Abbey threw some cold water on her face and patted it dry with a soft towel. She stared at her own image in the bathroom mirror and felt herself shudder: she had aged ten years in about as many hours. She set the towel down and leaned her hands on the counter for a moment. The building had collapsed. The goddamn building had come down and no one could tell her anything. There was no way to know if there were any survivors, she had been told. There could be pockets among the wreckage, the director had said, but there was no way to know. Marsh, that was the man's name. Jack Marsh, Director of Homeland Security. He didn't know a damned thing more than anybody else did. Hell, she could have been talking on the phone to her dry cleaner in Manchester and he'd have known as much. There was nothing more concrete than the conjecture from the anchors on CNN.

Pictures of Jed, Leo, Sam and Toby had appeared throughout the night on television, the story looping its way through the wee hours melting into daylight. While her heart ached for Sam and Toby, she couldn't even begin to express the devastation she harbored over Jed and Leo. Abbey didn't really remember her life without the two of them in it; and it had always been the two of them. In the early years, they were inseparable; then Leo went off to fight a war, and she and Jed just naturally grew closer. By the time Leo had come home on a furlough, she and Jed had become lovers, relegating Leo to closest confidant. The look on his face that first night when he realized that she and Jed were a couple, made her wonder if some part of him resented it. But being Leo, he never expressed anything other than happiness for the two of them, and shortly thereafter, he met Jenny, and the three of them became four.

But as his divorce had proved, nothing could last forever.

Abbey pressed her eyes closed, once again trying to stave off the tears that threatened to come. But she couldn't keep the rain from falling, any more than she could prevent the sun from rising on a day that could turn as black as the deepest abyss. She wasn't sure she could survive the loss of Jed, for he had truly become her very heart and soul. Living without him would be a pointless excercise in pain and sadness. Yet, she had their girls, and maybe she could survive for them; but to have both Jed and Leo ripped from her in the same moment? Insurmountable. She couldn't bear even the thought of it. For forty years she had loved them, counted on them and kept both of them close. One her lover and the other her closest, most trusted friend. The emptiness left where her heart once lived would be a void too great to leap across.

The soft knock on the bedroom door made her jump. "Yes?" She called unsteadily.

"Mom?"

It was Zoey.

"Mom, are you okay?"

Abbey once again wiped her face with the towel and responded, "Yeah, fine, come on in."

Zoey walked into the bedroom and stared at her mother's ragged appearance. "You look tired."

"Yeah, I didn't sleep much." She hugged her youngest child and kissed her head. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Zoey said softly.

"Are Liz and Ellie still asleep?"

"No, they're in the kitchen making breakfast. They sent me to get you."

"Okay. I'll be there in a minute."

Zoey watched her mother straighten her clothes slightly. "Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Do you think that Dad is--"

"--No. I think he's fine."

"But there's been no--"

"--Zoey. I'd know if your father wasn't here anymore. I'd know."

"And Uncle Leo?"

Abbey smiled slightly. "I'm pretty sure I'd know about him too."

"Are you just saying this to make me feel better?"

Abbey sighed heavily. "Not entirely, Zoey, no. On some level, I really believe it." She brushed some of her daughter's hair from her face. "Let's go get some coffee..."

Josh sipped at the coffee Donna had placed in front of him and wiped his face as he listened to the worthless excuse being offered to him through the speakerphone on his desk.

"Agent Parnum," Lyman interrupted. "You've got marines...what the hell is taking so long?"

"As I explained before, Mr. Lyman, the debris is devastating, and if it's not removed carefully, it could cause a further collapse, so if there are any pockets with people..."

"Yeah, okay, I get it. Thanks. Call me in a half hour."

Josh stabbed the button on his phone with his finger and sighed heavily, looking at his assistant. "Every hour that passes lessens their chances. Don't these guys get it?"

Donna stared into his eyes. "They get it Josh, there's just nothing they can do about it."

"But it's been all night," he pointed to the light coming through the window behind him. "It's daytime now." She just stared at him and his voice grew soft, almost childlike in its hope, "They've got marines..."

"And they're doing everything humanly possible, Josh. Humanly possible. I think a lot of this is in the hands of a higher power now."

Lyman swallowed hard. "I'm scared, Donna."

"I know, so am I."

"No," he whispered softly, "I'm scared for them. For Sam, Toby... for Leo...and for the president. What if they're alive and they're trapped? I can't--" His voice broke, and his eyes filled with tears. "I don't want them to have to go through that." He stared into her soft face. "I don't want them to die like that... knowing."

