The Oval Office ✓ (Book One)

Chapter Sixty Seven

  There's a ringing in my ear that threatens to burst both eardrums. Did we assassinate the ambassador? He's a single father of five. His wife died a few years ago from an aggressive form of pancreatic cancer. Her chances of survival were slim from the beginning- which didn't stop doctors from trying or course, but she did die after a few months of treatment that was even more aggressive than her cancer. If that's true- those kids have lost both of their parents and will now go into the Russian foster system, which isn't very friendly from what I've heard. If Kyle had anything to do with it... no. I shake my head. He wouldn't have. I refuse to believe that.

I take his arm, and an agent holds the door open for us as we walk out to the podium to face the reporters. Behind them, the teleprompter stands, ready for his speech. There's a silence that falls over them as they wait on him to begin speaking, eager to spin it into a story. Well- he'll definitely be giving them one. The way I see it, he's doing every single news network a favor. They'll have something to cover for days- weeks even, if they stretch it out.

He takes a deep breath, tapping on the mic to make sure it's working even though a sound team adjusted everything properly beforehand. His foot presses down on the teleprompter controller underneath the podium, and he begins speaking.

"Good morning. As you all know by now, just weeks ago my wife was kidnapped along with.. the thirteen year old son of Canada's prime minister. It goes without saying that neither of those things should have happened- but they did, and nothing will ever change that. I cannot stand up here and make excuses for my administration or it's security system. This was, and always will be- one of the biggest failures in our governments history. It's cost... the person I've been in love with for twenty three years so much, and for that I'll never forgive myself." His hand grips mine as he continues. "Which is why... effective in forty eight hours, I will be resigning."

Instantly, there are facial expressions and whispers of shock among reporters. Of all presidents, they never expected those four words to come out of his mouth. He presses the down arrow for the teleprompter, moving on to the next part of the speech.

"I am not blind, however. There are certain individuals that we never would've gotten even close to finding her without. Eight brave individuals, one of which died in the cause of finding the truth, who- for their own safety, cannot be named today. They know exactly who they are, and to those who are watching right now, one of my final acts as your president will be to present these individuals with the medal of freedom. God knows they deserve it for putting their lives in as much danger as they did during the rescue mission-"

He pauses, his facial expression clenching. "Kyle-" I say, my hand on his back. "You okay?"

In less than a second, Ella and a few other secret service rush over. "Sir-"

She doesn't have a chance to finish her question before he collapses.

——-

  The ambulance is so chaotic and crowded than I'm pushed into the back corner, out of the way of the doctor and EMT's as they rush to the hospital at a speed that would be dangerous if there weren't road blocks. "How the fuck did y'all let the president do the United States have a fucking heart attack?"The doctor yells at Ella as she does.. whatever the hell she's doing with the iv and medical equipment.

  "He's stubborn. Didn't want to worry anybody." Ella replies quickly, her voice strained.

  "L- Lauren..."  he says, trying to speak through the pain.

  "Yes?" I wedge myself into a gap in between two of the EMT's, my hands holding one of his.

  "I... my will is in the top drawer of my secondary office desk. Joe will transfer-"

  "No! Don't talk like that. I won't allow it." I attempt to hold back the fear and tears in my eyes. He can't die- he won't. He has the best medical care in the world, and that's exactly what I tell him. "You can't... they'll have you fixed up in days... maybe hours."

  "Lauren. Kiss me, please." He says, a pleading look in his eyes. It takes everything in me not to break right then. So i choke back the tears that are falling down my throat instead of out of my eyes, and a shiver runs up my spine. Not the good kind, either.

  The kind that only comes with fear for somebody's life. My lips brush up against his, connecting only briefly before a doctor gives me the look.

  "Not now." I imagine him saying, but ignore it for a few seconds longer. If- god forbid, this is his last day on earth, I'm going to kiss him. Medical advice be damned.

  The entire hospital is prepared upon our arrival- with the specialist on standby specifically for any high profile politician rushing to the ambulance as soon as it comes to a stop. They pull his stretcher out, rushing him to a room, secret service trailing behind and staring them down the entire time.

  Anybody that isn't medical personnel or secret service is locked out of that room temporarily,as is this wing of Walter reed. Ordinarily, he would be transported to the presidential wing, but there want exactly time for that. I sit down in the now empty waiting room just feet away, leaning on my fists. How the fuck is this even happening?

  Minutes pass by, but they feel like hours. By now, Marisol's probably been informed that she is- once again, the acting president. Her inauguration in two days will not be a huge ceremony like many others- but will, instead, be fast and inexpensive like she requested. She doesn't want to make a big deal out of it even though it is one, regardless of whether or not she was elected. Her face will go down in history- not only as the first female Vice President, but the first female President as well.

  "We saw what happened-" I look up to see Kendra and Joe rushing in. "Is he okay?"Kendra asks.

  I shake my head. "I don't know- they've been in there for almost five minutes with no updates." They sit across from me, the same looks of concern on their faces. We're all thinking it- but none of us say it: One way or another, he'll no longer be the president in forty eight hours.

  A doctor emerges from the room, and we all jump. "He's stabilized." The doctor informs us, and the breath I didn't realize I was holding in releases all at once.  "We're moving him up to the presidential wing now to finish treatment and monitor him for a few days."

  The past ten minutes were an absolute hell. I don't believe that an actual hell exsist - but if it does, that's the closest I'll ever get to it while living. I watched twenty three years flash before my eyes, trying to hold on to every memory just in case something did happen. I breathe heavily now, catching up on all of those that I missed the past few minutes.

  I stand up as the doors of that room are opened, and two medical assistant wheel the stretcher out- still quickly, but not as urgent as when they wheeled it in. The Iv's and monitors attached to him now are a network that only the doctors could even begin to understand.

  As he, three medical personnel, five secret service and I board the large elevator that leads up to our wing, his hand shakily finds mine, and a tear threatens to escape the corner of my right eye for the one millionth time the past few minutes.

  I decide now, that I don't care if they had that ambassador assassinated. The events of this year pale in comparison to the thought of losing him.

  I lean against the back of the elevator for the few second left before we reach our wing.

  I wouldn't survive if I lost him.