Authors: Cathy and Anne Marie
Timeline: approx 6 months following Cardinal Rules (which ended AU after Sam’s
election to the California 47th) Baby Noah is now 10 months old
Disclaimer: We have Kelly on retainer working out some legal maneuvering, so until the
court rules, I say they belong to us.
Feedback: Oh, I almost forgot a shameless plug for feedback. Let me put it this way. If
we don’t get feedback, we’ll send Sarah Palin after you. I hear she’s traveling the lower
48 and she’s always packing heat.
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“You have a 760 verbal and you can’t define ‘no’?” I ask. “Soon, Noah will be able to
help you with that.”
“Nice.” He scoffs at me. Married for just a year and he’s scoffing at me.
“Don’t be scoffing at me, Joshua. I told you in no uncertain terms that having me
working as Sam’s Legislative Director was not going to mean a blank check for you and
the President.”
“Yeah, but I thought you were joking.” He whines.
“I wasn’t. If you want to get a read on Sam’s view of HR 234, make an appointment or
call him.” I insist.
“Why can’t you do that for me?” He teases. At least he better be teasing.
“Because unlike my position with the Deputy Chief of Staff, my new job duties don’t
include setting up phone calls or appointments.”
“Maybe so, but you don’t get to work with me 24/7 either. Where there’s an up there’s
always a down, Donnatella.” He smirks.
“Some might think that more responsibilities AND not having to work with you 24/7 is a
win/win.” I propose.
“But not you, right? You’ve always appreciated my finer points.”
“You have finer points? And you never told me?” I accuse.
“That’s it.” Josh takes two menacing steps toward me before tackling me to the couch.
“You are going to pay for that.” He promises.
If this is how he makes me pay for misbehavior, remind me to mouth off more often. His
mouth is ruthless on mine and his hands…yes, right there is perfect! Josh Lyman is on
a mission. And from the looks of it, it’s going to be successfully completed.
He moves to pull my shirt over my head, and I slap his hands away.
“Hold on, let me catch up.” I laughingly protest.
“Don’t have time for that.” He mutters and continues to disrobe me.
“I hate to be a bucket of cold water here, but these activities have been very rushed
lately.” I point out.
“That’s because our son has a warped sense of humor and every time his father gets
this close to his mother, he decides to demand our attention.” He hurriedly explains. I
chuckle because it’s kind of true.
“All the more reason to take our time right now.” I reach down to grasp him firmly in my
hand. “He’s just eaten and he’s sound asleep.”
“So you say.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m not taking any chances.” To prove his point he
pulls off the rest of my clothes with all due speed. But when we’re skin to skin on the
couch he slows down enough to stop and smell the roses so to speak. He runs his
hands from the top of my head down my throat, my breasts and my stomach, where he
pauses to tickle me.
“That’s not going to get you where you want to be, pal.” I whisper and I feel more than
hear him chuckle.
“God, you’re so beautiful.” He tells me as he strokes my skin like a potter strokes clay. I
feel completely adored right now even though my body has changed a bit since I had a
baby.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” I encourage.
“Maybe less talking altogether?” He suggests.
I nod my agreement and bring his head back up to mine to show him with my lips just
what his words mean to me. I just revel in this connection we have; physically,
emotionally, and spiritually. I’ll be honest. Part of me worried about keeping this
electricity alive once we were married and had Noah. You hear couples complain about
it all the time. Judging by the panting breath we’re both using to try to keep oxygen in
our bodies, we don’t have to worry about that quite yet.
My husband has incredible skills, and some of them are in political strategy, but right
now I’m enjoying his interpersonal skills. Yes, I know, many people who’ve worked with
Josh over the years would laugh at the idea of him having ANY interpersonal skills, let
alone amazing interpersonal skills, but I assure you he has them.
“I need you, Donnatella…” he whispers in my ear before he lightly bites my earlobe and
it sends shivers up and down my spine. Amazing.
“I need you too, Joshua.” I admit and his eyes meet mine for one golden moment and
then…
“Wahhhhh!” Noah’s loud and insistent cry comes over the baby monitor.
“No.” Josh shakes his head in denial and pulls me back from my instinctive move to our
son. “No. Wait. He’s just startled. He’ll go right back to sleep.”
With great restraint, I lie quiet and still below my husband; both of us waiting with baited
breath to see what will happen next.
Noah continues to bellow in a manner that I completely attribute to his father. Sighing, I
try to push Josh off of me to answer Noah.
“NO!” Josh protests, but his loud voice only makes Noah cry louder; if that’s possible.
“Josh, he’s really crying! Something could be wrong.” I rationalize and manage to push
him aside.
“Donna…” He whines. I send him a scathing look. Does he really think that I’m not
bothered by this interruption? That I wouldn’t prefer to finish this particular activity?
Isn’t this just how it always goes? Finally, my schedule, Josh’s schedule, and Noah’s
schedule align so that I can have hot and heavy sex with my dashing husband and the
baby picks THAT MOMENT to demand attention; Murphy’s Law.
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“You can’t possibly be considering voting for that bill!” I demand. “You can’t believe that’
s the right thing to do!”
“I am NOT discussing work here. I am here to spend quality time with my Godson.” Sam
insists. Right.
“Noah can’t understand why you’d even be considering such a stupid move.” I offer.
“I’ll be happy to discuss my thinking with him when he makes an appointment and
comes in to my office.” Sam brushes me off and tosses Noah lightly in the air. The
move makes me a little jealous, and I think Sam knows it, which is why he’s choosing to
do it now. “You are getting SO BIG, pal.”
“He really is. He’s starting to do the ‘da-da-da’ thing.” I tell him.
“Really? That’s so cool!” Sam beams like he taught it to Noah himself. “Can you say ‘da-
da-da’?”
“Pretty soon he’ll be speaking in complete sentences.” I add
“Frankly, being that he’s a product of you and Donna, I’m shocked he’s not doing that
already.” Sam teases.
“We’re starting him off with note cards.” I quip.
“How’s the baby sign going?” Sam asks. He only brings this up to snark me too. He
knows it was Donna’s idea and I was against it. He also knows that it’s worked great for
Noah. So really this is just another chance to rub my nose in it. Maybe Sam is more of a
natural in politics than I originally suspected.
“Great. It’s going great. I’m going to teach him to sign asshole whenever we meet a
Republican.” I announce.
“I heard that Joshua!” My wife calls from the other room. The woman has ears like a
bat, I swear. I’d hoped that having Ainsley in the kitchen with Donna would at least
mean she’d be distracted enough that she couldn’t listen to Sam and me in the living
room. She gave me a strict ‘no talking to Sam about HR 234’ speech before he and
Ainsley came over. At least I didn’t get caught doing that…yet.
“Let’s see what you can do, pal. Who’s this?” Sam points to me and Noah smiles and
signs ‘father’. “Awesome! You’re so smart. You get that from your mom.” As soon as
Sam says Mom, Noah urgently signs for his mother, quickly followed by the sign for
‘eat’.
“I’m hungry too, tiger.” I assure him and call for Donna. “Hey, the men in here are
starving!”
“Then they can get their butts in here and set the table.” She fires back without
hesitation. I just had to marry a woman with a rapid fire response, didn’t I?
Sam, who’d stopped the tossing of my son into the air, got his hair pulled by Noah to
get his attention before signing ‘more’.
“More, huh?” Sam laughs. “I guess we’d better get this out of our system BEFORE you
eat.” Sam tosses him again and Noah full out belly laughs. I will NEVER get tired of that
sound, I swear. “His signing is really picking up.”
Donna, the queen of research, learned that lots of kids were using ‘baby sign’ as early
as 6 months because their fine motor skills developed a lot sooner than their speech
skills. Basically, they can move their hands really well before they can manage to put
sounds together to create words. I argued that our child would have no such
disadvantage, but Donna insisted.
“He knows; more, wait, want, all done, bed, please, thank you, crackers, drink, stop, no,
and of course mom and dad.” I recite proudly. It really is great that he can tell us what
he needs. It saves a lot of frustration all the way around.
“Tell him his new word.” Donna suggests as she and Ainsley come in.
“I’m not convinced he really know that one yet.” I hedge and Donna just smirks at me.
Either I cough it up or she’s going to. “We THINK he might know D-O-G.” I spell out.
