A/N: Whee. I am back! After an incredibly long time, because my life just exploded in front of my face! Or maybe it imploded…it might have simultaneously imploded and exploded at the same time…I don't know! The important thing we have to know is that my life suddenly became ultra-crowded with completely pointless things that take away from my real joy in life: writing fanfiction.

I haven't really watched a lot of the new West Wing season yet, because Number One, I haven't had time, and Number Two, from what I've seen I really don't like it. My best opening scene did not make the movie…

Alasse's dream opening sequence: The cast is sitting in the Roosevelt Room, completely confused as what to do. They are beginning to argue, when the door opens. Silence comes down over the cast as they look at who has walked into the room.

"Hello," Sam said as he walked in the room. "I'm back, and I'm here to stay." OPENING CREDITS!

And that didn't happen. Very upset. Well. This is a transition chapter in which NOTHING happens! Yay! Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me through all of this!

--------------------------

Joey Lucas's POV

--------------------

It was a slow night in California. I hadn't gotten anything important for a while, ever since I had left Washington to do the polling for the President. I packed up my briefcase, checking to make sure that everything was packed up and put in its own place. I was still working on the O'Dwyer campaign, but I was no longer working with my former enthusiasm and zeal. I walked out of my office to see the secretary at the desk.

I waved my hands goodbye and started to walk out of the office. I didn't know that anyone was running behind me until I felt someone grab my arm. I turned around and looked at Kenny. His face was chalk-white and stunned. He gestured for me to follow him, and I did, though not without questions. He did not answer any of them.

He led me to a TV screen. The picture was blurry and the camera kept on moving around. I squinted and tried to focus on what the news station was showing me. The captioning was on and I watched that intently as the flustered newscaster came on. The words scrolled by fast on the bottom of the screen and it was all my numb mind could do to follow them.

"The reports of President Bartlet being shot at were correct," he said, adjusting his microphone, not that it would make much difference to me. "He has been taken to George Washington University Hospital where we are told he is undergoing surgery. Uh…reports are coming in now…" he leant over to check a note that someone off-camera had shoved at him, "that one of Bartlet's staff members was also shot. Accounts all seem to lean towards the fact that it is his Deputy Chief of Staff, Joshua Lyman. He is listed right now as critical and is supposedly undergoing surgery for a collapsed lung and a ruptured pulmonary artery."

Kenny turned around and looked at me. "I must go," I said quickly. I turned around and started to walk out of the office. He followed me and grabbed my arm, turning me around to face him.

"Where would you go?" he asked logically. I shook my head in frustration and began to walk away. "Joey, I'm serious. Where would you go?"

"I don't know!" I said in frustration, throwing my hands up in the air. "The important thing is that I get there."

"Joey, even if you could get a flight into Washington D.C right now, which is highly unlikely, where would you go once you got there? And what would you do?"

I surrendered before his logic. I nodded and sank down into a chair. "There's most likely nothing we can do except stay here," he said, patting me on the shoulder. I turned to him and nodded. "We'll wait until things calm down over there and then we'll call."

He patted me again on the shoulder. It didn't help.

-----------------------------

Lord John Marbury's POV

-----------------------------

I sat down in the chair, a glass of scotch cradled lovingly in my hand. I had had a hard day of doing almost nothing. I glanced at the pile of papers lying on my desk. Eh, those could wait until tomorrow. I turned on the news, interested in what might be going on in the world. I was not expecting to see what was on the screen.

"Welcome, and good evening," the neatly groomed woman said. She maintained her air of professional distance well, though a perceptive person could see the insecurity behind her front. "We are getting reports that President Bartlet of the United States has been shot at as he was leaving a public event." I sat up straight at this news. Scotch began spilling out of the glass, unnoticed by me. It soaked the carpet, leaving a dark stain, much like a bloodstain.

"Reports are sketchy, but we believe that he has been taken to George Washington University Hospital and is undergoing surgery. There may also be an injured member of his staff that has also been taken to George Washington."

She turned and started another report. I watched the TV, intent that there would be more news. When it became apparent that there was not, I rang for a member of my staff. She came in, ready for an assignment.

"Go find everything that the American press has on the shooting of President Bartlet," I said, still staring at the screen. The scotch glass was nearly empty. All of the precious liquid had dropped onto the floor, enlarging the carpet stain to where it would probably never come out.

----------------------

Ruth Lyman's POV

----------------------

It seemed like such an ordinary night. It was the kind of night that you would just sit down with a pint of Ben and Jerry's and reflect on what had happened during the day. It was the kind of day where I watched the soap operas and worried about whether Jean really would commit to Bobby, despite her misgivings. It was a day in which nothing happened. Josh had mentioned in his latest email that he would be at an event with the President.

