Sonata in C MaJor

by:SheilaVR

Character(s): CJ
Category(s): General
Rating: MATURE
Disclaimer: Warmest thanks to Aaron Sorkin, Warner Bros., NBC, et al for graciously allowing us to expand upon their patented creation at no extra charge.
Summary: CJ disappears without a trace...
Spoiler: After "Galileo".

***

Phase IV: Crescendo

Crescendo (adj.): progression towards a climax

There has always been a small core of staff members who work directly with the President in the White House, and who consult with him regularly about the country's administration. Then there are politicians who visit every now and then to give their leader specialized expertise on a huge range of topics which, combined, form the backbone of Congress. Then there are private business consultations, public media events, diplomatic audiences and ceremonial functions. And then there are the moments of true crisis, when the Armed Forces step in. But for the vast majority of the time and the vast majority of the population, a summons to the Oval Office means one of only two options: either you've done something especially commendable... or else something is horribly wrong.

When Danny Concannon received his summons, he had no doubt at all which was the case.

"She's dead. She was in a car accident... or she was mugged... she was found in a ditch. And the President wants to break the news personally..."

He walked slowly, stiffly, not in the least eager to obey his leader; he had spent almost every hour of the past two days imagining all the horrid possibilities, trying to prepare himself for the very worst.

Those he met in the halls seemed to move aside and give him more than enough room to pass. They might have overheard the repeated mutterings he couldn't prevent... or they might have guessed from the torment in his eyes.

When he entered reception, Mrs. Landingham said nothing at all. She must have read his expression and known that words were useless. She merely gave him a sympathetic look and nodded towards the door on the right.

This confirmed what his heart had feared all along. Slowly, like a condemned man, he went over and opened that door into the heart of the realm.

"Danny." The President rose from behind his desk and walked around to meet him. There was no one else in the room. "Thanks for coming." He did not smile.

The reporter closed the door behind him. He heard the click of the latch, as though it locked him in and made any escape from this soul-crushing information impossible. After one laborious heartbeat, he turned.

It was here that he had walked away from her. Here that he had accepted her ultimatum, and said good-bye with deliberate intent to hurt. That moment seemed to have taken place mere hours ago... and yet, paradoxically, in a different, distant lifetime as well.

Gripping his nerve with all his strength, he approached to stand on the blue carpet in front of the Chief Executive.

"What is it?"

Not the most respectful greeting one usually should have for the most powerful man in the world...

Bartlet did not comment. Hardly anyone on the House payroll was not affected by this constant strain, these same extremes of moodiness.

"I'm sorry to have to drag you all the way down here. But even though they've officially ended the lock-down, the Secret Service are still very much concerned, since someone so close to me is missing. You know – "

Danny had no stamina for social amenities at this instant, not even here. His self-control was fraying with every additional word. He forced himself to stand still a bit longer. "Just tell me what happened."

"Well, I've got my intelligence notes right here." The President gestured towards the sofas. "Come and sit down – "

"God damn it, TELL me!"

When was the last time someone dared to stand in this office and yell at their Commander-in-Chief? But Danny just couldn't take it any longer. He refused to be led tamely to a seat and heaped with condolences before being told the awful truth that he'd already surmised. No. He would stand, look the bearer of sad tidings in the face, and watch his heart crumble away.

Bartlet looked both confused and decidedly taken aback by this vehement reaction, emergency notwithstanding. Still, he felt the ever-present suspense as keenly as anyone else, and understood a good part of what Danny was going through.

So he nodded. Drawing a deep breath, he abandoned all platitudes. The journalist clenched his teeth, anticipating the dreaded words –

"We want your help to find her."

That simple statement echoed through the room.

By visible degrees, Danny's features mutated from horror to... something else, something he himself could not yet define.

"You want me to help you?" he repeated slowly.

"Sure. You know CJ as well as any of us. You'll be an asset."

"She's not dead?" Danny whispered, trying to wrap his brain around this totally unexpected fact.

The President shrugged, looking grim but not grief-stricken. "Well, we don't have any evidence yet that she is."

Danny kept blinking, under siege by his emotions. "You didn't bring me here to tell me she was dead?"

Now it dawned on Bartlet just what his visitor had been thinking – had been expecting all along. He actually stepped back, eyes wide. "Good Lord, no. Oh, man, Danny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you that impression at all."

Danny just stood there and tried to bring his breathing under control. He felt light-headed. His world hadn't been demolished after all... yet...

"Come on, have a seat." There was no resistance this time; the President guided him gently towards a sofa, fetched a glass of water, and then sat down opposite.

Danny held the glass in both hands for some seconds before drinking. Finally, his mind stopped spinning. Finally, he looked up.

A long-time judge of character, Bartlet knew that further discussion of the misunderstanding would help neither of them. Instead, he swung straight into business.

"CJ's place has been dusted and searched. There was no sign of an intrusion or a struggle, nothing broken or knocked over. But we're wondering if things might have been moved or removed in a more subtle fashion – which most people wouldn't notice." He paused. "Josh and Toby have each been over there already, and they didn't think that anything's been disturbed." He paused again.

"I don't want you to read anything into this, Danny... but, well, we know you two are friends..." The President fumbled a bit in no small discomfort. "Well, we're just trying to cover all the bases."

Slowly, the reporter nodded. "I understand, sir, and no offense taken. I did visit her place, once. I only saw the living room and kitchen, but I think I'd know if things had been moved around much from the way they were that time."

Bartlet relaxed. "Thanks. A couple of agents will go with you. Let us know what you think, how the place feels."

"I will."

"We all really appreciate this, Danny."

Curiously, despite that final-sounding statement, he did not rise, did not signal the end of their interview, but rather preserved this quiet comradeship, regardless of the continual march of time and the shadows of anxiety that never went away. His next words were chosen with especial care. "You can probably guess what your help means to us."

Danny looked at the leader of the free world... and in that famous face he read the same concern that had haunted him for two full days.

"Well, sir, you can probably guess what your help means to me right now."

In the ensuing silence that settled around them, they nodded together.

*****

"Right now we're running on the assumption that it's a kidnapping, even though we've heard nothing yet about a ransom or any demands. The search is moving along intensely, but quietly – we don't want to tip off the press or scare the perpetrators into fleeing the country. So far the FBI have turned up nothing in DC, and are widening to include the surrounding states."

Standing behind his desk, Leo put down one report and picked up another, reading from it with the same flat, unemotional tone. "The Secret Service went over CJ's apartment again, and they spoke to her landlord and her neighbors. No one saw or heard anything the slightest bit out of the ordinary Tuesday morning or the night before. According to the computer file on parking garage access, CJ last used her key just before 5AM – so presumably she was all right until then. This means she must have disappeared somewhere between her place and the gym: a distance of less than half a mile, and a window of about fifteen minutes."

"Ironic," Sam observed from his seat to one side. "If she hadn't been kidnapped, she would've been in the thick of the hostage crisis. All the cards were stacked against her that morning."

"And which fate is worse?" Josh was pacing constantly up and down the office's length, hair unkempt and eyes wild. "We don't even know if this is a kidnapping! What if she went for a drive last night or something, and her car broke down? She could be stranded! Trapped someplace! How long can she hope to last in the open in winter? What do we do – just sit here until she walks back in... or until her body turns up?"

