The callback had come at about 8:30, and Bernard had been more than ready for it. He’d snapped the receiver up and told the police negotiator that he wanted signed statements from a federal judge guaranteeing the three of them immunity from prosecution for anything that had happened that day. He wanted transportation for the three of them out of the country and guaranteed safe passage to a location of his choosing. They generously didn’t ask for money, since they planned to take what they’d already stolen from the bank’s vault. And he wanted it in an hour. Donna had had to stifle a laugh; the whole thing really was beginning to sound like a bad movie.

The negotiator had warned that the things Bernard had asked for might not be possible within an hour, if at all. He had suggested that a release of one of the hostages would go a long way toward showing that he was genuine about his offer. Bernard had laughed at first, saying he had no intention of giving up something for nothing. But he’d ended up relenting after another few rounds with the negotiator, saying he’d let one hostage go. He’d picked one of the loan officers, a young guy in his mid-twenties. He’d cut the cable ties off and told him to walk out the front door.

“You tell them,” he said, pressing the gun under the loan officer’s chin, “that you’re it. You’re all they get in this condition. If I don’t have my demands met in an hour, the next one comes out that door dead.”

The remark had its intended effect on the remaining seven.

The release had gone smoothly, and Donna had shed a few tears in spite of herself when the loan officer had walked out at nearly 9. She hated the man for being the one to walk out the door first, and it bothered her that she felt that way.

And they found themselves with time to do nothing but wait, and anticipate what might come at the end of the hour.

Because of the threat, Donna could no longer distract herself by counting away the seconds on the clock. Their demands couldn’t, wouldn’t be met. She knew that much without asking Fred. It was ridiculous. Every second that passed brought them closer to 10 p.m., closer to seeing whether Bernard had been bluffing or not. She felt the familiar sting in her eyes and decided to think of something, anything else.

The only other thing she could think of was how numb her fingers were. Thinking about that brought back her earlier encounter with Bernard, so she glanced at the three of them. They weren’t looking her way, so she whispered to Fred.

“I think I’d be on a beach in Oahu,” she whispered.

“What?”

“If I had retired after 27 years as a police officer, I think I’d be perfecting my beach bumming skills,” she said quickly. “Not going back to work.”

Fred considered the non-sequitur for a moment. “Well maybe I missed it, and I’m trying to recapture my glory days. Maybe you don’t love your job like I loved mine, so you wouldn’t understand,” he teased. In the short amount of time they’d known each other, Fred and Donna had developed a tremendous rapport.

“Not likely,” she teased back, keeping a close eye on the strong one, whose attention was more on the deep discussion Bernard and Hank were having.

“What do you do?” he asked.

She looked at him for just a second. “Well, I’d rather you not share this with our hosts,” she nodded in Bernard’s direction slightly, “but I work at the White House.”

“You work for President Bartlet?”

“Well not directly, no, but yeah.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m senior assistant to one of the senior staffers,” she said.

“What do you mean by assistant?” he asked wry smile.

“It means I do, well...everything I’m asked to, and a whole lot more,” she admitted.

“Sounds thrilling.”

“Nowhere near as thrilling as working your retirement away,” she gently jabbed back.

“Well, you do what you have to do,” Fred sighed, a little resignedly. “Mae and I — that’s my wife, Mae. We always said we’d travel, but there are things you don’t think of when you’re making all these grand plans for retirement.”

“Like what?” Donna asked.

“Like, for starters, that grandchildren are more fun than living in a cramped little motor home,” he said. “That telling your 6-year-old grandson about walking a beat is way more fun than walking the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Not to mention the biggest bummer that they never tell you about retirement.”

“What’s that?”

“It turns out, after working your whole life, after paying for decades on a mortgage, cars, bills and everything in sight,” Fred explained, “It turns out, that even after you retire, people still charge you for stuff.”

Donna nearly snorted out loud. That had been the very last thing she’d been expecting. She glanced back up at the Three Musketeers, who still seemed to be playing the waiting game.

“You mean life isn’t free after you become a senior citizen?” she asked with mock horror.

“No,” Fred played right along. “And I don’t understand it. How do you expect me to be able to pay for anything, when you know perfectly well I just quit my job? And I’m too old to get a great new one, what with this rampant ageism going on.”

“How well did that argument go over with the company that gave you your car loan?” Donna asked.

“About as well as it went over with the power company. After I walk home tonight, Mae and I have a big night of sitting in the dark planned,” Fred joked lamely.

