Title: Heaven and Hell: Judas and Brutus (Chapter 17)
Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247
Webpage: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com
Email: e_allen@hotmail.com or minorleeg@yahoo.com
The White House
Presidential Residence,
Friday,
The invited guests stood and sat around the room and listened with rapt attention as the President drew toward the end of his birthday toast/roast of the guest of honor.
“… to which Josh swiftly yet casually replied: Only if you want to do it backwards, sir,” the President said, chuckling slightly at his final anecdote. “I think you’ll agree that it was the ‘sir’ part that made it not only a thing of beauty but also the only thing that kept me from firing him.”
Josh stood
to the President’s left—his preferred position as there was a doorway just feet
away that let him believe there was a chance for escape—and took his beating
like a good birthday boy must. He never
liked there to be any notice of his birthday.
His reasons were private and personal and had nothing to do with age or
entertainers with red noses and big shoes.
Sure, there was the whole childish thing about the clown, but that was
more of an annoyance that he never could shake.
The truth was that after his sister died, the day lost all its
excitement for him. It had always been
her job to keep him occupied during the day until it was time for presents and
cake and guests. She had been good at
it—making up games and make-believe adventures to keep him busy so that he
didn’t pester his parents and wind up grounded before the candles were even out
of the package. He had looked forward to
her distractions as much as anything on those days. The first year without her had been too quiet
even though his parents had taken him to
In the
years since that day, only two others had been particularly hard. The first was the year he was officially
older than his sister ever was. That
thought struck him as he watched the candles flicker on his cake while his
parents sang—well, mostly his mother as his father’s musical ability consisted
of turning on a radio—and soured any chance of joy the day or his gifts might
have brought that year. The next was the
first birthday after his father passed away.
He had lucked out that the day fell during the final sprint of the first
run for the White House and no one knew or recalled it was his birthday—that is
until Donna showed up with a Twinkie and a candle just before midnight as he
and Toby finished going over the latest polls with Leo and the candidate. He had managed to forget—that is, after his
mother’s call—what day it was. But once
reminded at the close of the day the loneliness that often followed him into
the darkness appeared. Josh had retired
to the hotel room that was serving as his home not long after extinguishing the
candle and giving the Twinkie to Toby; he had laid on his bed for the next
several hours thinking of the dust-covered golf clubs in his apartment in
It had been a good tradition—one he considered passing on to his own son some day. That thought bit him sharply. He hadn’t ever seriously considered the possibility of having a son. It was one of those things that breezed through his mind and was considered a thing for the future and nothing to worry about or ponder for too long. But it was in his mind now. It was there because it was not going to happen. Josh knew all about disappointment and loss and the impossible. He knew those concepts well and personally, but he was finally tired with the familiarity. He was tired with a lot of things and keeping his face from showing that was making him even wearier. Carrying this burden was taking a hefty toll, he knew but it was his alone to carry at this point. He was surrounded by people who called themselves his friends and yet as he listened to the President continue to embarrass him in front of the crowded room, Josh felt more alone that ever before in his life.
He hid this and knew he was doing it well. Other than the occasional knowing glance from the First Lady, Josh was certain everyone in the room believed the biggest worry in his world was the finalization of the budget (something that would be sewn up in the next week) and the abuse his ego was taking at this party. He looked around the room for Donna, who had slipped out when the cake was served as anything sweet was apt to turn her stomach this week. Josh tried not to notice such things and pretend all was normal, but it was impossible. He was more observant than even his wife gave him credit for being. What he was good at was repressing his feelings and faking normalcy. He was extraordinarily good at that—too good his therapists often noted. But he was certain that his reasons this time had nothing to do with his own hang-ups and self-described mental short-comings. No, this time he was doing this for Donna. She was the one truly suffering and all he could do was be strong for her and not give her any reason to feel any worse than she did—both emotionally or physically. It pained him he could do nothing more. Any show of sympathy he offered brought a flash of tears to her eyes and sent her scurrying into another room in the house. She also cried in her sleep; the soft weeping woke him each time and left him feeling more useless than every before in his life.
