I've caught up with myself; I don't already have the next chapter written. I've started it, but it isn't done. This is still more dragging out, but I promise, in the next chapter (which should be longer) it'll all come together. Hopefully.

Everyone rose to their feet. President Bartlet had entered the room again, though this time with less force than before.

"I just called Leo's daughter and ex-wife to let them know Leo had been involved in the accident," he announced.

"How did they take it, sir?" C.J. asked.

Bartlet's eyes looked glassy. He looked up at C.J. and began to tell another one of his tales:

"I've known Leo for many, many years. I've seen him at his highs, and I've seen him at his lows. I've watched his life shape and change, and I've seen Mallory grow up from this little tiny girl who always could catch her father's eye to this beautiful young woman: powerful, smart, and commanding. It wasn't until today, not until today, over the phone, that I'd ever heard her cry."

C.J. didn't know what to do. "I'm sorry, sir," she mumbled.

"We'd be all be out together, Abbey and me and the girls, Leo and Jenny and Mallory, years ago when the kids were still kids, spending time with other families, letting the kids play with one another, while the adults kicked back and relaxed. Of course at the parties or the get-togethers some of the little boys would eventually start picking on the girls who were there. One time, we were at a family picnic and Elizabeth came running over towards us crying, because some boy had knocked her down. Now, the boy had done the same to Mallory, but, she didn't shed a tear. No, not the daughter of Leo McGarry. She saved face. Jenny later told Abbey that once they had gotten in the car to go home Mallory broke down in tears. Mallory'd only when the fewest people were looking; the people who wouldn't judge her.

"I'd never heard her cry until today." He stopped. "Didn't even cry when we told her about the heart attack. Not over the phone at least."

The room was silent. C.J. knew that this side of the President was one not very often viewed by outsiders.

"Anyway," Bartlet said, snapping out of his state, "Ron, what do we know?"

"At this time, we do not believe there was any sort of attack or foul play involved."

Bartlet finally sat down, and pulled out his glasses to read the report that had been put in front of him. "And how do we know this?"

"There were two agents in the front of the car, one who was driving, and the other in the passenger's seat—"

"And what is their condition?"

"We still don't know the condition of any of the passengers."

Bartlet looked up from the file. "Why not?"

"There's something going on inside of G.W. – they're not disclosing the information until they can secure all media leaks."

"They're withholding evidence from the Secret Service?"

"The agents inside the hospital know. We also have people from the FBI there as well."

"How can they withhold information? Is there a national security threat?"

"No."

"Then why don't we know anything? Can they legally do this?" Bartlet began to become irate. "C.J., I want Special Agent Casper from the Bureau here now."

"He's on his way, sir," she replied.

Bartlet returned his attention to Agent Butterfield. "Ron, they're keeping you in the dark?"

"For the time being, sir. We still aren't sure if there was corruption from within the agency."

"And if someone from the hospital were to phone over with the information or transfer it, there's a possibility it could get out to the public?"

"We're trying to contain the problem. We don't want mass hysteria over a non-issue."

What was one to think? The situation was beyond words.

"What was it that you were saying about the agents in the front of the car, Ron?" Bartlet asked, remembering that he had interrupted Agent Butterfield earlier.

"Right," Agent Butterfield began. "The man who was driving the car, Agent Dennis Berkeley, has worked in the Secret Service for ten years. His background is impressive, and there is nothing to suggest that he purposely drove the car into the telephone pole. However, Agent Berkeley has had a series of seizures in the past."

"Seizures?"

"He hasn't had one in twenty-five years, but, yes, he had seizures in the past."

"And yet he was still able to become an agent?"

"Yes."

"And we think that's what happened?"

"It would appear to make the most sense. And, until we get the report back from the hospital about the condition of the car's occupants, we won't know anything more than that."

The President took in the information, then turned to C.J. asking, "Josh and Donna – they've gone to the hospital?"

"Yes, sir. They weren't originally allowed clearance into the building, so Ron and I had to phone to the Agent in Charge at GW."

"And their status, now?"

"I haven't spoken to them in, I don't know, fifteen minutes?"

"Get them on the phone, please?"

"Yes, sir."