Donna smiled. “You know something, Fred? I think you’re gonna turn out to be the highlight of my evening.”

“Well, I’m honored by that, Donna,” Fred deadpanned again. “Perhaps to show your appreciation you could speak to the President about my whole retirement tragedy.”

“Free...everything for everyone over 65?” Donna pretended to consider this. “Sounds doable. Soon as we get outta here I’m gonna get right on that.”

“Glad to hear it,” Fred whispered.

“I’ll bet you —” Donna stopped short as the phone rang again and Bernard picked it up.

Every time Donna began to think Bernard couldn’t be scarier, he found a way to prove her wrong. When the negotiator told him that they were working on what he’d asked for but that they wouldn’t have it by the end of the hour, Bernard went ballistic. The negotiator tried to assure him that they could get them transportation out of the country with just a little more time. Bernard screamed that any delays were unacceptable.

The negotiator tried to placate him, telling him that they couldn’t just book them on a commercial flight; that it had to be a military flight since they wouldn’t say where they were going. They also told him that they were having trouble finding a judge willing to sign the statements they’d asked for with the situation in its current state. The negotiator said a judge would sign the statements if Bernard released the rest of the hostages.

Bernard broke into an all-out fit of laughter, like he’d just heard the best joke of his life. “Tell me something. How long did you spend trying to convince your boss that this was the worst counteroffer of all time?” Bernard said to the negotiator. “I mean, listen to yourself. You can’t even believe you’re saying it.”

The negotiator was silent on the other end of the line.

“What does a man have to do to be taken seriously by you people?” Bernard began to question. “Is your boss honestly going to wait until I start rolling bodies out the front door to do what he could have done the first time I asked?”

The negotiator began stammering, trying to assure Bernard that the last thing he wanted was for anyone to be hurt.

Bernard had him off balance and he knew it. He took advantage of the momentum. “Tell your CO he’s a terrible bluff. And that he has about 20 minutes left.”

He hung the phone up hard, but in a controlled way.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hank demanded.

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” Bernard hissed. “I’m playing hardball! If we waver on our demands, even a little, they won’t take us seriously....and they’d damn well BETTER take us seriously.”

“Because if they don’t we’re going to start rolling BODIES out the front door?!? Dammit, Bernard! They’re going berserk out there since you said that!” Hank kicked Donna’s overturned purse, which was really just the closest thing to his foot, to punctuate his statement.

“Oh, and giving all of them up was a better idea?” Bernard gestured toward the hostages. “Berserk isn’t a bad thing, Hank. Berserk is just where we want them. Berserk is what will make them meet —”

He wasn’t looking at Hank anymore. His eyes were downcast at something on the floor in front of the toe of his shoe. He stared for a moment, and then a smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth.

Donna had put her head back on her knees, trying to quell a new wave of panic that had risen in her gut. When Bernard went silent she looked up again, only to find him looking over at her.

“Well, it turns out I was wrong,” he said, a lilt in his voice. “It wasn’t that you didn’t have a nametag, Donnatella Moss. It was just that you weren’t wearing it.” He bent and scooped up the ID badge, the attached black lanyard swinging from it wildly. “The White House,” he read in an exaggerated tone. “‘Donnatella Moss, Senior Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff for Strategic Planning.’ Tell me, Donnatella Moss, are you half as fascinating as your name? I’d imagine you’re a very unique woman, and I’m probably right, since it seems you have a very unique job.” He scrunched up his nose a little. “Gotta do something about your job title though...I’m amazed they managed to fit it on this little card. You need something shorter, more manageable. I’ve got it! Would you like to know you new job title?” He smiled maniacally at the unbridled panic Donna was trying in vain to hide. “Your new title is, ‘My Ace in the Hole.’ The pay’s not great, I’m afraid, but I think you’ll find that as your boss, I’ll make you feel downright invaluable.”

The tears started falling instantly. She couldn’t stop them. Bernard smiled and walked back toward Hank, handing him the ID badge for inspection. “When they call back, if they still don’t have what we asked for, we’ll tell them about her and we’ll get everything we want. Hell, forget what we wanted before, now we can probably land a Presidential pardon and a ride out of the country on Air Force One!” Bernard laughed heartily, as a smile slowly began to spread over Hank’s features at their apparent change in luck.

