CHAPTER 6

January 22

9:45 AM. EST. The White House

Bill Fryer came out of the bunker two days after going in. Later on he would write in his memoirs that his first act as President was to get the Senior Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff (or Deputy Deputy Chief of Staff, as she called herself) out of an FBI holding cell.

President, he thought as he came out, blinking in the sunlight. Am I really ready for this?

There was no doubt in anybody's mind that Josiah Bartlet was dead. According to investigators, the explosion had started somewhere very close to the podium. There was no possible way he could have survived. And nobody of higher rank than Fryer had been found alive.

Ten minutes after he made the call, an FBI van pulled up and Donna was escorted in. she was furious, but held her head high.

"Her file, please." Fryer said. An agent handed him a thin manila folder.

"As soon as they leave I'm going back down." Donna said.

"And you may, ma'am." The agent said. "It looks like everything is in order. We're sorry for the inconvenience."

Donna's eyes practically shot sparks at him. Fryer stepped back. "We'll be leaving sir, but I promise there will be more security here as soon as possible."

"Thank you."

The agents walked away, leaving Fryer alone in the lobby with a fire breathing Donna. He expected her to leave immediately but she stood there glaring at him, impatiently shifting her weight from foot to foot. "What?" Fryer asked.

"Are we done?"

"Say what?"

"Are we done, sir? Am I dismissed?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure."

Donna started quickly walking down the hall, then broke into a run when she thought he couldn't see her anymore. Fryer watched her go, then shook his head and walked to the Oval Office.

He was hesitant to go in. The other night he'd been excited about being in there. It was the Oval Office, who wouldn't be? But he'd never expected that the reason he was staying out would actually ever happen. He still wasn't fully sure that this hadn't been a twisted dream. If he went in there, sat at the President's desk, went through his drawers, it would just be the ultimate disrespect.

Bartlet's aide, Charlie, met him in the hall. Suddenly even more uncomfortable, Fryer attempted to stammer out an excuse. But Charlie just nodded and opened the door for him.

The Office was just as Bartlet had left it two days earlier, down to the plastic pens he'd scattered over his desk in his attempt to find a good one. "If you need anything, sir." Charlie said, and left, shutting the door behind him.

Still unwilling to sit at the President's desk, Fryer sat down in one of the chairs and took out his notebook. He needed to find a new cabinet and senior staff.

After an hour or so he only had two names, neither of them people he'd trust with his life. This was going to be more difficult than he'd thought before.

His thoughts wandered back to last night. Once they were certain President Bartlet was dead, he'd been sworn in as President. Debbie Fiderer had held the Bible for him and with the remaining Congressmen standing around him, a justice from Arlington had administered the oath. Fryer felt detached, numb, as he solemnly swore to uphold the Constitution and to do this job to the best of his ability. That feeling of scurrility had remained the whole time he was down there and had now followed him back above ground.

He thought of his daughter. Tina was a senior in college, a beautiful brown- eyed girl who looked more and more like Fryer's own mother everyday. His wife had died when Tina was five years old, so the two of them were incredibly close. It killed him not to know where she was. She, along with the Bartlet girls, had been taken to a safe location. But she had been able to call him in the bunker the day before. It was a quick call on a secure line. She told him that they were all together and surrounded by Secret Service and as soon as she could she'd come to Washington.

Who could he get? No family, that would be nepotism. I could get Charlie to help me, he thought. Then, no way, that kid was friends with all those people who worked here before. That would be just cruel. That also cancelled out Donna, Carol, Margaret, hell, the entire staff. This was going to take a while.

10:30 AM. Mercy Hospital.

Donna had been sitting in the waiting room for forty minutes. Carol was going to meet her as soon as she could find someone to stay with Margaret.

A soap opera was playing on a tiny TV in the corner. A few people glanced at it from time to time, but most were anxiously watching the door, waiting for news.

Carol hurried in and sat in the airport-reject chair next to her. "Have they said anything?"

"No. How's Margaret?"

"The same."

"Since last night?"

"As far as I know. One of the interns drove her home."

"Is anyone staying with her?"

"Same intern. God, I hate this!" Carol slammed her fist on her armrest. An old woman looked up from her rosary beads and smiled sadly at them.

"This is Margaret, not some little kid!" Carol continued, "Why? Why Leo?"

"Why any of them?" Donna asked quietly, "Why Sam? Why Mrs. Bartlet?"

A doctor appeared in the doorway and everybody held their breath. He walked over to the old lady who'd smiled at Carol and began talking quietly to her. She burst into tears and put a fist to her mouth, rosary beads falling to the floor. Donna watched them land, the glass cross shattering. A younger man in an orderly uniform took the old woman by the arm and led her out of the waiting room. Everyone else went back to their own waiting.

Finally a doctor approached Donna and Carol. "Are you friends of CJ Cregg?" she asked.

"Yes." Carol answered, her heart pounding.

"She's stable and we're pretty sure she's going to make it."

Tears of relief and shame filled Donna's eyes. She'd been so busy thinking about Josh that she'd barely thought about CJ.

"Can I see her?" Carol asked.

"Yes. But she's still unconscious and will be for a while."

Carol stood up. "Are you coming?" she asked Donna.

Donna nodded and got up. They followed the doctor down the hall into a crowded recovery room. Walking between rows of beds, Donna recognized several Congressmen and women.

"All the victims were brought here, so we're pretty tight on space." The doctor explained, "We want to get some of them to George Washington and St. Peter's soon. Then there'll be a little more room."

Donna saw a little girl lying on one of the beds. Her hair was gone, but she was still adorable. That had to be Jenny Cauller. Her father had managed to shield her just enough during the blast to save her.

CJ was near the end of the room. Her face was heavily bandaged and she was breathing shallowly. Carol reached out to take her hand but the doctor knocked her away. "You can't touch her." She said, "We have to keep the patients as sterile as possible."

Carol opened her mouth to say something. "Please understand," the doctor continued, "I'm not trying to be mean. I know how you feel. My cousin is a senator. He was killed."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. "I'm sorry." She said, "Soon everything will be a little calmer, but until then we can't risk it. Plus, you've seen the security. Who knows what could happen?"

Carol nodded. Donna looked down at CJ. Even though she wasn't awake, she looked like she was in a lot of pain.

"Why don't you go home and rest." The doctor said. "You look exhausted, both of you. I bet you guys at the White House have been working non-stop."

Donna fingered her ID. "Except for those eight hours in jail." she said quietly, but the doctor heard her and her eyes widened.

"That was you?" she said, "My colleagues told me about what happened. You were trying to get to Mr. Lyman?"

"Yeah."

"They're still working on him. Nobody's certain about anything yet."

Donna remembered how he'd looked and was once again near tears. He couldn't die. Not after everything he'd already survived.

"Go home." The doctor said, "I promise, we'll call you once there's any news."