“Dog?” Sam confirms and Noah’s eyes get big and he starts patting his leg; which is the
baby sign for dog.
“Great. Now look what you’ve done.” I point to Noah who is repeatedly signing, ‘want
dog’. “Now we’re going to have to take him to the dog park after dinner.”
“I’ve missed something.” Ainsley notes.
“DONNA took him to the D-O-G park last week and ever since then he’s been begging
for a D-O-G whenever he hears the word or sees a…you know….” I explain. I do not
want a dog. We do not need a dog. Dogs are a huge pain in the ass and with Donna
and I both working, it’s just a bad idea all the way around.
“A dog?” Sam asks again just to get Noah all revved up. Sam is far more devious than I
ever gave him credit for. Noah, reacting like one of Pavlov’s dogs, signs ‘want dog’ and
even throws in a ‘please’.
“Samuel, cut it out.” Ainsley chastises him. I’m still not entirely comfortable with a
Republican in my house or dating my best friend, but she is able to cut him off at the
knees, so the relationship does have an upside for me.
“First dinner, then dog park, Noah.” Donna signs and says and the child pouts a bit but
holds his arms up for her to take him to dinner.
Dinner with a baby is normally a messy affair, but tonight spaghetti is on the menu, so it’
s sure to be a disaster. Noah loves to eat spaghetti. He also loves to throw spaghetti
and watch it stick to stuff. The kid’s got a wicked right arm. I can hear the Mets fans
now, chanting: No-ah, No-ah, No-ah!
Until that day however, anyone who’s smart keeps their distance from Noah Lyman on
spaghetti night, which is why I object when Donna places him next to me.
“Oh, come on.” I complain pointing to Noah’s proximity to my chair.
“It was Noah’s choice.” Donna replies primly. “He wanted to sit by Daddy.” She shrugs
her shoulders like she has nothing to do with this. “Of course had it been my choice, I
might have chosen to seat him there simply because you ignored my only request for
the evening.”
Shit. I guess she did hear me talking to Sam about 234. I decide to cut my losses and
sit down for dinner.
After we eat, and I take a quick shower to clean up from the spaghetti toss-a-thon, Sam
and I take Noah to the dog park. Noah, predictably, goes nuts over every four legged,
smelly piece of fur in the place. Watching him giggle and pet the animals, I know I’m
doomed. It’s only a matter of time before I give in and get him a dog.
“God, he looks at you like that, you’d have to do anything for him, wouldn’t you?” Sam
asks.
“Yep, pretty much.” I agree. “So if I got HIM to ask for your vote on 234…”
“Josh…” Sam sighs in exasperation. It’s an important bill and I can’t figure out his
hesitation.
“You can’t tell me you’re not in favor of this.” I insist.
“The people in my district aren’t.” He counters.
“They elected you to exercise your best judgment.” I remind him.
“They didn’t elect me, they rejected Webb, and I’m here to represent them.”
Ah. I get this now. Sam was not happy with the turn of events that resulted in his win in
the 47th. He wanted the people to vote for him because of what he believes in; which
was NEVER going to happen in the 47th I can assure you. Instead, the people rejected
Webb when they discovered he was an adulterous bribe recipient. Although to be
honest, in the 47th, the adultery issue probably wasn’t what tipped it over the edge.
In any case, Sam is occasionally riddled with the question of whether to follow his own
ideology or what he believes to be the ideology of his district on certain issues. In most
people, I’d accuse them of playing ‘polling politics’; following the latest polls from home
in order to secure re-election. In Sam though, it’s simply his conscience rearing its’
head. Webb’s kid, Aaron, has been making the news again lately and not in a good
way; blaming Sam, the media, me, everyone but his father for the events that
happened during the special election. It’s taking an obvious toll on Sam.
“Sam. Regardless of the circumstances surrounding the election, you were elected.”
“Yeah, and I have to constantly work to figure out how to best represent the people who
sent me here.” He replies hotly. “Look, I don’t want to discuss this now. Can we just play
with Noah and enjoy a beautiful spring night?”
“We only have a couple weeks before the Memorial Day recess.” I object.
“Thanks, Josh, because me and my legislative director have never really figured out a
calendar.” He snarks. “And speaking of Donna, will you please leave her out of this?
You’re just going to end up pissing us both off.”
“Hello, I’m Josh Lyman. Have we met? I piss off all the Members of Congress and their
staff..” I remind him.
“Noah, look at that dog.” Sam ignores me. “Let’s go play with him.” Sam picks up Noah
and takes him over to pet a yippy little terrier of some kind. He sits on the ground with
my son and I watch the little beast jump all over them; barking and licking their faces.
Noah squeals in delight and Sam can’t help but join in. I am so screwed.
Wouldn’t you freaking know it? Huge piece of legislation the President is determined to
get through Congress. I promise him we can do it. Mid-terms are starting to rear their
ugly head so this battle has become center stage. The press is all over it and I’m
currently 6 votes down. My best friend, who employs my wife as his legislative director,
may end up being a critical vote here, and he decides that now is the time to get a case
of Congressional Conscience; Murphy’s Law.
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“Donna.”
“Dear God, will you please drop it?” I shout and see Noah startle. “Sorry, baby. Mommy’
s sorry. It’s just that your dad has me so angry.”
“Don’t blame me when I’m trying to be reasonable here.” He shoots back.
“Reasonable? You can’t even spell reasonable. Your filibusters are annoying enough
in the office, during working hours, but at home they’re infuriating and they have to
stop.” I explain…again. It occurs to me that his stubbornness is one of the qualities that
make him such an effective DCOS. In a husband, however, it is far from ideal.
“You can’t look me in the eye and tell me you’re against this legislation can you?” He
challenges me and I sigh, because of course I can’t. But that’s not the point.
“I’m not voting for or against this bill, Josh. I simply give Sam the information he needs
to make an informed decision and advise him of the repercussions of his vote in either
direction.” As if he doesn’t know that already!
“And one of the repercussions of voting ‘nay’ is going to be a distinct chill from the
White House. He understands that right?” Josh says sarcastically.
“Yes, Joshua, having worked FOR Congressmen, WITH Congressmen, and AS a
Congressmen, I’m pretty confident that he grasps that implication.”
“Then advise him, in your official capacity as Legislative Director, that it is in his best
interests as well as in the best interests of his country to vote ‘yea’.” It’s just so simple
when you’re Josh Lyman, you see.
“Stop talking to me like you know how to do my job better than I do.” I insist.
“I DO know how to do your job better than you do.” He grumbles.
“EXCUSE ME?” My laser beam focus whips over to him and his smart mouth. “I do this
job very well, thank you very much, on top running this household, taking care of an
infant and keeping your unorganized (I cover Noah’s ears) ASS on top of work and
social obligations.”
“Donna-“
“Don’t you get superior about my work! In fact, don’t ever speak to me about work
again! If I’m such an idiot about political matters don’t speak to me about them. Don’t
speak to me at all!” I have lost it, I know, but all week he’s been nagging and nagging
about this damn bill. I get that it’s important to him and to the President. I get that he’s
under tremendous pressure. Hell, I worked right there in the pressure cooker with him
didn’t I?
“If cutting off communication with the White House is the strategy you’re advising your
boss to follow, good luck to both of you on staying employed.”
“You. Are not. The White House.” I point out.
“The hell I’m not. I swear to God, Donna, sometimes you just don’t even realize the
damage you’re doing.” He hits the wall with his open hand and Noah and I both jump.
“I swear to God, Josh, neither do you.” I take Noah upstairs with me to finish getting
ready and I hear the door slam as my husband leaves without saying goodbye to either
of us. I’ve got to blow this off and get to work. Josh and I will work this out later. There
will be plenty of time later.
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Title: Murphy’s Law (2/?)
Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap!
Thank God I work for Sam because I can’t believe I’m late for work AGAIN! How is it that
this harmless little baby can take a very punctual woman and turn her into the one that’
s always late?
Maybe it’s not his fault. I was rushing around trying to get out the door on time for once
in my new life and spilled coffee all down the front of my shirt so I had to change. So
then, I have to haul ass over to the day care, which is nowhere near either the White
House or the Hill, but though Josh will deny it at every turn, he’s a snob and Noah goes
to a private day care that caters only to politician’s ridiculous hours.