Donna didn’t hear any of it. Her tears continued unabated. She didn’t understand how he knew the things he knew. How he knew to call her invaluable. How could he have known about that? God, did he know her somehow? Did he know Josh? Was this some crazy who’d followed her and chosen to make his move now, when she was away from the security of the White House? Was he going to use her to get to Josh? To get to the President? She didn’t want to be valuable for that. She didn’t want to be valuable to him in any way. She felt like she was spinning, and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe at all.

“Donna, listen to me,” she heard a voice to her left. It was vaguely familiar and somewhat comforting, but she couldn’t process it. “Donna, look at me.”

Somehow, she forced herself to turn her head toward the voice.

“Listen to me, OK? He’s all talk. He’s having a little fun with you, and trying to impress himself and his buddies with his....his ingenuity. He’s not going to do anything he hasn’t done already, Donna. You need to...listen, you need to breathe, OK, you need to take some deep breaths,” Fred tried to reassure her.

Donna just stared at him, like they’d never met before.

“Donna, you’re OK, alright? It’s a bluff, it’s...” Fred knew it probably wasn’t a bluff, that Bernard finding out about Donna’s connections to the White House put her in worse danger instantly, but she looked to be in the middle of some kind of panic attack, and he didn’t know what else to do but try to calm her down.

She mumbled something, and he thought he may be getting through to her. “What? What, Donna?”

Donna laid her head down on her knees again, but still faced Fred.

“The Pres-” she sucked in a very ragged breath. “The President of the United States does not negotiate with terrorists,” she mumbled, her eyelids beginning to droop a little. “And it’s true. I think maybe he’d want to, but Leo wouldn’t let him. He’s got an entire room of advisors that wouldn’t let him. So I’m gonna die here,” her tears dropped sideways off of her tilted face, soaking into the material of her black pantsuit.

“No, you’re not,” Fred snapped back quickly. “Donna, listen to me. They can’t get to the President. He’s too well-protected, they’ll never get to talk to him, or anyone who’ll talk to him on their behalf. The police won’t allow that to happen.”

“Josh won’t be able to handle it,” she said, almost drowsily. “He’ll blame the President, and eventually come to hate him for it. The President, Leo, everyone who has anything to do with the job. He’ll blame himself, and it’s not his fault, Fred. But he’s gonna think it is. And I won’t be there to tell him other—“

“Yes, you will. Donna, open your eyes and look at me,” Fred pleaded. Miraculously, Donna opened her teary blue eyes without saying a word. Fred took a deep breath. “You know what this is that’s happening right now? The way you’re feeling? It’s hysteria, Donna. It’s panic. He wanted to make you panic and you’re letting him have his way. He can’t get to the President, Donna.”

Donna scowled at him a little, as if considering what he said.

“Remember what I told you earlier? They already know it’s over. They just have to accept it. They’re in denial right now, but they know, deep down, that there’s no way this ends good for them.” Donna’s eyes seemed to focus a little as he talked to her. He was encouraged by that and kept going. “They don’t want to kill anybody, Donna. If they’d wanted to do that, they would have just killed us once they had the vault open. Their plans didn’t work and they’re making it up as they go along now. But you don’t just become a killer in a day. If they’d had it in them they would have already done it.”

Her cheeks were still wet, but her tears stopped. And her eyes opened a little wider. He was cutting through the haze. “Didn’t I say that I’d tell you when to worry?” Donna just looked at him. “Didn’t I?” he asked gently.

Donna nodded awkwardly, her head still turned sideways on her knees.

“Well, it’s not time to worry yet, Donna,” he said as he forced a little smile. He didn’t like lying to her, but he was concerned about her emotional state after the last encounter with Bernard. “I’ll tell you if we really need to worry, Donna, but we don’t need to right now.”

Donna blinked, then inhaled.

Just a little more, kid, Fred thought.

“You need to dig in, Donna. He thinks he can scare you for fun by making empty threats. Don’t let him. Don’t make this fun for him. Don’t give him the satisfaction,” Fred prodded firmly, but gently. “They can’t get to the President, Donna.” Fred paused. “Show them they can’t get to you, either.”

Another breath, a little stronger this time. Two more blinks.

“No,” she whispered steadily.

“No...they can’t get to you,” Fred finished the sentence as a statement, even though he meant it as a question.

“No,” she repeated. “They can’t.”

Fred smiled with relief. “Good girl.”

