A/N: I was trapped in a car for over five hours, so hence, two updates in
one day. Can I just say first and foremost that Zoey is a very difficult
character to write? I'm treading the line between making her seem a little
ditzy, and then making her seem very serious, and very deep. And it's a
hard line to tread.
Disclaimer: Argh. I am not bright enough, nor politically savvy enough to have created the West Wing, or even claim ownership to it.
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Zoey Bartlet's POV
...........................................................................................................................
Ever since my dad was elected President, I'd always known that my life might in danger some day. But I wasn't expecting it. I guess it's kind of like a pop quiz in that way. You don't know what's going to happen until your teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Let's see how many of you did your homework." Except with this, I wasn't sitting in a class. I had just walked out of a Town Hall meeting with Gina and Charlie. And I was slightly ticked off.
Dad had made the joke about the baby pictures again. It was the fourth time in three months he had made that joke at a speech. I'd tried to talk to Sam about it, but he just waved me off. And I didn't even TRY to talk to Toby. He scares me a little. But I think he scares his staff A LOT. Charlie just said that it wasn't his place to comment on the President's speeches, while Josh just smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and said that it was Toby and Sam who wrote the speeches and the President who delivers them. There is no justice.
So I was walking out, arm in arm with Charlie. Gina was walking a few paces beside us. Gina was like the rest of the Secret Service in that she had this aura. It secreted not exactly violence, but a sort of cloaked hostility. It said quite clearly: "Don't mess with us." How could you not feel safe with someone like that standing next to you?
I stood beside Charlie and leaned against the car. Dad was working the rope-line, again. There is nothing that will stop him from working a rope-line. I think he's addicted to it. "Oh by the way Gina, Charlie apologized to me. He made a full apology." I smiled and tried to talk to her, but she was scanning the crowd urgently.
"I saw something," she said to herself. I really didn't know what she was talking about, so I ignored her. She seemed oddly frantic about something, I just didn't know what it was. So I kept on talking to Charlie about some completely unimportant information. "I saw something!" she yelled. Now I was getting concerned.
I moved away from Charlie a bit, and Gina moved in beside us. She stared intently at the crowd. I watched her in an unconcerned way. I'd done this before at least a hundred times. Dad comes out, talks to the crowd, Secret Service looks intimidating, staff looks bored/happy, and we all go home. Gina was just nervous. She looked at the crowd, and then really did see something. Her eyes widened. She spun around and stared at a building. Charlie mimicked her actions. I was just about to look and see what was happening when Gina gave that fateful yell.
"Gun!" she screamed out. Now I was quite awake, very confused, and very scared. A huge explosion went off. It sounded like the fireworks that Dad always made us watch on the Fourth of July. The gunfire looked like fireworks too. I was frozen in fear, but Gina acted immediately. She ran into Charlie like she was playing football and knocked him over. I was still standing straight up like an idiot when Gina switched directions.
"Get down!" she yelled as she pulled me to the ground. I could hear bullets going off the car, and see several Secret Service agents firing back. I could see about sixty Secret Service agents converge on my Dad. He looked as startled as I was. They pulled him into a car and slammed the door shut.
While I was sitting and being absolutely petrified, Gina was still working. She opened the car door. "Get in!" she yelled at me. She appeared to be absolutely and totally calm. I was still frozen in fear and couldn't move, so she shoved me in the car.
As soon as I was in the car it took off. We must have gone from 0 to 80 in two seconds. There were two other Secret Service agents in the car with me. I couldn't recall their names off the top of my head. They weren't part of my usual detail. I craned my neck to see what was happening behind us, to see if I could catch a glimpse of Charlie, but we were too far away.
I turned around and tried to focus on the questions that the agents were asking me. "Zoey, are you all right?" they asked hurriedly. My stomach was churning, and my head felt like it was spinning a million miles an hour. "Zoey?" they asked again, putting their hands on my shoulders. I opened my mouth to answer their questions, and my lunch came out. I couldn't stop it. What I had just seen was terrifying and disgusting.
Ever since we moved into the White House, I'd always known that people were going to hate my dad enough to kill him. But I hadn't really thought about it. I guess it's nothing new. There's been times when I've been mad enough at my dad to kill him. But for someone to actually act on the impulse...it was unthinkable. I mean, who could hate my father enough to actually kill him? What kind of a monster could he be? Did they know that he wasn't just the President? Did they know that he was a doting husband and a loving father? Did they know that he was a rabid Notre Dame fan and that he didn't like green beans? Did they think about any of that? Did they think about his person at all, instead of just his title? Did they know that they weren't just killing the leader of the free world, that they were going to kill my Daddy? Did any of those thoughts go through their mind before they pulled the trigger?
While I was throwing up, one of the walkie-talkies went off. The Secret Service agent on my right talked into before I had finished depositing everything that I had eaten in the last six years on the floor. "That was Ron," he said to the one on my left. "He says the President's secure, we're going back to the White House. We don't know the injury count yet. Paramedics should be there in a few minutes."
"Can I talk to him?" I asked, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. "I want to talk to him."
"We're going to try to get the President on," the one on my left said just before the brakes slammed on. We were all thrown forward, and I came dangerously close to landing in my own barf. "What the...?" one of them asked, and immediately started punching in numbers on the walkie-talkie. "What's happening?" he yelled as we spun a 180 and went in the opposite direction. He listened for a few minutes and then turned to the other agent. "We're going to GW," he said gravely. "Eagle was hit."