"Shut up, Josh," Toby ordered quietly. As usual, he stood towards the rear, fading into the background... well, most of the time.

The Deputy Chief of Staff whirled on him. "Don't tell me to shut up. I've had enough of us sitting around and just waiting for whatever's going to happen. We have to do something! Don't you understand that?"

Sam sighed. "Take it easy. The professionals are out there doing the best they can."

"Well, it's not enough. We're the White House – we should have the ability to find her!" Josh waved his arms in all directions. "We should be out there looking for her ourselves!"

"Where?" Toby challenged him, his own self-control starting to waver. "Do any of us here have the first idea where to start? The field agents know where to look, how to look, how to get information, and what to do when they do find her. They don't need us getting underfoot and slowing them down."

"But we've got to do something!" Josh shouted.

"We are," Leo stated firmly, removing his glasses and setting the reports aside. "We're doing our job. We're keeping the nation on track, we're keeping this out of the press, and we're giving the search parties all the support they need. We're letting them do their job, because they do it best."

He waited until Josh subsided a bit, even though the pacing never stopped. "And, we're going to do our best to come up with a reason for this. If we can figure out why, that will probably tell us who."

"Probably?"

"Josh, will you calm down?" Sam pleaded. "We're all worried. But we have to think rationally about this. Our brains are the greatest asset we have."

"I can't... think..." Josh threw himself down on the sofa, his head rotating back and forth in guilt-ridden denial. "Oh, God... if only we hadn't gone jumping to conclusions all day Tuesday... if only we'd looked at all the possibilities – but instead we ourselves caused a further delay, and it might easily cost CJ her life!"

Toby turned from him and stared at the wall.

"CJ has no enemies of her own. If she was kidnapped, it must have been by someone who wants to get to the President."

Sam sat up straighter, his features tightening. "He can't negotiate any more now than before with the terrorists."

Leo nodded sadly. "If it were a member of his family, the public would understand if he tried. But for an employee – "

"I don't give a shit about the public viewpoint right now!" Josh snapped, hammering his thighs with clenched fists.

The resulting pause agreed with him wholeheartedly.

Leo sat down in his chair and exhaled. "Her family has been contacted. Her mother and brother will be flying in from California."

No one commented on that further emotional complication.

Sam gnawed on his lip. "I don't like this helpless feeling. I don't like it one bit."

"Welcome to the club," Toby muttered. He ran a hand up over his receding hairline in that trademark mannerism of fighting with himself.

"Another candidate for membership is Danny Concannon." Leo had decided that now was as good a moment as any to mention this added detail.

This time Toby turned right around, eyes narrow. "Why?"

Everyone looked back at him. The underlying import could not be ignored.

"He's her friend, too. He certainly knows her as well as any of us. Plus," Leo went on smoothly, "he's got contacts that could be useful. It wouldn't be a bad idea to include him in whatever other intelligence briefings we have."

Toby drew himself up. "Yeah, well, there's a problem with having a journalist get so involved in a search and rescue mission. The very last thing we need right now is for him to become someone else's story."

"He's agreed to help us, Toby. He'll sit on this for good if it'll help her." The Chief of Staff did not back down before this sudden opposition.

"Like we need yet another person entrenched in this quagmire who isn't in a position to really help us."

"Senior correspondent? I think he could be a big help indeed."

"If he decides to become a maverick reporter, he could further jeopardize CJ's safety!" The Communications Director had no intention of backing down either.

Leo raised an eyebrow. "You really believe he'd do that?"

For a moment, Toby fell silent... avoiding the eyes of his colleagues and the thoughts they were no doubt entertaining.

"Not intentionally," he admitted at last, in all fairness. "But have you seen how emotionally he's reacting to all of this? That attitude is not helpful. Keep him on the outside – for our own protection."

Again he refused to meet those silent gazes around him.

Finally, Leo nodded. Although whether he was agreeing with the validity of the argument, or choosing a course of action that would put less strain on one of his own people in particular, none of his people could say.

As most often happened, Sam blurted out what no one else would dare. "You know, I wonder if the one who's getting too emotionally intertwined with CJ's disappearance... is you."

Toby moved his eyes, no more. If looks could kill...

*****

Donna checked the bank of wall clocks for the umpteenth time. "How long can these meetings possibly take?" she complained aloud to no one in particular.

"As long as they can possibly stretch them out," Cathy said with the voice of experience. "But look on the bright side: at least in here you can calculate the meeting's length in every time zone in the world."

"That's a good idea. I can tell Josh that he's running late according to the President, the Queen and the Pope."

"A watched-for boss never appears." Cathy didn't look up from her filing. "The moment you leave your desk, though, they're guaranteed to show up."

Donna fidgeted. "You're probably right – but I don't dare leave him alone right now."

Cathy raised her head at this. "So that's why you wanted to speak with Sam earlier. I was wondering."

"All right, I'll admit it: I was recruiting him for the Josh-watch." Donna's usually irrepressible smile had not been seen yet today. "I'm really worried about him. Sure, he's always been a bit unstable... but this – "

"I wouldn't want to deal with him on a good day. Sam's much more normal." Cathy paused. "Although even he's showing the strain."

"Strain, they say. UNSTABLE, they say. Would you two just shut up," Bonnie grumped as she passed by.

"Well, you're the masochist." Donna wandered over to Carol, who was working furiously away at her desk, and attempted to be cheerful. "So, how's the Acting – "

"Don't say it," came the immediate and sharp reply. "I am not the Acting Press Secretary. That sounds to me like we've already assumed that CJ won't be coming back."

Donna drew back a bit. "Sorry."

After another moment Carol sighed and rested her hands on her paper-strewn desktop. "No, it's okay. Well, not okay, but..." She sighed again. "It's my boss that's missing."

All of the employees present fell silent at such a simple yet blatant statement. Even Donna didn't comment.

"And you know what's worst?" Carol went on. "All morning Tuesday I called CJ's cell, and it kept saying she was out of range. Not out of service, but out of range. If I'd stopped just once to think, I would've realized that she couldn't possibly have been at the gym."

She closed her eyes, fighting the tears, haunted by the guilt. "CJ was God knows how many hundreds of miles away already, and I missed it! I missed that clue, and we lost an entire day looking for her!"

No one else spoke. Several listeners looked down in depression. The whole bullpen was impressively quiet for the middle of a workday.

"And if anyone else today asks me why I don't just move into CJ's office, like she's never coming back again to USE it, I'll scream!"

After a long pause, Donna nodded. "I know how you feel. All those weeks that Josh was out, several people suggested that I use his office because it would have been so convenient. It made me cry every time."

Carol looked up with visible tear-streaks.

Gently, Donna placed a hand on Carol's shaking shoulder. "It'll be all right. The guys care for CJ as much as we do. They'll find her. All we have to do is back them up and keep this place going, so that they have fewer things to worry about."

Carol sniffled a few times, grabbed a tissue, and tried to regain control.

"You're going great," Donna persisted. She seated herself on the edge of the desk and maintained her support. The physical link was an amazing comfort for them both. "Hang in there."

Bonnie returned just as her phone rang, shattering the quiet. Files under one arm, she lunged for it without pausing to sit down. "Toby Ziegler's office."

At that standard business-like announcement, everyone around seemed to shake their heads and return to their duties.

