Lyor was on his way. He'd apparently heard the news through one of his gaming chat rooms. Mike was on long service leave, but she'd convinced him to come back. She'd even managed to look up Andrea Frost's number and get her to come down. Telling her had been hard. While Emily was somewhat sure nothing had ever come of it, there had been a very meaningful connection between Tom and Andrea. That connection was what was making Emily place her trust in Andrea right now. She needed people who knew and understood and appreciated the honest Tom Kirkman. The old Tom Kirkman. The real Tom Kirkman.
Several hours had passed. Emily looked through her missed calls and noticed one person who, surprisingly, hadn't called yet. While she and Isabel had really only just made amends, given that she had left roughly the same time as her, she was surprised she hadn't made any attempt to call back. And given that Aaron wasn't exactly just a 'colleague' to her, she would certainly want to know what had happened. As though on cue, Isabel's caller ID flashed on the screen. She barely greeted her before Isabel's voice sounded through the phone loud and frantic.
"Yeah, what the fuck is going on?" Her breaths sounded shaky. "I-I wasn't feeling well. I went to sleep. I wake up, and my phone's blowing up. My parents are calling because they thought I was dead. I can't get through to Aaron, and I cannot believe that he's still the first person I thought to call-"
"There was an explosion…" Emily said calmly. "They're quite sure nearly everybody in there died. Tom and… Aaron included."
Isabel choked back a sob. "What?"
"I-I'm sorry, Isabel."
She took a few deep breaths, moving away from the phone. If Emily wasn't mistaken, she could hear slightly garbled screams and curses in the background. "Wait. You were there. How are you okay?"
"I-I left. Not long after you."
"Where are you now?"
"The White House."
Wiping under her eyes, Isabel agreed. "Who's… who's going to be acting president then? If Tom and Aaron are both out?"
Emily let out a breath, wondering if this would become any easier to tell people. "I am. I'm guessing you haven't checked the news yet."
"This is insane." She muttered. "This is insane."
"I know… I know…" Emily said tiredly. "I think you should get down here too. For your safety. Nobody knows who did it yet. And truth be told, I need people I can depend on right now."
"I-I'll be there. Just give me a second to get my shit together, and I'll be there. You need all the help you can get."
"Thank you."
One of the Secret Service agents stuck her head through the door as she hung up the phone. "Madam President, there are issues that can't wait. Please, come with me."
She expected as much. She'd probably have to make a speech soon. Address the nation. Her nation, now. Her mind instinctively told her to go ask Seth. He was better with words than she could ever be. But, of course, that wasn't going to be possible. Her clothes smelt faintly of smoke. Sweat, too, from the anxiety of the past hour or so. She stifled a yawn, realising just how exhausted her body was, yet the adrenaline still hadn't quite worn off. Still, looking at the time, a part of her brain desperately wanted to be in bed, pretending this was all some feverish nightmare.
Sighing, the agent guided her down the hall, and as she approached the boardroom, she heard a cacophony of voices growing louder and louder. When the doors opened, the volume amplified tenfold. Nobody seemed to notice her enter, even as the Secret Service agent cleared her throat loudly.
"E-Enough!" Emily shouted.
As the various senators and workers turned to face her, they fell quiet, taking their seats.
"I have to address the country as soon as possible." Somehow, she found it in herself to raise her voice and be assertive. "So I need someone to write me a speech. I need someone to get me clean clothes. I want an updated list of everybody confirmed dead and those still missing from the FBI. Until that speech happens, I don't want to hear about anything else. Is that clear?"
They nodded, dispersing themselves and volunteering for the various necessary tasks.
"Uh, Madam President?"
She turned to face a man in an FBI jacket. "I'm one of the liaisons for the FBI. I can show you what we have so far."
He pulled out a tablet, flicking through various photos of the debris and the inside of the arena. Emily could vaguely make out where the stage had been. There was a lot of rubble. A lot of blood, too. It was a miracle Penny and Sasha had survived. But these images only confirmed to her that the likelihood of any other survivor was slim.
"Has… has Seth Wright's status been confirmed?"
There were so many people she wanted to ask about, but he was the first one on her mind.
The agent hummed, switching tabs rapidly and scrolling down. He bit his lip.
"I'm sorry, Madam President, he's been confirmed dead."
Her breath got caught in her throat. Suddenly, she felt desperate to know about the others. Seth's daughter. Mars. Dontae. Countless other agents and staff members she'd worked with over the years. Emily let a small amount of hope rise within her, thinking surely that someone was hanging on and had gotten lucky. But that hope faded after the first couple of 'Deceased's. Even with all the noise, the White House still felt so empty. She felt isolated, helpless, even. The few people she trusted were still on their way. Otherwise, the people left were merely acquaintances, colleagues, people she knew of, but hadn't really spoken to before. They hypothesised that Penny and Sasha's position on stage had protected them, something about where the bomb was, which, yes, they were investigating the origin of as they spoke. But the details got lost on her. The feeling of discomfort suddenly turned violent, and she promptly excused herself.
Pacing quickly down the hallway, it was somewhat of a miracle she made it to the bathroom, tasting the remnants of the glass of wine she'd had several hours ago. She sniffled, tears sliding down her face and into the toilet bowl. Placing a hand over her mouth, she muffled the sob that left her throat. But Emily quickly realised she wasn't the only one in tears, hearing similar quiet cries from the stall next to her. And, as Emily continued to listen, a similar loss of stomach contents. She wondered who it could be.
Eventually, she opened the stall door and walked out to the sink, noticing her mascara was smudged beyond belief. She was surprised people had even taken her seriously when she looked like this. Another door creaked open, and she met the eyes of a rather pale Isabel. For a minute, Emily recalled the nature of the bioweapon they supposedly had just found and destroyed not too long ago. Dear God, that was not a disaster they could afford to deal with now.
"Why the hell do they call it 'morning' sickness if it's going to happen before the sun even rises?" Isabel muttered.
Or not.
"You're pregnant?"
"Yeah." She nodded, her voice croaky.
"With... Aaron's?" Emily asked warily, and Isabel nodded.
"Went to call the bastard because I still felt like he had to know, and he had to go and die on me."
"I'm… I'm so sorry." If anybody was dealing with Aaron's death the hardest, it was likely her, the rawness of the emotions of their break-up being magnified by the shock and grief of losing him for good. And pregnancy hormones surely wouldn't help with that.
Isabel shrugged. "I don't exactly know what I'm supposed to do about it. It didn't even hit me until I started throwing up. I didn't really want a baby right now. Someday, yes, but not now. At the same time… it's all I have left of him now. Is that fucked up? Keeping a baby because I'm not over my ex?"
"This whole thing is fucked up. Regardless of what you do, no one should judge you for the choice you make." She said earnestly.
"Thanks." She said quietly. "How are you holding up?"
Emily snorted. "It doesn't even feel real. I keep thinking Tom's going to show up. Like I'm just filling in for him or something, but…"
She moved closer, Isabel's teary eyes meeting hers.
"Look, Emily…" Isabel sighed. "I know we haven't always gotten along the best, but... I want to help you in any way I can. You shouldn't have to deal with this alone, especially since you're already grieving over your mom. And despite all of the tragedy that has taken place… you are in a position where you can do some real good. For God's sake, you're the first female president of the United States. It's not going to be easy. But you'll be an inspiration for a lot of people. And I support that. I support you."
"I need people I can trust right now. And I trust you." She affirmed. "So I appreciate that a lot."
"Let's start by fixing your makeup." Isabel offered with a smile, placing a large bag on the counter.
Maybe she wasn't so alone after all.
