of us, and we'd appreciate a showing of common courtesy and respect for Charlie's privacy. That's all." Numerous shouts of "CJ! CJ!" followed her out of the room, but the reporters eventually dispersed and went to their desks – except for one. Danny followed CJ out, silently, offering support the only way he could right now.
Zoey walked quickly and quietly down the hallway to Charlie's room. Xander and Gina had been spelled by the relief detail, and encouraged to get some rest; without her friends nearby, Zoey was even more apprehensive than she would have been otherwise. Would she know what to say when she saw him again? This had to be tearing his apart. Zoey stopped before Charlie's door, looking quizzically at the two agents stationed there. She didn't recognize them from before her trip to France, but the relief detail seemed to know them, so she refused to worry – about that, at least.
"Is he still asleep?" One of the agents nodded, and she raised her hand to the door, brushing the wood with her fingertips for a moment before pushing it open. She did not close the door all the way, and the agents – knowing that there would be no danger to her in this room or from this man – stayed outside.
Zoey slowly approached the sleeping man, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. What am I supposed to be feeling right now? She couldn't make sense of everything that she'd learned earlier that morning. How can I be angry and relieved at the same time? Angry that Charlie sent me away, angry that he didn't tell me what was going on and allow me my own choice, angry that I was a target to begin with – because I love this man. What right do they have to tell me that I can't love him? How dare they?! How can I be so furious… and so relieved? He pushed me away and kept me out of danger… pushed me into the arms of another, so that I would be safe, and I am glad to be alive, grateful to be breathing, and still furious. Charlie didn't deserve this. Deena didn't deserve this. God, how can I hope to understand what he's going through? Zoey's hand reached toward Charlie's face.
Fingertips brushed his cheek, there one minute and drifting away the next. Such a gentle touch, it was one that some deep part of Charlie craved, and he unconsciously sought it again. The seeking was rewarded by the return of the touch, a palm placed softly against the side of his face. Charlie was convinced it was a dream – a beautiful, impossible dream – until he caught the scent of raspberries. Zoey… her shampoo smells like raspberries… her hair has always smelled like raspberries. She can't be here; it's not safe for her to be here.
Charlie forced his eyes to open and the first face he saw was Zoey's. Neither noticed Jed and Abbey Bartlet standing in the doorway, silently watching the two. Once Charlie realized that this wasn't a dream, he rolled away from Zoey and off the bed, landing on his feet with the bed between them.
"Zoey."
"Charlie."
"You can't be here, Zoey; it's not safe."
"There's nowhere safer than here, Charlie. There are four agents outside that door right now, and two of them are with me no matter where I go."
"It doesn't matter, Zoey. I don't want you here." Charlie turned away from her and ran a hand over his hair, a hand that wouldn't stop trembling. Why can't I think of a way to make her leave?
"You're lying, Charlie. And I'm not going anywhere."
The strain on Charlie's face was growing markedly more visible. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her arms and shut out the world, but he'd only bring death to her if he did. I have to get her out of here, even if it means she heads straight back to that French fop. His voice was raised in desperation, and the agents outside the door – startled at the shouting – would have interrupted had not both Bartlet and Ron waved them off.
"Zoey, you are going back to France. It's the only option left now, and you are getting on the next plane back to Paris even if I have to tie you and put you on it myself, and damn your detail. I'm barely managing to bury Deena as it is; if they kill you, my death would be an act of mercy!"
TBC…
