Hour Eleven

The following takes place between 5:00am and 6:00am on January 7th, 2002, in Washington, DC unless otherwise noted.

Chappelle bolted through the main offices at CTU to the desk of one of his most devoted employees, Chloe O'Brien. The moment he reached her desk, her phone rang. She held up her index finger to Chappelle and picked up the phone.

"CTU O'Brien. Yes. Okay."

"Chloe!" Chappelle shouted.

"Hang on," Chloe said to the voice on the other line, placing her hand over the mouthpiece. "What's going on?"

"I need you to dispatch one of our field units to the residence of the Surgeon General."

"The…Surgeon General?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Chloe, just do it!"

Chloe rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay." She removed her hand from the mouthpiece. "I'm gonna have to call you back, apparently there's a national crisis at the Surgeon General's house."

Chloe hung up the phone and began dialing another number.

"Chloe, an hour ago, the Washington Monument was blown up by Irish terrorists. You don't think you could shelve your cynicism for just a few more hours?"

Chloe glared back at him. Chappelle knew he had won and walked away.

5:04

Zoey Bartlet crept into her sister's bedroom where both of her older siblings were sleeping. She crawled up onto the bed, rustling them both out of their respective slumbers.

"What's going on?" Liz murmured drowsily.

"Get up, the agents have to talk to us," Zoey stated.

Slowly, Liz and Ellie gathered the strength to get out of bed and following Zoey into the living room of Ellie's apartment. Gina Toscano sat in the overstuffed chair in between the two couches waiting for them.

"Sorry to wake you up," Gina said. "But I lost the coin toss."

Liz and Ellie both shrugged, too lethargic to respond.

"What's up?" Zoey asked her agent.

"First of all, on behalf of all your agents, we want to apologize for keeping you in the dark these past few hours, but we were under strict orders. Here's what's happening. The United States is under attack by the IRA, which is an Irish terrorist organization. Their main purpose is to seek and attain, through any means they deem necessary, independence from England."

"So why are they attacking us?" Liz questioned.

"That's still unclear. Anyway, about an hour ago, the IRA was behind an attack on the Washington Monument."

"What do you mean, attack?" Ellie asked.

"An explosion."

"The Washington Monument exploded while we were sleeping?" Zoey replied in disbelief.

Gina nodded solemnly.

"Yes."

"Were there any casualties?" Ellie asked.

"No injury count, no body count. Also, there isn't much I can tell you about this, but we've learned that you, Ellie, were, at one point, an intended target of this attack, the plan having been to take you hostage. Therefore, your protection has been upped. All three of you are crashed here in the apartment until further notice."

Both Zoey and Liz reached out to take their sister's hand as she digested the information she had just been given.

"Although there are many other details to the situation and more intelligence is being gathered on a regular basis, I've divulged all I've been instructed to at this time. I'll let you know when those orders have been lifted."

5:14

"This is utterly extraordinary."

Leo turned his position in front of the window in his office to look at the British Ambassador, who sat on his couch drinking tea as he had been doing for hours.

"What is?"

"This Earl Grey falls just short of the excellence the same flavor achieves in England."

"And that's extraordinary?" Leo responded flatly.

"Well, it has been my experience that, by and large, it falls exceedingly short of it."

Leo frowned.

"What exactly is your purpose here?"

"Numerous studies have shown that my solitary purpose on this earth is to further complicate your already exceptionally complex existence," John replied nonchalantly.

"That explains it."

He was considering actually joining Lord Marbury in a cup of that utterly extraordinary tea when the phone rang. Instinctively, Margaret jumped up to answer it, but Leo waved her away and sat down at his desk, picking up the phone himself.

"Yeah?"

"Mr. McGarry, this is Ryan Chappelle."

"Ryan. Any progress with the interrogation?"

"Very little, sir, except for one thing."

"What's that?" Leo asked.

"As of this moment, there is no conclusive evidence to suggest that Ms. Hampton's statement is of a truthful substance and not merely a ploy to distract from her interrogation, but…"

"What is it, Ryan?"

"A comment made by Hampton herself prompted me to dispatch one of my field units to the residence of the Surgeon General."

Both Margaret and Lord Marbury sat up straight, leaning in, when they noticed the panicked expression on Leo's face.

"The Surgeon General?" He choked.

"Yes, sir. Hampton's comment was entirely too vague to merit speculation as to what exactly may have transpired as far as Dr. Griffith is concerned. I'm waiting to hear back from my agents in the field, which shouldn't be much longer."

"Okay," Leo whispered. "Call me the second you know something."

"Of course. Thank you, Mr. McGarry."

"Thank you, Ryan."

The moment Leo hung up the phone, Margaret and Lord Marbury began spewing out urgent question. But Leo didn't hear a single one.

5:21

After Hogan had fallen asleep on the couch in CJ's office, CJ and Toby decided to seize the opportunity and make plans for how to present the events of late to the public.

"Should we mention anything about the First Lady?" CJ asked.

"Have you talked to the First Lady?"

