Author: Sirius
Disclaimer: See Part I for disclaimer and ratings information.
Author's Note: This is the conclusion to "Desolation," but the saga will continue in "Retribution," the second story in the newly named "Tempered by Fire" Series. As always, reviews welcome.
Chapter Summary: Charlie has a plan.
6:30pm
Ron sat with five of his people, in an office so far off the guided tour it may not have even been on the map – if there was one. "Talk to me, Jackson. What've you got?"
"Leigh and I completed the scan of the apartment and everything's been put into storage. There wasn't anything… obviously out of place, but something felt off."
Ron nodded. Charlie hadn't planned to go back to the apartment anyway, and after their earlier chat, Ron had kicked his plan into high gear. "Everyone's seen the latest?"
Nods and angry eyes answered his question. "Kinley and Hatch, you'll be the relief detail for Phoenix, starting in an hour. Word is that he's planning to visit his mother's grave tonight. You'll switch off with McKittrick and Guerin at 6am tomorrow; they've already been informed. I'll have a standard shift rotation posted by then." The two agents nodded. "Phoenix is being tight-lipped about this, but I think he has a plan, and it's almost guaranteed to give us all a giant headache, and make things a little livelier around here. Leigh, I want to see Carter, Ekhart and Jensen two seconds after you step out that door. Let's put those psych degrees and profiling skills to good use and catch this sorry son of a bitch. Get a move on, people."
"Yes, sir."
"Damn straight."
"Get Carter, Jensen and Ekhart on the phone. Butterfield wants them to haul ass to the Cottage."
Ron smiled – a small, dark, dangerous smile – as he heard his people embrace this fight to protect one of their own. The bastard will never know what hit him. Five minutes, God. Just give me five minutes alone with him.
"Ron." The softly-spoken word drew his attention left, to the surprisingly tiny form of Cassandra Reinholdt. Looking at her, no one would believe that she'd been a Marine – all 5'4" of her. The truth of the matter was that she was a more effective agent than she might otherwise have been able to be because everyone underestimated her. The short, blond, pixie-style hair and blue eyes didn't hurt the fragile image either. Despite his ability to give everyone a fair shot, Ron had been shocked speechless the first time he'd seen this woman "school" one of the younger agents. He hadn't even had the chance to look over her personnel file at the time, so the first fact he'd known about Cassie Reinholdt was that she could kick ass like nobody's business.
He smiled a bit – different than the last. This was a gentler, more sympathetic smile that softened the harsher angles of his face. "What can I do for you, Cassandra?"
As she spoke, Ron felt a grin stretching across his face. This was an ingenious addition to his plan. This could almost be fun.
Dinner had been relatively quiet, with only the smallest discussion of Deena. Bartlet had asked whether Charlie wanted any help with the funeral arrangements, assuring him that all he had to do was say what he wanted and it would be taken care of. Charlie shook his head. "I took care of everything on Saturday afternoon – well, except for the date. I was kinda in a daze at the time, but it's done."
"Let me know when and where." Charlie nodded, but didn't feel like saying much. He needed to do something about the thoughts running through his head, needed to switch the focus. I am not a victim, damnit. I refuse to be a victim.
They finished eating and Charlie watched the stewards begin to clear the dishes before he turned to Zoey. "How would you feel about taking that walk we missed out on earlier?"
She smiled. They gained silent permission from her father, and Charlie stood while Zoey pushed back her chair, offering her a hand up. She took it, rising gracefully, and slipped her arm through his as they retrieved their coats. Stepping out into the Rose Garden, they were greeted by the ever-present agent at the door, and with keen eyes noticed several others scattered discreetly about the grounds.
There was no snow, yet, but a definite chill permeated the air, and Zoey moved closer to Charlie, slipping her arm from his to slide it around his back. In his eyes, she saw a lessening of fear. "Charlie? Talk to me."
"What do you want to know?"
"What are you thinking?"