She turned her face back toward her knees, then tiredly hauled herself into an upright position. “Don’t say ‘Good girl,’” she whispered, leaning her head back as she waited for her tears to dry. “I am not a golden retriever.”

“You’re golden, at least,” Fred started in on her, trying to keep her mind off the last few minutes. “And as an assistant you must retrieve things for your boss sometimes. Files, research, the occasional cup of coffee...”

“The hell you say,” Donna mumbled, her eyes closed again and head still leaned back against the wall.

Fred grinned even wider. “You don’t bring your boss things he asks for? And you’re his assistant? Take a deep breath for me.”

Donna obeyed, inhaling slowly. “I bring him things he asks for and many things he doesn’t,” she said as she exhaled. “I do not bring him coffee.”

“Well, that hardly seems fair,” Fred said, chiding himself silently as he cast a glance back to the robbers for the first time since Donna’s breakdown. They last thing they needed was to get caught whispering in class.

Donna was regaining her composure more and more by the second. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Fred, but life isn’t always fair.”

“Tell me about it,” Fred groused. “Deep breath.”

Again, Donna complied. “I don’t know if —”

“Shhh,” Fred said almost inaudibly, as the strong one finally turned away from the Bernard and Hank, and resumed his pacing. “Less talking,” he intoned after the strong one had passed them. “Deep breaths, please.”

It was tough to say whether Donna really noticed the strong one or understood why Fred had shushed her, but she grew quiet, as he asked, and focused on her breathing. She had stopped crying, and wished she could wipe her cheeks, erase any visible sign of her moment of weakness. Her mind was kind of blank, now, except for the breathing and the banter with Fred. She remembered something happening with Bernard...he’d said something. Something hurtful. But she couldn’t bring it into focus and she decided she didn’t want to at the moment.

She opened her eyes for another moment and stared at the ceiling tiles she’d come to memorize. She could clearly recall every physical detail of this lobby after the few hours she’d spent here. The pattern of the marble inlay on the floor, the slight stain on one of the ceiling tiles where there’d obviously been a leak in the roof, the dark line just beyond her toes where the grout between two of the marble pieces had turned black from heavy foot traffic.

On her right, the other five hostages watched her sympathetically. Donna wasn’t aware of the staring, but there were five hearts that went out to her. People she hadn’t known when she woke up this morning. People whose names she didn’t even know for the most part. Patti couldn’t ever remember wanting to give someone a comforting hug more than she wanted to give one to Donna at that moment. But with the cable ties, and the robbers...it just wasn’t possible. She resolved to do it once they were out of the situation, but for the moment, she cast a glance toward the robbers, and seeing their attention otherwise occupied, she gently tilted her own knees to her left, leaning them against Donna’s. It was the best she could do. The gesture was meant to be comforting, and it was. Donna lolled her head toward Patti, and slowly smiled.

On her left, Fred took satisfaction from Donna’s quickly improving state, but his worry was increasing exponentially. Bernard knew he had an even more valuable hostage now, and despite what Fred had told Donna, Bernard would try to use her to gain further leverage over the situation. And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Bernard was refusing to compromise on his demands, even the timetable, which had been impossible anyway. They would never receive signed statements relieving them of culpability for what they’d done, regardless of what the negotiator said. Bernard wasn’t bending at all in the negotiations and his threats were growing more and more serious. Hank had been right, and not for the first time today. The guys out front were going berserk at the thought of “bodies being rolled out the front door.” And they weren’t being successful in buying any more time with Bernard. The police were running out of options and running out of time.

Fred didn’t know who was in command out there, or how good the negotiator was, but Bernard was keeping up his act too well over the phone. If Fred had still been in uniform, he knew what any of his old CO’s on the scene would probably be doing now. They had Justin, the loan officer who’d gotten to walk out. Bernard had threatened the lives of the other hostages directly to Justin as he left, and the police had been interviewing him for more than half an hour now. They knew details now that Bernard probably hadn’t considered they’d get, because the guy had such a one-track mind he likely hadn’t thought that the police would interview Justin for intelligence on the situation inside. Fred knew that by now the police must have information on how many hostages were inside, how many assailants there were and how they were armed, where in the building the hostages were being kept, and the state of mind of the assailants, at least as Justin perceived it to be.

Fred looked up at the clock. 9:46. Just under 15 minutes until Bernard’s deadline. From the outside looking in, the threat to the hostages was too great. They’d try one more phone call. Just one. Then, they’d knock the front door down.