Journey

“Be careful, Mad,” Greg whispered to her, as they sat at their desks in the studio, waiting to go on the air, after the countdown had started. And she only nodded. He knew what a crusader she was, and what a purist. It would have been just like her to take a kamikaze dive into the danger zone, by exposing the truth after all, but this time he was pretty sure she wouldn't do it.

She read off the piece about the crash of Flight 263, and her voice nearly broke once. She sounded somber and respectful as she spoke of the people on board, and the number of children. And the footage they showed underlined the tragedy even further. They had just shown the last shots, of some video footage someone on Long Island happened to get of the explosion, and Maddy was about to close when Greg saw her fold her hands on the desk, and look away from the TelePrompTer, and all he could feel as he watched her was terror. He mouthed the words “Maddy, don't …” because he could see on the monitor he was off camera, but she didn't see him. She was looking straight into the camera she was facing, right into the faces and hearts and homes of the American public.

“There are a lot of rumors flying around about the crash today,” she began cautiously, “some of them very disturbing.” Greg could see the producer stand up behind the set, with a look of panic. But they didn't cut away to commercial. “There have been rumors that the FAA was warned in advance, that ‘some’ mysterious, unknown flight outbound from Kennedy might be carrying a bomb, ‘sometime’ this week. But there is no evidence to support that rumor. We know nothing more right now than that four hundred and twelve lives were lost, and we can only assume that if the FAA was warned, they would have shared that information with the public.” She was coming close to the line, but she didn't cross it, as Greg held his breath and watched her, as she continued. “All of us here at WBT would like to extend our condolences to the friends and families and loved ones of those who died on Flight 263. It is a tragedy beyond measure. Goodnight. I'm Maddy Hunter.” And with that, they cut to commercial, and Greg looked pale as Maddy sat grim-faced and took her mike off.

“Shit, you terrified me. I thought you were going to blow it. You damn near did, didn't you?” She had raised a question, but not provided the damning answer to it. And she could have.

“I said what I could,” which wasn't much, they both knew. And as she stood up, off camera now, she saw the producer in the doorway, talking to her husband. Jack walked straight toward her purposefully, and stopped when he reached her.

“You skated pretty close to the line on that one, didn't you, Maddy? We were ready to cut you off at any second.” He didn't look pleased, but he no longer looked angry. She hadn't betrayed him, and she could have. Or she could have tried at least, although they wouldn't have let her get far.

“I know you were,” she said coldly, her eyes looked like bright blue stones as they met his. Something terrible had happened between them that afternoon, and she would never forget it. “Are you satisfied?” she asked in a tone as icy as the look she gave him.

“You saved your own ass, not mine,” he said so no one else could hear them. The producer had already walked away, and Greg had gone back to his office. “You were the one on the line here.”

“The public got cheated.”

“They would have been pissed out of their minds, if every flight in and out of Kennedy had been canceled for three days.”

“Well, I'm glad we didn't piss them off, aren't you? I bet the people on Flight 263 were real glad too. It's a lot better to kill people than to make them angry,” she said grimly.

“Don't push your luck, Maddy,” he said ominously, and she could see that he meant it. She said nothing, and walked right by him to her office. Greg was just leaving when she got there.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, not sure how close Jack was; he had stayed in the studio to talk to the producer.

“Not really” she said honestly. “I don't know what I am. Heartsick mostly. I sold out, Greg,” she said, fighting back tears. She hated herself for it.

“You had no choice. Get past it. This was too big for you to tackle. How is he?” he asked, referring to her husband. “Pissed? He shouldn't be. You gift-wrapped it for him, and you sure got the FAA off the hook, and everyone else with it.”

“I think I scared him,” she said, smiling through her tears.

“Never mind him, you scared the shit out of me. I thought I was going to have to put my jacket over your face to shut you up, before someone killed you. They might have, you know. They would have said you had a psychotic break, that you've been unstable for months, under psychiatric care, schizoid, they'd have done everything they had to. I'm glad you didn't do anything really stupid.” She was about to say something just as Jack walked into her office.