“Don’t get me wrong; he’s a good man, our Josh,” Bartlet continued, clapping Josh warmly on the shoulder, snapping his attention back to the never-ending toast. “Whether that is despite or because of all that I’ve just mentioned is for someone other than me to decide. I, however, wouldn’t change him for the world… Except perhaps those moments that nearly give Leo a stroke and send my approval ratings into the basement.”
The crowded chuckled as the President wrapped up his speech and eventually got around to wishing his Deputy Chief of Staff a happy birthday. During the brief applause, Josh watched Donna slip back into the room unnoticed. She looked no waner than when she left and offered a phony smile to those around her which no one seemed to question. Josh felt the President’s hand on his elbow and was given an instruction to give a short speech of his own. He didn’t think it proper as the President was no one’s opening act—least of all his—but when the Commander-in-Chief gave an order, he wasn’t permitted to ignore it.
He cleared his throat and grimaced at the task.
“Well, thank you, Mr. President; thank you all, for…. mortifying me,” Josh said flatly as he nodded. “I especially like the little plastic clown guys standing guard around the cake. The insensitive and cruel mocking of my childhood hang-ups is a heart-warming touch, really.”
“It was CJ’s idea,” Sam offered from the back of the room.
“Yeah, I
figured that,” Josh said. “The one
that’s face-down drowning in the icing reminded me of this fun thing she did on
a little trip to
Donna stood at the rear of the room and marveled again at how calm and at ease Josh seemed in this setting. Only he could joke so blithely about nearly dying during the hurricane without making anyone else in the room uncomfortable. It often worried her that he was a master at hiding his pain. Though so many in this room had seen or knew well about one of his breaking points, none seemed to even suspect he was navigating through a personal hell yet again. Still, it also impressed her on some level. He was strong, stronger than he even knew and that helped her more than she could tell him. Instead, she smiled at him, genuinely, as he offered his thanks for the gathering while at the same time deriding the entire notion of it. He was a pro at handling rocky situations; she had stood in awe of that from the beginning. He took in stress like some people took vitamins. He could thrive on it for long periods. She knew he was hurting inside, waiting for the inevitable, but she appreciated his agreement to not coddle her. She would take his sympathy after it was over; she would need it, but not before. She felt that would drag out the agony and she wanted to spare both him and herself that.
“So let me just say thank you, to President Bartlet for hosting this gathering and for his kind words which made no effort to spare my ego,” Josh said and grinned expertly as though he meant it and was enjoying the gathering. “And thank you to Sam Seaborn, who I vow to payback for this in the very near future. And thanks to all of you for standing here and gladly enjoying my agony. For this kind of abuse, I normally have to pay a visit to the Hill during budget negotia…”
Josh’s words trailed off as his cellphone trilled.
“Saved by the cell,” he quipped as he snapped it off his belt quickly and looked at the LCD. It was the call he had been waiting and hoping for all week---the chief of staff of the last crucial swing vote for the budget negotiations. Josh looked up and snapped his fingers in Toby’s direction. The two quickly ducked out of the room.
“Yes, well, the best do always leave you wanting more,” Sam said, stepping into the center of the room to act as a director. “I’m guessing Josh and Toby are about to make all our lives easier or infinitely harder. So let’s hope for the best and enjoy the rest of the evening. Oh, and if you haven’t had any, try the cake. The President didn’t make it, but he did care enough to order the very best.”
The crowd gave Sam sparse applause as he trailed out of the room in search of Josh and Toby and news on the budget discussions. The rest of the crowd stayed, as commanded, and milled out the large rooms, spending a few moments of civility. These moments were rare enough. Though the White House put up a nice façade of being all one team the truth was much closer to that of any office. People wanted advancement and often times the only way to get it was to go over and sometimes through those around them. It was a competitive atmosphere that made few concessions for feelings or fair-play.