"That it's not safe for you to be here." He held a hand up before she could utter her protests. "But I won't make you leave. I… I need to know, though… why are you staying? Why are you taking this risk?"
"Charlie, I'm staying for the same reason that you wanted me to leave – I love you too much to do anything else. You were afraid that I wouldn't, weren't you?" His nod was her only answer.
"Charles Michael Young." She stopped and turned to face him as she continued, "Never, never think that I don't love you, do you understand me? I never stopped loving you, even when I was dating Jean-Paul. I went out with him because he was available and I needed to stop thinking about you, you dolt. Yes, I'm pissed that you manipulated me into going away instead of giving me a choice in the matter, but I can understand it. I will eventually make you pay for that, but now isn't the right time." He smiled a bit at the prospect of Zoey's revenge, then leaned forward until his mouth was bare centimeters from her ear.
"I love you, Zoey Bartlet," he whispered, gracing her cheek with a soft kiss. Her mouth was next, and when he stepped back, there were tears in her eyes and his. He held her for a few more moments, resting his cheek on her hair, before turning back toward the house and offering her his arm again. It was time to go inside. "I was going to go visit my mom tonight," he said. "Come with me?"
"Wouldn't miss it," she said. She saw the determined look in his eyes, and could almost hear the thoughts going through his mind. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that I want to take my life back. Want to help?"
"Absolutely. We'll visit your mom, and then we'll plan?"
"Yeah."
They never noticed the gleam in the nearest agent's eyes, and never heard his whispered comment to Ron, on the other end of the communications set-up. "Heads up. Globetrotter is going with Phoenix to the cemetery, and he just brought her on board with the mystery plan that's running through his head."
Visiting hours to the public had ended at the cemetery, but Gina had spoken with the groundskeeper and made arrangements for Charlie and Zoey to stop by after hours. At least this way, she wouldn't have to be any more paranoid than usual about the two of them going out together – and Charlie was certainly more understanding of security concerns than Jean-Paul had ever been. There were four agents with the couple tonight, all of whom scanned the cemetery as a matter of procedure. No one was taking any risks, but they did their checks without disturbing the two.
Charlie led Zoey down the walking path until he got to the row he wanted, and they made their way to his mother's resting place. Next to her headstone was space to set another, not yet there. Charlie didn't say anything right away, but stood there looking at the grave. Zoey had stayed a few steps distant to give him time alone with his mother, but he looked toward her and drew her to stand in front of him. "Mom," he said, "this is Zoey."
Gina kept an eye on the surrounding area, but couldn't stop smiling, even though she wasn't standing close enough to hear what was being said. The sight alone was enough to warm the heart. Soon enough, the couple turned to head back to the bulletproof Service SUV.
They were back in the Residence by nine, and walked together to Charlie's room. All evidence of the letter and photographs had been removed, and Charlie, a determined fire in his eyes, went to the desk in the room and pulled a notebook from the top drawer. Zoey looked around at the room, and the two suitcases of items that had been brought here from the apartment when the rest had been placed in storage.
She looked over him; he had taken a seat at the desk and was writing, busily writing, a look of complete concentration on his face. She thought to leave quietly, not wanting to disturb him. Somehow, he knew. "Stay," he said. "Please." She nodded, even though he wasn't looking in her direction, and went over to see what thoughts he was putting on the paper. Reading as he wrote, she had fight back tears at the pure emotion in his words. Not being able to speak the words in her heart, she leaned down to press a soft kiss to his hair.
Day 3 – Monday – 9am
CJ looked down at her briefing notes for a second, quelling last minute doubts. She hadn't been expecting to find Charlie in her office this morning, hadn't been expecting to hear him detail a plan of action for reclaiming his life, and certainly hadn't been expecting said plan to involve her Pressroom. The only thing more surprising was hearing that he had already discussed this with the President, Leo and Ron, all of whom approved. Someone here has completely lost his mind, and he's taken President Bartlet, the Chief of Staff, and the Chief of Security with him. Only the words she'd read this morning convinced her that this was the right thing to do.