So, it’s Murphy’s Law, right? I’m driving like a bat out of hell, and of course I get pulled
over and no matter how much I pouted and cried, still got the stupid ticket. I considered
invoking Josh’s name, but he definitely would have flipped his lid over that one, not like
he’s not flipping out anyway right now.
So, now I’m running pell mell into the Capitol Building. I fly through security so fast I set
off the metal detectors.
I give up.
“Mrs. Lyman.” George, one of the guards, says crooking his finger at me. I sigh heavily
and walk defeated back to security, take my shoes off, send my stuff through the x-ray
machine and just give up the fight. I’m late.
Sam’s got a pretty booked up schedule this morning and I really wanted to be in by
now. One of those people booking up his schedule this morning is my husband who
has, and I quote, “Made a stupid ass appointment to talk about 234 officially even
though Matt and Chris never make me make a fricking appointment when I need to talk
to them about something and don’t cry about discussing work outside of work, but
because I love you Donnatella and Sam is my best friend, I’ll follow your dumb rules, but
don’t expect me to like it.”
Sigh.
As I make my way through the corridors, I pull up Sam’s schedule on my Blackberry.
Josh is meeting with a few other errant members of Congress before Sam, so it’ll be a
little while before he gets to our office. I’ve got some time to come up with a good
defense for the speeding ticket. He’s been here for a while already, otherwise he
usually drops Noah off. This also gives me ample time to cool down over this morning’s
fight. Sometimes, he just has absolutely no idea how hurtful he can be.
I enter the office and smile at the rest of the staff, who are all giving me the “Oh, there’s
Donna, late again, but it’s okay because she gets special treatment” look. Whatever.
My phone’s ringing off the hook. Guess no one decided to cover it in my absence.
These guys are going to end up learning the value of teamwork the hard way.
“Congressman Seaborn’s office.”
“I was wondering if you could tell me if the Congressman is making any public
appearances in the next few days.”
Odd.
“No, I don’t believe he is. His full schedule for the month is posted on our website, but
there are no official public appearances scheduled in the immediate future.” I reply.
“Can you tell me if he’s still in Washington or if he’s returned to California?”
“Congress is in session, sir, he’s in Washington.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I return the phone to its cradle and move to hang up my coat. One look at the clock
tells me that Sam should be off the floor now and the closed circuit t.v. is showing
things breaking up, so I grab my pad, Blackberry and notebook and haul ass out. I’m
standing at the door when he comes out.
“It’s really creepy the way you do that.” he greets me. “Did this freak Josh out, too?”
“Always.”
“He said you used to watch for him out the window.”
“You don’t have a window that shows the floor.”
“He also used to think you hid a locator chip on him so you’d know when he was in
motion.”
Is he kidding me!? This could be fun.
“What makes you think there wasn’t?” I deadpan. Sam’s eyes go wide. “I mean, he’s
highly placed in the government. The NSA likes to keep tabs on the senior staff.”
Sam looks at me for a moment, trying to decide if there could be any shred of truth to
what I’m saying. “Nope.” He says, shaking his head. “You may be able to get Josh when
you deliver something with your serious face, but I’m not as enamored with you as he
is. I’m onto your conniving ways.”
“All right, Sam.” I shrug as if I could care less whether or not he believes the senior staff
is under constant electronic surveillance.
“Whachya got here?” He asks pointing to my Blackberry.
“Oh, your schedule.”
“Why are you doing it with me? Isn’t that not remotely in the purview of the leg.
director?”
“Laura’s on maternity leave. We’re all covering for her.” I say and begin to rattle it off as
Sam’s eyes glaze over.
“Josh is coming at 11:30…”
“Hold on.” Sam says stopping. “Josh is coming here?”
“Yes.”
“Because of 234?”
“Yes.”
“He actually made an appointment?”
“Those are the rules.”
“But he, you know, followed them?”
“I withheld sex.”
“You did?”
“No.” I smile. “But I did put my foot down.”
“Damn. I can’t believe you got me anyway.” He says and begins to walk again.
“Sam?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Just out of curiosity, I mean between you and me.” I begin.
“You want to know why I’m not voting for it.”
“It’s a good law.”
“I agree.”
“So?”
He stops again. “The people of Orange County don’t want it, Donna.” He says. “They
didn’t want me either, but they wanted Webb even less, so the least I can do is respect
their wishes while I’m here.”
“Sam, sometimes you also have to do what’s right for the American people, too,
especially if you ever want to go further in your career. If you ever want to run for the
senate, you’d have to do what’s right for the people of California, too.” I say.
He looks at me thoughtfully for a minute then resumes walking. “Maybe.” He concedes.
“But right now, I want to do what the people of Orange County sent me here to do. If
they re-elect me, then we’ll talk about the people of California.”
“All right.” I say.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve got other things to talk to you about anyway.”
“Like what?”
“The delightful Ainsley Hayes.” I smile.
“Donna…” he tries to use a warning tone, but I know Sam too well.
“You guys have been together for a while now.”
“Six months.”
“That’s a while for you.”
“Thanks!”
“I’m just saying.”
“I know; you’re right.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“Are you going to ask her to marry you or what?”
His eyes bug out of his head and he looks over at me. “She’s a republican!”
“So’s the Governor of California, but he married into the biggest Democratic family that
ever existed.”
“She’s a Republican. Her father is a Republican. Her grandfather was State Chairman
of the North Carolina Republican Party.”
“Yeah, I know all that.” I say.
“Ainsley would never go for it.”
“She loves you.”
“Not enough to tarnish her family name by marrying a Democrat.”
“I’m just saying, it’s been done before.”
“But that was before he was the Governor of California.”
“Yeah, this is the Kennedy family we’re talking about here. The guy still had to do
Christmas at Uncle Ted’s house.”
“Why are we even talking about this?”
“I like to see you happy and I think you should ask Ainsley to marry you.”
“Duly noted.” He laughs.
“She’d make a great aunt for Noah.”
“She already does.”
“Well, Christmas isn’t all that far off and that’d be a great time…”
I’m cut off from my sales pitch to Sam by the unmistakable sound of gun fire above.
Sam dives on top of me and we hit the marble floor with a very unpleasant crunch. I
think that was once my wrist. There’s screaming and more gun fire, and I’ve passed by
wondering what the hell is going on and moved to the only thought that really matters.
My husband is in this building somewhere.
TBC
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Murphy’s Law 3
“So we have an understanding then?” I ask.
“If by understanding you mean I vote for 234 if I have a hope in hell of being re-elected,
then yes…I guess we do.” Congressman Wallen responds dejectedly. Good. I’m glad
we’ve got that straightened out. 4 down, 2 to go…including one Sam Seaborn…who I
had to MAKE AN APPOINTMENT to see. What a joke! I nod at Wallen and give him my
best ‘don’t make me come down here again’ face and head out the door.
Okay, I can get that Sam wants to keep personal and professional separate…well,
maybe not, but I can get it in theory. What really bothers me here is that my wife, who
knows all the buttons to push with me, is prepping Sam for this meeting. She’s going to
help him screw me and the President over here. My only saving grace is that her most
effective weapons are the kind Sam can’t use. As long as Donna isn’t naked at this
meeting, I’ll have a 50/50 shot at coming out on top.
We had serious words about it today. I may have said a few things that…upset her. But
she said a few things that upset me too! I hate that we’re on opposite sides of this
thing. I hate when we’re on opposite sides of anything, but this time seems especially
bad.
“Joshua!” Comes a voice from behind me. “You haven’t darkened my door in too long.”
“That’s because I’m too busy herding Democrats to bother with Republican lost
causes.” I return. Matt Skinner may be one of my very favorite Republicans, but that
doesn’t mean I have to show it.
“We may not all be as lost a cause as you think.” He tells me and my eyebrows shoot
up.
“Do tell.”
“I can’t right now, I have a conference call in my office.” He points down the hallway
from Sam’s office toward his. As if I don’t know where it is. “Can you stop by later?” He
asks. Hell, yes, if it means another vote on 234.
“I’ve got an appointment with Sam in 20 minutes and then I’m hoping to take my
beautiful wife to lunch.” I explain. “After 1?”
“Caucus meeting. 4:00?”
“Done.” I agree and start to walk away; visions of a bi-partisan bill dancing in my head.
