Toby tried with all his might to push the burly agent out of his way, but he wouldn't budge.

"Mr Ziegler, like I said, I can't let you out..." began the gatekeeping agent, but Toby cut him off.

"You have no authority over me," Toby blundered. "Let me out." As he raised his voice, the agent sighed and pushed Toby away from the door with ease, as if he were a mere bag of feathers. It was almost comical. The world was spinning, and Toby couldn't focus his thoughts.

"Toby, come here," Sam said hurriedly. Toby ignored him and ran stupidly to the door. Apparently, this was the final straw for the agent. He turned Toby around, twisting his arm behind his back and forcefully walking him further inside the hallway. He had begun to reach for his radio when Sam jumped forward.

"There's no need for that," Sam said, gesturing to the radio. It was a stare-down between the two men, and finally, the agent grunted that he'd be forced to take Toby if he tried anything, and although it was vague where he would take him, Sam knew it was nowhere Toby should be at this moment. The agent left, and Sam turned his attention to the communication director.

"Toby!" Sam's voice managed to pierce through to Toby. The older man faced Sam and noticed he was holding a phone to his ear.

"Is it C.J.?" asked Toby hopefully.

"No..." Sam was holding his hand over the receiver on his phone. "It's Josh," he explained.

"Give me the phone," Toby grunted.

Sam hesitated for a second before handing the phone over to his superior.

"Josh, what's going on?" Toby's question was both filled with anger and paralyzing fear. "Do you know anything?"

"Do I know anything?" Josh shouted into the phone, "Why do you think I'm calling you?"

"Josh..." Toby began.

"Alright," Josh conceded. "I spoke with Leo before, and it's all still unclear. As far as we know, there were no casualties, but, and I'm guessing you already know this, it's complete chaos out there."

Toby looked outside the large window of his prison. Surrounding the theatre were people running around—quite a few secret service agents, but also NYPD. The screams that had filled the atmosphere right after the explosion had subsided, although he could still hear frantic shouts now and then.

"Anything on C.J.?" Toby tried to sound stoic, but his voice betrayed him by faltering while he spoke her name. His breathing was shallow, and everything was spinning. Why was this happening? Again.

"Toby?"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Toby could hear Josh's concerned voice. Or was it Sam? There was no real way of knowing who it was. Suddenly, his mind was filled with images of chaos and wailing sirens at different times. He'd been searching... Just like now.

"Josh! Didn't you hear me shouting for you? I didn't know where the hell

you..."

Blood everywhere... Screaming. Blood on his hands, his voice hoarse from screaming for help. A lifeless body slumped to the pavement. So much blood, and then the image of Josh's mutilated body at Rosslyn turned into C.J.

"Toby?" Sam's voice sounded frightened. Toby could not stop searching... He had to find her. Then, in a split second, he was pulled from his reverie.

Before

His fingers slid across the keyboard with skill and determination. It had been trickier than he had expected to find her personal email in this outdated piece of crap. The White House really did not take computer security seriously, he bemused. It had been easy to infect her computer with the Trojan, but he realised much too late that she had managed to hide her personal email in the clutter of her disorganised desktop. How she managed to find anything there was a mystery. Perhaps there was a method to her madness because he had not managed to find this treasure on her old computer. But now he read.

Ron jumped from the car as soon as it came to a halt. His head, now abnormally large due to the bandages and the swelling that was already pushing, seemingly into his brain, was slow to think. The dizziness had not yet dissipated, but that did not matter at the moment. He had to speak with Toby and Sam. He pushed through the sea of agents and saw Fischer make a beeline towards him.

"We've secured the perimeter," Fischer said with command. "There is no sign of the perpetrator."

"The bomb?" Ron asked.

"Seems to be a fairly standard IED." Fischer continued. "But we'll have to wait for forensics to..."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron interrupted. "Any casualties?"

"No," Fischer hesitated before continuing. "Sir, Miss Cregg has not been sighted yet. I..." He seemed unsure whether or not to continue.

"Stuart?"

"I just spoke with Boyer," Fischer finally said. The two men exchanged meaningful glances.

"I need to speak with Toby Ziegler and Sam Seaborn," Ron said, already walking away from his subordinate.

Before

Emails to her niece; gym membership newsletters; messages from old friends... There was nothing of note to be found there. He scrolled further back, stopping now and then to read particular emails that piqued his interest. This was his way of getting to know her even better. He knew they were meant to be together, and this was simply his way to strengthen their bond.

Ron looked around inside the still hectic theatre; the routine flashes from the patrol cars a harsh and cold addition to the classical architecture. Most of the prominent figures from the Catholic church had congregated in one corner, as no one had yet been allowed to leave the building, but he spotted familiar faces near the grandiose staircase. Two men, one speaking on the phone, the other sitting on the bottom step with head in his hands.

"Mr Seaborn." Ron made his presence known. The younger of the two turned around, holding his hand over the receiver on the phone.

"Josh, I gotta go," Sam said, and hung up without waiting for a reply. "Is the President?"

