"Agent Parnam," Josh said angrily, "you have told me absolutely nothing about the president and the rest of our people who are in there."

"We're still assessing it, Mr. Lyman," Parnum returned, "all we know at this time is that a pipe bomb went off in the basement, and we can't raise any of our agents either by com unit or cell phone. The damage to the area that the president and his party were most likely in at the time of the blast was substantial."

"So now what?" CJ asked.

"We wait for emergency crews to get through the debris and see what's what. Now if you'll excuse me..."

Josh and CJ exchanged a frustrated look. "This one scares me," he said softly.

"Yeah, me too." She glanced at her watch. "I've got to get back, there's a press conference in twenty minutes."

"What are you going to say?"

CJ fought off the fear creeping up her throat as she shrugged. "I honestly don't know."

"I'm not reading this," Hoynes growled, crumpling up the paper. "Don't you have any sense of conscience, Jeffrey? Any at all?"

"It's an opportunity, Mr. Vice President, and--"

"--No, Jeffrey. This is not an opportunity; it's a potential tragedy." Hoynes glanced toward the extra security detail that had been in place since the explosion, and his anger rose along with his voice, "The president, his chief of staff, and two key communications people are missing with his entire team of secret service agents. My God, Jeffrey, we don't know if they're alive or dead, and you're trying to hand me some sort of victory speech. Look, just get out of my office. NOW."

Jeffrey frowned, but backed out of the office, heading toward his own. And then the best course of action struck him, and he changed direction, walking toward the press secretary's area.

"CJ," Jeffrey called from the door, "we should coordinate on press message so that any kind of transition between our two offices will run as smoothly as possible."

"Transition? What the hell are you talking about, Jeffrey? Did we have an election and they forgot to tell me?"

"I'm talking about Vice President Hoynes, CJ. We don't know the status of the president, and let's face it, we have to assure the American people that this country is in compassionate, but capable hands while the fate of Bartlet and his party is determined."

"That's President Bartlet, you weasel-headed snake, and for your information, until there is some kind of confirmation regarding the president's...condition, any move on Vice President Hoynes toward the Oval will be considered a coup d'etat on the part of all the Marines stationed around this building. Now get out of my office!" Standing more than a foot taller than Jeffrey, CJ backed him right out of her space, slamming the door on him. She picked up her phone and dialed a number. "Josh? Please tell me something good..."

"Sorry, CJ," Lyman answered through the phone, "nothing yet."

"Okay, well, call if you hear anything. I mean, anything, Josh."

"Yeah."

CJ hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and headed toward the press room.

Butterfield walked back toward the president, and Bartlet noticed his uneven gait. "Ron? Are you limping?"

"It's nothing to concern yourself with, Mr. President, I just twisted my ankle. It's minor, sir."

Bartlet observed the man whom he knew would give his life for him. "Why is it I don't believe that, Ron?"

"President Bartlet--"

Bartlet stopped him with a raised hand. "Save it, I already know this song and dance."

"Yes sir." Ron knelt next to where Bartlet was seated, cradling McGarry's head in his lap. "The best area that I can see to try and dig a way out is over on the far wall." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the second flashlight, handing it to Bartlet. "If you need it, use it, but other than that, Mr. President, please conserve the battery; it's the only backup we have." Jed nodded, and Butterfield glanced down at the pallid face of Leo. "Mr. McGarry looks like he might be going into shock." Ron reached for a large piece of concrete laying nearby, and straining slightly, dragged it over and put it under Leo's feet. The agent then pulled off his jacket and draped it over Leo, saying, "He needs to stay warm."

"I don't suppose you have any water with you?"

Ron moved his hand in the direction of the small bottle hidden in an inside pocket that he always carried in case of an emergency. "Are you thirsty, Mr. President?"

"Not for me, Ron. For Leo."

But the water could only be for the president, and Butterfield's hand imperceptibly slipped back down. "I'll try and have you out of here quickly, Mr. President."

Jed glanced down at Leo and he felt his throat constrict with fear for his dearest friend. "Yeah," was all he said.

