Toby and Josh were at the hospital in less then seven minutes, a tribute
to the officers' careful planning in clearing the roads quickly and efficiently,
and the expertise of the EMTs driving. The hospital security team had already
been alerted, as had the staff.

Dr. Lissar Novak was the Chief Attending, a mid-forties woman with long,
straight brown hair that was pulled into a neat french braid that just brushed
her waist. Her eyes were a warm, hazel-brown color, and her features matronly
and soft; she would put one in mind of a mother, although she wasn't. Lissar's
chief resident was a young man by the name of Dr. Cerwin Wallace, who chose to
wear his hair in a series of long braids that ended in beads of varying design.
He had several earrings, and underneath his scrubs there was usually an odd t-
shirt of some style or another. Cerwin's less than clean cut appearance often
drew strange looks from his peers, but he'd come this far without compromising
his personal tastes, and he wasn't about to start on account of a few odd looks.
Lissar couldn't have asked for anyone better in a situation like this.
Cerwin was coolheaded, calm, and methodical, and with two members of the White
House Senior Staff on the line, she needed everything done right, and most of
all, she needed to save them both.

One of the two men was worse off than the other, or so the ambulances had
called in. Two GSWs to the left chest. No apparent heart injury, but he was
bleeding profusely and they were having a hell of a time controlling it. His
pulse was weak and thready, and he'd been unconscious the whole time.
Fortunately, he'd also continued breathing and not arrested. Lissar counted that
as a good sign, for now.

The other victim was decidedly better off, with a single gunshot to the
left arm. He was fading in and out of consciousness, but otherwise stable.
Lissar hated to shuttle Cerwin off to something as mundane as digging out a
bullet and administering a tetanus booster, but she had to make sure nothing
went wrong if he went south, and Cerwin was the only person she trusted.

"Cerwin you take the GSW to the arm," she said as the doors to the
ambulance bay opened.

It was obvious that the first gurney held the more seriously injured; the
EMTs had blood all over their gloves, and blood was fairly dripping from the
gurney. Lissar rushed forward, a crowd of nurses and doctors following in her
wake.

Cerwin held back as the second gurney was brought forward. He could hear
the EMT giving Lissar the bullet, and caught some of the phrases, wincing.
That one's going to be tough, and I don't envy her one bit, he
thought grimly. Lissar paused and called out to a medical student.

"Jason page and call Dr. Ron Burry for me. Tell him we need him here now.
I don't care how you get ahold of him, just do it." Cerwin silently approved of
the call. If the guy made it to surgery, Dr. Burry was the best choice.
If he made it to surgery. Cerwin tried not to think of it in those
terms and concentrated on his own case.

The second gurney rolled out of the ambulance, the EMTs considerably less
frazzled than the previous pair had been. Cerwin stepped forward, taking a
position on the gurney's railing and listening to the EMTs carefully. It was
going to be a long, long night.

Toby blinked and looked around himself. There were lights, white ones now,
flashing by quickly, and a fair gaggle of voices shouting orders and asking
questions. He wasn't sure if he was the one being asked, but as he couldn't make
them out he supposed it was a moot point. He was lying down on something that
was moving rather quickly if the air rushing over him was any indication, and
there was a certain smell...

Toby's last conscious thoughts caught up with him, then ran him over like
a freight truck. His confusion melted like ice in summer.

Josh.

"Where's Josh?" he asked, trying to sit up. Pain shot from his right arm
and robbed him of his breath and any forward motion he'd achieved. The nurses
and doctors surrounding the gurney were surprised and one of them immediately
planted her hand in his chest, gently urging him to lay back down. Toby
complied, but only because he was in too much pain to resist.

"Please lie down, Mr. Ziegler," someone behind him said calmly.

"Where's Josh?" Toby asked again, the pain in his arm easing. He looked
about himself frantically. He was in a hospital, being wheeled from an ambulance
bay probably. There was shouting, and to his left he saw another gurney being
wheeled through the hospital.