“Wait! You have to make an appointment with Sam?” He shouts back at me and laughs,
the bastard.
“It’s a courtesy that I extend to Democratic Congressional-“
“Right. Your WIFE is making you make an appointment!” Matt continues to laugh.
“I’m respecting a friend and colleague’s time by-“
“I hope you’re not letting Noah see who runs things in the Lyman house.” He snarks.
“I run things in the Lyman house, my friend, and to prove it I’m going down to the
cafeteria to get full octane coffee to bring to my meeting with my wife and Sam; against
her explicit instructions, I’ll have you know.” I yell back.
“Thank God you draw the line there, Joshua. That’ll show her who’s boss.” Matt laughs
again. He’s in a very good mood today, it seems. “See you at 4!” And off he goes. Matt
Skinner, ladies and gentlemen, he’ll be playing here all week.
I decide to turn my blatant lie into a form of the truth and head down to get some coffee
before I meet with Donna and Sam. It won’t be high octane though, I’m not stupid.
Donna’s already supremely pissed at me and she can sniff that stuff out at 50 paces. I
pour myself a large cup and decide that two can play at this game. Donna and Sam
know me very well, but the reverse is also true.
I take a circuitous route through the Rayburn Building while I work out my strategy but I
still arrive at Sam’s office a few minutes early and a little out of breath from the climb up
to the fourth floor office.
“I’m here for my APPOINTMENT with Congressman Seaborn.” See? All nice and
professional.
“And your name is?” The perky little girl behind the desk asks. I rear back in horror.
How the hell can this child not know-
“Lisa, this is Josh Lyman. He’s the White House Deputy Chief of Staff.” Lynn Brown
explained to the pinhead. “He’s also married to our Legislative Director.”
“Donna Moss?” Lisa confirms.
“Donna Moss-Lyman.” I clarify even though it only says Donna Moss on her business
cards…some nonsense about not being associated with me on the hill.
“Lisa is helping us out in an intern position, Mr. Lyman. She’ll know you next time you
come in.” Lynn glosses over the name thing, but I still noticed. “Congressman Seaborn
and Donna are on their way back right now, but they’re running a little late. Why don’t
you go on inside his office and wait for them there?”
“Fine. Thanks.” I turn to do as she suggests when the pinhead pipes up.
“Would you like some coffee, Mr. Lyman?” I turn a disbelieving look at the girl and Lynn
just shrugs her shoulders. I lift the coffee cup I’m clearly holding in my hand right in
front of her face. “Oh. Maybe a muffin then?”
“Sure.” I say magnanimously. “A muffin would be fine.” This kids not going to last a
week. Donna will chew her up and spit her out before dinner.
I make my way into Sam’s pristine office and make myself comfortable at his desk.
There really must be something wrong with someone who is this organized. Then I
remember that it’s probably Donna’s doing and I get angry all over again. She really
ought to be in my office doing this stuff. Then we wouldn’t be having these knock down
drag outs about legislation.
Pinhead comes in with my muffin and looks startled to see me sitting on the other side
of the desk looking at Sam’s memos.
“I…brought you your muffin. Does Congressman Seaborn let you sit there?” She walks
around the desk and places the muffin strategically over the memo. Rookie move.
“He wanted me to look over some things for him.” I lie without hesitation. “Where do you
hail from Lisa?”
“I live in Congressman Seaborn’s district.” She tells me. That explains a lot. Suddenly,
there is a loud noise and a scream. I stand up and freeze.
“Mr. Lyman-“ Lisa begins but I silence her with hand to her shoulder and my fingers to
my lips.
Sometimes things happen in Congressional offices. Angry constituents, or even other
members, can get out of control and the Capitol police have to be dispatched to settle
things down. Since security issues have increased, each office comes equipped with a
panic button to alert them to any such problem. Whatever is happening in the outer
office is loud and angry, but Lynn is level headed and experienced. She’ll get to the
panic button and the police will be here in seconds to break it up; no harm, no foul.
Holy Shit! Two shots are fired and there’s more screaming. I grab pinhead and duck
under the desk. We’re both sitting underneath it, shaking like leaves.
“What- what-“ Lisa can’t get a sentence out and I’m not any better. My heart is racing
and I can’t tell if the sirens I’m hearing are real or imaginary. Then a horrible thought
occurs to me. Was Sam out there just then? Was Donna? Lynn said they were together.
“I want Sam Seaborn RIGHT NOW!” A voice shouts from the outer office. Okay, good
bet Sam and Donna aren’t there now, but they’re still on their way. I have to warn them.
Cell phones. I can text her on the cell phone.
I try to manage my shaking hand enough to get the cell phone out of my pocket and
bobble it on to the floor. Lisa picks it up and hands it back to me and that’s when I
notice she’s crying. I rub her shoulder for a second but the sirens come back and I
have to shake them off. I open the phone and it takes my trembling fingers a few
minutes before I can text a message to Donna telling her to stay the hell away from the
office and hit send. Please just get out. Please.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
He has to make an appointment with Sam! God, wait until I share that with a few select
members of our club. Mike Casper, in particular, is going to love that!
I pick up the phone and connect to the conference call, then prepare to be bored. Lots
of ‘governing’ involves boring planning sessions that amount to very little action being
taken.
So…my mind wanders a bit; mostly to Josh and Donna. Josh has been seen around
this building a lot more since Donna came to work for Sam. If anyone had ever told me
how Josh would become this husband and family fan, fawning over his wife and son, I’d
have never believed it. But then he’s always had a soft spot for Donna, and her for him.
God, after the shooting she practically moved in with him and took over every aspect of
his life. There aren’t many people that could get away with that, but Donna was one of
them.
It’s reassuring to see them so happy together. The kid is adorable and has both of his
parents wrapped around his finger. I was worried that they wouldn’t get this happy
ending when they were being bombarded by the press when their relationship first
came out. But look at them now. It’s all good.
When I hear the first crash, I’m annoyed but I pretty much ignore it. Doors slam and
things get broken a lot in this building. Then the yelling starts and my inner alarm fires
up. More out of precaution than anything else, I get off my call and call the capitol
police to come over. It sounds like it’s ramping up instead of gearing down. That’s when
the shots ring out. Damn!
I rush out into the hall and someone shouts that it came from Sam’s office. That’s when
it hits me; Josh is in there. My friend who has already lived through one shooting is
being treated to a sequel.
“Get on the phone to the White House.” I tell my assistant. “Tell them Josh Lyman is in
Sam Seaborn’s office where shots have been fired. And get the same message to Mike
Casper at the F.B.I.”
I’m not sure that I’m thinking clearly but all I can focus on is getting to Josh. Someone
has to help Josh. I burst into Sam’s office suite and it’s pandemonium in there. Several
people are on the floor crying and a young man dressed in a delivery uniform is waving
a gun around wildly. He swings it toward me.
“Shut the door and get in here.” He orders.
I shut the door and hold my hands out in front of me. “Okay, calm down. There are lots
of innocent people here and we don’t want anyone to get hurt, right?”
“Shut up. I want Sam Seaborn out here right now.” This guy’s eyes look crazed. Is he
on something?
“Sam’s not here.” Lynn, Sam’s executive assistant speaks up. “I told you that.”
“Bullshit. He left the floor and had a meeting back here right after. Get him out here!”
The guy motions to Sam’s inner door and Lynn’s eyes go wide. Sam may or may not be
in that office, but since I don’t see Josh out here, I’ll bet my last dollar that Josh is in
there.
“Lynn keeps really good track of Sam.” I try to reason. “If she says he’s not here, I’m
sure he’s not.”
“OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!” He turns the gun back to Lynn. Shit.
“I’ll open it.” I volunteer and hear Lynn whimper. “I’ll do it. I’ll go right over and open it
and you can see for yourself that nobody’s there.” I announce as loudly as I can.
Please hide Josh. Hide quickly. I’ve got to stall.
“How did you get a gun in a Federal building anyway?” I ask and turn back to him. He
smiles this wicked smile before he answers.
“Congressman Tillinghouse.” He replies. “But I did have to pry it out of his cold, dead,
hand.”
This guy already killed a Congressman? We’re dealing with a whole different level of
crazy now. If I get a chance, I’m taking this guy out myself. He’s not going to be talked
down.
