Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I had said this would post over the weekend, but fun times with some amazing fandom friends and 10 miles of walking a day through NYC meant I was done for by the time I got home. But I will post 32 before I board my flight home, so there won't be too long of a wait. The epilogue is 35, so we're so close to saying goodbye to these two and then we'll be onto finishing up Neighborly Gestures as I work on pre-writing the next fic.
Thanks for all your love and support on this fic, and without further ado, here's the latest from our Madam President.
Chapter 31
Isabella was happy to see the Unsung Voices Arts Endowment was beginning to result in produced works. It had originally been her hope to go to the opening night of each production, but due to local space availability, she had to settle on simply being there for a show during their run. May and June had her and Edward traveling to New York City, Chicago, and Seattle to see plays from her initiative, and tonight, the production would take place at Ford's Theater. The history of the location lent itself to the production better than the Kennedy Center, and although there were regular performances there, Bella hadn't been to a show there since arriving in Washington.
As always, the protective details had gone over every angle of how to secure a very public event, from the site itself, to where the First Couple would sit. Front row center was the traditional seat for the President, but it left her too open, and a few members of the field office suggested using the box opposite the Lincoln box because there was only one way into it, making it a more controlled seat.
It was far from the best seat in the house, but as the online chatter was still above a hum, she knew it would ease a lot of minds to concede. The last thing she wanted to do was add to the stress of her team.
There was a small red carpet set up for the opening, and a few celebrities joined in the audience along with the First Couple on the warm July night. Isabella wore a black jumpsuit with a criss-crossed V-neck and a bow at the waist. She paired it with a white jacket and a chunky costume necklace with large stones that emulated diamonds as well as a few charcoal and champagne stones, lending to the neutral palette. Glittery shoes and a black clutch rounded out the look. Her flag pin was high on her jumpsuit, almost hidden from view, but as long as she wore it, Edward was happy.
Edward looked suave in his black suit; the only color was the champagne tie he wore to match Bella's outfit.
Isabella was taken on a private tour of the museum while the audience trickled in, keeping her from her seat until moments before the play was scheduled to begin. It was strange to see the events that led up to the assassination of one of the most influential presidents in American history, the inclusion of the gun itself put it all in perspective. It seemed such an insignificant thing, and yet that small pistol had changed the nation forever.
"Ma'am, they're ready for us to move up to the booth," Samuel said.
She shook the dark thoughts from her mind and smiled, taking Edward's hand as they walked up the two flights of stairs to the second floor.
They were settled in their seats, and Bella smiled as she looked out to the crowd. Emmett and Rosalie were down in the seats that would have been hers normally, but the rings of influential people around them meant they were still well insulated beyond their team.
The lights dimmed, indicating the show was about to begin. Before it did, a spotlight followed a petite young Native American woman to the center of the curtain.
"Hello. For those who don't know me, my name is Ayita Jones, and I am the playwright of tonight's show, All That Glitters. There are so many people to thank; my Algonquin and Cherokee elders, who taught me the legends and histories that aren't taught in public schools. My creative writing teachers, who encouraged me to write plays that were difficult, because if people squirmed, it meant they were seeing uncomfortable truths. To the cast, crew, and our amazing director, who took those words and made them so much more than I ever dreamt possible. To President Swan-Masen, who created the Unsung Voices Arts Endowment, without which this play may have never been produced. Working with this foundation showed me how magical the arts can be and renewed my drive to see my plays produced on theater's largest stages. And finally, to all of you here today: Thank you for being a part of my dream come true."
Applause filled the theater, and Ayita left the stage so the curtain could rise, and the play began.
Isabella was riveted by the performance, the story of a young Native American woman who was enticed by the settlers to unwittingly betray her people. Her realization came just as the curtain fell on the first act.
The agents led her and Alice through the back door, in a move that was so practiced after so many outings in recent weeks, into the normally closed-off passageway that led to the dressing room behind the booth.
A few agents were already stationed inside, while Samuel and the rest of Alpha Team entered the dressing room with the President. Knowing there was no privacy, and that Alice was waiting to use the bathroom next, she didn't balk at Agent Harper's inspection of the bathroom before she went inside the stall to use it.
Isabella had just pulled up her jumpsuit and reached for her jacket when the muted sounds reached Isabella's ears.
Agent Harper spoke in a rushed whisper from the other side of the stall. "Alice, hide in the closet. Ma'am, step onto the toilet seat and don't come out until I say so. I need you both to be quiet."
Less than ten seconds later, the door to the bathroom burst open and shots were fired. Isabella heard them ricochet off the metal before two pierced the metal of the stall. They were slowed by the wall they passed through but hurt all the same as they sliced through her upper arm and side.
The thud of something hard hitting the stall door before it flew open caused Isabella to scream as she came face-to-face with a large man dressed in black, wearing a gas mask.
"Put this on, Ma'am, or it's about to get much worse for you."
He shoved a mask her way, but where his covered most of his face, the one offered to her would only cover her mouth. He yanked on her arm, and she realized it was better to put on the mask than fight him, so she did so just as he pulled her into the dressing room that was hazy with smoke and filled with the sounds of coughing and retching.