Donna held his gaze, but realized that there was nothing she could say to comfort him. She gently reached across the desk and took his hand, and holding it tightly, she nodded her silent understanding and support.

Toby made it to the end of the crawlspace only to discover a blocked exit, and after facing another meltdown of claustrophobia, he had slowly begun to dig away at the dirt and debris with his good hand. He had lost all sense of time in the dirt-filled cocoon, but he kept slowly digging into it, working on creating a way out.

His flashlight flickered.

"No," he muttered quietly. The light flickered again, and he shook it slightly. It went out. "NO! Damnit, no!" In the pitch black of the tunnel, he began to gasp for air, and frantically he clawed at the dirt in front of him. Panic began to overtake his rationality and he screamed as he violently dug at the obstruction. "God, please, no. Help me! Somebody help me!"

And then he thought he heard it.

He screamed again, "Hello? Hello? Is someone there? Please, God..."

He listened and he heard a clump of dirt on the other side of the wall he was digging into fall to the ground. Then the sound of an ax grinding into it and another clump of dirt and debris.

"Help me!"

The sound of digging on the other side ceased momentarily and he heard a muffled voice, "Hello? Is someone in there?"

"Yes," Ziegler yelled, "Yes!"

"Hold tight, we'll have you out soon," he could barely hear the voice through the packed dirt.

And Toby Ziegler leaned back against the wall of the dark tunnel imprisoning him, and he wept.

Sam's voice was soft, tired, "He's been gone a long time."

"Yeah," Sullivan responded. "Might be that he had to start digging on the other end."

Sam shivered slightly. "Or it could be that he had a complete and utter meltdown and is lying completely incapacitated in the middle..."

"It's that bad?"

"Yeah, it's that bad."

"What the hell happened to him?"

"I don't know," Sam said simply, "he's never said."

"You'd think someone as highly placed as he is on the White House ladder wouldn't be allowed to have a phobia like that."

"Why not? It's claustrophobia, not kleptomania. He's a speechwriter, Agent Sullivan, not a rescue worker or a plumber. We don't usually expect him to sit in a dark, small space and write the president's remarks."

"Point well taken," Sullivan conceded. "I'm sorry, Mr. Seaborne, I guess I'm not being very understanding or generous right at the moment."

"It's not surprising," Sam answered. "We're stuck here, wherever here is, neither of us can really move, and I don't know about you, but I'm getting awfully thirsty."

"And cold..."

"Cold? You're cold?"

"Yeah," Sullivan answered.

"I'm hot."

"You're probably running a fever from that break in your leg." Sullivan smiled ironically, even though Sam couldn't see it in the dark. "And I'm cold from blood loss."

"Blood loss?"

"Yeah," Sullivan said nonchalantly, "the girders cut into my legs."

"Oh Jesus, why didn't you say something?"

"Nothing you can do, Sam," Sullivan said gently, "You can't move, and even if you could, I doubt your law degree's prepared you for anything like this."

Sam let the awful silence of truth lie between them for a moment. Then he said, "Do you suppose it's possible that the president made it?"

"I honestly don't know, but since we're still here, I'd say it's at least possible that he's still alive." He licked his lips. "Hell, maybe he's out already. That would be a good thing, eh Sam?"

"That would be a great thing," Seaborne agreed quietly. "Do you think we have a chance?"

Sam heard Sullivan let out a long breath of air before he said, "A chance, sure; a good probability, I honestly doubt it, or they would have reached us by now."

"That's what I thought."

CJ didn't want to go into the room. There was nothing new she could tell them. She could shed no light on a completely abysmal situation, nor could she offer any kind of hope. She did not want to go into the blue room. She opened the door to digital flashes and the glaring lights of cameras, and the frenzy that could only be the White House Press Corps.

"CJ, CJ, CJ!!!!"

"Settle down," Cregg said calmly, "settle down or I'll send in Fitzwallace, and I doubt you want to deal with him this morning..." After a moment, they calmed down and took their seats, eagerly awaiting her briefing. "At this hour the rescue crews continue to dig for survivors. A battalion of Marines has been deployed to the scene and they are working alongside firefighters, EMTs and members of the secret service to free those who may be trapped in the hotel debris. Acting-president Hoynes is receiving timely updates concerning the situation, while monitoring all foreign and national issues regarding the nation. Currently, President Bartlet, Leo McGarry, Toby Ziegler, Sam Seaborne and four members of the president's service detail are still missing."

