Sometime later, he walked off the floor of the chamber into his office as President of the Senate and considered the last week's happenings. Much remained to be done, starting with finding out exactly why Ben Benton had been taken to the hospital and held incommunicado for nearly a week and working through exactly where Robertson's renegade crew could be found now. The coup had failed without so much as a whimper, although the appearance of Major Wilson, Timothy NMI, armed with the sniper rifle Hardesty had confiscated from Robertson's Marine had livened proceedings in the chamber up considerably. Tim had walked in with the takedown rifle, still in three pieces, in Hardesty's backpack, knelt behind the podium where Bidwell stood to speak, and put the thing together before handing it over.
“This is what could have happened to any of us, or all of us,” Bidwell had told his colleagues. “A trained shooter with this very weapon was sent after my son and his tutor, ladies and gentlemen.” He'd checked the chamber and grinned at Wilson. “Nice, Tim.” The sergeant-at-arms and the Secret Service protective detail tried to swoop down; Bidwell casually handed the weapon back to Wilson and said, mildly, “Keep an eye on everybody.”
Jaws fell open throughout the assembly.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Bidwell had said. “The President of the United States is unable to join us at this time in this place, but as the duly elected Vice President of the United States, I give you my word: the continuity of President Benton's government is assured. I will not bore you with the details of the past six days. I will tell you that any attempt to overturn the Constitutional government of these United States will fail. The United States Marine Corps, the U.S. Navy, the United States Army, and the U.S. Air Force, as well as the U.S. Coast Guard, the Merchant Marine, and all our reserve and guard forces, honor the oaths they swore – the oath to support and defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic.
“I don't know offhand how many of you here swore that oath as members of the U.S. Armed Forces at some time in the past, or how many of you currently serve with the guard or reserve, ladies and gentlemen; that's knowledge that's far more material to you, individually, than it is to me or to this legislative body collectively. What I do know is that every breathing one of you took that oath again, when you undertook your duties as a duly elected member of the United States Senate or the United States House of Representatives.
“I'm here to hold you to your oaths. I'm not here to frighten you or upset you. I am here to tell you that from this moment onward, however, the honor of each and every one of you is at stake. Don't think you can send a message from this floor to encourage Robertson, Waddell, or anyone else with similar ideas, ladies and gentlemen.”
He paused, looked out over his audience, and gathered them in by eye – a long lingering look on every row from back to front, holding their attention by the sheer force of the conviction he stood upon – and said firmly, “No one here, surely, has forgotten that Ben Benton's last State of the Union address indicated we could not – would not – absolutely will not go on fighting a war of aggression on two fronts. Ladies and gentlemen, that has not changed; the war is over. We're done. Our soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines are gathering up their equipment as we speak, preparing to come home. Now. Today. In accordance with the orders Ben Benton sent, in writing, before he gave that last State of the Union Speech on this very floor eight nights ago. Make no mistake. The United States of America will not abandon its friends; but we are done with heedless wasteful headlong aggression, ladies and gentlemen.”
No murmur, no outcry, no applause followed. Many faces reflected anger; a few showed relief. Jason Bidwell smiled then – not the smile of a father greeting a son or a solon greeting a colleague; the smile of a wolf upon sighting prey, the smile of a shark upon sensing blood in the water; he owned that smile as thoroughly as he had ever owned an affable expression or a questioning glance.
“I'm tired of cowering, ladies and gentlemen. I'm tired of the rule of fear and suspicion. I'm tired of innuendo and whispering. I'm tired of subterfuge and covert plotting. Ben Benton can't be here tonight, ladies and gentlemen. But I can, and I am.” The look he covered each member with after those words cut like a knife. “Thank you for your attendance, ladies and gentlemen. We'll reconvene tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. Until then we're adjourned. I look forward to seeing you – and all your colleagues who weren't able to join us today – at that time.”
He'd thumped his gavel once against the podium, given Tim Wilson a wink, and walked out of the Chamber without looking back.

Hardesty loped up the hallway to the office. “Good afternoon, sir!”
“It is, Angela,” he said. “Come on in. Have a seat. Grab a drink.”
She chuckled. “Pour me a water. The Marines are coming in, and they're bringing a healthy number of Security and Law Enforcement types from Andrews Air Force Base with them. I don't think there'll be much room around here for me when they arrive. I wanted to know if you needed anything else from me today. Oh, and,” she fished in the pocket of the jeans she'd changed into. “Here are your keys, sir.”
“My keys?”
“To the Plymouth,” she answered. “I thought you might be needing it again.”
He smiled. “What about you?”
She shrugged her shoulders, accepting the glass of clear liquid he offered. “We're back in D.C. I can walk, or get a bus, or take the Metro, pretty well anyplace I need to go by myself.”
He shook his head, but he pocketed the keys. “What about Robertson and Waddell and their cohorts?”
“So,” she answered shrewdly, “You're saying I shouldn't go a lot of places by myself, until you catch them.”
“No,” he said, firmly. “I'm saying you shouldn't go a lot of places by yourself. Period.”
The tutor made a puzzled noise.
The Vice President smiled tiredly. “Taylor needs you, still. More than ever now, in some ways, I think. And I need you too, Angela Hardesty.”
She looked at him, inquiringly.
“I've needed someone like you since Becky deployed,” he said. “Somebody I can trust even when it's dark outside.” He lifted his glass, tossed off the last of its amber contents. “You've no idea how liberating I find your presence.”
Hardesty glanced across at the love seat in his office, where her seven-year-old student slept.
“I didn't realize you needed liberation, sir,” she said mildly.
“Call me Jason,” he said.
Hardesty just nodded.

END

Author's note:
My apologies for the delay. Thank you all for your patience in continuing to read.