"Good evening." CJ tried to quiet the tremor in her voice, but found she couldn't completely. "I will make a brief statement, although I will not take questions at this time." She glanced down at her notes, stalling slightly while she tried to compose herself. "At approximately 10:34 PM tonight, a bomb exploded in the basement of the Hyatt Regency hotel, following the president's appearance at a fundraiser for cancer research. The north western corner of the building collapsed when the supports were blown out from under the weight of the 20 floors above it. The hotel has been evacuated and search teams are looking for survivors. We do not yet have an injury count. At this time, President Bartlet, Chief of Staff Leo McGarry, Director of Communications Toby Ziegler, and Deputy Director of Communications Sam Seaborne, along with the president's secret service team are missing. I'll be back in two hours with an update."

CJ quickly left the room, amid a chorus of voices calling her name. She handed her notes to Carol as soon as she cleared the door. "Josh didn't call?"

"Not yet." Carol hesitated and then said, "CJ?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's..."

"What?"

"Who's...well, if we don't know where the president is, who's running the country?"

CJ stopped walking and looked down for a moment before turning back and facing her assistant, hating herself for the answer she had to give and the reality she had to face. "The vice president."

"But doesn't the president have to submit a signed letter to Congress?"

"Technically a letter to the senate president pro-tem and to the speaker..." CJ swallowed. "A letter can also be submitted by the vice president and a majority of the principal officers of the executive departments declaring the president unable to discharge the duties of his office."

"Principal officers? You mean the cabinet?"

"Yeah."

"This is under the 25th?"

"Yeah."

"It sounds like a legal coup d'etat."

"Yeah, doesn't it?"

CJ turned away and walked quickly into her office, preparing to call both Hoynes and Josh. It was only a matter of time before someone like Danny Concannon would ask her who was in charge, and as much as she hated the whole thing, there was little choice. But the idea of starting the ball rolling to remove President Bartlet from power turned her stomach.

"Sam, don't move around too much, your leg is busted up pretty bad."

"Ya think?" Seaborne asked, groaning.

"Yeah," Toby said softly, "I think so." He looked up at the approaching secret service agent. "Well?"

Sullivan knelt down next to the two senior staffers. "Agent Johnson didn't make it, and there's no sign of President Bartlet, Agents Butterfield or Ortega, or Mr. McGarry. My com unit and cell phone are both out and this section of the corridor is sealed off."

Toby stared at the large-framed man before saying, "Do you have any, you know, good news?"

"We're not dead?"

"Yeah, okay." Toby ran his right hand over his head. "Any shot at digging our way out?"

Sullivan shrugged. "Maybe." He looked down at Toby's bloodied left hand. "But I don't think you're going to be able to help too much in that endeavor, Mr. Ziegler."

Toby glanced down at his smashed hand. "No, probably not."

"My hands are fine," Sam offered.

"Yeah," Toby said, "but your leg is busted in at least three places." Ziegler looked at the deep cut on Sullivan's forehead. "And your head is bleeding, you know."

Sullivan pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed away the blood. "It's nothing, sir, just a small cut."

"It doesn't look like a nothing," Toby countered.

"I'm going to start pulling back as much concrete rubble as I can, you fellas just stay put for awhile, okay?"

"Sure," Toby said, "I always wanted to take a vacation like this..."

"Agent Sullivan?" The tall man looked back at Sam. "Do you think maybe--"

"--I honestly can't say, Mr. Seaborne, I'm sorry." He looked at the profound sadness in Sam's eyes and added, "It's possible that they're all still alive. After all, the three of us are still here."

"But Agent Johnson isn't," Toby said quietly.

Sam swallowed hard and Sullivan looked away, nodding. "I'm going to try and get us out of here," the agent said.

Toby watched Sullivan move away to an area that looked like it had loose concrete. "How the hell could this have happened?"

"I don't know, Toby, but I think I'm going to start requesting a combat stipend from the DOD."

"Yeah," Ziegler sighed.

Josh hung up his cell phone and slid it into his pocket. Deep down, he knew CJ was right, but the idea of anyone replacing President Bartlet was so awful to him, he felt as if he couldn't breathe. If only he could talk to Leo; the chief of staff would know exactly how to proceed. His eyes misted over as the thought that he might never be able to talk to Leo again floated into his mind. The president, Sam, Toby... What if none of them had survived? Josh fought against the rebellion of his stomach, but lost the battle as he leaned over into a large shrub, losing the remnants of his dinner. He needed to pull himself together. He had to go back to the White House and with CJ, meet with Hoynes and the cabinet. He needed to do what Leo and the president would expect of him. He needed to be strong.

