The Oval Office ✓ (Book One)

Chapter Thirty Five

Kyle's P.O.V

"Her blood oxygen levels are low, some of the burns from a few days ago are infected, and she's in and out of consciousness again. They're prepping her for the first grafting surgery now but I wouldn't be too hopeful." Troy says.

"Whose Skin?" I ask.

"I don't know-" he replies. "Stockpile they keep on hand for situations like this. Mr.President, I'm really sorry there wasn't more I could do."

He has the look in his eyes like he genuinely thinks he's done something wrong. As if there was more he could do, even though he and the other doctor did everything in their power to keep her conscious as long as possible. There's only been one other time I've had to face the real possibility of losing her. I don't want to think of that day but it's the only thing popping into my head now. Her physical injuries weren't nearly as severe then- but mentally, she wasn't okay for months. God I know I shouldn't, but if I could go back in time and kill that guy myself I would- a second term be damned.

Not that it would matter anyways- with how furious the American people were with reporters after they wouldn't stop rubbing salt in the wound after her assault. That was when everybody really started distrusting most reporters- they saw how heartless they really were. That was when people realized most of them are so desperate for stories they'd ask somebody who wasn't mentally right at the time a million questions that just brought up the trauma and drew it out for longer. That over a hundred people had to tell them to cut it the fuck out before she could be "just the First Lady" again and not "the First Lady that got assaulted inside of the White House".

  I wanted to be there every single second but I didn't have much of a choice- I still had to be the president, because at the time, if my break had been any longer or I'd abruptly resigned, the country as a whole would have been in danger.

  We were tracking the location of a white supremacist who'd been somewhat involved in the building of the nuclear bomb during President Williams's administration- which Marisol had not been briefed on yet for her own safety. There were about ten people who knew about it- because of just how dangerous he is. We'd waited until we were absolutely sure he had no weapons of any kind on him to send people in- which took months. Now, he's at Guantanamo bay under 24/7 supervision.

  After we finally got him to talk, he named five people who were instrumental in what would have been the deadliest terrorist attack in history. The bomb was set to drop on the capital building- and by our calculations, would have killed over seven thousand people. In the weeks after that, another thousand would have died from injuries. Nobody forgot Lauren's role in the investigation years ago- she did, after all- discover the bomb. She followed her intuition, which ended up opening the second largest federal investigation in our history. Three billion dollars later, the entire group- which was originally thought to be just one or maybe two people, were imprisoned. I'd say this was one of those things that was definitely worth every penny.

  "Troy-" I sigh. "You did exactly what you were trained to do. Wether she makes it or not.. thank you. Thank you for trying to save her."

  "Mr.President-" One of the surgeons comes out to greet me. "We're about to put her under. If you want to try to talk to her, now's the time. Her chances of survival are... slim." I follow him into the operating room, where she's lying on the table, conscious now- but barely. What do I even begin to say?

  "You're the only person I've ever loved, I'm  so, so sorry I fucking failed you?" No. That doesn't cover it- nothing ever will.

—-3.2 years ago—

I guess I don't really have a choice in the matter. To ensure a peaceful transition of power, it is tradition for the sitting president to play nice and invite the incoming president-elect to the White House. Even Williams, whose administration's legacy will be anything but peaceful, has chosen to participate in that tradition.

"Don't Cuss out the president, Don't cuss out the president, Don't cuss out the president-" My thoughts are interrupted by his entrance. "Mr.President, thank you for inviting me."

Be nice be nice be nice. "Yes well, it was only for the traditions. Why don't we talk in the office?" He says. I step through the doors of the Oval Office for the second time ever, closing the door behind me. "Privately, i'm not going to pretend that I like you in the slightest bit. Hell- I know you hate my guts but this meeting should not be wasted on political disagreements. So Senator; What is the first thing you're doing when you get to sit in that chair?"

"Fix the mess you got us into, Mr.President. God knows I'll have my work cut out for me." Oops. At least my words were more civil than my thoughts.

  "Maybe so- at least I'll die knowing I did the right thing." He laughs.

  "The right thing? You signed an executive order banning  abortion, that's not even fucking legal."

  "As the president it is my job to protect all Americans, even the unborn-"

  "You wouldn't know the right thing if it hit you in the face. This country is evolving whether you like it or not, so get over it." I say. "As the president elect, I have zero respect for you and to be clear I will not be pretending to- privately or publicly."

  "Senator Wells-"

  "You are nothing more than a coward. When they write the next round of history books you certainly won't be favored."I scoff. He leans back against the desk, his arms crossed. I sit back on the couch, staring him straight in the eyes.

  "You seem to have a lot to say about my ability to run a country for somebody whose never done it before. So let me ask you this: When they write those history books, what do you think people will remember you for?"