I make my way through the 5 or 6 people lying on the floor and slowly open the inner
office door. To my relief, it appears empty. I stand in the doorway and I see something
interesting on the credenza; a nice, heavy lamp.
“See? Completely empty.” I tell the guy. “Come see for yourself. Nobody here.”
The gunman comes closer but motions for me to move further into the room. Suits me
fine as it gets me closer to the lamp. He steps inside and carefully surveys the room.
Then he motions toward the private bathroom. Reluctantly, I walk over and open that
door as well. Also empty. Where the hell is Josh?
“He’s not here. It’s empty.” I walk back to stand right next to the lamp. “There are a lot
of scared people out there. Obviously, you need to speak to Sam about something
important, but he’s not here. Let’s let them leave and we can make some calls to get
Sam back here.”
“Nobody is leaving here until Sam Seaborn’s slimy face is in front of me.” He tells me
and when he swings his gaze, and his gun, back toward the outer office to be sure his
point was taken I grab the lamp and swing away. He goes down but he doesn’t lose his
grip on his gun. While he’s dazed, he’s not unconscious and it appears all I’ve really
done is piss him off. I move to take another swing and he lifts his hand and fires.
I stop in shock; certain that he shot me but not feeling it at all. There are shouts and
gasps all around me and I follow their gaze down and see the blood flowing freely. That’
s when I get a little dizzy and decide to fall down. Should have left the hero shit to Mike,
I guess.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
“Mr. President?” I wish I wasn’t the one who had to break this bit of news, but at least I
have Ron here for backup…or, you know, some kind of whipping boy.
“Yeah?” He replies without looking up. “These numbers are wrong, Leo. We need to
get- What’s going on?” He asks when he notices the company I’m keeping.
“There’s been an…incident at the Rayburn building, sir. Shots were fired.”
The President stands up in shock. “Where? Who’s hurt?”
“Initial reports are still sketchy, sir.” Ron pipes in. “As far as we know it’s a lone
gunman, but he isn’t under arrest as yet. He’s holding hostages in Sam Seaborn’s
office.”
“Is Sam-“
“He’s not in his office at this time. We’re not sure of his present location.” Ron reports.
“Sir…the thing is…a witness reported that Josh was in there at the time the shots were
fired. We don’t have a confirmation yet, but since the report came from Congressman
Skinner…”
The President sits back down in defeat. “Dear God, what else?”
“There are several hostages being held and the F.B.I. is working on a rescue
operation, but the location of the office; on the 4th floor and in the middle of the “H”
shaped floorplan is hindering their efforts.”
“Where’s Donna?” The President asks.
“We haven’t been able to get her location either.” I admit. “Margaret has been trying all
her numbers.”
“Is it possible she’s in there too?”
“We just don’t know yet, Mr. President.” Ron answers. “We haven’t been able to locate
Mr. Seaborn either. But the Capitol Police are doing a thorough sweep of the building
as they evacuate it. We’ll know more soon.”
“I want reports every 15 minutes from them.” The President decides and watches Ron
leave. “Get Josh’s mom on the phone, Leo. That woman isn’t going to hear anything
from the TV news.”
“Yes, sir.” I go to get the numbers he’ll need and it hits me that maybe I should be the
one calling. I decide to let the President have the honors. Maybe he’ll have her calmed
enough that she won’t take my head off completely…Nah, not a chance in hell of that.
And the thing is? I can’t blame her either. I brought her son here; where his life, both
professional and personal, have been put through the wringer. Still, I’m going to let the
President have the first go. Then maybe I can be the one to call her with the ‘everyone’
s fine’ news.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
“Give me an update.” I demand, flashing my badge.
“I’m sorry, Agent…?” The idiot is going to put off a briefing from a superior officer while
he gets my bio?
“Casper, Mike Casper. Give me an update.”
“I was told to report directly to-“ Poor, poor idiot doesn’t have a clue.
“I’m telling you to report to me Officer, or do I need to get a picture book somewhere to
explain the pecking order here?” I snap. He folds like a house of cards.
“Our units have cleared the bottom two floors and are currently working on the 3rd
where the assailant is holding several hostages. There have been at least 3 shots
fired, but we have been unable to determine whether or not anyone has been injured.
We’ve tried calling into the office, but no one is picking up the line. When our people
get to the office they’re going to use the bullhorn.”
“Well, that should get everyone killed good and quick.” I mutter. “Tell your people that
nobody approaches the office or attempts to make contact with the gunman, we’ll be
handling it from now on.” I order.
“And when you say ‘we’?” I hear my boss from behind me. Shit.
“The F.B.I. sir, of course.” I turn to face him and act like it’s completely natural for me to
take over an active crime scene without clearing with him. “Let me brief you, sir.”
“I already got my briefing, Agent Casper, and you shouldn’t be within a city block of this
scene.”
“Sir, I believe I’m uniquely qualified to-“
“I got my briefing from the White House, Agent Casper, so I know that your good friend
is in the middle of this situation. You have no objectivity here. Clear out.”
“No, sir.”
“Excuse me?” I might have gone too far, right there, but in for a penny…in for a pound.
“I…respectfully refuse, sir.” I amend my remark. “I have an intimate knowledge of that
building and several of the key players. It would be foolish to send that kind of resource
packing when there are so many lives in danger. And you’re no fool sir, I don’t care
what others say.”
I see my boss’s cheek twitch, and I know I have him.
“If I see one piece of evidence that you’re too personally involved-“
“I need 4 teams.” I turn to the men who’ve assembled around us while we debated.
“Two along Independence Avenue and the other two inside the atrium with me. I want
verbal confirmation when each team is in place. We’re going directly up to the 4th floor
and set up command across from Seaborn’s office. We’re going to need a negotiator
and tear gas at the ready.”
“On it.” One of my colleagues replies.
“Let’s go.” I command and start running to the building. I wasn’t there for Rosslyn. Even
if I had been, it was a Secret Service operation so I wouldn’t have been able to affect
the outcome, but maybe I would’ve found Josh sooner. Today, I’m going to find Josh
sooner. Hang on, Josh, I’m coming.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Title: Murphy’s Law (4/?)
Ow! Oh dear God the pain is blinding! I think I’m going to throw up again.
“Here!” Sam whispers harshly. “Here’s the bucket.”
One look inside said bucket at the contents from a few minutes ago is enough for me to
vomit again.
“How’s the wrist?” Sam winces.
And I shoot him a glare. “Don’t ask me to do any typing for a while.” I whine as the
‘room’ comes into focus. “Where the hell are we?”
“A cleaning supply closet on the third floor. It sounded like the shots are above us.”
“Sam, I have to find Josh.”
“You are NOT leaving this closet.” He orders. “There’s a gunman on the loose and we
have no idea where he is!”
“I can’t let Josh be out there by himself!”
“Donna, I know you’re worried, and I know why you’re worried, but you know that Josh
wouldn’t want you wandering around this building on your own EVEN IF I were to
actually let you.”
“That’s just it, Sam. He’s not going to be thinking like that right now. He’s probably not
thinking clearly at all.” The tears are streaming down my face. “I HAVE to find him, Sam!”
“We need to figure out how to splint that wrist first, Donna.” Sam says. “You have to
keep it immobilized. You can’t go running around like that anyway. I wonder if we can
make it to the first aid ward.”
“SAM!” I hiss. “If we’re leaving this office it’s to find JOSH and not to go to some first aid
room!”
“We’re staying right here until we get the all clear.” Sam says.
“Sam,” I continue crying. “the last thing I said to him was in anger. We were so pissed at
each other. He needs me, Sam.”
“He’ll flay me alive for letting you leave this closet.”
My Blackberry vibrates and I look down to see Josh’s name scroll across the screen. He’
s sending me a text message.
The man is brilliant.
“Gunman in Sam’s outer office. Shot’s fired. Am okay. Me and the intern are hiding in
the secret closet.”
“Sam!” I gasp and hold out my Blackberry. His face goes white as a sheet.
“We have to get there.” He says resolutely and I grab him with my good hand right
before he can dive out the door.
“Don’t be an idiot, Sam!” I say. “If you weren’t letting me go; I’m not letting you go. We
have to leave this to the professionals. Where’s this secret closet?”
“I have no idea what he’s talking about.” Sam shrugs.
“Well, then how does he know about it?” I frown looking down at my Blackberry.