"He's in a meeting right now; may I..."

Donna gave Carol another reassuring pat on the shoulder and stood, likewise sliding back into the familiar office mold. Carol smiled her gratitude and visibly reassumed the same attitude to the best of her abilities. They each had their supportive role to play, and they would play it to the hilt, as always.

The files tumbled to the floor like so many leaves. "Oh, my Lord."

Every head rotated back. Bonnie had sunk into her chair and looked like she'd just been told that an alien spacecraft was hovering overhead.

Then she jerked up to stare about her in horrified disbelief. "Danny's in the hospital – he's been shot!"

*****

"I apologize for the delay, Mr. President." Danny's voice echoed over the speakerphone on the executive desk. "The nurse here took a lot of convincing before she would call my editor for me, and then he needed to be convinced before calling the White House."

"That's okay, Danny." Bartlet sat in the leather chair that was the closest thing to a throne in this country... leaning forward and giving this call his full attention. "There was also a bit of a delay on our end over directing the call, as you can imagine." He hesitated for just the briefest moment. Of course, such a call should have gone through the Press Secretary first. "So how are you?"

"I'll pull through, sir. My shoulder hurts like hell, but it's not serious."

"A bullet wound is always serious," Leo muttered. He knew that from direct and vicious experience in his youth.

So did Josh – and his experience was far more recent. His anxious features took on a paler cast at the harrowing memory.

The President shared that same personal knowledge, just as recent and just as painful. He tipped his head towards each of them in turn. "You've got a lot of sympathetic listeners here, Danny, I assure you. How bad is it?"

"Well, the doctor says it missed my lung by a good inch." The reporter's voice lightened a couple of degrees. "The biggest nuisance is that this is my writing arm. I'm gonna have some fun taking notes for the next while."

Bartlet flickered a grin. "Count your blessings; we sure are. Do you feel up to telling us what happened?" Everyone heard the mixture of concern and eagerness in his tone. "We'll understand if not – "

"No, sir, I've got to get this to you now."

Six pairs of eyes flickered around the Oval Office, meeting each other and drawing the obvious conclusion.

Carol couldn't prevent herself from expressing it. She felt honored to be in this historic chamber, privileged to take part in this discussion... She was involved way too deeply now: both with the man who'd given her so much support, and with the woman whose position she was trying to fill.

"Then it is about CJ, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. This is the breakthrough we needed."

Toby might have scowled just a bit more deeply at the use of "we," but otherwise he did not react.

"I'd just left CJ's place; I told the Secret Service I couldn't find anything out of place. I was on my way back to my office when I got this call on my cell from an unknown source. He said he'd heard a whisper about CJ being missing, and he knew someone else who might know something about it."

"All right!" Sam enthused at once. Everyone turned to him.

Danny's sigh could be heard easily over the connection. "No, Sam, I'm afraid not."

Sam froze in the moment of celebration and his face fell. No one else was smiling.

"So I agreed to meet him in a quiet bar across town, and I promised not to tell anyone." Danny paused, and they could detect the soft rustle of bed-sheets as he shifted in place. "Man, I can't believe I fell for that."

"Don't beat yourself up about it," the President advised quietly. "I think it's safe to say that any one of us here now would've done exactly the same thing." He glanced around his office and noted the confirming nods on all sides.

Another pause. "Thank you, sir." Danny took a deep breath. "Anyway, here I am walking down the street toward the rendezvous, and suddenly – "

He had to pause yet again. No one tried to hurry him.

"I'm afraid I wasn't much help to the police," he finally admitted. "I hardly saw a thing. Just one brief flash – then what felt like a really hard shove – and the next thing I know I'm face down on the pavement with my entire right side on fire."

Carol clamped a hand over her heart, her eyes the size of soup bowls. Josh, seated beside her, gave a soft grunt through clenched teeth, as though he'd just felt the impact himself.

Either Danny heard him, or else he guessed what an effect this description would have. "Josh, I can only guess what you went through."

Bartlet gently forged ahead, for Josh's sake as much as anything else. "Go on, Danny."

"Yes, sir. I had a really hard time thinking much at all right then, but I knew enough to hold my breath. That wasn't easy: the shot and then the fall had knocked the wind right out of me. Then I heard footsteps approach... and then a man's voice. It was the guy who'd called me earlier. He set me up from the start. I was pretty hazy by this point, but I distinctly heard him say, 'I'm sorry, but not for you... she's not for you. She's for ME. Claudia is MINE.'"

Piercing silence greeted this simple conclusion.

Josh reacted first. "Claudia? No one ever calls her that! Only me! Only I am allowed to call her that!"

The President regarded him thoughtfully.

"Yeah, it took me a moment to figure out who he meant," Danny went on. "Meanwhile, I was doing my best to play dead, and I'm not ashamed of it." His voice dropped. "I was expecting at any second that he'd fire again, just to make sure."

Sam winced.

"Then all at once a couple of pedestrians were asking me if I was okay. They must've happened along just in time to scare the gunman off before he could finish the job."

Carol's breath wheezed out.

"And they called an ambulance," Leo summarized.

"Right. As soon as I could think straight again, I tried to get in touch with you."

Silence.

Bartlet let out a long, slow exhalation that seemed to build the tension rather than release it. His eyes were blue ice as he surveyed the room. "So, now we know the real story."

Josh leaped to his feet, fists clenched. "It's a lunatic. Some nutcase has kidnapped CJ – for himself!"

Leo's mouth was a hard, grim line. "And God only knows where he's got her."

"Or what he'll do to her!" Sam exclaimed.

"But she has to be alive, if he's willing to kill anyone he thinks is a rival for her... affections." That last word came from behind his marble façade like anathema... and his voice dropped to a deadstill whisper. Toby stood to one side with both arms folded, as though he was physically holding in his emotions. No one present could tell exactly what he felt most: rage, fear, or both in equal amounts.

"How do you anticipate someone who doesn't think rationally?" Sam asked the room at large. The thought of dealing with a deranged mind scared him almost as much as this added danger to CJ herself.

"Holy..." Josh had both hands clamped to his head, trying literally to squeeze out the haunting images that had lodged themselves there. "He wants to possess her..."

Danny's voice rose above this new wave of panic. Everyone heard the effort in his words, and everyone returned their focus to him. "I'm afraid there's one more complication – and it's my fault."

"What's that?" Bartlet demanded sharply.

The journalist hesitated. "Mr. President, I'm sorry." Did his voice reflect the merest hint of cracking just then? "But my editor knows I was shot, and he knows how badly I wanted to get in touch with you rather than him. He's guessed that there's something going on at the White House – something big. This whole thing can't stay under wraps much longer, no matter how badly we want it to."

*****

Leo filled the painful silence. "This is a whole new ball game now."

"What do we do?" Josh cried out in anguish.

"Whatever we do, we'd damned well better do it fast."

"This guy must've been stalking her for ages. We'd have heard about it if she'd been getting any mail of her own, though." The Chief of Staff rubbed his tired eyes. "We can pull the security photos, have the Service look for a face that stands out in the crowd..."

"Let's go public," Sam proposed. "Appeal to anyone who might have seen anything."

"No, that might push this fruitcake too far. Who knows how he'll react?"

Josh spun around. "So instead we just let him have his way?"

