Alright, guys. Here is another update! I'm so sorry if it seems rushed! I feel like I'm losing the realistic flow of this story with dialogue, personalities, and reactions and I'm not sure why. My initial goal was to try and make it seem like an unwritten episode, but now I feel like it's becoming too fluffy. Feedback is always the welcome!

Quick disclaimer: The Jacob Whitman Society is a fictional organization along with Dylan Asher.

—

The White House Bunker

"Does the state Department know anything, yet?" Conrad asked as he leaned forward, placing his hands on the back of a chair.

Conrad's Chief of Staff shook his head. "They've been back-channeling through different organizations with the same objectives and ambitions and still no target on the discrete group."

"Tell them to keep looking. We need all investigative personnel on this case." The President's stress lines protruded from his face—an austere countenance visible in every crease.

"Yes, sir." Russel answered before gesturing an officer out of the room implying that he go inform the Department of State.

"The Department of Justice, Department of Defense, and FBI-led Joint Terrorism Task Forces are all aware of the situation." Admiral Hill informed from her seat at the table.

President Conrad Dalton desperately wanted to shut himself in his office and be left to his own repentance and despair. He felt as if he were partly responsible for what happened. After all, Elizabeth was technically his employee. This domestic terrorist action happened under his watch and he didn't even see it coming. The Department of Homeland Security had become more knowledgeable around thwarting terrorist attacks since 9/11, but an assault carried out by the nation's own people was something that hardly reared its ugly face. Everyone was caught off guard, including the government's most elite. So, why was Conrad feeling he was to blame? It was his job, or he felt it was to Elizabeth, to keep his staff safe—to protect them from harm and yet he failed. He failed his staff and he failed the American people. He couldn't begin to imagine what it felt like to be in office on the morning of September 11, 2001. No matter how much a person may think they are prepared for an attack of colossal damage, the outcome is always uncertainty and confusion. That was exactly what Conrad Dalton was feeling and it was weighing him down.

"We've got an ID on the bomber." A female military officer declared.

This caught everyone's full attention and the room went completely silent. The sound of keys typing filled the silence before a photo appeared on the screens mounted on the walls around the perimeter of the room.

No one would ever expect a young man with his innocent and soft features to be a terrorist. He had a narrow face with brown hair and piercing bright blue eyes. A few freckles overlaying his pale skin on the bridge of his nose.

The officer continued her description. "His name is Dylan Asher, twenty-four years old." She continued. "He belongs to the anti-immigration hate group known as the Jacob Whitman Society, more precisely known as JWS. The NSA was able to gain access to all his social media feed and it has JWS written all over it."

"Who the hell is Jacob Whitman and why didn't we know about this organization?" Dalton asked discomposedly.

"It's a newly formed group, Mr. President. This is the first time they've made themselves known to the public." A new voice answered.

"And they've made quite the entrance." Russel ridiculed with a scoff.

With a heavy sigh Conrad spoke up again. "Was Dylan Asher on anybody's radar or watchlist?"

The female officer answered the President once more. "No, sir. Not that we are currently aware of."

Overwhelmed and debilitated, Conrad Dalton tightened his grip on the back of the chair, his knuckles turning white. He hung his head and took a few deep breaths to regain his composure.

"We should probably think about what we're going to put out there." Advised Russel in a gentle manner.

A few seconds passed before Conrad acknowledged Russel's proposal. "Yes. Yes, or course. Set up a national address for later this evening. I don't want to keep our nation waiting. We can't afford to show any hesitation or weakness."

Weak. That's exactly how he was feeling. Weak in protecting the country, weak in protecting the asylum seekers, weak in the response to the attack and weak in the responsibility of protecting his Secretary of State; his friend, his ally. He still had no word if she was alive or dead and because of the delay on her status, he was beginning to think it was the latter.

Russel cleared his throat before speaking in almost a whisper, "Sir..." He paused for a brief moment, "...should we call in Deputy Secretary of State, Steven Cushing?"

Russel knew the timing to that question was inopportune, but without word of Elizabeth McCord's position, they had to get Cushing in quickly.

A lump formed in the President's throat and he to swallow hard to make it go away.

"Yes. Go ahead." That was all he could manage to say or else he knew he would break down.

—

State Department Building, 7th Floor

Conference Room

The secretary's staff and other members of the state department were gathered around the table. Laptops were broadcasting breaking news and others presenting documents. Cups of coffee were everywhere and papers scattered. Notepads lay open and landline operated phones were placed next to everyone at their disposal.