DADDY!!!!!!!!!
Disclaimer: Argh. I am not bright enough, nor politically savvy enough to have created the West Wing, or even claim ownership to it.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,,
Zoey Bartlet's POV
...........................................................................................................................
Ever since my dad was elected President, I'd always known that my life might in danger some day. But I wasn't expecting it. I guess it's kind of like a pop quiz in that way. You don't know what's going to happen until your teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Let's see how many of you did your homework." Except with this, I wasn't sitting in a class. I had just walked out of a Town Hall meeting with Gina and Charlie. And I was slightly ticked off.
Dad had made the joke about the baby pictures again. It was the fourth time in three months he had made that joke at a speech. I'd tried to talk to Sam about it, but he just waved me off. And I didn't even TRY to talk to Toby. He scares me a little. But I think he scares his staff A LOT. Charlie just said that it wasn't his place to comment on the President's speeches, while Josh just smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and said that it was Toby and Sam who wrote the speeches and the President who delivers them. There is no justice.
So I was walking out, arm in arm with Charlie. Gina was walking a few paces beside us. Gina was like the rest of the Secret Service in that she had this aura. It secreted not exactly violence, but a sort of cloaked hostility. It said quite clearly: "Don't mess with us." How could you not feel safe with someone like that standing next to you?
I stood beside Charlie and leaned against the car. Dad was working the rope-line, again. There is nothing that will stop him from working a rope-line. I think he's addicted to it. "Oh by the way Gina, Charlie apologized to me. He made a full apology." I smiled and tried to talk to her, but she was scanning the crowd urgently.
"I saw something," she said to herself. I really didn't know what she was talking about, so I ignored her. She seemed oddly frantic about something, I just didn't know what it was. So I kept on talking to Charlie about some completely unimportant information. "I saw something!" she yelled. Now I was getting concerned.
I moved away from Charlie a bit, and Gina moved in beside us. She stared intently at the crowd. I watched her in an unconcerned way. I'd done this before at least a hundred times. Dad comes out, talks to the crowd, Secret Service looks intimidating, staff looks bored/happy, and we all go home. Gina was just nervous. She looked at the crowd, and then really did see something. Her eyes widened. She spun around and stared at a building. Charlie mimicked her actions. I was just about to look and see what was happening when Gina gave that fateful yell.
"Gun!" she screamed out. Now I was quite awake, very confused, and very scared. A huge explosion went off. It sounded like the fireworks that Dad always made us watch on the Fourth of July. The gunfire looked like fireworks too. I was frozen in fear, but Gina acted immediately. She ran into Charlie like she was playing football and knocked him over. I was still standing straight up like an idiot when Gina switched directions.
"Get down!" she yelled as she pulled me to the ground. I could hear bullets going off the car, and see several Secret Service agents firing back. I could see about sixty Secret Service agents converge on my Dad. He looked as startled as I was. They pulled him into a car and slammed the door shut.
While I was sitting and being absolutely petrified, Gina was still working. She opened the car door. "Get in!" she yelled at me. She appeared to be absolutely and totally calm. I was still frozen in fear and couldn't move, so she shoved me in the car.
As soon as I was in the car it took off. We must have gone from 0 to 80 in two seconds. There were two other Secret Service agents in the car with me. I couldn't recall their names off the top of my head. They weren't part of my usual detail. I craned my neck to see what was happening behind us, to see if I could catch a glimpse of Charlie, but we were too far away.
I turned around and tried to focus on the questions that the agents were asking me. "Zoey, are you all right?" they asked hurriedly. My stomach was churning, and my head felt like it was spinning a million miles an hour. "Zoey?" they asked again, putting their hands on my shoulders. I opened my mouth to answer their questions, and my lunch came out. I couldn't stop it. What I had just seen was terrifying and disgusting.
Ever since we moved into the White House, I'd always known that people were going to hate my dad enough to kill him. But I hadn't really thought about it. I guess it's nothing new. There's been times when I've been mad enough at my dad to kill him. But for someone to actually act on the impulse...it was unthinkable. I mean, who could hate my father enough to actually kill him? What kind of a monster could he be? Did they know that he wasn't just the President? Did they know that he was a doting husband and a loving father? Did they know that he was a rabid Notre Dame fan and that he didn't like green beans? Did they think about any of that? Did they think about his person at all, instead of just his title? Did they know that they weren't just killing the leader of the free world, that they were going to kill my Daddy? Did any of those thoughts go through their mind before they pulled the trigger?
While I was throwing up, one of the walkie-talkies went off. The Secret Service agent on my right talked into before I had finished depositing everything that I had eaten in the last six years on the floor. "That was Ron," he said to the one on my left. "He says the President's secure, we're going back to the White House. We don't know the injury count yet. Paramedics should be there in a few minutes."
"Can I talk to him?" I asked, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. "I want to talk to him."
"We're going to try to get the President on," the one on my left said just before the brakes slammed on. We were all thrown forward, and I came dangerously close to landing in my own barf. "What the...?" one of them asked, and immediately started punching in numbers on the walkie-talkie. "What's happening?" he yelled as we spun a 180 and went in the opposite direction. He listened for a few minutes and then turned to the other agent. "We're going to GW," he said gravely. "Eagle was hit."
DADDY!!!!!!!!!