“Josh knows every nook and cranny of these buildings.” Sam says. “For all I know…oh
wait! My office used to be Earl Brennan’s office.”
“At least two of them are safe.” I say. I text him back with my good hand and hope his
phone is on vibrate. ‘Don’t move. Luv u.’
My eyes tear up as I think of what he must be going through in there. Why is this lunatic
in Sam’s office? Is he out to get Sam or is it all just chance? I want to go to Josh so bad
right now. All I can think of right now is our fight. We were not saying nice things to each
other.
And I know better dammit! I know better than anyone that there may not be a tomorrow
with him. I know how easily he can be taken from me, and yet, I still live each day taking
for granted that I’ll have all the time in the world with him.
My phone vibrates again. ‘Plz don’t move; luv u more.’
I don’t know which hurts more right now; my heart or my wrist.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
The gun fires again and there’s multiple ear piercing screams, followed by a very loud
thud. One of the screams came from directly next to me, and this is a very small
enclosed place.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” comes a deranged bellow. “WHERE IS THAT?”
I clamp my hand down over pinhead’s mouth as random shots are fired in Sam’s private
office. The gunman is looking for Sam. I can hear the closet door open again and my
breath hitches.
“The First Noel, the angels did say…” I can hear the words in my head with the brass
quintet.
God dammit!
The noise directly outside of our little chamber dies down a bit and I can hear Lynn
crying. “Congressman! Congressman Skinner!”
“SHUT UP!” the gunman bellows. “SHUT UP AND FIND ME SEABORN!”
What the hell does this guy want with Sam?
“Who is this guy?” the girl next to me cries softly.
“No idea.” I whisper. “What’s your name again?”
“L—Lisa.”
“Hi, Lisa; I’m Josh.”
“I know.”
I almost laugh. Of course. We’ve already been through this.
“How did you know this was here?”
“This used to be Earl Brennan’s office and I was his Chief of Staff. He used to hide
liquor, confidential papers, and on one occasion, a hooker, in here.” I whisper. My
phone vibrates again.
I look down at Donna’s response to my message. ‘Not possible.’ I feel horrible about our
fight now. How could I, of all people, possibly behave that way? Especially to her! How
could I take for granted that I actually DO have a lifetime with her? Especially now…
when this guy is looking for Sam and she’s with him and they’re…
‘Where r u?’ I text to her. I hope she doesn’t have any delusions about coming to find
me. The brass quintet is playing in my head, but I’m still functioning on some sort of
level.
My phone vibrates. ‘cleaning supply closet; 3rd floor.’ I text back, ‘stay there; he’s
looking for Sam.’
“I think he shot Congressman Skinner.” Lisa is crying.
“Yeah, I think so.” I try to detach myself from the fact that my oldest friend in the world is
right outside this door and probably in severe pain. I need to figure out a way to get to
him. I just hope he’s still alive….
“FUCK!” comes a very loud yell. Yup, sounds like Matt is still alive, thank God. How do I
help him without throwing two more people in the line of this lunatic?
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Shit this hurts! As long as I live, I will never call Josh a pansy again. My shoulder really
fucking hurts right now.
“It looks like it went straight through, sir.” One of Sam’s little chippys says to me.
“I don’t remember your name,” I ground out to her. “But I don’t think you need to call me
‘sir’ right now.”
“It’s Lynn.” She says. The gunman is moving around Sam’s office looking under the
desk, in the closet… the closet! I suddenly know where Josh is. This used to be Earl
Brennan’s office and Josh had a ton of stories about that secret sliding door in his
closet. He told me I should get one when I moved in here.
I look over at our captor. At least it looks like his head hurts from where I hit it with the
lamp. Mike, Josh and Chris would have loved to see that. Josh always said I hit like a
girl.
Wait a minute! I know this guy.
“You’re Chuck Webb’s kid, aren’t you?” I squint.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry about what happened to your dad.”
He points his gun right at me again. I’m going to be Swiss cheese by the time this guy is
done with me.
“Don’t fucking placate me, man.”
“Sorry!” I say quickly.
“I’m not your fucking friend.”
“I just knew your dad, he was a colleague of mine. We were in the same party.”
“Yeah, well because of Seaborn he’s dead and mine and my mom’s life is ruined.” The
kid spits back. “So, I’m going to get me a little retribution now.”
“Listen,” I say as calmly as I can and propping myself up. “This place is going to be
crawling with cops. It probably already is. There’s no way you’re going to find Seaborn,
you should just turn yourself in. It’ll go a lot further when it comes to sentencing.”
“I shot two United States Congressmen, in case you missed one of them!” He shouts
back, like I missed the fact that my shoulder is currently ON FUCKING FIRE right now.
“My sentencing, should I allow myself to be taken, is only going one way whether I turn
myself in now or not. So, I’m going to take my chances finding Seaborn. And that, old
friend of my dad’s, is where you are about to come in handy.”
Because this kid is a little prick, he yanks me off the floor by my injured shoulder. I
involuntarily let out a very loud yell as he drags me out of the office and into the
corridor.
The hunt for Sam is on.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
5.
Title: Murphy’s Law 5
Timeline: If you don’t know by now, there’s really no hope in hell of figuring it out.
Authors; Cathy and Anne Marie
Disclaimer: I’m not making money off of this, but I’m paying HS tuition now, so if
someone has an idea about HOW I could make money off this, I’m all ears…er, eyes to
read the email.
A/N: Feedback has been fabulous, thanks! You have no idea how much we enjoy
hearing from you about favorite scenes/lines or guesses about what’s going to happen
next. Keep it coming!
“Agent Adam Sinclair, Mr. President.” I hear the assistant announce me.
“Send him in…Agent Sinclair, what can you tell me?”
“There have been several more shots fired in the area where the hostages are, but we
haven’t been able to establish contact with the gunman yet. He’s very determined to
find Mr. Seaborn, but-“
A ruckus outside the Chief of Staff’s door distracts us all from my report.
“Mr. President?” Another assistant interrupts us. “Ainsley Hayes is here and would like
a minute.”
“Ainsley Hayes?” The President repeats.
“She and Sam have become…involved.” Leo tells us, clearly wishing he didn’t have that
knowledge or have to impart that knowledge to the rest of us.
“She might as well hear this too, then.” The President decides.
“Is there any word?” She asks as soon as she crosses the threshold.
“Agent Sinclair, from the F.B.I. was just giving us his report.” Leo explains and gestures
to me.
“Have you found Sam?” She demands.
“Not yet, but from what we can hear from inside his office, he is not there.” I tell her.
“We are still conducting floor to floor searches, but…” I hesitate, unsure of just how
much of my report can or should be shared here.
“But…?” The President prods me.
“We have recovered the body of Congressman Tillinghouse.” My statement causes Ms.
Hayes to gasp and sit down suddenly.
“This guy is just randomly killing members of Congress?” Leo asks.
“No, sir, we believe Tillinghouse was targeted for a very specific reason. He kept a
weapon in his office. We believe it is that weapon that’s being used in the hostage
situation. From witness accounts and the yelling we’ve been able to overhear from Mr.
Seaborn’s office, it’s very clear that he’s the intended target.” Ms. Hayes is crying now,
and despite decades of training with the Bureau, I don’t handle weeping females well,
so I simply pretend I don’t see her.
“But you haven’t been able to identify the gunman yet?” The President asks.
“We’re running security tapes and we’ve identified a man posing as a delivery man
whose credentials turned out to be stolen. But as to his real identity…we’re still working
on it.” I admit. “As soon as we know more, you’ll know more.” I promise.
Ms. Hayes suddenly reaches into her pocket and looks at her cell phone.
“It’s a text message from Donna Moss!” Ainsley proclaims and reads it out loud to us.
“Sam and I are hiding. Both of us fine. Josh in office with gunman.”
“Why wouldn’t they just call us if they have a phone?” The President demanded. “And
why are they hiding? They should get the hell out of there.”
“Sending and receiving a text message would be a virtually silent form of
communication, sir. If they’re in hiding and don’t want to be found by the gunman
looking for them, that would be the smartest way to send a message. They can’t make
a run for it when they don’t know where the gunman is.” I explain. “Ask them if they can
give us an exact location.” I demand from Ms. Hayes.
A few seconds later, a message comes back; 3rd floor storage closet. I flip open my cell.