She looked over the faces making up the White House Press Corps and smiled. Danny, seeing the smile, immediately thought What are they up to now? He double-checked his tape recorder, making sure that it was working well and the batteries were charged. Then, he verified that there was plenty of ink left in his pens. Whatever was being said today, this was not going to be your run-of-the-mill briefing.
"All right, people, it's time to get to work. I've got a statement and then I'll take questions." CJ started in on the general briefing, covering bills currently under consideration on the Hill and general First Family plans for the next few days, now that Zoey was back. At the end of the statement, she opened the floor for questions, and the cacophony of calls almost made her take a step back.
"Rick."
"CJ, is there any word on the investigation into Deanna Young's murder?"
"Nothing that I can tell you right now, Rick. You know that any official word on ongoing cases has to come from the department spokesman. Meghan."
"Have the funeral arrangements been made, CJ, and has Charlie consented to talk to anyone?"
CJ spared a second to look to the door, seeing Charlie standing there, Zoey by his side. The First Couple was directly behind them. "CJ," Charlie spoke up, as planned. "I'll talk to them now, if you don't mind."
The mild look of shock on her face was enough to convince everyone that she had known nothing about this, but the glance she had previously sent toward the door gave Danny his doubts. To the rest of the Press Corps, it looked as though she spent a split second debating whether she should really let Charlie have free rein with her reporters… and then she nodded.
Charlie headed toward the stage at the front, but did not stand behind the podium. He stood off to the side, so that the Press Corps could see all of him. They could see no notes, and there was nothing on the teleprompter. This was a shot straight from the heart… pure Charlie.
"As I'm sure you've already heard, very early Saturday morning, my sister was taken from this life. It was not an accident, it was not a robbery gone wrong, and it had absolutely nothing to do with gangs… and everything to do with hate. I'm sure that all of you remember the assassination attempt at Rosslyn…" Every reporter nodded, and none spoke. They wouldn't interrupt this, since it was likely to be the only thing they would hear from Charlie for a while.
Charlie continued, speaking the same words that he had written the night before, noticing as he spoke that his friends had gathered at the Pressroom door, standing to either side of Zoey and the First Couple. "Those events were prompted by the fact that I loved Zoey Bartlet. I did then… I do now. Nothing will change that, and apparently someone still takes offense. Someone, still wandering free in the District of Columbia, was so offended that I would dare step above my station in life, that I would dare to love a beautiful, vibrant woman, that I would dare to find the other half of my soul and that Fate had the temerity to make her skin a different color than mine… that they stalked my little sister. They tortured her – a sixteen-year old girl. Then they took Deena and her Prom date – a brilliant young man whose only crime was choosing the wrong night to take my sister out – and they killed both of them, two kids who'd barely had a chance to realize what life was."
Charlie paused for a second, and Zoey walked up to stand beside him, placing a hand in his to visually make her position clear – just in case any member of the Press Corps had any doubts. Danny smiled as Charlie continued.
"These same men," he said, "decided to leave me a message, making it clear that – once again – they objected to me loving this woman. Making it clear that they want me dead because I love this woman. They stole my sister from me, and they've sworn to destroy my life." He paused.
"I can't bring Deanna back; I wish to God I could, but the only option they've left me is burying her. I won't see her graduate from high school; she'll never go to college. I won't give her away at her wedding, and because of those men, she will never be a mother. They haven't only stolen the life that she's had, but everything that might have been. And I say they will not steal anything else. What courage it must have taken to terrify a sixteen-year-old girl. What men they are. I call you cowards, and I say that I'm taking my life back. If you want a fight with me, then come talk to me. Don't steal around in the night, hiding your patriotic acts from the rest of the world." As he came to the conclusion of his statement, he noticed that the First Couple had made there way up to the stage at some point and now stood directly behind the younger pair. Abbey's hand lay comfortingly on Zoey's shoulder, and Charlie was supported in the same manner by his father.
"If you want a fight, then by God, bring it on."
Finis
