A/N: Sorry about the long delay everyone. I just had too much going on to update for a few weeks. That and I also had to go back and watch In the Shadow of Two Gunmen again to make sure that I wasn't forgetting everything. Why? Because I'm just obsessive like that.

Just because someone asked for it, and I thought it would be interesting to see how this turned out…

Disclaimer: Yes! It all belongs to me! (Rabid lawyers come and attack) …Maybe not…

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Mrs. Landingham's POV

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I don't really like guns. I don't like hearing them, and I certainly can't stand to see them. Of course, that's unfortunate when you work in the West Wing, right next to the Oval Office. Because when you work next to one of the most important people in the entire world there tend to be many guns crowding around you at the same time.

I wasn't expecting any guns that night. I was expecting to ride home in my nice reliable car, and make myself something quick and go to bed. I was running through an entire list of things that I had left to do when I ran into Margaret. She greeted me and we walked into the Communications Bullpen together. "Is the President not back yet?" she asked curiously.

I smiled fondly as I lay my things down. "No. he's probably still there, schmoozing on the rope-line. He always says that he's coming straight back, but he just can't resist a good rope-line." This sparked an event in my memory and I started speaking. That was back when Jed (no matter how formal the office was, he would still be Jed to me) wasn't so worried all the time. That was when he was Governor and had time to relax. I suppose that those days are gone now.

I was still going through my tale when Margaret suddenly stiffened and stared at the TV. I had no idea what she was looking at, and I thought it was a tad bit rude that she had looked away in the middle of my story. I faintly heard her say something, but I was too caught up in reminiscing to bother. It wasn't until she practically snapped my name that I stopped my story.

She was staring up at the TV, her entire body stiff. I looked up at the newsman. His normal composed attitude was flaking, which served to scare me more than Margaret's wide eyes and rigid body. He took a deep breath before looking straight into the camera. "We are getting reports that multiple gunshots were fired at President Bartlet's vehicle whilst he was exiting a public event-"

I didn't stay around to hear anything after that.

When I ran, I don't even know where I was running to. All I knew was that I was not going to see another one of my boys shot down. I vaguely heard Margaret calling after me. Desperation clawed at my chest, and my mind shot back to when we had heard the news about the boys. All I could hear was the doorbell ringing, echoing throughout the house.

I ran out into the main foyer of the West Wing. Secretaries and interns looked at me like I was insane. I'm sure they had all heard the stories: Dolores Landingham, Personal Secretary to the President. I don't like to brag, but I'm sure that I was most likely the most important aide or Secretary that worked in the West Wing. And here I was, running about like a chicken with its head cut off.

I skittered to a stop and looked around. I was searching for something, I didn't know what. I decided that it wasn't in the foyer and ran back the way I had come. Aides and others scattered in my wake, all looking after me in interest. I ran back to where Margaret was waiting. She wordlessly held a phone out. I accepted it, my hands shaking slightly.

"Hello?' I asked, my voice shaking slightly. I had sudden, terrible, visions about it being a Secret Service agent's voice. "Dolores Landingham? We regret to tell you that Josiah Edward Bartlet, President of the United States, was shot and killed in the line of duty." I violently shook my head to dispel those images.

"Mrs. Landingham?" a familiar voice asked. It took me several seconds to realize that it was Charlie on the other end.

"Charlie," I said into the phone, trying to sound professional. I knew that some of my relief bled into the tone, but I had to stay professional. It was the only thing keeping me sane at this point. "Where are you?"

He hesitated for a second-a second too long. When he spoke again, his words were guarded and short. "I'm in a limousine," he told me. "We're going to GW."

I felt my knees going weak again and my brain seemed unable to process correctly. GW? GW was a hospital, no? What would Charlie be doing at a hospital? Oh God…I gripped the desk tightly.

"Mrs. Landingham?" Charlie asked, some urgency in his voice. I forced myself to listen to him, even though my brain was running along at hyper speed. "Mrs. Landingham, are you there?"

"Yes Charlie, I'm right here," I said, somehow managing my hyperventilating and speaking normally. "What happened?"

"There were shots fired," he said, his voice suddenly losing some of its professional edge. "Mrs. Landingham…President Bartlet was shot."

If there hadn't been a chair right behind me I don't know what would have happened. It was like my legs suddenly didn't exist, or that they had been numbed and were no longer able to support my weight. "Do…do they know how serious it is?" I whispered into the phone. I could almost see Charlie biting his lip before answering.

"No," he finally said. "I'm calling all of the other aides. We need to get them into the West Wing and get them working, especially the aides in the Communication Bullpen. Is Margaret there?"

"Yes, she's right here," I said faintly, watching Margaret. Her eyes were wide and worried and she nodded as if she thought Charlie could see her.

"Good. She needs to call people, the Chiefs of Staff, and get them out of bed and into the White House."

"All right," I said, nodding my head. This I could do. This was work, this was easy, this was normal, this was routine. As long as I had something like this to concentrate my efforts on, I would be all right. "Charlie, how long do you think it'll take before we know anything?"

"I don't know," he said. There was a long period of silence during which I could hear the wail of sirens. "Mrs. Landingham, I have to go. I'll call you when it looks like we know something."

"All right," I said, my voice going faint once more. "I'll be here." I hung up the phone and told Margaret what Charlie had said. She immediately went for the phone and started punching in numbers. I walked back to the desk outside of the Oval Office. Unable to stop myself, I peered in. Things were in order there, for the most part. There were several papers that were scattered about the room, but those would be easily cleared up.

