Slam! 2 "Lover Down"

Disclaimer: No one, except for the original characters which are indicated in part one are mine. All known characters are that of Aaron Sorkin.

See part 1.

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Zoe's POV

The shooting finally stops. Finally. I realize that Charlie's grip on me has loosened slightly and that he's more like a dead...weight on my back.

I look around, the silence is deafening. My mother is still gripping my father's lapels in her fists, but I see her grip loosening as an expression of terror comes over her face. I can't watch anymore and turn my eyes towards my sisters.

I hear them call out to their protectors, their human shields and receive no reply for their efforts. The need to hear his voice overpowers me and I say his name and pray for some sort of answer. None comes.

I hear the trooping footsteps of the Secret Service. As always, it seems, they're too late to be effective.

They pull him away to get to me. I already know they're being too rough.

"Stop! He's hurt." I can't explain how I know that, but I do. And he is. They rolled him onto his back, directly onto the wound. Talk about being single-minded.

They're trying to make me leave, make us leave. It won't work. We won't leave. I see my mother immediately begin to try and tend to my father's what seem to be inumerable injuries. There's so much blood and my mother's barely holding it together. She pulls off her pale peach blazer to stop the bleeding, but she doesn't know which wound to press it to. I know Dr. mode won't come for her now. She too far gone. The agents don't even register.

Ellie's in the same predicament. She pulled off her Harvard Medical sweatshirt and pressed it to the wound on the back of his neck, but there are still others on his lower back and in his side. She gently turns him over to the recovery position and rests his head on her lap. The Secret Service agents try to tell her to come with them. That it's their job to secure her, but she's done fighting, being secured, now she's mourning.

Liz and Annie have him turned on his side too. They're still trying to pull them away, but they won't go. Liz gently holds Dean in her arms along with Annie and they collectively rock back and forth. There was never time to say goodbye, not even now.

I look down to the love of my life and see him looking back at me with such a peaceful, loving expression on his face. His eyes are so clear, there are no reservations, worries, just clear. In a painful, stilted voice, he asks me, "Do you...[cough]..Zoey Patric...ia Bartlet...love[cough] me...Charl..es Young, till death do us p[cough]art?" I smile and blink back tears. I need to remember his face now more than ever.

"I, Zoey Patricia Bartlet do love you, Charles Young...[swallow]...till death do us part and beyond the moment that it does." He smiles. I will always love his smile. "Do you..." My voice cracks here. "Charles Young...love me, Zoey Patricia Bartlet, till death[swallow] do us part and beyond the moment that it does?" His smile widens, if that's at all possible.

"I, Charles Young love you Zoey...[cough][cough][cough]...undyingly. And I will love you beyond my days in this world or in the next...[swallow] always." I lean down and kiss him gently on the lips. I pretend not to taste the blood. It will haunt me later on.

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Stella McMyers POV(OFC)

Where are the damn ambulances? I know there's no hope for this family, but there are people here who can still be saved if help gets here in time.

I call them this family to distance them, make them not who they are, make them not the most powerful family in the world.

The youngest one, Zoe, shares sacred vows with her fiance, Charlie. A few were surprized when they got back together and engaged to boot, but those who really knew them, always knew that all of their roads led back to each other. They just had to find the way. They did and now this.

The oldest girl, Elizabeth, sits holding her daughter and husband and rocking them silently. Tears won't come. It's too late for that. Now is just silence.

The middle girl, Eleanor, holds her fiance's head in her lap and strokes his hair without so much as a sound. Her eyes are closed almost like if she doesn't open her eyes, she'll be back in her Georgetown apartment playing chess in front of the fireplace with her man. If only it were that simple to turn back time.

I can't help, but be drawn to the First Lady. The Secret Service has given up on her and stationed themselves around her to the four winds. Her tears are the only ones being shed, but they are the most lonely. The President is held close to her breast, her face is buried in his hair. She is lost to us. They both are.

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