"Liss take him to Trauma 1," one of the doctors standing next to Toby
called. Toby craned his neck, and just as the gurney was turned and wheeled into
a room he could see Josh, an oxygen mask over his face. There was blood all over
the gurney, and all over the gloved hands of the paramedics walking quickly with
the doctors.

"Oh my God..." Toby murmured, his stomach turning. "What--what's
happening? Is he dead?" he asked the young man who was now leaning over him and
adjusting something on his IV. His gurney was continuing its journey into the
hospital.

"They're going to do everything they can for him, Mr. Ziegler, but right
now you need to lie down and stay calm for us," the young doctor said in a
steady voice. "Tim let's take Trauma 3," he told one of the RNs. The short,
dark-haired nurse nodded and helped turn Toby's gurney about.

"Mr. Ziegler my name is Dr. Wallace." Toby hardly registered the
information, but the doctor continued as if he'd acknowledged him somehow. "Did
you lose consciousness when you were shot?" the young man asked as he filled a
needle with something clear. Toby sighed, trying to focus on the question.

"N-no, I passed out afterwards."

The doctor nodded. "Alright, we're going to give you something for the
pain, and try and get that bullet out of your arm. We have to give you a tetanus
booster just in case."

Toby nodded, offering his left arm willingly, then he paused and caught
the doctor with his hand. "Is Josh going to be alright?" he asked carefully.

The doctor looked at Toby for a moment, obviously torn. "I don't know, Mr.
Ziegler," he said reluctantly, "but Dr. Novak is the best we have. If anyone can
save him, she can."

Toby nodded and stared out across the trauma room, his thoughts drifting
as the pain medication took hold.

This can't be happening. It can't be.

Cerwin gave Tim instructions to finish up with Toby and left the trauma
room in time to see Lissar and her people wheel a gurney into an elevator. She
stood for a few moments after the doors closed, dazed, then finally turned away
and walked back to the trauma room. Cerwin joined her.

"How'd it go?" he asked. She pulled off her gloves and apron and tossed
them both into the trash with a sigh. He noticed the blood on them and grimaced
to himself.

"It went. He'll make it to surgery, but as to making it through surgery,
well..." Lissar stopped. She was staring a small metal tray, which held two
bullets. "We'll see," she finished softly.

"Good thing, calling Dr. Burry," he told her, more to break the silence
than anything else. "He's the best."

Lissar nodded and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "The President's coming
here, isn't he?" she asked, her tone indicating that the proper response was
'no.'

Cerwin hated to disappoint her. "Yeah, they're about 2 minutes outbound.
Should we lock them in the lounge?"

"Sounds good to me."

Cerwin nodded, and put a hand on Lissar's shoulder, reluctantly. "We did
the best we could," he told her. She laughed softly.

"Yeah, too bad I get to answer to the President, if my best wasn't good
enough."

Cerwin couldn't think of anything to say to that, and so he didn't. They
stood in silence until Tim came to get them, announcing the arrival of the
President and his senior staff.

They invaded the ER of St. Mary's just minutes after Josh was shipped off
to the OR. Tim had intercepted them before they began searching the hospital
and, at Dr. Novak's direction, corralled them all into the lounge. The secret
service agents peered about themselves like nervous hawks, and Tim all but
tiptoed out of the room once he'd settled everyone. He'd left them with the
knowledge that Toby looked to be doing fine, and they'd let people see him in an
hour as long as he remained stable. It was a small thing, though, in the face of
Josh's internment in the OR.

Donna took a shaky breath and sat down heavily on the old vinyl couch,
pale and shivering.

"I can't believe this," she said softly. Leo quickly joined her and put
his arm around her shoulders.

There was more silence, during which Bartlet paced back and forth. Leo
finally spoke up.

"Mr. President..." he said. Bartlet turned and looked at Leo, his
expression one of barely-contained frustration.

"Yes Leo."

"You're making us dizzy," the chief of staff said quietly.

Bartlet held back a sharp reply and rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry, I
won't...how did this happen. HOW did this happen."

