Allies

Chapter 19

P's eyes were heavy as she filled a glass with water from the fridge. The White House residence was dark and silent- the way it had been since P and Bobby had returned home from LA the night before. Jan and her eight fatherless children were being tended to by Ida in their DC home, and P was planning on spending the day with them in the morning.

Michael's death had shocked the nation. His body was being examined in the naval hospital near DC to determine where the bullet that struck his head had come from- though the assassins had been caught red handed. Two radical Russian Socialists had been arrested fleeing from a building near the Veteran's Hospital minutes after the bullet hit Michael's head.

P had collapsed in bed as soon as she got home from LA. The emotional stress of losing Michael forever was too much, sending her into a sleep that had lasted for almost a whole day. She had awoken to comfort her mourning children for a while before collapsing again.

Now P was quenching her burning thirst. She hadn't eaten or drank anything since the incident, her appetite was gone, but her throat and mouth felt like sandpaper.

The stove clock read 12:35 am, officially the second day since her brother in law was gone. His funeral was to take place the third day, and P knew she would need to take the lead in planning. She could only imagine Jan was a complete wreck.

Soft voices drifted from the Lincoln Bedroom. P wondered if Bobby was seeing Dr. Chang for some sort of injection, and wandered in that direction to investigate.

P found Bobby sitting on the edge of the bed alone, watching the TV in the dark. Her eyes traveled to the screen and her stomach dropped. It was footage from the assassination. P watched herself smiling brightly and waving to the crowd as she climbed into the waiting car. Michael slid in next to P, and she jumped as his head was suddenly a flash of red and white before he slumped forward in his seat. It was apparently a shock to the nation when P's first reaction was to shield Bobby with her own pregnant body, but to her it was only natural.

The car sped off camera and P strode swiftly to the TV and shut it off.

"I was watching that," Bobby protested.

"You need to sleep." Unlike P, Bobby had been awake since Michael's death. "You can't do this to yourself."

"Mike's my best friend," Bobby's voice cracked, and he began to sob into his hands.

P knelt in front of her husband and hugged him tightly. With her arms around him, P realized that Bobby was wearing Michael's favorite shirt, a gray, worn tee shirt from his early days at Harvard. Images of Michael wearing the shirt flashed into P's mind, and she suddenly was unable to hold back the immense grief that filled her core.

Hot tears ran down P's cheeks and a sob forced it's way between her lips. "Bobby, what can we do?" she cried.

Bobby didn't reply, he just hugged P tighter. The pain that filled P was too much to bear. She didn't know what to do to stop it. Michael would never come back.

P and Bobby climbed under the soft sheets of the Lincoln bed and cried until they both fell asleep.