Jed stood on the Portico, a copy of the ransom note clutched in one hand, a cigarette in the other.  He knew he should go inside, knew he should check on Abbey, knew there were about a thousand things he should probably be doing right now, but he couldn't seem to do anything but stare at the grainy image on the faxed ransom note.

"Sir?"

Leo.  Of course. Jed didn't bother to move.  He knew immediately from Leo's tone that he had no news.  If it were good news, he'd have been louder, trying to restrain his happiness, and if it were otherwise... well, he'd probably have that same, hollow, disbelieving tone as before.  That tone that cut Jed's life into two distinct eras before Leo'd had the chance to say more than his two words.  Jed hadn't known which of his daughters until Leo said Zoey's name, but he'd known enough from the expressions on Ron's and Leo's faces to understand that his life had undergone a seismic shift while he'd been looking at childhood photographs and drinking bourbon.

"Mr. President?"  Leo spoke more softly as he reached Jed's side, his gaze no doubt traveling down to the forgotten cigarette, to the fax.  Jed thought he should probably try to explain why he was studying the grainy photograph, but he didn't think he could put it into words.

"What did these men do?" Jed asked finally, still studying the shoulder in the picture, wondering if it was his daughter's shoulder.  Wondering if she was hurt, if she was bleeding, if she was crying, somewhere, waiting for her father to rescue her.

"Which men, sir?"

The cigarette burned down to the filter, down to his fingers, and Jed hissed, dropping it.  He used his free hand to tap the fax.  "These men.  These three.  What'd they do?"

"Does it matter?"

Jed finally managed to tear his gaze away from the grainy photo of his daughter.  "It might."  On some level, he knew what he was asking, knew why he needed the information, but he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge it.

Leo stared back at him for a long moment, no doubt wondering if he should point out the obvious.  It shouldn't matter, not to the President.  But Leo said only, "They're suspected of planning to bomb the French embassy in Algiers."

"Suspected by whom?" Jed asked, but his attention was again on the fax in his hands.  It was so dark, with so many details lost to featureless black spots.  He couldn't say for sure whether it was Zoey, but he couldn't stop staring at it.  Shouldn't he be able to recognize his own daughter?  Shouldn't a father know his daughter, no matter how poor the quality of the picture?

"The Qumari government put them in jail two years ago," Leo explained.  "I don't remember the details.  Fitz can fill you in.  Would you like me to--?"

"No," Jed answered, turning the information over in his mind.  "So they didn't actually detonate a bomb," he said.

Leo shook his head just a little.  "Sir?"

Jed let the subject drop, unwilling to pursue his line of thinking further.  He couldn't put Leo in that position.  Jed patted his pockets, but to no avail.  "Do you have a cigarette?"

"No, sir.  I'm sorry."  Leo hesitated.  "How's Abbey?"

"She's not saying much," Jed answered.  He closed his eyes briefly, but the terrible image of Abbey sitting there motionless, the string of pearls clutched in her hands, her devastated expression highlighted by the TV's glow -- it was too much.  "When Zoey was seven, she was friends with a boy named Jeremy.  Jeremy's father had some very specific ideas about gender roles, which he apparently passed on to his son.  One day at school, Jeremy explained to Zoey that girls couldn't climb trees, because they weren't as athletic as boys."

Leo chuckled, just a little, and Jed glanced over at his old friend.  Leo shrugged.  "I can only imagine that Zoey didn't appreciate the suggestion."

"Not at all," Jed agreed.  To his surprise, he almost managed a smile at the memory.  "The details are unclear, but being Zoey, right after school she found the tallest tree around and tried to climb it.  She had overalls on, and when she was, oh, twenty or so feet up from the ground, one of the straps got caught on something."  Jed paused, savoring the memory.  "Jeremy ran straight to our house to get Abbey, who called 911 and ran all the way to the schoolyard.  I thought Abbey was going to tear the tree down with her bare hands."  Jed's attention focused once more on the fax in his hands, on the picture that may or may not be of his daughter.  "Tonight, she's just..." he shrugged.