No one dared answer the question. The secret service agents all avoided
Bartlet's steely gaze.

"Not one shooter. Not one but THREE. Christ if they'd been decent shots
we'd ALL be dead. How the hell did this happen?!"

"Sir, not that I wouldn't like to have that question answered," Sam said
carefully, "but I think shouting isn't going to help Toby and Josh."

Bartlet glared at Sam for a moment, then shut his eyes. He could feel his
throat tightening.

Damnit. Damnit.

"You're right, Sam," he murmured, looking out the small window in the
lounge's door absently. "You're right."

They continued to wait in silence.

Miles and almost a world away, Joey Lucas sat in front of her laptop, the
click-clack of her keys the only sound in the small office. Kenny had gone to
get a snack, leaving Joey to herself. It was late in the White House, and many
of the other office assistants had gone home. With the majority of the staff at
the Town Hall Meeting, Joey found herself alone in the warren of cubicles and
offices.

She paused in her typing and glanced just to the left of her laptop, where
a small, blue coffee mug sat. It was currently filled with slowly cooling tea,
but it wasn't the recently poured earl grey she was thinking of.

This is a White House coffee mug.

Although she didn't have a voice to supply for Josh's words, they drifted
lazily in her head. She looked away from the coffee cup and focused on the
computer monitor in front her, where the cursor blinked impudently. Joey started
to type again, trying to firmly anchor her thoughts to the brief. She got to the
end of a paragraph, and as she read the words, she knew what Josh's counter
argument was going to be. She could see him half-signing, half-speaking it to
her now.

Gown and Feyereisen will never agree to mandatory trigger locks, no
matter WHAT you offer them in return. You need to back off on the guns and step
up with something else. Anything else. They're both card-carrying NRA
members.

Joey frowned to herself and looked over at the coffee mug again. Josh was
as predictable as a tornado, and quite possibly just as destructive. There was
also his relationship with his aide, Donna, which Joey wasn't quite sure she
understood. Sometimes it seemed liked they fought like siblings, and sometimes
they seemed to flirt like lovers. Which was it, then?

Joey sighed and started typing again, determined to not allow thoughts of
Josh to distract her from her work. The sooner the brief was done, the sooner
she got to go home and eat that fresh pasta she'd bought earlier that afternoon.
She was almost done when Kenny came into the room. He put his hand on
Joey's shoulder, and when she turned to look at him, the expression on his face
worried her immediately.

"What?" she signed. Kenny swallowed.

"Follow me," he signed. "There's been a shooting."

"A shooting?" Joey signed. Kenny gestured for her to follow him. She did
so, hastily grabbing her coat and locking the office door out of habit.
Kenny led her to Josh's main office, where a TV was on, several of his
staff watching it. Everyone wore similar expressions of terror and apprehension.
Kenny grabbed the remote and clicked on the close-captioning for Joey.

"...the scene where just moments ago, gunfire erupted from overhead onto
the President and his senior staff. Reports are still sketchy at this time, but
as you can see--" the reporter turned and the camera panned down and zoomed in
on the scene as best it could, where a sea of flashing red, blue, and amber
lights danced about, "--there are several fire engines, police vehicles, and
even two ambulances. Now Bob this Town Hall meeting was about..."

Ambulances.

Joey's heart leapt into her throat. She looked over at Kenny and grabbed
his arm.

"We have to find them," she signed frantically. Kenny nodded. He turned
and almost ran into Della, one of Josh's many assistants.

"Are you going to go find out what happened?" she asked, clearly shaken.
Kenny nodded.

"We're going to try," he said.

"Give us a call, if you find out anything," she said quietly. Kenny nodded
to her and turned, pointing Joey down the hall.

"Let's go."

Kenny wasn't the best driver in the world, but he could get places
quickly. He knew the nooks and crannies of DC's streets as only a native could,
and he knew how to avoid cops and where speeding was the best bet. He got them
there in less than thirty minutes.