"Secure, and en route to the White House," Ron interrupted.

"Any news?" Sam's question was hopeful, in a particular Sam Seaborn way, but his momentary hopefulness drained from his face at Ron's expression.

"What can you tell me about the relationship between Ms Cregg and Mr Concannon?" Ron asked bluntly. At his words, Toby raised his head, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What does Danny have to do with thi..." Sam began, but Toby jumped up from his respite and barked at Ron.

"Why are you focusing on Danny Concannon when you should be out there?" Toby gestured outside, his raised voice turning a few heads in their direction. "She's missing!"

"Mr Ziegler," Ron began, but was cut off again by Toby.

"I don't have time for this; you have to let your guard dogs step down and let me outside." Toby tried to walk past Ron but was stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Mr Ziegler," Ron's voice was quiet. "Toby." At the sound of his first name, the communications director halted. "I have reason to believe that the person we have in custody back in D.C. is not Ms Cregg's stalker. Or at least not the sole perpetrator."

Toby looked as if he'd been doused with icy water. "What do you mea..."

"I cannot go into detail yet," Ron said, his voice almost inaudible. "But there are loose ends, and as Ms Cregg has not yet resurfaced, we must anticipate the possibility that this attack was a diversion, rather than an assassination attempt."

Sam stared at Butterfield, his mouth agape. "And you think Danny Concannon has anything to do with this?" The incredulity in his tone was clear. This whole situation was so ridiculous it was almost comical, except that it truly wasn't.

"Was Ms Cregg ever involved with Mr Concannon?" The question hung in the air.

"No, of course not," Sam replied, looking at Toby, trying to share his indignation but was surprised to see that calculated gaze he had come accustomed to in their years of working together. "What is it, Toby?"

When he didn't respond, Ron cleared his voice. "If you have any information, you must tell me. Propriety must be set aside; my only concern is getting Ms Cregg to safety."

"I don't know what happened." Toby's voice was barely louder than a whisper. "But there was, something, between them." This admission seemed to pain him greatly. "She didn't tell me anything, but I know her... They stayed late in her office when they thought no one saw, and I once saw the..." He seemed unable to continue.

"Mr Ziegler," Ron said pointedly, not so subtly telling him to continue.

"I saw them kiss," Toby said hurriedly, refusing to look at either of the men in front of him. "In the... In the press room." He added lamely.

"In the press room?" Sam repeated incredulously.

"It was late," Toby rubbed his forehead, clearly uncomfortable. "I did warn her that there was a concern she was too friendly with the pre... but I..." He sighed, inhaling deeply. "She left the pressroom upset, and shortly after that, Danny left, so I never mentioned it to her."

"You did not see any reason to inform us of this?" Ron had picked up his phone and brought it to his ear, his face solemn. "Yeah, it's me, I need you to head over to the White House," he said to the person on the other line.

"Because it was private," Toby bellowed. "Because it was Danny Concannon, for crying out loud!" Toby waved his arms around, trying to emphasise his point. "Because he's been gallivanting around Europe and Asia for months."

"Mr Concannon was seen at the White House today, upset and calling for Ms Cregg. Today's attack has all the trappings of a hurried, desperate decision," Ron said, sounding agitated. His focus was now on the phone. "When? Yeah... I see. Alright, keep me informed."

"What is it?" Toby knew he had no title to Secret Service intel, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered until C.J. was back. "You know something!"

As if broken from a trance, Ron finally looked at Toby but was silent. His grim stare was absent, clearly thinking fast. Cold dread washed over Toby as he observed the head of the President's Secret Service, seemingly lost for words.

Before

There was nothing more to be had here, he thought. This whole procedure had worked like a charm—almost too easily. He was about to close the application when his eyes caught sight of a sent email without a reply. The date stated she had sent it more than a year ago. His eyes rushed from side to side as he read, his breathing becoming shallower with each word. Poisonous jealousy spread from his core, like black ink staining a white tablecloth. Her desperation, her pleading... It was obscene. Reading it left him dizzy, as if he'd been sucker-punched.

Subject: Hi

I read your byline today. Below the fold, my, my... How the mighty have fallen. Although it was a good one, but then again, yours always are.

I almost called your name today; I keep expecting to see you. To look up from the podium and see you grinning at me, waiting to challenge me, to drop an unholy question at me, or to change the subject in order to help me. You always did that, I see that now. You kept me on my toes, but more often than not, you protected me. Now I search for your face, and I see you everywhere, but you're nowhere to be seen.

Why did you leave me?

I can't do this anymore. It hurts to breathe. I feel like I'm going crazy. I miss you so much. But I hate you. For leaving me alone, for following me around, for asking me out. For kissing me. And for breaking my heart.

Please come back. I need you here. I need you.

Yours,

Claudia

She was supposed to be his. That was clear as day to him. They were meant to be together. But he realised now that he had to accelerate his plan. And he had to make it absolutely certain that this threat would be eliminated.


tbc.