24: Mr. Palmer (1/1)
Jun. 3rd, 2007 06:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
knitwitficsFandom: 24
Characters: David Palmer, Aaron Pierce
Rating: PG
Summary: At the end of his first and only term in office, David Palmer isn't as sorry to leave as one would think.
Challenges: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100 in the 24 - General Series category, prompt #1 - Beginnings.
Originally written: October 10, 2005
He has the strangest feeling of being set free.
Not what you'd expect with a presidency that's gone down in flames--not that there are many outside the inner circle that know that. But that's what it's done.
One term. He'd always hoped for more. His supporters certainly had, and were surprised when he'd suddenly pulled out of the race on that day in September. But he couldn't do it. Not after giving into Saunders' demands, not after all the shady dealings by his own staff and those he was involved in. By himself.
He thought he'd never fall into that trap. Thought he could be President and not lose his integrity, restore the office to what it once was. But he had fallen in, fallen in up to his knees, and hadn't been able to climb back out. And so his announcement had been an attempt to extricate himself, to get out before he sank up to his shoulders, his neck. Until the corruption and the lies swallowed him whole and left him with nothing to be proud of, twisted him into something that wasn't what he'd gone into politics to be.
Back in September, it had felt like a failure. Like giving up. But now, staring out across the White House lawn blanketed in a January snow, it no longer feels that way. He's realized that he doesn't love the job anymore. Loves serving his country, yes, but it's the backroom maneouvreing that's wearing him down, adding grey hairs. It soured his marriage, brought out the worst in his wife--ex-wife, by the time he sat down in the Oval Office for the first time--brought out things he didn't know were in him, in her. And it eventually killed her.
There's a soft tap at the door, and he looks out over the Oval Office toward the door, seeing the room stripped of its personal touches. Aaron Pierce of Secret Service is standing in the doorway, back ramrod-straight as usual.
"They're ready for you, Mr. President," Aaron says solemnly, in his usual way.
He nods, heading for the door and stopping as he reaches the hall. "By the way, it's just Mr. Palmer--David, now," he says, holding out his hand.
"Not until the inauguration sir," Aaron says, then adds, "It's been an honour, sir."
"It has. And thank you, Aaron."
"Yes, sir." Aaron says with a nod and a ghost of a smile before heading down the hallway ahead of him.
Shutters click, the portico of the White House doors brighter than a July noon with all the TV lights and flashbulbs as he walks down the carpet toward the waiting limo. Reporters lean in for a comment, but he doesn't respond, just smiles and waves.
Mr. David Palmer. Already it sounds right, less baggage than "Mr. President."
As the limo leaves the portico, he doesn't look back
Characters: David Palmer, Aaron Pierce
Rating: PG
Summary: At the end of his first and only term in office, David Palmer isn't as sorry to leave as one would think.
Challenges: Written for
fanfic100 in the 24 - General Series category, prompt #1 - Beginnings.Originally written: October 10, 2005
He has the strangest feeling of being set free.
Not what you'd expect with a presidency that's gone down in flames--not that there are many outside the inner circle that know that. But that's what it's done.
One term. He'd always hoped for more. His supporters certainly had, and were surprised when he'd suddenly pulled out of the race on that day in September. But he couldn't do it. Not after giving into Saunders' demands, not after all the shady dealings by his own staff and those he was involved in. By himself.
He thought he'd never fall into that trap. Thought he could be President and not lose his integrity, restore the office to what it once was. But he had fallen in, fallen in up to his knees, and hadn't been able to climb back out. And so his announcement had been an attempt to extricate himself, to get out before he sank up to his shoulders, his neck. Until the corruption and the lies swallowed him whole and left him with nothing to be proud of, twisted him into something that wasn't what he'd gone into politics to be.
Back in September, it had felt like a failure. Like giving up. But now, staring out across the White House lawn blanketed in a January snow, it no longer feels that way. He's realized that he doesn't love the job anymore. Loves serving his country, yes, but it's the backroom maneouvreing that's wearing him down, adding grey hairs. It soured his marriage, brought out the worst in his wife--ex-wife, by the time he sat down in the Oval Office for the first time--brought out things he didn't know were in him, in her. And it eventually killed her.
There's a soft tap at the door, and he looks out over the Oval Office toward the door, seeing the room stripped of its personal touches. Aaron Pierce of Secret Service is standing in the doorway, back ramrod-straight as usual.
"They're ready for you, Mr. President," Aaron says solemnly, in his usual way.
He nods, heading for the door and stopping as he reaches the hall. "By the way, it's just Mr. Palmer--David, now," he says, holding out his hand.
"Not until the inauguration sir," Aaron says, then adds, "It's been an honour, sir."
"It has. And thank you, Aaron."
"Yes, sir." Aaron says with a nod and a ghost of a smile before heading down the hallway ahead of him.
Shutters click, the portico of the White House doors brighter than a July noon with all the TV lights and flashbulbs as he walks down the carpet toward the waiting limo. Reporters lean in for a comment, but he doesn't respond, just smiles and waves.
Mr. David Palmer. Already it sounds right, less baggage than "Mr. President."
As the limo leaves the portico, he doesn't look back
