The Kennedys

Chapter Thirty-Five: End of the Line

November 1961, Washington D.C.

"You ready?"

Jack was pacing across the Oval Office. Bobby was sitting in Jack's desk, which had almost made Jack smirk, but no, the task at hand was far too serious.

"I never will be," Jack replied, writhing his hands together.

The White House butler entered the room. "Mr. President, your father is here."

"Thank you." Bobby jumped up from his desk. Despite what was about to happen, he still feared his father's retribution.

Jack and Bobby presented a united front as their father entered the Oval Office, the office he had worked his whole life for.

Joe sensed something was wrong from the moment he entered the room. The atmosphere of the room was already tense, and his sons, normally with an air of respect about them when he entered a room, were staring at him intensely.

"Jack, Bobby." He presented a calm demeanor. "What do you need?"

"Sit down, Dad."

Joe tentatively sat down on the sofa, his sons standing over him. Bobby had his arms crossed, and Joe could tell he was holding back a firestorm of emotions.

"Is everything alright?"

"No, Dad." Bobby replied, "It's not."

"While I was in Vienna," Jack began, "Khrushchev told me that you rigged the election with your mob connections."

Joe's heart dropped. Damnit. Damn Khrushchev. Damn every political operative out to get him who could have gotten this information to his boys. Now Joe recognized the look in his son's eyes. There was no more respect there. It was gone.

"So we did some research," Bobby picked up from where Jack had left off. Jack himself had his back turned to his father and was looking out the window, "And as it turns out, our operatives found some pretty fishy activities in Chicago. Right where the biggest mob bosses are stationed."

Jack turned to his father. "We tracked the finances, and found that there were large amounts of payments made to various members of the Chicago Outfit."

Jack could barely get the last few words out. He choked on them. They were so foul to him.

"Jack, Bo-"

"Dad," Bobby's voice was harsh and unforgiving. "I'm going to ask you this one time. Did you pay the mob bosses in Chicago to help Jack win?"

Silence permeated the air. Joe could hear the ticks of the clock. He could feel each second pass. Longer and longer they seemed to become. He couldn't hide from the truth anymore. Not anymore.

"Yes." His voice was raspy and dry. "But you have to understand you were floundering and-"

"I don't want to hear any excuses, Dad!" Jack was yelling. "Do you know what this makes me? It makes me an illegitimate president. I don't deserve to be here!"

Joe stood up. "Jack, how could you say that? You are the president, the leader of the free world."

"I'm a fraud." Jack's voice broke. "I'll always be a fraud. And what about Bobby?" Jack pointed to his brother, who was sitting on the couch, rubbing his temples.