Okay, so! This is something new for the non-ASB readers while I vacation from American King. This is by no means final, but it's good enough for the moment till I work on it tomorrow.
Prelude
"I am aware, Mr. Trenchard, you are not used to manners of good society, and that, alone, will excuse the impertinence of which you have been guilty," said the uppety Mrs. Mountchessington.
Asa was indignant, saying, "Don't know the manners of good society, eh? Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal -- you sockdologizing old man trap!"
The crowd at Ford's Theatre erupted into laughter, almost busting their guts. Booth moved, leveling his Philadelphia Deringer at the back of Lincoln's skull.
Click.
"What?!" Booth screamed inwardly. Thanks to the rain, his pistol had been soaked. Lincoln turned around to see what had made the noise. Seeing the President distracted at so hilarious a line, Major Henry Rathbone, one of the four people in the box with Lincoln, turned to see what the American leader was doing. He saw the gun and immediately moved into action, drawing his sabre and slashing at Booth as the assassin readied to bring a large dagger down on Lincoln's chest as a last resort. The dagger flew from his hands and out onto the stage below. Narrowly evading several sword thrusts, Booth climbed up onto the railing and jumped, only to be impaled by Rathbone halfway in the air. The sword slipped from the major's hands and it and the would-be assassin fell clanging to the floor, dead. The audience in the theatre screamed, shrieked, and shouted at the bloody spectacle, but President Lincoln was safe.
The theatre, needless to say, promptly was shut down and a manhunt ensued for people mentioned in Booth's pocket diary.
Early the next morning, April 15th, 1865...
Andrew Johnson was pacing around in his den at his house; it was 3 A.M., and the Vice President frantically wondering if it had succeeded or not. Then, a loud knocking shook the door. Standing in the pouring rain was a veteran named Samuel Tomkins, a messenger from Secretary of War Edwin Stanton. In two sentences, Johnson's world came crashing down: "Sorry, sir, but Secretary Stanton says to tell you Booth's gun malfunctioned; Major Rathbone killed him. The bugger had his dad-blamed diary with him."
Johnson's face turned white as a sheet, "No! Damn Booth to Hell itself, may he rot forever, and that's exactly where he's going, and tell him to take his diary with him!" he screamed in rage. "They'll read that diary, and they'll see how I and Stanton wanted Lincoln out of the way so we could pulverize those Rebels, and how Booth wanted to get revenge on the Lincolns for the President's boy stepping out with his fiance! Lincoln's going to let those Rebels get away with their garbage! Get out of here! I'm leaving immediately!" Johnson prepared to slam the door in his face, but instead ordered the burly fellow to help him pack a few things. Within ten minutes, the Vice President of the United States had abandoned his family, was in disguise, driving in an insane fashion and fleeing for his life. Stanton, half a city away, was doing the same, taking some of his followers with him.
Andrew wiped the rain and sweat from his face. He took one last look at the city that had both made and ruined him. "Farewell, my sweet." He whipped the horses and was on his way again.
Later, Johnson was going to the South, where, he hoped, he could conive his way to Mexico, to vanish forever. He went to Navy Yard Bridge, crossing into Maryland, and from there to Surratsville. In Surratsville, he decided to pay a visit to Dr. Samuel Mudd, a few miles away, to get supplies. At Mudd's he loaded two saddlebags and crashed his wagon into a nearby creek to throw his pursuers off his trail. Now on horseback, Johnson fled once again early the next morning. Unfortunately, the US government read that Mudd was possibly involved, and the Union army rolled south. Over the next hours, Johnson became trapped in Zekiah Swamp, surrounded on all sides by Yankee soldiers. At last, he made a run for it. Late that night, he reached Rappahannock Ferry. While he tried to swim to the other side of the Potomac, US sailors saw him and opened fire.
Word quickly spread how Vice President Johnson had been shot ten times in the back and head at Rappahannock Ferry by patroling sailors. Stanton was spotted supposedly heading south, also, and the army turned their attention to him. On May 5th, 1865, Stanton was seized at a Virginia farmhouse by Confederate cavalry. After meeting under friendly terms, the Southerners, scorning the Secretary of War as vile and unchivalrous, turned over Stanton to the Union government. He was promptly questioned, tried, and hanged. The Radical Republicans' plans for a vicious punishment for the Confederates disintegrated, and the more lenient Lincoln was very much alive and kicking.