The man pulled her close and said, "Fight with me and it'll have to be a closed casket funeral."
Her fear of that comment kept Isabella still as he threw her over his shoulder. Even though she wanted to fight, Edward was somewhere in this theater, and Alice was hopefully still hiding in the bathroom closet. The longer these people were struggling with her, the longer those she loved were directly in harm's way. And they had a way to find her, as long as she had her pin, though few knew that fact.
Her eyes burned as they moved, though it cleared when they stepped into a stairwell. Two flights of stairs jostled on his shoulder, and she was once again in the museum. They went out a side door and were on the street behind the theater, or she thought it might be. At that point, all she saw was the SUV they were quickly running toward.
The door opened long enough for him to dump her inside and follow behind her, slamming as the car peeled away. She felt the prick of something in the back of her neck and the world went dark.
Back inside the theater, Edward struggled under one of his agents. He couldn't tell who had tackled him when the smoke began to fill the booth, but he knew it was either Wilson or Campbell.
"Sir, we need you to stay down until we hear from Phoenix's team," Wilson said.
Shouting below meant that the theater at large was aware of the disturbance up in the President's booth, but Edward wasn't sure if they were evacuating or not. As the sound grew less frenzied, he had his answer.
It took three calls for the President's status before a response came. Edward didn't hear the words, but he felt the weight of Wilson sink down onto him, as if the words themselves weighed on him.
"Wilson?"
"They're doing a final search of the room now that the shooting stopped, but it was Marcus who responded. Liam is unconscious and Samuel is seriously injured. Eleazar and Harper are dead, as well as three of the field agents who were there to secure the room."
"What about my wife and Alice?"
Before he could answer, someone shouted into his earpiece. "They just found Alice. But Phoenix was taken." He stopped speaking to Edward and responded over the mic. "Mihos is unharmed, we're secured in the booth still."
"Take me into the office," Edward ordered as Wilson climbed off him.
"You know I can't do that, Sir. You're a spouse here, not an agent."
The door opened and the haze of the smoke was thicker out in the hallway, but Agent Young handed out three masks. Once Edward had his on, he was whisked out to the waiting car. As soon as they were on the move, Edward ripped off his mask and asked his next question.
"Where's Alice?"
Agent Young was the one to respond. "She was taken to the hospital, as well as the agents who needed treatment. We will have you checked out at the White House because of whatever those homemade canisters were filled with. Then the administration will likely want to have a word with you."
Edward nodded while his mind fought to stay out of dark places. He knew in his heart that this was some faction of the Fathers of the Republic. But he didn't know how far right they were and what that meant for his wife. He was more afraid of what she might endure than them actually killing her, because they'd proven to have no respect for women in their past actions against her.
The SUV drove fast, getting Edward back to the White House quickly and into the exam room with the White House doctor. A thorough exam proved that besides the irritation to his respiratory system and his eyes, nothing else seemed to be the matter.
Edward returned to the Residence and showered for a long time before going up to the nursery. Diane was rocking Teddy while Lizzie slept in the crib.
"Diane, has anyone spoken to you tonight?" Edward asked.
"Not about anything in particular. Why, Edward? Is something wrong?" Diane asked. Her voice was even, but her expression matched her concerned questions.
"We were attacked tonight. Isabella was taken."
Diane gasped and stood, gently placing Teddy in the crib beside his sister. "Tell me what you need, Edward. I'm assuming security will be tighter up here and we won't be allowed to leave. I can wake Maria so she and I can be with the children whenever you need us."
Edward stared at their nanny, shocked. "Diane, why wouldn't you be allowed to leave?"
"During my screenings they told me that if there was a threat made against the First Family we would have to remain here even when we weren't working, since we have such direct contact with you all. I knew what I was signing up for and so did my sister."
"Christ," Edward swore. "I don't know how involved they'll let me be. I want to scorch the earth until I find the bastards responsible and make them pay, but I don't have any authority. We talked about this dozens of times, but I never thought the day would actually come."
Diane reached out and squeezed his bicep. "Of course you didn't. But whatever happens now, you have three jobs. You need to be strong for the nation, you need to be present for your children, and when President Swan-Masen is returned to us, you need to be her safe haven. Fall apart if you have to, but know that we'll be here to help in any way we can."
A sob escaped Edward. "Thank you, Diane. There isn't anyone else I would want taking care of our children."
"Do you want some time alone with the kiddos?"
"No, I should probably try to relax. I don't know if I'll sleep, but maybe I can rest," Edward told her.
"That sounds like an excellent plan. And remember, if you need anything …"
"I'll ask you or Maria," Edward finished her thought.
Edward walked down the stairs heavily until he reached the main floor of The Residence. Two sets of footfalls caught his attention and he turned to see Donut and Lance padding his way.
With a clicking sound, both cats fell in step as he walked into the bedroom. It was hard to get comfortable without his wife beside him, but with the twin rumbling purrs from their fur babies, Edward fell into a fitful sleep.