They half ran, half walked to the front desk and Joey frantically signed
to Kenny, who only slightly-less frantically translated. The clerk nodded sagely
and pointed at the lounge.

Joey hurried to the door and saw the two secret service agents flanking it
suddenly step in close, their eyes hard and sharp. She balked for a moment, but
Kenny produced their Ids readily enough. They glanced at them, then murmured
into their mics. A few moments later they both nodded to Joey and Kenny.

"Alright, you're clear."

Kenny translated for her, and Joey shivered a little, mostly at the need
for such measures.

She walked in the room and scanned the group. Josh and Toby were both
missing, and her heart plummeted to somewhere around the basement. She spotted
Donna, though, who'd spotted her as well. She quickly walked over to the younger
woman and put her arm around her. Kenny followed slowly and sat down next to
Leo, looking around.

"Where are they?" he asked. The question seemed to inflame Bartlet, who
resumed stalking. Leo grimaced at the President, then half-turned to Kenny.

"Toby's alright, he's under observation. He was shot in the arm." Leo
paused, and Kenny felt his stomach turn a little. That left Josh. "Josh was more
seriously injured, they, haven't told us how bad." Leo paused, the words coming
to him with obvious difficulty. "They have him up in surgery right now."

Joey looked at Kenny earnestly, as she'd not caught most of what Leo said.
Kenny reluctantly translated, and when he'd finished, Joey had grown far more
still. She took one of Donna's hands firmly, though, and signed to her. Donna
looked over at Kenny, who smiled weakly.

"They'll both be okay," he translated. "They're too obstinate to be
killed."

Donna tried to smile, but found it difficult. Joey hugged her fiercely,
her emotions all awhirl.

Please, let him be alright.

The silence didn't last much longer than another thirty minutes. The
President was wound as tightly as any spring, and he was snapping a bit at a
time. The staff avoided speaking with him as much as they could, or tried to
steer him away from destructive thoughts, but it could only last so long.
Finally, he'd had enough. Leo had as well, and the conversation was
rapidly deteriorating into a shouting match.

"Sir, if you'd sit down for a moment--"

"Damnit, Leo, I'm fine, I don't need to sit down, or calm down, what I do
need is to know what the hell's going on."

"We need to give them time to--"

"We've given them plenty of time! All I want is an update!"

"Mr. President I think patience would definitely be in our favor right
now," Leo growled. Sam flinched and tried not to hear what was being said.
Bartlet bristled at Leo's tone. "Patience? Patience? All I've BEEN is
patient for, for--" he quickly consulted his watch, "--sixty minutes! Now I am
the President of the United States, and by God, I want to know the condition of
my goddamned deputy chief of staff!"

Eerie silence followed Bartlet's shouting, then was suddenly broken by a
hesitant, voice.

"Mr. President?"

Bartlett turned to find himself looking at a woman in a long doctor's
labcoat and surgical scrubs. Next to her was a similarly clad young man. "Please
be someone who can tell me what's going on," the President said to her. The
woman half-smiled.

"Well I can at least fulfill that duty, sir. My name is Dr. Lissar Novak,
and this is Dr. Cerwin Wallace."

Bartlet sighed and extended his hand to each of the doctors, his calm
returning slowly. "Pleased to meet you, doctors."

Cerwin started, glancing at his chart, as if for help. "Mr. Ziegler was
shot in the right arm, Mr. President. We were able to remove the bullet and
stitch the injury. There was no bone damage. He's had a tetanus shot, and he'll
need a sling and some painkillers, but we can probably send him home tonight.
We'll want to observe him for a few hours, make sure nothing's been seriously
injured."

Bartlet nodded. "What about Josh?" he asked shortly.

Dr. Novak sighed. "Mr. President, your deputy chief of staff--"

"Josh."

Dr. Novak blinked. "Excuse me sir?" she asked.

"Josh, his name...it's Josh."

