P.O.T.U.S. (manxman)**Short Story**

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The South Lawn flowers (White House) 

photo courtesy of www.flickr.com/photos/mbell1975/22445933086

Mason

Tumbling out of bed, I vowed to make whoever it was banging incessantly on my bedroom door pay with their fucking life for interrupting my sleep. I felt like I just went to bed, dammit.

"What, the hell..." I barked as I shoved my service weapon in the back of my sweats before throwing my bedroom door open and giving in to the temptation of shooting the fucker standing there.

"So...so sorry to bother so early Agent Carter, Sir. But I was told to come get you immediately. POTUS is on the move without his usual security detail. Agent Marks said to inform you right away." The nervous rookie agent shifted as if he would rather be doing anything else at o' dark-thirty in the morning than standing here telling me this bullshit.

"What do you mean POTUS is on the move? Where the hell is he going this time of the morning." I snapped as I turned on my heels to grab my phone, and a hoodie. I shoved my feet into the first available pair of sneakers I could find, and I strapped on my holster and secured my weapon.

The rookie was hot my heels as I charged down the hallway heading straight for the security room to see what the hell was going on. Damn, this was not the time for POTUS to be throwing a fit or whatever the fuck's going on the that beautiful head of his. It's like he's trying his best to test my ever-loving patience between his snit yesterday and this pulling this shit now.

"Status update. Who has eyes on POTUS and where the hell is he going?" I snapped as I entered the coordinated chaos of the security room. I headed straight for the bank of monitors mounted on the wall across the room.

"Bring up the private wing and give me time stamps. Now." I demanded of the tech operating the multiple surveillance cameras covering every inch of the house and surrounding property. His fingers flew over the keyboard in his haste to get me what I wanted.

"We've got eyes on POTUS. He's just inside the perimeter of the South lawn. It looks like he is headed for the rose gardens, Sir. Should we approach on your command and return to him to the house?" The disembodied voice of the Agent reported through the speaker of the office's comm link.

"Negative. Give him his space, but keep in within your sights. I'm on my way." I said as the tech switched the view from the interior of the house to the outer lawn. I watched the man I have come to care about more than appropriately possible dressed almost identical as I was in sweatpants and a hooded shirt. A baseball cap was pulled low over his face as he trudged through the early morning dampness still coating the lush green grass of the South lawns. He looked like he dragged himself out of bed and just decided he could stand another minute of being inside the house.

My heart thudded in my chest. The dejected slump of those wide shoulders told a story all it itself. I turned around and made my way through the now bustling hallway. I spied several of Jaxon's Aides rushing towards me. I held up my hand to cut off the barrage of questions I knew was getting ready to spew out their mouths. Now was definitely not the time.

"No, I don't know what he is up to. He needs some space this morning. It's within my judgement at this time to cancel POTUS's morning routine until further notice. The press core is not allowed anywhere other than the press room. Have the Press Secretary work her magic, say something to appease the good people of America. POTUS needs a minute this morning. Thanks." I said and brushed past them without a backward glance.

Slipping through the closest patio door. I followed the familiar brick pathway and pillars until I came up the steps leading to the infamous platform where many Presidents have stood and made historical speeches over the years. Continuing past the podium, I followed the path and gave the two agents standing off to the side of the lawn a brief head nod in acknowledgement, but my eyes was focused on the lone figure standing in the predawn mist surrounding the plethora of colorful blooms of the well-tended rose bushes.