“Agent Casper. We’ve had contact from Moss and Seaborn, they are currently holed up
in a 3rd floor storage closet. See if one of your teams can’t get them evacuated from
there.”
“I’m telling them to stay put until the F.B.I. reaches them.” Hayes announces and I nod
my approval. If we can get the potential target out of the building, that’ll be a good first
step in getting this ordeal resolved.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
P.T.S.D. is very odd condition. There’s no maintenance treatment. There’s no cure.
And worst of all, there is no telling what strange piece of minutiae might set it off.
However, since gunfire and a gun shot wound set off the initial P.T.S.D reaction, I think
it’s perfectly reasonable that the sound of several gunshots are setting off all kinds of
reactions in me; especially since a stray bullet has lodged about a foot over the heads
of the intern and I as we sit huddled in the hidden closet of Sam’s office.
The intern has a pretty glazed look on her face, but the gunshots did have one positive
outcome; she has stopped screaming and crying. She is completely silent.
When the phone in my jacket pocket vibrates, we both jump, but when I can’t respond
to the cell summons, she gives me a strange look. I can’t even shake my head. My
heart is pounding so hard and loud I’m afraid that it alone will give away our location.
Reluctantly, she…God, what is her name…Lisa! Good. I remembered it. Lisa reaches
into my pocket and pulls it out while I can do nothing but stare at the closet door,
certain it’s going to swing open seconds before shots are fired in our faces. The sirens
in my head are so loud that they seem to be in the closet with us.
She fiddles with it for a while, taking hitching breaths. Dear God, please tell me that’s a
text from Donna and Sam saying that they’re safe.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
“She says that the gunman seems to be alone and he’s holed up in your office directly
above us.” She tells me. I’m barely able to restrain myself from grabbing the blackberry
out of her hands so I can tell Ainsley something personally. “They want us to stay here
until someone from the F.B.I. team can escort us out safely.”
I nod in agreement, but then I think that though. “Wait, no.”
“What?” Donna looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Think about it, Donna. Josh is upstairs with this lunatic. If they pull us out of here, we
are OUT OF HERE.” And I see the moment it hits her. If we go with the F.B.I. we will be
moving farther away from Josh and any assistance we might be able to give him.
“Then…we need to find a new hiding place.” Donna decides.
“While evading professionally trained F.B.I. agents.” I deadpan.
“Well…yeah…” Donna agrees and then winces when she tries to use her hand to
respond to the text.
“Let me.” I tell her and hold my hand out for the Blackberry. She hesitates in handing
me our only form of communication with the outside world, but something convinces her
to do it anyway; maybe the excruciating pain of what I’m sure is a broken wrist.
I’m about done telling Ainsley that we’re on the move and that I love her when another
two shots are fired. Damn it! I mindlessly hit send and feverishly start another message
to Josh. Did the gunman find him in the hidden closet?
“Josh…” Donna says quietly beside me and whimpers. I nod and complete the
message. I stare at the Blackberry screen as if the force of my will can compel him to
answer. The longer we wait the more tense we grow.
“He’s fine. I’m sure he’s fine.” I assure her but my voice is shaking so I don’t know how
effective it is. We receive another text, but it’s not from Josh. What do you know, it
appears Ainsley loves me too. And she doesn’t want me step out of this storage closet
without F.B.I. protection because apparently this gunman is looking specifically for me. I
can literally feel my face pale.
“Ohmygodwhat?!” Donna demands as if the sentence is just one word.
“It’s not Josh. It’s Ainsley. The gunman is in my office because he’s looking for me.” I
whisper.
“What? Why? And why the hell isn’t Josh answering?”
“Maybe he can’t.” I offer and she gives me a sick look.
“I mean, maybe he can’t risk making noise right now, or maybe his battery ran out, or
maybe-“ I’m spared from making up even more nonsensical excuses by the vibration
from the Blackberry. “It’s from Josh.” I tell her even as I open it and she slides next to
me to read over my shoulder. “Lisa? Who the hell is Lisa and why is she using Josh’s
phone?”
“Lisa…she’s the new intern.” Donna recalls. “They’re in there together? Or does the
crazy guy have them both now?”
“Don’t panic.” I remind her and we read the rest of the text message. Lisa wrote that
Josh seemed very shaken up and she didn’t know what to do.”
“I need to get to Josh.” Donna whispers. “He’s having an attack.”
“We need to get to Josh.” I correct her. “What do I tell Lisa?”
“I don’t even know where- Tell her to remind him where they are and that help is on the
way. Tell her to tell him Noah and I love him very much.” Donna instructs and I hurry to
get all her words down. “God…Noah. I’m supposed to pick him up at 1.” Tears stream
down her face.
“Noah is fine. And his parents are going to go pick him up together as soon as we get
the hell out of here.” I tell her. She nods, but the tears don’t even slow down. I hit send
and take a deep breath. “I think you should wait here for the Cavalry.” She tries to
argue with me. “You’re hurt and you need medical attention.”
“You’re going to need medical attention if you try to leave me here, Sam Seaborn.” I
look at the determination on her face and decide I’m not getting out of here alone.
“Fine, but you stay behind me and do what I tell you to do.” I lay down the law.
“Sam, you’ve known me for years. You don’t really think you can lay down the law with
me while my husband is holed up in your office with some lunatic with a gun, do you?”
I tried.
I open the door slowly and can’t see or hear anyone. We need to get upstairs, but if we
run into the F.B.I. it could turn out very bad for everyone. I decide to take a risk and call
Ainsley directly.
“Sam?” Her frantic voice tells me everything I need to know.
“We’re okay, Ains.”
“Are you out? Did they get you out?”
“We’re getting out now and heading upstairs.” I tell her.
“YOU ARE NOT.” She counters but quickly relays my message to whoever else is in the
room with her so she must believe me.
I take another look outside and it’s still clear. I motion for Donna to follow me and we
make our way cautiously down the hall. “We’re going up the Northeast staircase. It
would be nice if no Federal agents shot us when we got to the top.” Again, Ainsley is
relaying my words to someone else. “Who’s there with you?”
“I’m in the Oval with Leo, Agent Sinclair from the F.B.I., and the President.”
“Donna’s worried about Noah.” I tell her.
“I’ll get him. I’m listed as an emergency contact.” Ainsley offers and I pass it on to
Donna who nods fervently.
“That would be great, thanks.” I tell her.
“Sam, hold on. They just ID’d the shooter from a fingerprint in Tillinghouse’s office.”
She pauses and I can hear her gasp. “Oh God, Sam, it’s Webb’s son; Aaron Webb.”
I stop in my tracks and Donna practically runs into me. Well, this just changes
everything.
“Sam, please just leave.” Ainsley’s voice has lowered and I can tell she’s trying to hold it
together in front of the President. “Just get you and Donna out of there safely.”
“I can’t, Ains. My best friend is up in my office, with the threat of a gun being pointed at
his head, because of me.”
“Because of his father.” Ainsley corrects me. “I’m begging you. Just get out of there.”
I quickly hit end because I can’t listen to the sound of her voice begging me to do
something and not do it, but I can’t leave Josh upstairs either. I take the stairs two at a
time and Donna, bless her, keeps up with me despite the pain she must be in. I wait for
her nod telling me she’s ready for me to open the stairwell door and then slowly push
the door outward. I barely open it a few inches, when an arm snakes out and grabs me
by the wrist. Donna screams. I’m whirled around into the hallway and come face to face
with Mike Casper.
“Are you deranged?” He asks me.
“Well, I did run for Congress.” I admit and Donna comes through the door at the same
moment.
“Mike Casper, you scared the shit out of me.” She hits on and about the arm.
“Cut it out!” Mike whines. “And you should have the shit scared out of you. DO you
have any idea how my heart tripped over when I was told you to were coming
TOWARDS the mad gunman instead of away from him?” Mike countered. “Do you know
what Josh will do to me when he finds out you came up here?”
“He’s having an attack, Mike.” She says simply and I see the fight go right out of him. “I
have to get to him.”
“Well…damn.” Mike shakes his head. “Stay back and I mean WAY back until-“
I can hear a door slam open and more screams from around the corner…where my
office is located.
“Somebody better get Sam Seaborn’s ass over here right now, or I start offing hostages
starting with this guy!” Aaron Webb screams.