The woman nodded slowly. "Yes sir. He was shot twice in the chest. He was
very lucky, neither bullet hit his heart or aorta directly, but there was some
damage by a close call. His left lung has also been injured. He's in surgery
now, and is probably going to be there for a while. They need to repair the
damage, and stop the bleeding."

Almost everyone wore identical expressions of dread, mixed with the
slightest bit of hope.

"Is he going to make it?" Bartlett finally asked. Dr. Novak glanced at the
floor before meeting his gaze.

"It's hard to say, Mr. President," she replied. "We stabilized him without
too much trouble, but there was extensive bloodloss. Dr. Burry is an excellent
surgeon and he has an excellent team. They'll have a better idea in an hour or
so."

Bartlett nodded. "Well you've been generous in letting us use your lounge,
but I suspect we can't all stay here."

Dr. Wallace sighed. "Unfortunately, sir, it's too big a security risk. At
the most, one or two of you could stay with some of the secret service."

Bartlett nodded. "Fine. Leo and I will stay."

Dr. Novak's eyes widened, but before she could speak, Leo jumped in. "Sir,
that's not possible. We're needed back at the White House. At best we should
have Sam and Joey stay."

It was on the tip of Donna's tongue to protest, and protest loudly. But
she stopped herself just in time. Between herself and Joey, she was the one that
could run Josh's office in the mean time. It was why she was his aide. Joey
wouldn't be as missed at the White House, and she wasn't quite as high profile
as Donna.

Donna caught Joey's glance and nodded at her. Bartlett looked at Joey and
then Sam for a few minutes, then rubbed his temples.

"God how did this happen," he said softly.

"That's one reason we're needed back at the White House, sir," CJ told
him. Bartlett nodded without looking at her, then turned to Dr. Novak.

"Take care of them, Dr. Novak."

"We will, sir."

With great reluctance, the President turned and left the lounge, everyone
but Sam, Joey, and Kenny following in tow. After some conferring, two agents
left the main group and came to stand near them.

"Can we wait up in surgery?" Sam asked after a moment. Dr.
Wallace nodded.

"Sure, I'll show you."

Ten minutes later Tim arrived and told Sam and Joey they could see Toby if
they wanted. He was awake and cranky as hell, despite enough drugs to fell a
small elephant. Joey elected to stay and wait, in case anything happened. Kenny
remained with her.

Toby was just as Sam had expected to find him. Agitated, irritated, and
demanding to be released immediately. A young RN was fluttering around him,
attempting to give him yet another sedative so he'd calm down.

"Damnit, I feel fine."

"Mr. Ziegler, we need you to wait just a little longer. Once these test
results come back we can safely clear you to go home."

"Go home, I just want to walk down the damned hall and see--" Toby's
shouting stopped when Sam walked into the room. Toby glared at Sam dangerously.

"It's about time. Get me out of here."

The nurse looked at Sam hopefully. Sam spoke to her softly then escorted
her out of the room.

"How's Josh?" Toby asked as soon as the door had shut.

"Toby--"

"Don't Toby me, how's Josh?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Still in surgery," he said. Toby pursed his lips
and looked aside for a moment, obviously angry. He didn't want to wait.

"What the hell happened out there?" he asked finally. Sam rubbed his
forehead.

"That seems to be a very popular question," he answered, a little
flippantly. Toby glared at him, but Sam stood his ground. "Look, Toby, being an
unmitigated asshole to the people who pried a bullet out of your arm isn't going
to help Josh any."

Toby looked for a bare moment like he was going to refute everything Sam
had said, but then something in him changed. He sighed deeply and seemed to
deflate, and all at once looked tired, hurt, and worried.

"Sam, what happens if we lose him," he asked in a sad, dejected voice,
staring at his bed. Sam blinked. He'd only heard Toby use a voice like that
once, when he'd told Sam about forgetting his brother's shuttle mission bare
hours ago.

"God, don't say that," Sam replied sharply. For a moment, Toby didn't
speak, he just stared at his bed.

"He was--God, Sam, that could've been me, and when I looked over at
him...there was so much blood..."