I idly turned on the TV, wondering where they were, and if Josh would be on TV. I enjoyed seeing President Bartlet, but I liked seeing my son more. The TV was stuck on another channel. I flipped the channels down, hearing the dull roar of the noise on the TV. I came down to the channel that Josh said that the meeting would be on. I watched the newscaster, waiting for him to say something about the meeting.

"We are now confirming reports that President Bartlet has been taken to George Washington Hospital," he said, looking straight into the camera, trying to look reassuring and calm. "Joshua Lyman has also been taken to the same hospital, where the doctors are now confirming earlier reports that he is in emergency surgery. President Bartlet's wounds no longer appear to be as serious as first thought, and we are expecting him to come out of surgery shortly.

"Press Secretary CJ Cregg has promised a press conference within a few short minutes," he finished up. "And we're now going to our on scene reporter, who was actually there at the shooting." The scene changed and another reporter came up. I muted the TV and let the remote fall from my numb fingers. Josh…

I raced to the phone and dialed a number without even thinking about the number that I was dialing. I waited anxiously as the phone dialed. On the third ring someone picked up. "What?" an angry voice demanded.

"Toby Ziegler?" I asked, hearing the quaver in my voice. I had dialed Toby's number.

"Yeah, what do you want?" he asked, with pure venom in his tone. He was always rather angry, but now he was absolutely furious. I felt sorry for his employees. They must be torn apart by him.

"This is Ruth Lyman," I said, biting my lip as I felt the tears start to come out. My baby had been shot! My mind went back to that terrible night when we got the call in the restaurant that our house was on fire. We came back to the house to find Josh standing out in the cold, and Joanie inside. Noah had screamed, and ranted, and had almost gone inside the house. He would have gotten inside too if it hadn't been for the firemen that had held him back.

"Oh." There was a long silence on the other end. I sniffled while waiting for him to say something. "Mrs. Lyman, we're trying to find out what we can do. We left the hospital to come back to the office. He's still in surgery. They…the doctors aren't saying anything yet."

"All right," I whispered in a soft voice. "Where's Donna?"

"She's at the hospital," he said in an unnaturally soft voice. "We're going to try and keep her there. Right now Zoey's with her and I think the First Lady is also." There was a voice at the door. "Excuse me for just a moment ma'am." He set down the phone for a few short seconds. He came back.

"Mrs. Lyman, this is Leo McGarry," another, more gravelly voice said. "Josh was being wheeled into surgery when we saw him last. He has a collapsed lung and a ruptured pulmonary artery. The doctors aren't telling us anything yet." He paused for a moment. "We have good people at GW. I personally hope that he's going to be all right."

"I'm coming down," I said, his shallow reassurances failing to calm me. There was a long pause on the other end.

"All right," Leo said. I could almost picture him nodding on the other end. "I think that would be best." I hung up the phone and got on my coat. I ran out to the car and turned on the radio, trying to find a reliable station that would tell me what was happening with my baby boy.

Most of the stations were just repeating the same thing: Josh and Bartlet had been shot; they were in surgery, press conference. None of them were telling me what I really wanted to hear: how Josh was doing. Whether or not he would live. What he would be like if he did live. Whether or not he would be paralyzed. This is what I really wanted to know.

Had he been scared when the bullets started firing around him? Did he wish for me at all? I should have been there to protect him. Mothers are there for their children when their dogs die, when their goldfish die, when the bully is mean to them, and when they fall off their bike and skin their knee. But when their children really need them, when it's a matter of life and death, we're usually not there.

My fingers were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that I thought that my knuckles would burst off. How long did it take to drive from Connecticut to Washington D.C.? I didn't know, but the answer that I did, definitively know, was that the drive took too long. My foot pushed the gas, trying to push the speed limit without getting stopped by an officer.

Oh please let him be all right, I prayed to whoever was listening. Please, please, please, let him be all right. The country needs him. I need him. I need my baby boy.

----------------------

Just a few notes:

Josh's mother's house: She moved in January 2001. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that the timeline of ISOTG happened before then. So, she probably would still be living in Connecticut.

Josh and Donna's relationship: Sorry folks. This is not intended to be a romance story. There will be occasional fluff, but for the most part it's a drama story showing how one person can affect many lives. I will not, I repeat, will not be writing a romance in this story (unless it's canon, like Sam and Mallory, Abbey and Jed, etc.) I believe that as long as they are in the office, there cannot be a romantic relationship between Josh and Donna as long as they both work in the West Wing. A romantic relationship depends on a sharing of the power and Josh and Donna's dynamic is such in the office that he must assume the power. Therefore, they really can't have a relationship while they're working in the West Wing. However, when they're out… (evil laugh)

Thanks for listening to the ramblings! Have fun!