Mike shoves Donna and I further from the commotion and behind several agents while
he talks into his mic.
“He’s got Matt Skinner.” He tells us.
Donna and I exchange looks. This is just bad on so many levels.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
6.
I immediately pull my gun when I see this creepy little twerp appear with Matt.
Well, this is just Murphy’s Fucking Law, isn’t it?
Here’s the gunman, WITH a hostage, who not only is one of my best friends, but a
United States Congressman and we already know he’s got no problem shooting them,
and by the looks of Matt, he’s already taken one for the team.
“You all right, man?” I call out to Matt.
“Shit!” he shouts as Webb jerks him more in front of him. “Basically.” He grounds out.
“Josh!” Donna shouts.
“Everyone in there is dead.” Webb sneers with a jerk of his head towards Sam’s office.
“Oh my God.” Donna whispers.
“He’s bluffing, Donna.” I say out of the corner of my mouth.
“Noooo, no, no, no, no.”
Please, if there is a God in Heaven, you will not add an hysterical woman to the mix
right now.
“Donna, get back here!” Sam orders from the corridor to my side.
“Is that Seaborn!” Webb shouts. “Come out, Sam! Come out, come out wherever you
are!”
“YOU MONSTER!” Donna shrieks.
And all hell breaks loose.
Webb fires.
I fire.
Matt falls.
Donna dives.
There’s motion in my peripheral vision where Sam is.
When the proverbial dust settles, Webb, Matt, Sam and Donna are gone.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
“JOSH!” I shriek into the office as I lock the door behind me. Webb can shoot his way in
if he has to, but hopefully Mike got him just now.
My wrist is screaming out in pain as I move into Sam’s private office. Lynn’s there crying
hysterically, but she doesn’t look injured.
I look around frantically and don’t see Josh anywhere. “Where’s Josh?” I demand.
“I don’t know!” Lynn sobs.
“Josh!?”
“In here!” comes a faint female voice.
That’s right! The secret closet. I throw the closet door open and yank Sam’s spare suits
to the floor. Right on the edge, I see enough room to squeeze my fingers through and
push open the pocket door with my good hand.
Lisa comes falling out hysterical and Lynn hugs her. Together, they’re quite the
hysterical mess. Josh is standing there looking very surprised.
“Josh!” I cry out and throw my arms around his neck, raining kisses all over his face.
“Oh my God, you’re okay! Webb said everyone in here was dead and I lost it! Oh,
baby, are you okay?!”
“Donna?” he blinks.
“Yeah, it’s me.” I smile.
“What the hell are you doing here? I told you to go home tonight.”
“Tonight? Josh, it’s like 2 or 3 in the afternoon.” I say shaking my head.
“You ask for a night off, I finally give you one and you show up anyway? See, you just
can’t get enough of me.” He smirks.
Oh my God. He’s got no idea where we are. I flip the light to the closet on and have the
good sense to close the door.
“Joshua,” I say grabbing his face with my good hand and forcing him to look at me.
“You and I are not at the Newseum, do you understand me? We are in Sam’s
Congressional offices and there’s a crazy gunman on the loose.”
My heart is breaking as I watch him struggle with what I’m saying. “Please, Josh, listen
to what I’m saying. We’re in Sam’s office. I need you to focus on me. I love you very
much.”
Nothing seems to be happening.
Talk about Murphy’s Law.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
“Donna?”
“Yes! Oh Josh, yes! It’s me!” and she starts kissing me everywhere.
“What are you doing here? How did you get here?”
“Um…well, Sam and I came to find you.”
“Where’s Sam?”
“I don’t know. We got separated in the hall. Webb said you were dead and I lost it, and I
dove in here when the shooting started and they’re all out in the hallway.”
“What the hell!? You were safe! Why did you leave?”
“He was looking for Sam!”
“Exactly!”
“I’m so sorry about our fight this morning, Josh.” She says hugging me with one arm.
“Donna, that doesn’t matter now. I wish you would have stayed where you were safe.”
“I could never leave you, you have to know that. Lisa said you were freaking out…”
“Oh God, are you kidding?”
“I couldn’t leave you alone.”
There’s more shooting outside and I grab her hand and yank her to the floor. She
screams out in agony and for a second, I think she somehow got shot.
“Donna! Baby, are you okay?” I ask as I frantically check her over. She’s clinging one
of her wrists to her chest and sobbing. “Donnatella, answer me!”
“I think I broke my wrist.” She chokes out.
“Just now?”
“No, before when everything first started happening.”
I gingerly take her wrist in my hands, and I don’t have to be an orthopedist to see that it’
s broken and it’s turning a rather revolting shade of purple and blue. “It’ll be okay.” I try
to sound soothing, but I’m literally going out of my mind right now. “We’ll get you some
help.”
There’s another loud bang and it sounds like a door being kicked in.
“JOSH! DONNA!” shouts Mike. “Where the fuck are you two!?”
“In here, Mike!” I call pushing the closet door open.
“Is he all right?” Mike demands, nodding at me but looking at Donna.
“More or less she says. It’s an episode, it’s coming and going.”
Don’t mind me. I’m just the village invalid.
A second later, Mike appears in the door. “Stay in this office.” He orders. “I’m leaving
two agents in here with you. Webb’s got Matt and Sam now.”
Then he disappears.
Well, you know what I say: Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
“So, let me get this straight, Agent Sinclair,” the President says. “The gunman now has
Congressman Seaborn and Congressman Skinner?”
“Yes, sir.” Agent Sinclair says.
Noah starts to whimper on my knee and I try to hush him and bounce him a bit while still
listening to what everyone is saying around me. Why didn’t Sam and Donna just stay
put? Does he have to be the hero in absolutely everything?
“Mr. Lyman and three members of Congressman Seaborn’s staff are being held by our
agents in the Congressman’s office.” Agent Sinclair goes on.
“Three members of his staff.” Leo repeats. “Is one of those staffers Donna Lyman?”
“Yes, sir.”
I breath out a long relieved breath. Two of them are okay at the moment. Of course, the
guy I love is being dragged around the Rayburn Building by a gun-toting, pissed off,
rich kid. I can appreciate how ironic Sam would probably find this situation right now, me
being republican and such an advocate of the second amendment…an amendment
that’s now being held to the man I love’s head…
“So, do we know where the gunman and the hostages are?” the President asks.
“Yes, sir. They’re in the first aid ward.”
“How did they get that far and the FBI didn’t shoot him?”
“Agent Casper DID shoot him, sir.” Agent Sinclair says. “But he didn’t disable him. All
we know is that both Webb and Congressman Skinner are wounded.”
“And this guy wants Sam?” the President asks.
Noah chooses that moment to let out a wail and all eyes in the room turn to me. “It’s
okay, baby boy.” I soothe. “Aunt Ainsley is here.” I look at him and sign the sign for eat.
“Are you hungry, Noah? Do you want to EAT?” Noah signs the sign for eat in return.
“That’s amazing!” the President says, taking a breaking from the seriousness of the
conversation. “Have Josh and Donna taught him sign language?”
“A little bit, yes, sir.” I smile. “It’s coming in handy now.”
“What else does he know?”
“He knows more, want, all done, bed, please, thank you, crackers, drink, stop, and mom
and dad.”
“We should get Joey Lucas in here. She’d get a kick out of this!” the President smiles
and relieves me of Noah while I root around in the luggage Donna calls a diaper bag for
food. I come across some Zwiback Toast. It’ll have to do. Noah happily accepts a piece
and the President doesn’t hand him back.
Uh oh.
Leo glares at me.
Probably because the Deputy Chief of Staff’s son is currently using the President of the
United States as a bib. I, myself, find it endearing. I’m glad I’ve gotten to know the
President. I don’t agree with his positions politically, but he’s a wonderfully warm and
brilliant man, who just adores kids. I think this might be what he’s like with his
grandchildren.
I wonder what my father will be like with grandchildren. Will he be accepting of a
marriage between me and Sam? Can he see past his political opinions to see the
wonderful man I do?
Sadly, I’m brought back to the painful reality of the situation as Agent Sinclair continues
with a briefing to the President and Leo about the FBI’s plan to rescue the two captive
Congressmen, one of whom is my boyfriend and currently NOT my fiancé.
Murphy's Law Part 1