Sam immediately walked over to Toby's bed and put a hand on his shoulder.
They remained like that for some time, the silence deafening.

Toby finally took a deep breath. "Everyone else okay?" he asked. He met
Sam's eyes; Toby's were red and bloodshot. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, shaken up, but...okay."

"That's something," Toby murmured.

"Yeah, it is," Sam said.

"So what happens now?"

"You let the nurse sedate you and wait for the test results to come back.
Joey and I wait to hear about Josh."

"Sounds like fun."

Sam smiled to himself. That sounded more like the Toby Ziegler he knew.

"Cooperate with these people, Toby," Sam told him as he made to leave the
room. Toby snorted.

Sam didn't hear Toby's reply as the door shut behind the nurse who'd gone
back into the room.

If the White House was normally organized chaos, it was now simply chaos.
Few staff members had gone home after the previous night, not even the severely
rattled senior staff. Only Zoe and Charlie had been spared the psychosis that
now had everyone running about with five hundred things to do.

The first phone call came at 11pm. They were letting Toby go home. Toby,
in typical fashion, had demanded to be taken to the White House. Bartlet had
been of half a mind to have the secret service lock Toby in his house, but Leo
had convinced him otherwise. And so Toby had sat with the rest of the senior
staff in the Oval Office, waiting for the call, despite his unusually pale
countenance.

Leo was struck by how much the tension in the room felt like it had at
many other times in the year: when they'd been waiting for the polling results,
when they'd waited to hear about Zoe's minor car accident. Everyone was
wandering around the room, trying to either make small talk or avoid it. Donna
was clearly the most distraught by the situation, but with Josh out she also had
a lot to keep her occupied.

Thank God, Leo thought. Sam and CJ had worked furiously for half an hour
on what CJ's briefing would include, then while CJ started the briefing Sam and
Leo had gone over some comments with the president. He'd taken the podium,
assured the country that he was alive, and then quietly exited.

Leo glanced across the Oval Office at Bartlet and sighed inwardly. It was
obvious to him that Jeb needed sleep, and rest, and yet he wasn't going to get a
wink of it until he knew Josh's condition.

Leo winced at his own thoughts. Until he knows Josh is alright, he
corrected himself. I have to think positive about this.

An hour later, they'd gotten the call. It started as a page from Mrs.
Landingham.

"Mr. President?"

Bartlet had dreaded and yet waited for the sound of her paging him for
almost two hours now. "Yes, Mrs. Landingham?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"You have a call from Dr. Ronald Burry at St. Mary's, sir." Her voice was
hesitant. She was clearly worried.

"Put him through, Mrs. Landingham."

"Yes sir."

There was a tense moment, where Jeb honestly didn't think he could pick up
the phone, for fear that Dr. Burry's first words would be, "Mr. President, I'm
very sorry." He got ahold of himself and picked up the handset.

"This is the President," he said in a calm tone that surprised even him.

"Mr. President, this is Dr. Burry at St. Mary's." The doctor's voice was
deep and melodious, the sort of voice you wanted to have give you news of any
sort, good or bad. "I am very relieved to inform you, sir, that Mr. Lyman's
surgery went well and that he is in stable condition. I anticipate a full
recovery for him, although it will be several days before he's out jogging
again."

Bartlet's sigh of relief and slight smile at Leo had everyone murmuring.
The worst of the intense fear that had been choking them seemed to bleed from
the room, to be replaced with a little apprehension. "Thank you, Dr. Burry, for
everything. This administration owes you an incredible debt of gratitude."

"Mr. President, seeing as financial aid got me through four years of
college, I just consider this a favor returned."

Bartlet smiled genuinely, then. "Thank you, Dr. Burry."

"Your welcome, sir. Mr. Lyman should be able to receive visitors regularly
starting tomorrow."

"I understand."

"Good night, Mr. President."

"Good night, doctor."

Bartlet hung up the phone and turned to face his staff. "He's going to be
alright," he said softly.