"CJ, CJ, CJ!"

"Simon..."

"Is there any estimate on how long the crews believe it will take to reach survivors?"

"At this time, Director Marsh, who is coordinating the emergency crew efforts, does not have an estimate. It will depend upon how much debris is there and how slowly it must be removed in deference to safety precautions... Bill..."

"Is Acting-president Hoynes planning on moving forward with any outstanding legislation in President Bartlet's absence?"

"I believe that President Hoynes' main concern right now is the safe return of President Bartlet and his staff, but obviously, he will act in the best interest of the country upon anything that arises during the time he is responsible for the nation's welfare... Christine..."

"How does this rescue effort compare with that of the World Trade Center in 2001?"

"While I am not qualified to answer that question in an official capacity, I'd like to point out that this situation does not involve jet fuel burning at an incredibly intense heat, and also, my understanding is that the way in which the hotel collapsed, naval architects are convinced that there are many air pockets standing amongst the debris in which survivors will be found... Danny..."

"Stock market trading was suspended as of this morning; how long do you anticipate the suspension to last?"

"Acting-president Hoynes and the cabinet have suspended trading indefinitely."

"So how long?" Suzanne yelled out.

"That would be indefinitely, Suzanne, as in however long the acting-president and the cabinet feel that it's necessary to safeguard our economy... Stanley..."

"Do you think the president is still alive?"

The room froze in sudden silence, and CJ felt all eyes pressing into her with a white hot heat. She forced her emotions down and tried to remain calm, "Well Stanley, let me just pull out my little crystal ball and see if I can answer that with my all-knowing, omnipotent ability to tell fortunes."

"Answer the question, CJ," he pressed.

"Yeah, Stanley, because we all know I have x-ray vision, am faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive and can leap tall buildings in a single bound."

"I'm asking for your opinion, CJ."

"I'm a press secretary, Stanley, not a CNN analyst; I deal with facts, not presumptions. I'll see you all back here this afternoon."

CJ quickly escaped the room amidst a frenzy of yelling. As soon as the door closed, CJ felt her knees buckle and the tears she had been holding back spill down her cheeks. Carol grabbed her boss by the arm, gently supporting her.

"CJ?"

"I'm...I'm..." She looked into Carol's concerned eyes. "I'm gonna be sick..."

Carol ushered CJ into her office and held the wastebasket underneath her just in time. Gently, she guided Cregg to sit on her couch.

"I'll go get you a cold cloth for your head. Just sit tight."

In the time it took for Carol to go the ladies room and wet a towel and bring it back, CJ had vomited twice more. Carol took the basket away from Cregg and pressed her head between her knees, placing the wet cloth on the back of her neck. As she walked out with the soiled can, she passed Danny Concannon heading in.

"Danny...please don't--"

"--I won't, Carol, don't worry." Danny walked into the room to find CJ sitting on the couch, holding her head. Wordlessly he sat down next to her, gripping the cold compress and kneading the muscles gently beneath it. "That last question really got to you, didn't it."

"Please go away."

"You really want me to?"

"No, but I don't want to answer any questions right now."

"You don't have to," he said softly, continuing to rub her neck. "I'm not here as a reporter right now, but as a friend. I'm sorry this had to happen, CJ."

"Me too."

"You did well at the briefing, and it was an extremely difficult one."

"I know I'm not supposed to have feelings about the statements I deliver, Danny, I know that." She lifted her tearstained face to look at him. "But how can I not have feelings about the people I work with day in and day out? Can you tell me how I'm supposed to do that?"

"No," he whispered, allowing his hand to rub her back, "I really can't."

And CJ Cregg, Press Secretary to the President of the United States collapsed into the waiting arms of Senior White House Correspondent Danny Concannon. For the briefest of seconds, CJ wondered what the analysts on CNN would have to say about that if they knew; but the moment passed quickly, and she realized she didn't care.

The strong light that suddenly pierced the dark space he'd been confined in caused him to throw an arm across his eyes.

"Sir? Are you all right, sir?" A voice from the light asked. "Are you hurt?"

"My hand..." Toby stuttered, "It's just my hand. I can walk."

He crawled toward the opening and was then lifted out of the hole by strong arms and hands. He recognized the battle fatigues as Marine issue as two of the men began to lead him away.

"Wait, hold it!"

"We need to get you out of here, sir," the lieutenant responded, "the building is not secure and we have been instructed to remove anyone we find immediately to safety."