"The question is, do we run the risk of further unbalancing him in order to give CJ at least the chance of being found – or do we do nothing, not alert the media, for fear of making her situation worse?"

Leo shook his head. "We can't do nothing, or else the kidnapper will be getting away with two assaults – hers and Danny's."

"But at least it won't increase her danger."

"How can we know that? We don't even know how many times he's already hurt her – "

"Josh – "

"We should launch a full-scale dragnet effort. Get every state involved."

"No way can we hide that from the public," Leo pointed out.

"So don't try!" Sam protested. "Go national! Someone out there somewhere has to know something!"

"There's still a hell of a lot of space to cover. By now she could be anywhere in the world. You plan to start with sifting through every single community in the United States?"

"The kidnapper will hear about it, too! Then what'll he do – run? Or hide? Or something even worse? Like destroy the evidence – "

"Be quiet, Josh!" Leo said that as kindly as he could... which was not very, considering what these repeated outbursts were doing to all their nerves.

"Hey, if you were his prisoner, wouldn't you prefer to know that people are looking for you? I know CJ – she'd rather take that chance than stay a prisoner."

"He does have a point..."

"We can't abandon her, for God's sake!"

Leo hesitated, calculating multiple factors in his head. "But would a quieter approach still be better?"

"You mean slower!"

"And a lot less risky. At least there'd be a chance of sneaking up on the guy, before he can retaliate."

"Go on, say it – a lot less of a media circus, too! Like we care anymore!"

"If your life was at stake, but the President of the United States doesn't know you personally, are you worth the bother of a serious search and rescue?"

"Sam, will you forget the hypothetical! Forget the press! We've got to find her! If that means tearing up every tree in every national forest, then let's do it!"

"Here's a thought: could we use Danny for bait? The loony probably believes he killed him. What if he learns otherwise? His major rival is alive and well! Think we can lure him into a second attempt?"

"Sam – !"

Leo sighed. "Get real. That kind of hospital trap only happens in the movies. Better to bury that whole angle for now. I don't want to find out what learning about his failure there would do to this guy's unbalanced mind."

"If he takes it out on her..."

Sam groaned. "Will you please shut up about that!"

"Well, how do you think he's gonna want to celebrate his victory? He believes he's just eliminated the opposition, right?"

"Oh, God..."

"Exactly! And you want write a dramatic arrest scene for this monster?"

"Can we do anything to draw him away from her, even for a little while? Anything's better than leaving him to his own devices – "

"All right."

Up until now the President had taken no part in this verbal wrestling match. He'd remained, a still and silent figure, behind that desk, hearing and evaluating each person's input. His expression was stone.

The three contenders turned to him in unison.

He looked each of them in the eye, as grave as they'd ever seen him.

"Toby."

Everyone else pivoted towards the Director of Communications, who still stood a few feet away. He, too, had stayed out of the discussion. His vision had wandered from the people actually present in the room and was clearly visualizing events he couldn't possibly see.

Even with his painful reverie shattered, he did not turn... only his eyes shifted, slowly and reluctantly, from the internal to the external debate.

"What do you think?" Bartlet asked, gently.

Toby said nothing for the longest time. However, the march of his thoughts could be read aloud. He was thinking all the same things they were – especially Josh – but he just couldn't bear to voice these fears... or even hear someone else voice them.

"I don't know." His voice barely carried the length of the room. "We could kill her either way."

The bomb dropped, cutting right to the heart of the issue. No one dared so much as twitch.

The President held that dark, tormented vision for several more nerve-racking seconds.

Then his gaze dropped to his desktop... to his open hands, palms up, like a pair of judicial scales.

In one of them, he held CJ's life.

Which one?

He turned them over, and placed them flat on the polished wooden surface.

"The ultimate decision is mine." He spoke softly, grimly, finally. Otherwise, the Oval Office was dead quiet.

"I accept the responsibility. I've heard the arguments. I've considered the risks. Now I have to make the choice."

Four men waited, every muscle taut, for his verdict.

Slowly, he swiveled around until he could look out the window. The metropolis of Washington, DC, and the entire country of America stretched out before him.

Somewhere out there was a woman in the direst peril. A woman he cared for. A woman he had to find. A woman that was desperately needed here... by all of them.

A woman that he could save... or condemn.

"And I'm fully aware of precisely what hangs in the balance."

*****

Josh exploded out of the Oval Office and tore down the hall like an unguided missile. The air sizzled behind him. Sam hurried in his wake.

"Another delay. Now he has to think on it. Damn it, we're not moving fast enough!"

"Uh-huh."

"Call out the National Guard! Organize the local police forces! Hell, let's draft the Boy Scouts while we're at it. Oh, and don't forget the FBI. And by the time we actually get all these people to cooperate – !"

"Uh-huh."

"I was right all along. You guys kept saying that I was overreacting, that she'd be just fine. Remember that? Do you?"

Sam hung his head even as he quick-stepped along. "Uh-huh."

Josh's strident voice acted as effectively as a trumpeter and herald. People got out of his way at once.

"I was right. I wish I wasn't right! All those horrid things I've been imagining... God in heaven, what has he done to her? What will he do to her?"

Sam did not reply that time. Never mind that his pal wouldn't hear a word – he simply had no idea what to say.

They approached Sam's office... and he saw his rescue standing there, waiting for him.

He wasn't sure at all if he should be relieved, or even more uncomfortable.

"Mallory."

Leo's daughter leaned casually against the doorframe. Her smile contained just a touch of maliciousness, as it so often did around him lately. "Sam."

She looked at Josh next, and that smug attitude shifted into genuine friendship – tinged quickly with concern. "Josh! What's up?"

He barely registered her presence at all. "Nothing." That one word projected all the fear and frustration it was possible for a man to feel.

Clearly Sam would be occupied for the next while. He'd been deprived of the principle target for his tirade. Groaning from the pain in his soul that suddenly had no outlet, Josh slouched off to his own office.

Sam watched him go, anxiety written in bold strokes on his youthful face. "Excuse me a moment." He stepped past Mallory and peered around the corner. Up ahead, Josh blew past Donna without even a glance. She at once leaped up and followed him.

Sam exhaled in momentary relief, then turned back.

"What's so fascinating about the hallway, Sam?"

"I was just checking on Donna."

Mallory's lips curved upwards again. "And why, may I ask, are you checking on Donna?"

About to invite her in, Sam paused to level a cold stare at his guest – and suddenly his features did not seem so young and idealistic to her as they had a moment ago.

"You know, if today wasn't one of the worst days I've ever spent in my life, I'd almost enjoy leaving you to wonder about that." His voice hardened. "But I'll be nice for a moment longer. Donna and I are spelling each other to keep an eye on Josh."

She considered this. "I can see why that's necessary – more so than usual today, in fact." She trailed behind as he headed for his desk. "What's wrong with him?"

"Actually, it's what's wrong with us." Sam made at least the pretense of politely holding the door for her, then shut it firmly. "CJ disappeared two mornings ago. We just found out that she appears to have been abducted by a psychopath."

Any smart-ass reply that Mallory might have been considering was destroyed by Sam's last statement. Her eyes widened.

Sam had taken the brunt of Josh's panic without complaint. Suddenly, away from his distraught friend, he had to get it out himself.