Any lingering tension dissipated immediately, and Toby leaned back on the
couch, shutting his eyes tightly.

Bartlet watched his staff rejoice, if in a subdued fashion, but couldn't
help feeling less relief and more fear. That was so close. We almost lost Josh.

We could've lost Zoe. Zoe, damnit.

That was so close.

The only other time in his life Josh had been under sedation was when he'd
had his wisdom teeth pulled. That was long enough ago that remembering it made
him feel old, but as it was the only thing he could compare to his current
situation, he held to the memory firmly, drifting through it like a lonely raft
on a lazy river.

When he'd first started to recover from the anesthetic, his father sitting
anxiously out in the waiting room, he'd not been able to keep a single coherent
thought for more than ten seconds. He had some strange obsession with knowing
what time it was, and initially when he was conscious enough to conceive of
actions and carry them out, he'd raised his head a few inches, glanced at the
wall mounted clock, then rested his head back on the dentist's chair.
He'd then promptly forgotten that he'd already checked on the time, and
done it again. And again, and again until it registered to him that he knew what
time it was, and why was his neck getting so sore?

At that point, his eyesight still not recording all that he was seeing
faithfully, the doctors had shuttled him out to his father's car, and they'd
driven home. Josh had spent the remains of the day lying in his bed, alternating
between sleep and a hydrocodone-induced haze.

At the moment, he felt like he had then, lying in the dentist's chair. He
knew he was conscious and thinking, but he just couldn't hold any information
down long enough to get significance out of it. Why was he drugged to the gills?
His chest had a feeling to it that implied, once the drugs wore off, he'd be in
quite a bit of pain. There was a burning, tired feeling that seemed to permeate
every inch of him.

It was another few minutes before it occurred to Josh that earlier today
he hadn't been in this state, and that this was, in fact, not a regular thing
for him. He felt apprehensive and worried, then when he began to remember the
events of the last few...days? hours? whatever...it dawned on him that the
reason he felt like he was heavily sedated was that he probably was.
Meeting. There was the town meeting, and we were...walking somewhere. I
remember walking, and the fence. But before the fence, there were gunshots...
I was shot. I'm sure I was shot. I remember, it felt like...

His mind shied from that memory. Like two sharp fists against his chest,
and his breath had been stolen from him, to be replaced by something liquid-
like, and a spreading pain that threatened to crush him.

Toby. I remember Toby, did he say my name? Does that mean he was okay?
I don't think I got to talk to him...

Josh had a million questions all battling for supremacy and the right to
Be Answered First, but he barely had even the energy to move a finger. He waited
the lethargy out, and finally, with a little fear over what he'd see, he opened
his eyes.

Josh smiled weakly, happy to find that the first things he got to see and
possibly remember clearly were Sam and Joey, smiling back at him in apparent
relief.

Joey grabbed his left hand and squeezed it firmly. Josh could've been
mistaken, but he thought she was crying. Was she? It was hard to tell. His
eyesight was almost as fuzzy as his thoughts.

"Hey," he managed to say softly. His throat felt achy and sore, and his
voice mimicked it accurately. Sam sat down in the chair on the other side of the
bed and took Josh's free hand.

"Hey yourself," Sam said, his own voice rough. Josh smiled again, and Sam
continued. "Helluva night, huh?" he asked, obviously attempting to be
lighthearted about things.

"Yeah, one...helluva ride," Josh whispered. He looked over at Joey and
made a move to sign to her what he'd said. She firmly held his hand and waved
off the other. Josh appeared vaguely crestfallen but was, in truth, too
exhausted to even attempt it. "Is everyone okay?" he asked, hesitantly.
Please, please, please God...

"Aside from you?" Sam asked, a little sharply. Josh nodded. "Toby was, um,
shot in the arm, but he's already gone home. One tetanus shot and a sling, and
he's good as...well, he ever was, at any rate."

Josh smiled, not allowing himself to laugh. He suspected it would hurt too
much.

"Everyone else is fine," Sam finished. "Physically."