But what if this was like so many other times in his life, and people he loved died?

"Please make it okay," he quietly whispered. Wiping his wet eyes, he headed back to the White House.

Mrs. Landingham watched the young body man of the president fidgeting at his desk. "Charlie, why don't you go to the mess and get yourself something to eat?"

He looked over at her. "I'm not hungry, Mrs. Landingham."

"No, I suppose you're not."

"I should have been there. I always go. But the president told me to stay here and study for my history exam." Charlie looked down at his hands. "I should have been there."

"And what would that accomplish, Charlie, your being there?"

He glared at her slightly. "It's where I should have been, Mrs. Landingham. I should have been there with the president."

"So that we could wonder if you were dead or alive too?"

His eyes darted to hers. "No, ma'am." He licked his lips. "But what if I could have done something to help? What if my being there might have--"

"--Charlie, you weren't there because you weren't supposed to be."

"Ma'am?"

"Do you believe in God, Charlie?"

"Yes ma'am. My mother took me to church with her every Sunday, and now I usually go with the president."

"If you believe, Charlie, then you understand that things happen for a reason, even if we cannot fathom the meaning of it. You are usually with the president, but tonight he asked you to stay here and study for your test. You weren't supposed to be there, Charlie."

"What about your boys, Mrs. Landingham?"

"What about them?"

"Do you believe that they were where they were supposed to be when they... well when--"

"--I have to believe that, Charlie. I don't understand why it had to be my boys, but I have to believe that there was some divine reason and that it wasn't just malice on the part of the Almighty." She studied his eyes for a moment. "And no matter what happens now, we will have to accept God's will as it comes to us, even if we don't ever understand it."

"When my mother was killed, I was pretty angry at God, for a long time. But after I'd worked here for awhile, I decided to give God a second chance. Then came Roslyn, and I didn't understand how something like that could happen because Zoey and I wanted to date each other, and I felt angry for a long time. It was the president who talked me into giving faith a third chance." He stared at her before adding, "But if anything happens to him, Mrs. Landingham, I'm through with God."

"Three strikes He's out, huh?"

"That's right."

Charlie stood then and walked out of the room, leaving Mrs. Landingham alone with only her deep worry for the man who'd become the commander-in-chief. And she wondered if her faith could withstand losing another son. She honestly didn't know.

Leo moaned in pain, and Bartlet switched the flashlight on, setting it nearby to shine on his friend. He took Leo's hand in his, squeezing it gently.

"Hey, I'm here." McGarry's eyes slowly opened, the distress in them apparent. Jed brushed his free hand over Leo's forehead. "How ya doin'?"

"Okay," Leo responded weakly.

"Yeah. I'll just bet you are." McGarry moaned deeply, grabbing his stomach, and Jed swallowed down his emotion, hard. "What the hell were you thinking shielding me like that? It's the job of the secret service," he admonished, trying to cover his fear.

Although it had been a rhetorical question, McGarry answered softly, "I was thinking that protecting the President of the United States was more important than protecting myself." Leo swallowed hard, trying to dissipate the dryness. "I was thinking it had to be me because I was walking closer to you than your agents." He licked his lips. "I was thinking," his voice lowered weakly, "that I needed to shield my best friend because I love him."

Jed could feel his own heart breaking, and he looked up at the ceiling, in a fruitless attempt to keep the tears filling his eyes from falling. He slammed them shut and pulled in a ragged breath before finally looking down once more, his sadness dripping down onto Leo's face.

"I can't do this without you, Leo. Don't you know that? I can't do this without you..."

Unable to bear the emotion of the moment, or the sadness in his best friend's eyes, McGarry whispered, "Turn off that flashlight, Mr. President, you might need the battery later."

"Yeah," Bartlet said as he snapped off the light, returning it to his pocket. In the darkness he continued to stroke McGarry's forehead softly. "You've got to hold on, Leo. Ron will find a way out. You have to hold on for me, Leo."

And McGarry knew that he would hold on because Jed Bartlet asked him to; but he knew it would only be until Ron Butterfield could get the President of the United States out of the jam he was in. The pain in his belly pressed in on him, and he had to fight to stifle a moan. He had to hold on until the president made it out. Only until then...