Kathleen A. Klatte
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"The Call"

Feedback and commentary are most welcome.
Disclaimer:
The West Wing is the property of NBC, et al; this is a recreational endeavor, no profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
Yet another take on a cliffhanger resolution.
**Spoilers for "What Kind of Day Has It Been."
Thank you to Susannah and Ellen for details.

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EDWARDS AIRFORCE BASE

A large crowd of NASA and Airforce personnel swarmed around to help the debarking shuttle crew. In vivid contrast to the cluster of uniforms and lab coats were two college age people dressed in jeans and tee shirts. They hurried forward to meet Payload Specialist Doctor David Ziegler.

"Welcome home guys!" the first, a young man called cheerfully.

"Come to mama," his companion, a young woman crooned, grabbing a plastic carry case the size of a ten gallon fish tank from the good doctor.

"How are they? Do they look OK?" the young man asked, leaning over her shoulder to see the small amphibians in the container.

It was left to a young airman to offer his arm to the scientist who stumbled slightly as he felt the weight of Earth’s gravity for the first time in days.

"Nice to see that my research assistants are so concerned for my well being," Doctor Ziegler remarked acidly.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, nice to see ya, Dave," the young man answered, still preoccupied with the ‘astro-newts.’

"Thank you so much, Mike."

"Call your brother," the woman told him without looking up from the small creatures in the case.

"Excuse me, Julia?"

"Your brother...you know, the one at the White House? He’s been calling Peter Jobson like ten times a day. You’re supposed to call him as soon as you land."

"I’ll call him as soon as I have a shower."

"He said as soon as you land."

"Julia, I haven’t had a shower since lift-off. I’m dirty and I’m smelly and I’m not doing anything until I’ve had a nice, long, hot shower. You two can start the standard battery of tests on those guys while I’m getting cleaned up."

******

David Ziegler stepped out of the shower and wrapped towel around his waist. He was safely back on Earth, his experiment showed every promise of success, and most importantly, he was clean for the first time in days. He paused for a moment to consider his reflection, wondering if he’d look more scholarly with a beard like his brother. Then he thought of trying to eat around a beard in zero-gee and decided that clean-shaven suited him. He almost jumped out of his skin at a loud pounding on the bathroom door.

"Dave! Dave, are you in there?"

"Yes, Julia, I’m right here," he yelled through the door.

"I’ve been pounding for like ten minutes."

"I’ve been in the shower for like twenty. What’s so damn important that it couldn’t wait for me to get dressed?"

"Dave, you had a call from Washington."

"Are you kidding me? It’s gotta be going on eleven o’clock on the East coast."

"Dave, it’s your brother...he’s been shot."

"What?" Dave yanked open the door, forgetting his attire, or rather, lack thereof.

"The President was doing this town meeting thing at the Newseum tonight...when they left the building, someone started shooting."

"The President?" David gasped.

"President Bartlet is OK, but a bunch of his staff got hurt...including your brother."

"How bad?" Dave asked weakly.

"They want you to come right away."

There was more pounding on the hall door, and then Mike poked his head inside the room. "Dave, there’s a flight for Andrews Airforce Base in half an hour. Oh, and here...I got this from your gear bag...thought you might want it."

Dave looked down at his Hebrew prayer book that Mike had pressed into his hand. "Thanks," he said hollowly. "Would you guys...would you give me a minute?"

"Sure," Julia answered. "We’ll be right outside...just yell."

Dave nodded as he slowly sank into a chair, trying to gather his thoughts. The phone rang and he picked it up automatically.

"Doctor Ziegler?"

"Yeah?"

"This is Lilly Mays...acting White House Communications Director."

Dave winced at the title. "Yeah."

"I, uh...I wanted to speak to you myself."

"That’s...very kind of you."

"I wish I had something better to tell you, but Toby is still in surgery. We won’t know anything for sure until the doctors are finished operating."

"I understand."

"I understand that you’re on the next flight out of Edwards. There’ll be a chopper standing by at Andrews to bring you directly to the hospital. If we get any new information while you’re in the air, we’ll relay it. I’ve also notified Congresswoman Wyatt. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, thank you." He laughed bitterly. "It’s ironic, isn’t it? I’m the one with the dangerous job, not Toby. I guess...I always thought he’d be the one getting this call."


Fin.

Copyright © 2000 Kathleen Klatte
All Rights Reserved

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