They looked exhausted. Hands were supporting heads— either under chins or resting on foreheads and their expressions were varied. The only feeling that was mutually shared was immense grief. The live news footage was something out of a horror movie: screaming and crying, dismembered limbs, dead bodies and blood—a lot of blood.

Witness testimonies shared similar information about a bright light followed by a deafening explosion and immediate panic. The FBI and SWAT team were filing through doorways and windows and firefighters had their suits on following close behind.

Jay was staring at the computer screen when a familiar figure caught his eyes as it emerged from the building seemingly carrying a young child in his arms. The camera zoomed in on the scene and it took him a minute to register who the face belonged to. Jay's heart skipped a beat when he realized it was Matt, one of Elizabeth's agents. An icy shiver of relief flooded through his entire body from head to toe and a smile formed on his lips.

"Y-you won't believe this." Jay stuttered in disbelief and turned the laptop to the other staff members.

Eyes widened and jaws dropped in response.

"Wait! Is that Agent Matt?" Daisy asked excitedly as she leaned in for a closer look.

"That's good, right? I mean, if he's alive shouldn't the secretary be to?" Matt asked hopefully.

Gazes exchanged as of trying to read one another's feelings.

"But, where are the other detail?" Blake observed.

There was a pause in the conversation and any hope that was planted in them was immediately diminished.

"We need to keep a positive outlook. Just because Agent Matt was the only one to escape at this exact moment doesn't mean the others aren't trapped by debris or unable to get out due to injury." Nadine was doing her best to keep her composure.

She knew she was an authoritative figure amongst Elizabeth's staff and if she could keep her emotions together, it would give hope and assurance to everyone else.

Bewildered, Matt questioned, "But why would he leave without the secretary?"

"Perhaps he had no choice." Nadine replied.

Jay sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "I don't know about you, but I could never forgive myself if I left a child in a situation like that. I know the secretary wouldn't either. Maybe she told him to take the youngster and go."

Before anyone else could utter another excuse as to why one of her detail had left without the Secretary of State, a team of paramedics that were huddled around a gurney rushed through the same side entrance that Agent Matt recently emerged from.

Elizabeth's face wasn't visible right away, but Henry's was. It was only when one of the medics moved to open the ambulance doors that her features came into view. The feeling of grief that impregnated the conference room turned to one of consolation.

Matt's hand connected with the wooden table in an excited bang. "She's alive! I knew it!" An exuberant airy laugh escaped his lungs.

"Oh my God! I can't believe it!" Daisy exclaimed as she rose to her feet.

Nadine stood silently and her fingertips met her smiling lips.

"I told you she was a fighter! Well, I thought it. The words just didn't come out." Blake quipped.

Hugs and sounds of laughter filled the room. They were aware that there were still many things to accomplish and a terrorist organization to thwart, but in that moment nothing else seemed to matter. The secretary was alive.

The McCord House

The McCord children embraced each other with tearful, but joyful hugs as they witnessed their parents retreating from the airport building alive. Allison and Stevie sobbed in relief and a tear or two even fell from Jason's eyes, though he would never admit to it. Those aching minutes of panic and the unknown were unbearable to the point where it made them feel sick to their stomach. It was all too familiar. When their mother's whereabouts were unknown during the coup in Iran, they at least had their father to comfort them, this time they didn't. They had to rely on one another for solace.

"I'm just glad that they're together. Mom would have been so scared without him." Allison said as she wiped the warm tears off her flushed cheeks.

Henry had informed them that morning that he was going to surprise Elizabeth by joining her in her achievement and they were glad he ultimately went because she wasn't alone.

"I wish we could be with them." Allison stated again as she rested her head on her older sister's shoulder.

"Yeah, but I doubt we'll be able to. The security is going to be heightened and they'll never let us through." Jason said glumly.

"Don't say that! Of course we'll be able to go visit! I mean, she's our mom!" Allison fought back.

Stevie shot her brother a look of frustration. "Knock it off, Jason!" She turned her head to the other side of the couch back to Allison.

"We'll get to see Mom and Dad when they tell us we can. Dad probably wants to be alone with Mom for awhile. Until then, we wait to hear from them."

"I don't know how long I can wait." A sudden realization hit Allison. "What if Mom dies before we get to see her? I don't even think I told her I loved her this morning."

Stevie pulled Allison into a tight embrace and ran her fingers through her younger sister's hair. This was the first time Stevie didn't have an encouraging remark to help soothe Allison's fears. Jason just sat cross-legged on the couch with his hands clasped in his lap fiddling with his thumbs. They all processed their emotions differently, but they all felt it the same.