"She's in shock," Leo suggested, his tone sympathetic.

"She's just sitting there, staring at the TV."  Jed shook his head, trying to shake off the malaise.

Leo let the silence stand for several minutes, then he shifted his weight and turned to Jed.  "Sir, you should know that the prime ministers of Canada, Mexico, England, France, Germany, Israel, India have all called.  Probably more by now.  We're redirecting the calls to the Secretary of State.  But you should also know that the Prime Minister of Qumar called."

That pulled Jed's attention from the fax, at least for a moment.  He studied Leo's lined face.  "The Prime Minister of Qumar."

"Yes."

"Called me to offer his support."

Leo dipped his chin.  "Yes."

Jed very nearly laughed. "It's a good thing you redirected that call, Leo."

Leo didn't answer aloud, but the slight furrow on his brow told Jed that Leo was more than a little worried about his state of mind.  Jed was concerned himself.  Every time his children were in danger, he'd reacted fiercely to protect them.  But he'd never before had the 101st Airborne at his disposal.

Jed turned his gaze back to the fax, studying the girl's hair in the picture, trying to figure out if it was the right length, the right texture.  The entire left side of the picture was one dark mass, and determining the length or shade of the girl's hair was nearly impossible.  There was a dark spot on her arm, and Jed stared at it, wondering if it was blood or a bruise, or just an ink spot on the fax.  "How's the staff?"

"They're fine, sir," Leo answered immediately.  "In fact, they've all asked me to convey that if you need anything--"

Jed held up a hand, grimacing.  He couldn't hear that right now.  It sounded too much like the outpouring of support after Mrs. Landingham's death, and he could not allow himself to think like that.  He couldn't let himself believe Zoey might be dead.  "Tell them thank you," Jed managed.

Leo nodded.  After a while, he said, "Sir, I'm not sure if this is an appropriate time to tell you this, but--"  He stopped, his mouth tightening.

Jed glanced at his old friend.  "What, Leo?"

"Toby and Andy," Leo said with a half-shrug.  "They had the babies today."

It took Jed a moment to remember what Leo was talking about.  The babies.  "The twins?" Jed asked, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

"Yes. A boy and a girl. They're all doing fine."

To his amazement, Jed felt himself start to smile.  "Our irascible Toby is a father," he said slowly.  "That's wonderful."

He thought about Liz's birth, about Ellie's.  And before he could stop himself, he thought about Zoey's birth.  He remembered her tiny red face, her angry squalling, and he turned away from Leo.

"Sir?"

"I think," Jed said, clutching the note so tightly that the paper wrinkled in his grip, "I'll go to the Residence to check on Abbey."

"Jed."

The name stopped him short, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around, couldn't bear to see the empathy on Leo's face.  "Yeah," he managed, his voice husky.

"I'm not going anywhere," Leo said.  "I'm here for whatever you need."

I need my daughter, Jed thought immediately.  I need her to be okay.  As much as Leo wanted to help, there was nothing he could do to bring Zoey back.  And if she wasn't okay, there was nothing Leo could do about that, either.  About the grief or the rage.

"Thanks," Jed said, his words barely audible in the cool night air.  "Just -- keep me updated."

"Yes, sir," Leo said.

Jed walked away, his body tired from the stress, from the late hour, and he wondered how much longer he had until he needed to make the tough decisions.  He wondered how much longer until Leo himself suggested it.  But he was the one who'd insisted on running for president, he was the one who'd broken his deal with Abbey for a second term, and he was the one who had, intentionally or not, placed his children on the world's stage.

Whatever happened next was his fault.  And whatever happened next was his responsibility.

Jed wondered if a man existed who would be able to think rationally in the wake of his child's abduction.  And he wondered if the most rational thing might be to remove himself from the chain of command.  That would keep Jed from making vengeful, rash decision, but would it also render Zoey expendable to her captors?

Jed would go to his grave feeling responsible for whatever came next, but the very least he could do for Abbey was let her play a role in this next decision.  Whatever she decided, he would abide by her wishes.

***

10.20.04