"It's not bad enough that we're missing our Press Secretary. Of course the press corps are chafing at the bit as to why she's not here. They won't buy into this 'sick' routine much longer. Not to mention that Danny Concannon is currently recovering from a bullet wound in the hospital; the kidnapper did his damnedest to eliminate what he saw as the most obvious rival for CJ's heart."

"Sam?" Mallory's voice was very soft now.

He ignored it. He did not want to be comforted. He wanted to argue. "So what we have is a certified lunatic who wants CJ for himself, and we still have no idea where he's taken her. Every effort by the FBI and the Secret Service has thus far turned up nothing. The President is about to decide whether he'll go national and instigate a countrywide search that will almost certainly tip off the kidnapper as well. This would also mean creating a media frenzy that we'll have no hope in hell of controlling, as well as a massive interstate effort between who knows how many different organizations and intelligence agencies, with a depressingly low likelihood of success."

"Sam..."

"Meanwhile, certain imaginations are running pretty wild by now. Josh hasn't slept or stopped yelling for a solid forty-eight hours – ever since we first noticed that CJ was not merely late for work. Trust me, you don't want to know what Toby's mood is like right now. Leo's doing his level best to hold us all together, but even I haven't been making it any easier for him lately. I can't even fathom what the President is going through, or how he can still concentrate on his other responsibilities at all."

"Sam..."

"So, in summation, it's been somewhat hectic around here. Perhaps you can understand why I don't feel particularly obliging towards the friendly exchange you're no doubt intending to start. I'm busy sitting here and watching the White House tumble down, piece by piece."

"Sam."

Suddenly, he ran out of gas and fell silent. They stared at each other for several seconds: Sam breathing fast from both exertion and emotion, Mallory looking more compassionate than he'd ever seen her before.

"Are you okay?"

It took him another few seconds to even formulate a response.

"I don't know how I am." His tone had completely changed. "I've never faced anything like this. I can't conceive of something so hideous happening to my friend." He looked away. "CJ's a member of our team. She's always looking out for us... for me."

Now that he didn't have the shield of information to hide behind, he sounded every bit as vulnerable and scared as he felt.

"I don't know anything about assaults on women, about how horrible they can be. How do I handle that? I don't know anyone who's been through that!"

Mallory waited one long, deliberate heartbeat, and then reached out and placed her hand on his arm. Looking him straight in the eye.

"I think I can help with that. She'll need you to be strong when she gets back... but more than anything else, she'll need you to be you."

*****

"I am not going to stay here and just placidly wait for results. You can't make me."

Donna stood squarely in the door of Josh's office, a physical barrier to his escape. She looked more than a little strained herself, yet fully determined not to move aside from him.

"Yes, I can, and I will. That is, unless you intend to shove me aside." She braced herself a bit more firmly in place. He'd have to exert real strength to get past her.

These two argued all the time; that was the foundation of their relationship. For some unknown and unfathomable reason he seemed to enjoy sparring with her, about any topic at all. But he never lost his temper at her... and he never made any kind of a move to touch her that was in the least bit inappropriate.

She was banking that he wouldn't break either of those two cardinal rules now.

He was not himself today. He was a totally different person.

He kept prowling his none-too-spacious work area, not prepared to take that extreme step against her – yet. "I don't need a baby-sitter, Donna!"

"Yes, you do! You're driving everyone up the wall, Josh! We're all worried about CJ! But we have to keep functioning somehow!" Donna's voice was rising to match his. She could feel herself losing control – of both of them.

"Why? Nothing we can do here is the slightest bit helpful! We've got to go out there and find her!"

Donna took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. In the same deliberate manner, she forced herself to keep calm and speak quietly.

"It's not like no one's looking. There are already people out there. Lots of them. They have the training, the equipment and the manpower. They will find her."

"When? It can't possibly be soon enough! Dammit, I should've been there for her! We're family! A man protects his family!"

"Josh, you can't take the blame for this – "

"Just watch me! She's gone, and I don't know where she is!"

Donna had always liked CJ a lot. Since both CJ and Josh were senior staff, they frequently traveled with the President – and since Josh couldn't hope to work effectively without Donna, she almost always went along as well. Often they would be the only two women on the trip; it was the most natural thing for them to spend time together.

Donna couldn't endure the thought that CJ might never come back. The very concept made her shake. Right now she almost welcomed Josh's neurotic ravings; her efforts to pacify him made it possible to shelve her own feelings. For now.

"She'll be all right. She will, Josh. We have to believe that."

"She could be anywhere! ANYWHERE!" This time the windows rattled from the sheer volume. "Don't you get it? She's been gone more than two days! With enough money, you can get as far from the United States as it's possible to go without booking the shuttle!"

That marked the end of Donna's tight composure. The tears sprang up, stinging her eyes; she blinked them away furiously.

Josh paused in his incessant movements, and his head rotated in all directions, apparently looking for something. Then he locked onto the trashcan beside his desk. With an animal snarl and one savage kick he smashed it into the opposite wall. The metal clanged in protest at both impacts, scattering wads of paper left and right.

Donna cringed at the sudden, unanticipated blast of both noise and fury. She cringed again when he gave the can a second, even harder kick, crushing it almost flat and denting the wood it struck. The third kick was the hardest of all; the can glanced off the wall at an angle and went spinning across the room.

Silence returned. Josh stared at the mangled can. Donna stared at Josh. Not until she was sure that he had no further intention of pursuing the object of his rage did her breath ease out again, cautiously.

Josh had earned his reputation as a political force by his willingness to do battle – but he fought with words, not fists. This material violence was totally unlike him. Considering the everyday frustrations of a job like his, the nation should be grateful for that. Otherwise they'd be paying to refinish the White House on a weekly basis. Now, this overwhelming urge to destroy expended, he did not attempt an encore. He turned away from his assistant and just sort of collapsed against the wall, one shoulder and his head pressing into it... closed his eyes, and surrendered to his despair.

"CJ..."

Seconds threatened to stretch into minutes. Then Donna's hands were on his shoulders, gently steadying him.

"Josh. You're not in this alone. We all care. We're all doing our best, just like you. We're in this together. We have to work together. If we do, we'll bring CJ back home for sure."

*****

A hand brazenly reached out and opened the door to Toby's office.

The occupant slammed down his pen in pure exasperation, but did not lift his head. "What part of 'Leave me alone' can you people not understand?" he bellowed.

"Probably the part that I didn't hear," his visitor replied, his voice soft and quite unintimidated.

Toby solidified in his seat. His watch chimed the hour audibly in that strange silence.

Ask not for whom the bell tolls...

Then he straightened, raising his eyes last of all.

"Rabbi."

The leader of his synagogue stood calmly on the threshold. Nothing about his general attitude hinted that this was his first visit to the White House.

"Toby."

For his part, the Communications Director showed no surprise in either expression or tone. The mask had descended back in place.

"What brings you here?" That had to be the most civil thing he'd said in two days.

"You."

Toby just looked at him, his stiff features betraying no hint of the surge of thought beneath.

"Would you like to come in?" he finally asked, rising to his feet. "Or would you like a tour? I don't suppose you've been here before."

Rabbi Glassman smiled. "Thank you for the offer. Perhaps another time; I know this is not a good day for you." He entered a few steps. Not once did he glance at his surroundings; he was fully focused on the man before him.