Josh's face darkened for a minute, and he glanced over at Joey, who so far
hadn't said anything. "Is he lying?" he asked her pointedly. Sam glared at Josh
and Joey half-smiled.

"He's telling the truth," she signed. Josh nodded and shut his eyes for a
moment, grimacing. Sam and Joey exchanged nervous glances.

"I'm okay," Josh assured them once he opened his eyes and saw their
expressions. "Just...going to be uncomfortable for a little while."

"We should let you sleep," Sam said after a moment. Josh murmured assent
and shut his eyes, but not before glancing at Joey and smiling slightly.
They waited for his breathing to become deep and even before leaving the
room, as if to assure themselves that he was merely sleeping, and not going to
die on them suddenly. Even then it was hard to leave the room.

Regardless of Sam's presence, Joey kissed Josh's hand gingerly before
letting go of it. She thought she saw a smile flit across his features, but his
breathing was deep and even again, and he made no movements otherwise.
They turned and left the room, both relieved beyond words.

CJ sat in her dark office, staring at Gail. It was almost three in the
morning, and she was still here.

He's alright. They're both alright. I just briefed the press and told
them, everyone's alright. The President stood there at the podium and said he
was alright, and Zoe and Charlie were alright. So everyone's alright.
Gail swirled in her bowl, oblivious to CJ's chaotic thoughts. A quiet
little voice in CJ's mind seemed to whisper, Liar.

She shut her eyes for a moment, and shook. The event played over and over
in her head, like a bad fumble on Monday Night Football. The gunshots, the
agents, the limos, the ambulances and their sirens, the flashing lights. The
endless waiting, first in the doctor's lounge, then in the Oval Office. The
choking fear that someone was going to call and tell her one of her injured
friends had died.

That last thing, that had been the hardest part. Every other event of the
evening paled in comparison to sitting there, waiting, secure in the knowledge
that at any moment, she would find out that Josh Lyman had died 15 minutes ago.
Even now she could feel what her reaction would have been. It tightened her
throat and threatened to make her cry anyways, out of sheer spite. Her breath
came short and she felt dizzy.

He's not dead! CJ thought fiercely, although she wasn't sure who
she was reassuring. He's not. He's okay. They're both okay.
No, she had lied to the press out there. Not everyone was alright.

"CJ?"

Danny's voice drew a startled yelp from CJ, who jumped in her chair, her
hand to her chest.

"Damnit, Danny," she hissed, a little more harshly than she wanted to. "Don't DO that."

Danny ducked his head slightly, mollified. "I'm sorry, I just, you were
sitting there in the dark, and didn't noticed when I knocked..." His words
trailed off when he saw the look on her face.

"You okay, CJ?" Danny asked carefully.

CJ laughed, but there was no humor in her voice. "Yeah. I just got shot
at, Toby and Josh were both hurt, and I spent two hours sitting there waiting to
hear if one of them was dead. But, it's okay, I'm fine, h-how are you?"

He heard the shake in her voice, and didn't need to come any closer to
tell that the tremor in her movements was due to some well-concealed crying.
Danny weighed his options, then walked over to her, crouching down in front of
her so he could look up into her face.

"It's okay, CJ. They're both okay," he told her, his voice gentle. CJ felt
a tear slide down her cheek.

"Yeah," she agreed. "They are."

Danny crouched there with her in silence, then finally stood up and pulled
her into a hug. He was only mildly amazed when she didn't shove him away, but
instead held him fiercely.

"I was so scared," she whispered, the tears running freely now as she
finally accepted the fact that she too, just like her friends, had been bare
inches from death. She accepted that she had come out the situation physically
unharmed but mentally wounded with the knowledge that she couldn't handle the
idea of any of her friends and coworkers dead while she lived.

Danny remembered the sound of the guns from his safe position inside the
building, and shut his eyes. He remembered what he'd been terrified of, and how
relieved he'd been to see an unharmed but panicked CJ shoved into a limousine.

"So was I," he said into the darkness.