Secrets of the West Wing

Chapter 13 - Last Look

December 2025

Everything was numb.  I recognized that I was in shock, but I couldn't do anything about it.  My mind was refusing to comprehend the fact that Emily was in mortal danger.  As I sat in the limo being rushed to safety, I hoped Emily was being rushed to the hospital.

I tried to be mad - to feel anything but this nothingness.  It started to work.  I was mad at Derek for so callously throwing Emily's injured body off of me.  Mad at the lunatic who shot my Em.   Even mad at Emily for taking the bullet aimed for me.  My anger turned into guilt.  I should be the one in the hospital right now.  It should be me fighting for their life right now.

I could feel Aaron's eyes on me the whole drive.  I was too busy trying not to have a panic attack to look back at him.  "No," I registered Hotchner's voice, "She's going in the bunker until we can ensure he's in custody and not following us," I heard him mutter into his earpiece.

My head snapped up.  "Take me to the hospital," I demanded.

"No," he said simply.

"I'm not joking, Aaron!  Do it.  Make it happen.  Take me to the hospital, or I'll take myself.  With or without a detail."  I looked him straight in the eye, not even blinking, to show him how serious I was about being there for Emily.

When I heard him start to make the arrangements, I zoned back out.  I briefly touched the blood stain on my torso.  Emily's blood.  Emily's blood that was only on me because it was no longer in her own body.  A tear slipped down my face thinking about just how much blood I saw spilling out around her.

I circled my arms around my waist, hoping to find comfort and warmth.  But it wasn't my arms I was craving - they did nothing to assuage the dread settling in my gut.  I desperately wished I could be next to her holding her hand.  She was dying - because of me - and Aaron didn't even want me to go to the hospital?  It was unbelievable.

When we finally did arrive at the hospital, I had to wait for the Secret Service to clear the floor and the waiting room.  Though normally something like this would make me incredibly uncomfortable, I didn't care at all today.  I was too preoccupied with Emily's recovery to think about all the worried families being displaced right now.  If this extra step allowed for me to be waiting for Emily, I'd deal with it.

Once cleared, I sat down in the waiting room and put my head in my hands, too weary to even hold it up.  I was thankful someone had called an ambulance and she wasn't just left bleeding out on the stage.  But the weight on the world rested on my shoulders.  One of the nurses informed me Emily was in surgery.  But Emily couldn't die.  She just couldn't.  With my head bowed, I considered praying.  I would uproot my whole ideology and sense of self if it meant Emily lived.

I'd never forget the sound that left her lips as she fell onto me.  That gargled gasp rang in my ears louder than the gun shot.  I would forever have the look in her eyes as she stared down at me imprinted on my mind.  It was as if she knew that would be her last look at me.  We'd shared so many delicious looks between us - why did that have to be our last?  I started hyperventilating at the thought.

"Madam President," Aaron said, approaching hesitantly.  He sat down in the chair next to me.   "Maybe now's not the time, but is there something going on with you and Prentiss?"

I was incredulous and my stomach sank further.  I could not emotionally handle the following conversation today.  No, you're right, Aaron: now is not the time.  To hopefully divert him, I asked, "How's that other agent?  I heard another shot..."  I felt like a horrible person.  I only asked to throw suspicion off of Emily and me.  Until just now, he hadn't crossed my mind once.  I felt sick using his injury just to take the heat off of me.