Toby could not help but be aware of that. He shifted self-consciously.

"I'm beginning to suspect that I know how you got in here in the first place."

"The security is most impressive. It's a wonder you don't feel caged at times." Glassman let the façade of social amenities fall away. "Yes, the President called me."

Toby threw a sharp glance to the left – unerringly in the direction of the Oval Office, less than a hundred feet away. Then he nodded, almost as though extending his gratitude to a man not present.

"I'll thank him later."

His words could be interpreted in a couple of different ways; this man never took prying into his own feelings calmly.

"See that you do," his rabbi advised, with pointed emphasis. "He's worried about you, Toby. He's worried about all of you – very much. He was sparing in his words... but he did say that you two share a great faith in God and humanity. Apparently, humanity has let you down, or at least you feel that it has, because you have pushed all human contact away. The President asked me to remind you of some truths... some things that maybe, in all of this turmoil, you've forgotten."

Silence.

Toby sighed. "He knows me better than I'd like."

"I'd take that as a compliment."

"I'm trying."

"It's not a mark of weakness to want to be with others in a difficult time. In fact, it's a fundamental part of human nature. We're pretty gregarious animals, you know."

"Well, it goes against my nature."

Glassman did not respond to that claim aloud. He just stood there, waiting patiently for his offer of assistance to be either accepted or refused.

Abruptly, Toby spun on one heel and stepped back. It was a rather graceless welcome as invitations went, but it sufficed.

"Shall I?" The rabbi reached again for the doorknob. His host gave a curt nod. He closed the door gently and then crossed to the sofa.

Toby hesitated before taking a seat himself, hands in his lap, eyes downcast.

"Some day, I'll think back to my conversation with the President and really savor it." Pause. "Just not now. I'm worried about you too, Toby. I know you well enough myself; you're not about to open up on personal matters to anyone. But if you internalize things too much, if you keep those feelings trapped inside..."

"They'll explode. I know." Toby flicked a guilty glance aside.

Glassman raised an eyebrow, but judged that the obvious comment would not be beneficial.

"This member of your staff who's missing... CJ?"

Toby closed his eyes. "She's so much more than that. The five of us have been with the President since the campaign. We work well together. Each of us has come to know how the others think. We've built a mechanism here that relies on each person's unique skills. Take away one element and the whole machine suffers." That's all, his tone implied.

"Did you know CJ before that?"

Pause. "Yes... for a few years. Casually." Toby leaned forward, elbows on knees, head bowed. "In fact, I brought her onto the campaign."

"And if she weren't on the presidential staff, this wouldn't have happened? Toby, you're too intelligent to believe that you're in any way to blame."

"It's... more complicated than that." Toby exhaled heavily, as though he hoped he could evict his guilt at the same time. "I've been pretty cavalier with her at times. Around here. About business."

Silence.

"That kind of approach makes an effective smoke screen, doesn't it?" the rabbi commented softly, perceptively, and got his confirmation in the form of a wince.

"There's something else." Toby's voice dropped almost below the audible range. "A man was shot today. From what his assailant said, we now know that CJ's been abducted... by a lunatic who wants her for himself."

Pause. "Uh-oh."

"Yeah. And that's still not all." Toby did not move. "That man was shot because he was believed to be CJ's boyfriend."

He didn't need to say another thing.

"Is he?" Glassman asked that question very gently.

"No." Pause. "He never was, not really. They flirted... but..."

This time the rabbi waited him out.

"But because that guy was perceived as her boyfriend, he drew the fire." Each sentence came slowly and with effort, and each subsequent pause between them was longer. "I'm sorry he was hurt. I'm glad he learned that crucial fact and was able to tell us. I'm jealous that he was seen as the biggest threat. I'm grateful that the gunfire wasn't directed at me. And I'm... devastated at the implications of this turn of events. All of the different ways that she could be hurt are staggering."

Toby closed his eyes again and let his head drop even lower.

In the silence, the older man gently gripped his shoulder as it began to tremble with the power of his tears.

*****

Mallory approached her father's office somewhat cautiously.

"Margaret?"

Leo's secretary looked up at once. "Oh, Mallory! Am I glad you're here. Maybe you can do something for him. God knows, I've tried."

Leo's daughter did not ask for further clarification. That in itself indicated that she already knew what was going on today.

"We'll see." Mallory headed for the chamber beyond, giving Margaret a light touch on one arm in support.

"Dad."

"Hey, honey." Few people could ever claim to be busier than the White House Chief of Staff, but Leo always made a point of rising to greet his little girl with a hug at least. Not today, however; he barely glanced up from his paperwork.

"Looks like you need a break." She never ceased to be amazed at the sheer volume of work ever before him.

"Mal, if the break is with you, I'd love it – but I just don't have the time today. I'm sorry." He still didn't look right at her.

She waited a calculating moment, watching him closely.

"I heard about CJ."

She saw it: his pen slowed, and his mouth tightened. But otherwise he stubbornly refused to admit to anything.

"Yeah. And we now know why. The question is where. I'll probably have another meeting with the Secret Service and I don't know who else as soon as the President decides what to do next."

Mallory folded her arms in her best teacher's lecturing pose. "Dad, you really don't have to play the responsible adult right now. You are allowed to show some emotion about a crisis like this."

Leo sighed, letting the weight of both their thoughts settle across his shoulders... and then again resumed his writing. "I don't have time for that, either. The entire senior staff is virtually paralyzed. Someone has to keep this place going. No choice in the matter."

"You can take a moment and acknowledge the fact that you care!"

Now he lifted his head to glare at her. "I do care! CJ must have been physically assaulted at least once at the start of this, and she'll almost certainly be sexually assaulted before the end! Can you even imagine that? I don't dare – the idea makes me positively ill."

Mallory opened her mouth... and then shut it again, clearly deciding that this was not an appropriate moment for whatever she'd been about to impart. She changed gears.

"I just saw Sam."

"How's he doing?" No teasing came through, light or serious, about any attraction she might feel for the Deputy Communications Director. Leo had returned his focus to his desk; he'd already guessed what the response would be.

"Holding on – just. And if he feels that bad, you must feel worse."

Her father sighed again. "Mallory..."

"Come on, Dad; stop hiding behind your work for a minute!" She drew nearer, one measured step at a time. "You think of these people like they're your younger siblings – or even your children. You and the President both. The difference is, he admits it and you don't! Well, it's high time you did. Especially about CJ. I've been around here often enough to know. You've been friends for over two years now! She's fought her way to the top of a male-oriented world, and you really admire her for it. Don't lock that away – you're only handicapping yourself, and you're sure not doing her any good!"

Sudden silence crashed down between them.

Slowly, Leo shook his head, looking almost bemused. "Not many fathers get a dressing-down like that."

His daughter smiled, briefly. "I get paid to fuss at people."

At last he sat back and gave her his full attention. "I've seen war, Mallory. War in all its ugliness. But even so, I'm still having a hard time understanding this kind of nightmare. I'm also seeing its second-hand effects on other people who really care for CJ as well. I've got three colleagues who can't think of anything else. I've got a President about to make one of the most heart-wrenching decisions of his career. I have to deal with an entire government that has no possible hope of understanding what we're going through. The very last thing I can face right now is my own feelings about this. It's better for everyone if I just don't."

