Disclaimer: I own nothing belonging to The West Wing; it all belongs to NBC, Aaron Sorkin, et al. I write these stories purely for enjoyment; no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: So here it is at last, the beginnings of the long AU that I have been writing for months. This story covers (at least) the Bartlet for America campaign through Sam's campaign for the California 47th. There are scenes from the show in this story that I have re-imagined or added subtext to, and other scenes that are all my own. Most of the major events of the series will stay the same. I will do my best to note what, if anything, is taken from the actual show at the beginning of each chapter. If a chapter matches up to a particular episode, the chapter title should clue you in to that.

My thanks to Dipenates for early encouragement in writing this story and for the absolute gorgeousness of "A Whole World, Bit by Bit," which made me completely reassess "Twenty Hours in America." The reassessment even made its way into the Prologue, as you will see! Finally, I am incredibly grateful to lcf328, who has been and continues to be an amazing and encouraging beta reader for this lengthy tale.

Beautiful Chaos

Sam: You know anything about chaos theory?

Mallory: I know it has to do with fractal geometry.

Sam: That's about all I know, too. But it has to do with there being order, and even…great beauty in what looks like total chaos. And if we look closely enough at the randomness around us, patterns will start to emerge.

~Episode 4.1, "20 Hours in America"

Prologue

I believe in a higher power, whether it is called God, Yahweh, Allah, Jehovah, or by some other name. I believe that out there in the cosmos are forces that we cannot possibly conceive of with our human minds, forces that mysteriously have an impact on our existence here. Evil and Good exist not just as abstract concepts, but as the aggregate of human actions and decisions, victories and defeats, that direct the rise and fall of nations and the triumphs and tragedies of individual lives.

Tonight, Evil has struck a heavy blow in a ten-second act of terror at a museum in Virginia. The uncontrolled hate of three individuals could have cost us our President, our Press Secretary, Secret Service agents, and civilians, as well as one young pair who were just beginning to understand the beauty of love. Simply by desiring each other, they became the unwitting victims of bigotry, the latest sufferers in our country's shameful history of racism and prejudice.

By some miracle, some mercy on the part of universe, President Bartlet was only wounded. C. J. was only scratched. Zoey and Charlie were kept safe from harm. One woman in the crowd sustained minor wounds and will recover. My mentor. My friends. A stranger. Somehow they survived, and I am more thankful than any words can convey. I pray that Charlie and Zoey can withstand the psychological scars that they will surely carry from this night, that they are brave enough to keep loving each other in the face of violence. Love like theirs may be the best hope this country has for healing old wounds and finding peace.

But I do not know yet who has won the battle. It is still being fought in an operating room just feet away from where I sit. Josh's life hangs in the balance, a life for which I would gladly give my own, a life which has so much more to give to the world. I implore You, in whatever name You choose, let Good prevail tonight. Let the surgeons working to repair his injuries have Your grace in their fingertips; let Josh come back to us healed and whole. Let my love hold him here, for he is more to me than all others.

The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels. I beg of You, do not add Josh to their number. God, Allah, Yahweh, I love him.