"Briefly."

"Does she want you to mention it?" Toby asked.

"She didn't say one way or the other, but there's a serious possibility that someone at the hospital may have leaked it. The press may already have it."

"We don't need the Mrs. Bartlet's name being dragged through the press while we're facing a national crisis of gargantuan proportions, so let's save it until after she gets the results."

"It could be a welcome distraction to the crisis of gargantuan…"

"The First Lady may have breast cancer? That's not a welcome distraction, that's an unwelcome distraction. We're saving it."

"Okay. What about said crisis?"

"You'll make a statement," Toby said.

"That's it?"

"We can't take questions."

"I think we should take questions," CJ responded.

"No questions. You're gonna tell the truth and you're gonna get out of there."

"The question is, how much truth are we gonna tell?" CJ questioned.

"All of it," Toby replied with hesitation.

"All of it?"

"We're not giving the American people three quarters of the truth or five eighths of the truth. We're gonna give them…"

"The whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

Toby shrugged.

"So help us, God."

5:35

Abbey walked out of the bathroom having changed into a navy blue skirt and crimson sweater and caught glimpse of her husband, clearly in distress, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

"Jed?" She called out, sympathy lacing her tone, and slowly walked over to him.

He lifted his head to look at her as she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.

"How're you doing?"

He chose to deflect from himself, unwilling to drive himself further into his state of distress.

"I'm not the one waiting around to find out if I've got cancer or not. How are you doing?"

She sat down on the arm of the couch and sighed.

"We should have the results in the few hours. Probably around nine or ten."

"I want to be in the room," Jed stated.

"Okay."

"Promise me."

"I promise," Abbey replied effortlessly.

"Do you feel all right?"

"I feel fine, Jed. God, we really need to get you back to the Oval as soon as possible."

A knock on the door commandeered both of their interests and they looked up as Ron Butterfield entered their bedroom.

"Mr. President. Ma'am. The crash has been lifted. You're free to move about the building."

Without hesitation, Jed grabbed his jacket and, after giving Abbey a quick kiss on the cheek, swept out of the room, leaving her on her own.

5:43

Following the announcement that was crash was finally over, Josh couldn't wait to leave his office, which, he decided after being trapped in it for nearly two hours, was entirely too small. As he was following Donna out of the office, however, his phone began to ring. Groaning, he returned to his desk and picked it up.

"This is Josh Lyman."

"Josh, it's Sam."

"And Amy!" A female voice announced.

"Yeah, what'd you guys do, conference me in?" Josh asked.

"Uh…yeah," Sam answered, nervously. "That's what we did."

"Teamwork. You guys already have the buddy cop thing going on. I like that. What's up?"

"Hmm, what's up," Sam said, musingly. "What's up. Amy, would you please tell Josh what's up, in case he hasn't heard?"

"The Washington Monument just exploded, you jackass, what the hell is going on!" Amy exclaimed.

"I can't talk about that," Josh said tersely. "And stop hanging out with the First Lady."

"Josh, it's not like an air base exploded in Qumar. A national landmark that happens to be hardly two miles away from my apartment just blew up," Sam said. "Don't treat us like we're other people."

"If you won't tell us what's going on, all it takes is one phone call to CJ or Toby," Amy added.

"The IRA, all right! It's the IRA."

"What's the IRA?" Sam and Amy both questioned simultaneously.

"The IRA is behind the attack."

"The…Irish Republican Army?" Sam questioned with astonishment.

"Yeah. What else can I do for you?"

"What the hell!" Amy cried.

"Yeah, it's a long story. We'll talk about it when we meet me in the lobby in…an hour and a half."

"Josh, does Stanley's murder have any connection with this IRA thing?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. But we're gonna find out in an hour and a half."

5:49

Left alone with nothing but her thoughts and the possibility of breast cancer, Abbey decided to put her incessant pacing to good use and vacated her bedroom. She spent a few minutes idly walking around the Residence, stopping intermittently to glance inside rooms she hadn't thought about in years. She stood for a few moments in front of the doors that lead out to the Truman balcony, deliberating whether or not she wanted to see what remained of the famed Washington Monument. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped outside. The cold January air had been significantly thwarted by the heat from the now-dying flames. Both the fire department and the police department had the area completely surrounded. Abbey was startled when her eyes fell apart the exact location of where the Monument once had been. It was nothing was a cloud of smoke.

5:56

The field agents that had been dispatched by the Counter Terrorism Unit filed out of the black unmarked van outside the Surgeon General's townhouse and, with their sniper guns in hand, ran stealthily up the steps, where they found the front door slightly ajar. The leading agent carefully pushed the door back and lead his team into the building. Several agents ran up to the second floor while numerous others explored the ground floor. In less than a minute, they all returned to the living room, announcing that the building was clear. The leading agent, however, was less impressed by this news as his attention had been captured by the television which had been hooked up to a live, untraced feed. The screen clearly conveyed the image of the Surgeon General herself, tied to a chair, struggling for her life.

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