He looked away.

Mallory did too. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Then he corrected himself. "It will be all right."

She hesitated to break this next silence... but she had to know.

"Are you going to be all right? You're not..." She couldn't bring herself to finish.

Leo turned back to her. He knew exactly what she meant, and his whole expression changed. "Not yet."

That was hardly reassuring at this critical time.

Then he gazed into space again, the many layers of turmoil echoing in his voice. "But I can't remember the last time I wanted a drink as badly as I do right now."

*****

The Oval Office was not empty, but from the silence it could have been.

The President sat in one of the armchairs, elbows propped on the handsomely carved wooden arms, fingers steepled against his lips, eyes closed.

"Jed?"

He did not react at first, as though he was just too exhausted to be startled any more.

Closing the door behind her, Abbey Bartlet took two more steps forward – and stopped short when she saw his pose.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she almost whispered. "Am I interrupting a..."

"Prayer?" Her husband lowered his hands and raised his head. "Yeah, but it's okay. I'm sure I'll be picking it up again before long."

Taking this for permission, she walked slowly over. He rose to meet her, and they moved into each other's arms as naturally as though they belonged nowhere else.

After a few seconds, he drew back. "Abbey, I owe you an apology." His eyes were weary, and guilty. "While you were away I was driving you nuts calling you every few hours... and now that you're back I've paid almost no attention to you at all."

"Shh, that's all right – "

"No, it isn't. I want you to know that even though I haven't spent much time with you, just the knowledge that you're here has been a tremendous strength to me. You're my rock, Abbey. Never doubt that for an instant."

She could see the lines on his face that physical and mental fatigue had deepened. "I never have. I just wish I could really help."

He looked away. "I don't think anyone can now. This is my decision alone." His gaze returned, as it so often had over these last two days, to the tall windows, the snow-swept city, and the world beyond.

Gently, Abbey shifted her hold from embracing to guiding. "Come on; let's sit down."

The President allowed himself to be steered towards the nearer sofa. His wife settled beside him, her hand still on his arm.

"This has been pretty rough on you."

He grunted. "And I know how close you are with CJ, too." Abbey nodded. "And have you seen any of the staff? If this drags out for one more day, there won't be anything left for CJ to come back to!"

"But she is coming back."

"That depends on what I do next."

The following pause was broken by Jed's tired exhalation. "This happens every time one of those guys does something silly. I get all protective and territorial. You'd think I was running a foster home. If it's not Sam getting his picture taken, it's Josh mouthing off at the wrong people or Toby picking the biggest fight he possibly can. Hell, I've been protective of Leo, too – and I certainly have reason to keep my eye on Charlie." He rubbed his aching forehead. "CJ's the only person I've never had to worry about."

"You've kept her in the dark more than once," Abbey reminded him with just a touch of accusation.

His eyes drifted shut. "Yeah. But she always fixed things afterwards. I couldn't tell you how many times she's covered our mistakes and put a positive spin on our uncertainties. Or how many times she's helped me hold this bunch of mavericks in line."

His wife held her peace.

"Abbey, you've always known that ever since I started into politics my greatest fear has been that someone would try to use my family as leverage against me. I've prayed so often that I would never have to deal with such a threat to our children, or – God forbid – to you." He looked at her, and then aside again. "Well, I honestly feel today that it's happened at last. I feel exactly the way I've always been afraid I would feel if one of my daughters had been kidnapped. Of course, I can't act that way because it's not my daughter, but still – "

Abbey's grip on his arm tightened.

"And now... what should I do about it? I don't have to play political hotfoot any longer. I don't have to balance the welfare of the whole nation against one life. I'm free to unleash all of the impressive power at my command. And I WANT to!" His hands closed into fists. "I want to send out the militia! I want to turn over every chunk of earth in the country! I want to raise up the whole populace against this lunatic! And I can do all of this!" He stopped to bring his breathing back under control. "But is that the right thing to do?"

His hands opened. He studied them... again, like scales: balancing the possibilities, and the consequences.

"If I go about this wrong..."

Neither of them dared to finish that sentence.

Abbey braced herself. "Jed, I'm not going to ask you if you want my advice. You're getting it anyway."

His head rotated her way... and that might have been a gleam of hope in his eyes – hope that she could help him find the answer.

"Women survive being assaulted. But nations do not recover from gratuitously violent or knee-jerk Commanders-in-Chief."

Silence.

His brows drew down. "That's rather cold, Abigail." He must have been seriously put off by her analytical approach; his use of her full name was always a warning sign.

"Occasionally you have to pare things down to their primal elements," she retorted. "It seems to me that not telling the press is what's hurting CJ the most. Once the truth gets out there, someone somewhere is going to remember something. It could be as simple as a man driving around with a woman who appears to be hurt or asleep. You can tap into a huge resource there, and make it impossible for him to hide any longer."

She grasped her husband's shoulders and turned him to face her squarely. "I know that your impulsive reactions speak to the desires of your heart – but sooner or later your sense of justice makes sure that the greater good will prevail. You can use your authority without abusing it. Martial law is not the answer. Appeal to the people; don't dictate to them."

They sat there, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like an age of the universe.

Finally, some of the indecision bled away, and he managed the smallest hint of a smile.

"You do realize what some people are going to think, if I'm so desperate to find this particular woman..."

She laughed shortly, not in the least bit worried. "If you were looking for that reason, you'd sure as hell go about it more discretely. I think I can handle any public fallout on that angle."

His grin increased. "I know you can." The tenderness in his eyes grew as well. "Thanks, Abbey."

She smiled back, and pulled him into another hug.

*****

"Hey."

Charlie almost leaped out of his chair. "Hey!" His dark face was split by a broad smile at the arrival of the President's daughter.

Zoey acted rather more restrained. "How are you?"

He threw an automatic glance to one side, but Mrs. Landingham had stepped away from her desk for the moment. That privacy gave him extra confidence. "I'm great. You?"

His girlfriend shuffled her feet for a moment. "Okay, I guess."

Charlie looked more closely at her, puzzled by the absence of her usual warmth around him.

"Um, can we talk?" she asked.

"Uh – sure." He pulled a spare chair over for her. They both sat, just a few inches apart.

She may have opened the discussion, but now he felt compelled to begin it. "Look, Zoey, I'm sorry I didn't come to see you before. I wanted to as soon as they got you back here from the dorm... but you know how much strain your dad's been under lately, and I really didn't want to take off on him..."

"Charlie, it's okay." She did smile this time. "That's not what I meant. I know you've been kind of chained to this spot for the past couple of days. It's all right."

He relaxed in considerable relief. "Thanks."

The pause lengthened.

She turned briefly towards the closed door to the Oval Office. "What's going on inside?"

"They're setting up the telecast. The President goes live in just a few minutes."

"Oh. Right. One o'clock news."

"Yeah. He's already fired up every state within four hundred miles. And we have people on the phone constantly, coordinating the search teams involved." Charlie shook his head in wonder. "Amazing how fast you can mobilize this country."

"When there's a good enough reason," she added quietly.

He peered sideways. "Zoey?"

She took a long time to meet his eye.

"What's bothering you?"

She hesitated, then took a deep breath. "CJ's been like... a favorite aunt to me."

He winced. "Aw, man, I didn't realize."