"I understand, lieutenant...?"

"McCracken, sir, Lt. McCracken."

"I'm Toby Ziegler, Lt. McCracken, White House Director of Communications. There are two more men down at the end of that tunnel. Sam Seaborne, Deputy Communications Director, and Secret Service Agent Sullivan."

"Sir, yes sir, we'll go get them. But right now, you need to go with these men."

"I'd really rather wait for--"

"--Sir, all due respect, but I need you to go with these men."

"But Sam and Agent Sullivan, I can't just lea--"

"--Mr. Ziegler, I promise you we'll get to them, but you have to exit the area, sir. It's not secure."

Begrudgingly Toby turned and allowed the Sergeant still holding his arm to lead him out of the area. As soon as he cleared the debris, the devastation of the destruction gripped his heart. "Oh my God..."

"Mr. Ziegler," a man said. "I'm Secret Service Agent Parnum. Homeland Security Director Marsh wants to debrief you."

"The President?"

"Sir?"

"Is the President all right?"

Parnum stared at him blankly for a moment. "We were hoping you would be able to tell us..."

Toby turned toward the building again. "Oh God, that means that he's..."

And Parnum was barely able to grab Toby's arm to stop him from running back into the collapsed ruins. "Mr. Ziegler, you can't go back in there, sir."

"But you just said that--"

"--Yes sir. I need to get you to Director Marsh."

"But the President--"

"--Mr. Ziegler... Toby," his voice turned gentle, "I swear to you that we will find him. But right now I need you to be debriefed by Director Marsh. Any information you have on the situation inside could prove invaluable in the recovery of President Bartlet."

Toby stopped dead and stared at Parnum as his face drained of all color. "Recovery? You don't think he's alive..."

Parnum looked away then back at Ziegler. "I apologize, Mr. Ziegler, it was a poor choice of words. We don't know the condition of the president."

"So that means you've found neither Ron Butterfield nor Leo McGarry, because there's no way on earth that either one of them would leave him in there, unless they were--Oh God--are they...?"

"They are both still missing, sir."

"But you haven't been able to raise Ron Butterfield?"

"No sir, we have not."

Toby let out a heavy breath. "What about Josh Lyman and CJ Cregg? They were with us last night..."

"They're fine sir, both of them are at the White House."

"Can you call Josh and let him know that Sam and I are okay?"

"Yes sir, this way..."

Donna ran through the corridors, bumping into whomever was in her way, holding the cellphone out in front of her as she went. "Josh! Josh!"

He was leaning in CJ's office doorframe, when he turned at the sound of her voice. "Donna?"

"Agent Parnum," she said excitedly as she handed him the phone.

"Yes? Agent Parnum? It's Josh Lyman..." He listened intently as Donna, CJ, Carol and Danny stared at him. "Yes? Yes? Oh, thank God..." He turned to the others, saying, "They found Toby, Sam and Agent Sullivan, they're a little beat up, but okay... Agent Parnum, what about the president? Did you find him?" He listened again, and this time the four watching could tell it wasn't what any of them wanted to hear. "Okay, thanks for letting us know, and Agent Parnum, I'll pass this along to Acting-president Hoynes, and please, keep me updated."

He closed the phone and turned to the rest of them. "There's still no news about President Bartlet or Leo..."

"Where are Toby and Sam?" CJ asked.

"They're with Jack Marsh right now being debriefed and then they'll be taken to GW for treatment."

"Treatment?" Donna said, "It's that bad?"

"Sam's leg is busted up and so's Toby's hand. Agent Sullivan's ankles were crushed..." He looked at Danny. "This is not for publication."

"Hey, I told CJ earlier, I'm just a guy standing here, off the record. I came to lend support as a friend. I'll let you know when I'm a reporter."

Josh smiled slightly. "Thanks, Danny, you're a pretty good guy for a member of the press..."

"Yeah, don't tell my editor; he wouldn't appreciate such nuances in my personality."

"Can we go to the hospital?" Carol asked.

"Yeah, in a few hours. CJ needs to prep the next briefing and I need to go see Hoynes..."

"Do you think there's a chance that...?"

Josh looked at Donna. "We have to believe that they're okay. The alternative is just..."

"Yeah."

Mrs. Landingham glanced over at Charlie and observed him staring off into space. "Charlie? Everything okay?"

"Yes ma'am." And he restated quickly, "Yes, Mrs. Landingham."