I walked in and started to rearrange the papers automatically. I looked over them all. There were notes for his presentation tonight, notes about the American pilot, and just notes in general. I arranged these all so that they were in some semblance of order. I looked at the notes for the presentation. He had written several statements in the margins, sometimes supporting and sometimes disagreeing.

It was almost five minutes after I walked in the room when I realized that there were tears going down my face. I tried to wipe them off quickly, but they kept on falling down my cheeks. I finally sat down on the couch, caught up in the memories.

The doorbell rang. I looked up from the couch, where some shreds of wrapping paper still remained. "Robert?" I called out. I didn't think that we were expecting anyone today. I shrugged and put down the book that I was reading. I walked over to the door, and was then faced with every mother's worst nightmare-two Marines at her front door.

"No," I gasped, automatically grasping the doorframe. I shook my head, a burning starting in my nose. This was the moment that I had nightmares of; this was the day which I had dreaded. I had prayed that my boys would come home, so I had never had to experience this day.

They looked at me with unshakeable sorrow in their eyes and I wondered just how many times they had to do this every day. "Delores Landingham?" they asked. I numbly nodded my head.

"We regret to inform you that on December 24, 1970, Andrew and Simon Landingham were killed in an ambush. They were admirable medics, and will be sorely missed. They died whilst performing their duty in an act of bravery."

And now it had happened again. Guns had yet again claimed another one of my boys. And once again, when my presence might have been needed most-I was not there.

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President Bartlet's POV

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My head hurt. It was dark. My limbs felt like they weighed at least fifty pounds each. My mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. And my stomach felt like it had been ripped open, and the stomach acid had spilled out. All in all, I was not a happy person when I woke up.

I turned my head and moaned. I forced my eyes open, but the best image I got was that of a softly lit, blurry room. There was nothing that told me where in the world I might be. I tried to force syllables out of my mouth, but I would have no idea what I would say even if I could speak. My first instinct was to call for either Abbey or Leo. But if Abbey was in the room, and the first name I called out was that of Leo's, she might be slightly confused and more than slightly upset with me. Better not to say anything at all.

"Jed?" a quiet voice asked. There was only one person in the world that called me that. I squinted my eyes and was rewarded with a sight of the lovely Abigail Bartlet. I was now even more grateful that I did not call out for Leo.

"Abbey," I said. I tried to think of something humorous, but nothing came to mind. She leaned over my bed and gently kissed me on the forehead.

"How do you feel?" she asked me. I was about to give her a detailed answer, but she abruptly switched the subject on me. "Do you remember anything?" I waited to see which question she wanted me to answer, then decided that she probably wanted me to answer the second one.

I thought before answering. All right. I remembered the meeting, and then I remembered walking back outside. I remembered talking with people, and then Gina screaming… "Gun!" there were insane gunshots that rocketed all around the small plaza…and then I just remembered a sharp pain in my stomach. At the time I had just thought that it was a cramp or a pulled muscle. And then I remembered seeing the bright red stains come out of my shirt…tasting the copper in my mouth.

"Jed?" Abbey prompted.

"I remember the gunshots," I said haltingly. Abbey slowly nodded as if she expected this. "I remember being taken to the hospital. Leo was in the Emergency Room with me…so was Zoey…" I suddenly tried to sit up straight. "Zoey! Is she all right? She was going into shock-"

"Jed, she's fine," Abbey prompted, putting gentle hands on my shoulders and forcing me back into bed. My body was not ready to fight against her and I went limp. "Zoey's fine." She smiled at me, but there was a lingering sadness about her mouth and eyes that refused to go away. I looked at her carefully. When you've been married for as long as we have there's very little that you don't know about your mate. And I know when Abbey's upset and trying to hide it from me. I know the look that she gets in her eyes and around her face.

"Abbey, what's wrong?" I asked her. She said nothing, but held out a glass of water for me to drink. She urged me to take tiny sips as I lifted it up to my lips. I took one sip and then put it down on the table. My hands shook and I spilled some water, but we escaped without any other tragedies. I looked firmly at her.

"Abbey, what happened?" she shook her head slowly at me.

"Jed, you just woke up. I can't tell you right now. Just go back to sleep," she soothed. "We'll talk about it when you wake up again."

If I had any energy at all at that moment I would have pounded my fist onto the bedside table. "Abbey, we're going to talk about this now," I said in my "this is the President speaking, and I want to know what's going on" voice. It's usually the voice that gets things done. Not so with Abbey. Apparently her husband being the President doesn't really impress her that much.

She looked at me and was getting ready to say something when I interrupted her yet again. "Abbey, please tell me what happened," I begged her. "If you don't then I'm going to be even more stressed out than I was to begin with."

She assessed me and then sighed. "Jed…you weren't the only one shot," she began. Fear struck my heart and I began to regret making Abbey tell me what had happened. "When the gunshots began…there was someone else hit. You didn't know about it because they didn't find him until much later. Hardly anyone knew about it."

"Abbey…who?" I asked, pleading with God that it was just a member of the crowd. It seems horrible, but for some reason I would rather that a member of the crowd was hit. It wouldn't be my staff, my family, that way.

She froze with her mouth slightly open. She bit her bottom lip, buying more time for herself. When she met my eyes it was with an alarming amount of grief. "Jed…" she whispered softly, reaching out and taking my hand. I could feel her hand trembling as it lay over mine.

"Jed…it was Josh…"

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Mrs. Landingham is hard to write. Bartlet didn't turn out the way that I wanted him to. Oh well. Enough whining. Let's be happy that I finally got a chapter out.

Enjoy yourselves, and don't forget to review! (Point) the Blue Button is our friend! Our friend!