"Yeah. I've known her since the campaign... and she's covered for me a couple of times when I said something in public that I shouldn't have." Zoey directed her gaze downward.

Charlie gave a slow nod of perfect understanding. "Me, too."

The First Daughter looked up again. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Remember the green beans? I'm the one who let that slip. She took the heat for me. She told your dad that she'd leaked it."

Zoey blinked. "She lied to my father?"

Charlie grinned. "Right in the Oval Office."

"Wow." Pause. "Well, did you hear about the time she yelled at him?"

"She did? Man, she's got guts."

"Oh, yeah." Zoey rolled her eyes at the memory. "A reporter cornered me on campus. I shouldn't have answered him, but I wanted to protect a friend. CJ called me on it... and then she had to tell my dad about it. He hit the roof – he was all set to blast the entire press corps. If he had, it would've made a big story and a bad one. She really got in his face that time."

"Sorry I missed that." Charlie pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'm getting the picture why the senior staff are so upset. The President, too."

The levity had faded. "You haven't been around her as long. She's part of us."

"I'm seeing that."

He waited, watching his girlfriend in sympathetic silence.

Zoey started to tear up, and her voice trembled. "I don't understand. Isn't it bad enough that people have to shoot at us? Now a maniac has just come in and taken her away, to do who knows what to her. How can anyone do such a thing to another person?"

He picked up her hands and held them firmly in his. "I don't know."

*****

The watery rays of a mid-afternoon sunset in winter slanted across the south face of the White House. The snow had finally stopped, and the city workers were making visible progress digging out their besieged capital city.

Mrs. Landingham entered the Oval Office, as quiet and businesslike as always. "Mr. President."

"What now?" Bartlet stood behind his desk, scanning one report after another. Clearly he was too charged – or too stressed – to sit down at this time.

"Another fax for you, sir."

"Good. Thank you." He met her halfway and almost snatched it out of her hand.

"Yes, sir. I know how promptly you want these."

"Do I ever." He started reading at once.

"May I say, sir, your broadcast went very well."

"Yeah. Now if only it accomplishes what it's supposed to." He started wandering away, nose to the paper.

Only when he'd covered half the room did it dawn that the presence behind him had not yet departed. He stopped and turned. His secretary still stood on the carpet, hands folded, demurely watching him.

He regarded her over the tops of his reading glasses. "Was there something else?"

She seemed to consider this very deliberately. "I was wondering if you'd mind sharing the progression of the search with me, sir."

Nothing about her reserved, patently unflappable demeanor changed in the least. But the meaning behind that request could not be misinterpreted.

The President was so surprised that he removed his spectacles completely, the better to see her. "Did my ears just deceive me? Did I actually hear you express a personal interest in the goings-on of this office?"

Her head tipped three degrees. "I didn't say that, sir."

He approached her, trying not to smile – the gravity of the subject could not be forgotten for any length of time – but his blue eyes definitely twinkled. "Come on, Mrs. Landingham. You're like a surrogate mother to every person here, including me. And I know you've always had a soft spot for CJ, being the two senior women staffers around. It's just wonderful, though, to hear you finally admit to it." One eyebrow waggled. "But don't worry; your secret is safe enough."

She gave him a tolerant look. "Sir..."

"Right." He knew better than to push his luck with this particular employee. He replaced his glasses and turned to the latest report... and the tremendous pressures of his office reasserted themselves at once.

"Looking good. It's already all over the news networks. We've got every state in the Union involved now. The press will be briefed again at the last minute so that the next edition is as up-to-date as possible. The Secret Service are coordinating everything. Every whisper out there will come here fast."

"It sounds like an efficient operation, Mr. President."

"It had better be – CJ's life depends on it."

Mrs. Landingham did not agree with him aloud; her silence took care of that.

Bartlet lowered the paper and removed his glasses again, slowly. "It's far too late to second-guess myself, but I sure hope I haven't just made the biggest mistake of my life."

"Sir... I think there's something else that you may need to consider."

He revolved. It was not a normal part of his secretary's job to offer advice, and she almost never stepped beyond the boundaries of her position. When she did, he knew to listen. "What's that?"

She regarded him solemnly. "By going after Danny, the kidnapper did exactly what he was trying to avoid all along: drew attention to CJ's disappearance. He may well attempt to stop the threat of this search... at the source." She paused, and not even her famed reticence could fully mask the concern within. "He may now have a new target, sir. You."

Bartlet sighed, then nodded. His eyes shifted towards the window. "I already thought about that. This guy just might be crazy enough to think that way. He wouldn't be far wrong, either. And I know I'm not invulnerable – or inaccessible."

The Chief Executive of the United States drew himself up. "I'm having a hard time getting worked up over my own safety right now. Besides, we pay other people to do that. Nothing is going to prevent me from finding CJ and bringing her safely home!"

Again his secretary refrained from saying the obvious.

Having taken that vow, Bartlet closed his eyes and tilted his head back, as though turning his face to the warmth of the sun. Several seconds of private contemplation ticked past. The hand of the Almighty, fate or luck weighed heavily in this equation.

Then his eyes opened. Almost directly above him, cast right into the elaborate ceiling of the Oval Office, was a plaster relief of the Presidential Seal.

He studied it a moment, then exhaled through clenched teeth, his shoulders slumping. "I can't even lift my gaze towards Heaven without running into yet another symbol of my responsibilities."

"Yes, sir," his secretary agreed softly, in vivid sympathy. She turned to go.

"Thank you, Mrs. Landingham." Shaking his head, he headed back to his desk, once again immersed in the report.

His phone rang before he could sit down. He reached absently for it, still perusing the latest data. "Yes."

About to open the door, Mrs. Landingham paused for one more second. Just in case.

All at once the President spun around, his whole posture one of instant alertness, giving the phone his undivided attention. "Go on."

*****

"We've got the Roosevelt Room set up as our war room, with all the equipment and the manpower in place. There are fifteen separate phone lines: five governors' offices to a line, plus the Secret Service, the FBI, the CIA and two out-bounds. Every call is being logged. Any possible sightings will be marked on the wall maps. Others in the Mural Room are tracking the media, public reaction and general information calls." Leo could have been planning a military offensive.

"I just came from there," Sam interjected. "Several people have already phoned in with messages of support." He shook his head, as though hardly able to believe that.

"They like her." Josh didn't say that as though it surprised him, but rather as if he'd always known it for a fact.

"They'd be fools not to," Toby murmured, so softly that the others barely heard him.

The door leading to the Oval Office swung silently open, drawing all four that way.

The President stood in the aperture. His face was like a chunk of wood, and they could see how tense he was – like a spring coiled right to the snapping point.

"They found CJ's car."

Josh and Sam sprang to their feet. Leo and Toby moved closer to complete the horseshoe.

"A rural spot in Pennsylvania, just west of Williamsport. Clinton County."

Four pairs of eyes widened. Four sets of lips parted in sheer suspense.

"It went through the ice of a small lake. It's almost completely submerged."

Leo's brows descended in dread.

Sam's brows shot up in fright.

Josh leaned forward.

Toby leaned back.

They all saw it now: agony.

Jed Bartlet held his breath for one more tortured heartbeat – then it burst out of him.

"And she's still inside."

~*~*~*~*~

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

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