"Really? Because it doesn't look okay from over here."

Young looked down at his desk for a moment, then over at her. "I was just thinking is all."

"About the President?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I know this is difficult, Charlie. I know that it is especially difficult for you." He stared at her, uncomprehendingly, and she smiled at him. "Oh Charlie. Do you actually believe that you've hidden how you feel about him?"

"Well, I--"

"--I'm an old hand at picking out subtle nuances of behavior, young man."

"Yes ma'am."

"There's no shame in saying that you love him."

Charlie's eyes darted to hers in guilt. "But I--"

"--Charlie..."

"You don't think that makes me look kind of...little girlish?"

"No, I don't. Tell me something. Do you think that Mr. McGarry cares for the president?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Do you think he loves him?"

"Yes ma'am, in a manly sorta little brother way..."

"Do you think Leo's ever told him?"

"Well I... I don't know ma'am."

"Have you ever thought of Mr. McGarry or the president as 'little girlish,' Charlie?"

"No, ma'am, definitely not. I think Mr. McGarry would promptly kick the a--" He stopped himself and looked over at her, but he couldn't read her expression. "I don't think Leo would respond well to someone saying that about him or the president."

"No, I don't suppose that he would." She returned to her typing.

"Mrs. Landingham?"

"Yes Charlie?" She didn't look up but instead kept working.

"I love him like..."

"Yes Charlie?" She looked at him then.

"I love him like a father."

"I know, Charlie." She smiled and returned her attention to the computer. "When he gets back, you might consider telling him that sometime..."

Charlie Young didn't answer her, but he knew in his heart that if he was fortunate enough to get the president back in one piece, he would.

Margaret tried to concentrate on her work, but it was difficult. On a normal day, Leo would bellow her name every five minutes or so, but today the office was much too quiet, and strangely, the stillness of it distracted her. She finished typing the memo, printed it and placing it in a folder, carried it into his office. She set it neatly on his desk, where the rest of the folders she'd been working on lay untouched, and she felt the emotion she'd tried to squelch rear up at her. Biting her lower lip, she forced it down and turned, almost running into Ginger who appeared in the doorway.

"Margaret! Didja hear the news?"

Margaret's heart raced: perhaps Leo and the president were all right! "What news?"

"They found Mr. Ziegler and Sam Seaborne!"

While she was relieved that Toby and Sam were all right, her heart fell. "That's great, Ginger. I'm glad they're okay."

"Wow, you don't sound that happy about it."

"I'm...I am. I'm just really busy right now."

"What are you working on with Leo gone?"

Margaret glared at her friend. "I have a lot to do. When Leo comes back, all the memos and reports that are supposed to be handled better be, or they'll be hell to pay."

Ginger watched Margaret move past her and sit back down at her desk in the outer office as if it was business as usual, and her heart wrenched for her friend. "Margaret..."

"There's just always so much work to do for him. Organizing files, rescheduling meetings, typing up all of his correspondence and memos to staff--"

"--Margaret--"

"--The phone almost never stops ringing, and my God when he's here he just never stops yelling for me to bring him a file, a coffee, or get him somebody on the phone and--"

"--Margaret!"

Finally Margaret stopped rambling and looked up at Ginger.

"Margaret...they found Toby and Sam. They didn't find Leo or President Bartlet. What if they don't?"

"Don't say that, Ginger. Don't even put that out there. You can't say something like that. How could you even think that?"

"Margaret, I want them to be okay too, but I really think you should prepare yourself for the worst case scenario. Just in the event that--"

"--No!" Margaret yelled as she stood from her desk. "No, I will not think like that. Leo and the President are fine, and I don't want to hear anything to the contrary!"

Angrily Margaret picked up a file and stomped past Ginger and into Leo's office, slamming the file down onto his desk. "He's fine."

Ginger once again appeared in the doorway of Leo's office and watched Margaret collapse in his desk chair, tears rolling down her face. Ginger walked over and hugged her friend tightly. "I'm sorry, Margaret. I didn't mean to make you cry. I just want you to be prepared, just in case..."

"Don't you understand, Ginger? I don't want to prepare. Not for that. Not ever for that."

Ginger nodded, guilt filling her. "I'm sorry..."

Margaret's tears spilled onto the memos on Leo's desk, but for once his ever efficient assistant could have cared less. She honestly didn't know how she would cope with the worst case scenario, except to be devastated by the loss. And she feared that she would spend the rest of her life nursing a broken heart that couldn't possibly mend...