Donna stifled a yawn and tried to look invisible as she avoided those approaching her with plates weighted down with cake and frosting. She had learned a few weeks earlier that morning sickness would not reserve itself to mornings only and absolutely nothing was sacred in this matter. Dessert was always something she looked forward too, especially if it was prepared by Rouilland—the White House pastry chef—and was as disgusted as she was disappointed when two weeks earlier sweet and sugary flavors and scents began turning her green.
“No cake?” Abbey Bartlet asked as she approached Donna.
“I’m fine,” Donna said and averted her eyes from the plates around her as she folded her arms and slouched slightly. “Thank you, Ma’am.”
“I understand,” Abbey said softly. “You’re holding up well—almost better than Josh.”
“It’s been a long week,” Donna said casually, not wanting to break into tears in this venue. “I think I might be going. I have some…”
“Stay,” Abbey said, and placed a hand on her arm. “Josh will be back soon. I think the phone call is going well. You may as well wait for him. He may need saving if the President is inspired to give another toast.”
“It was very kind of you and the President to host this,” Donna said gratefully. “We appreciate it. Well, I do. Josh…. He does, but… Not really actually.”
“He was trooper,” Abbey said with a grin. “I know how much he detests these things. How is everything else?”
From her tone and the look in her eye, Donna knew precisely what she meant.
“We’ve decided we’ll say something,” Donna answered quietly. “We were… Or I was going to do it today, but everything was so busy and so I decided tonight would be better, but I don’t want it to be a formal sort of thing. I just wanted to let a few people know in person so that…. You were right, Ma’am. People are noticing—no one who works here, but even the woman at the bagel place asked.”
“The whole truth?”
“I’m sorry?” Donna asked then divined her meaning. “Oh, no. Ma’am, I couldn’t handle that. The sympathy will only make me feel worse and I don’t want to explain my choice to anyone. It’s too hard. I know it’s like lying, but…”
“We kept the President’s health from 280 million people and only our enemies fault us,” Abbey pointed out. “What makes you comfortable is the right thing right now.”
“Thank you,” Donna said softly. “I was hoping to do this soon but now that Josh is tied up, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just tell Margaret. Josh said that will get it done quickly enough.”
Abbey shook her head as CJ arrived while carrying two flutes of champagne. Word was spreading that the necessary swing votes were now virtually locked and the feared knock-down drag-out battle would be avoided. It was a minor victory, but it meant the government would stay in business, there would be no need to pass a continuing resolution and the next battle could now be planned. CJ spied a glass already in the First Lady’s hand then offered the spare glass to Donna.
“Here,” CJ said, her jaw still slightly stiff from the recently removed
wiring. “Leo’s on a
conference call with FEMA; tornado outbreaks in
Abbey nodded slowly and offered Donna an expression that let her know that she should use this opportunity.
“Thanks, but I can't,” Donna said and
looked quickly at the First Lady. “It's…
uh… It’s not good for my condition."
“Oh, right,” CJ nodded then turned
back to face her. “Wait. What condition?”
“Uh, I’m… pregnant,” Donna said,
hoping her voice wasn’t as shaky as she feared.
“Pregnant?” CJ repeated with a
gasp. “As in with a
baby?”
“Do you know of another way?” Abbey
interjected. “I’m a doctor and I can’t
think of any other usage for the word.”
“I don’t….,” CJ
stammered. “I… Wow. Uh… How? I mean, I know how, but… When did this…Or when are you…?”
“You're sort of the first person I've told since I told
Josh,” Donna said. “Oh,
and Sam.”
“I am?” CJ asked, gleeful at the thought she was finally
not the last to know something. “So no
one else except Josh and Sam know?”
“Well, and Mrs. Bartlet,” Donna said, glad the First Lady
was there as she did this. “Oh, and my mother and my brother.”
“But no one else?” CJ asked then
laughed triumphantly. “This is great
news. And for you as
well.”
“I don’t…,” Donna began, befuddled by CJ’s pleasure. “What are you…?”
“Nothing,” CJ said quickly. “Uh, congratulations. This is… surprising.”
“Oh, it’s something,” Donna said, forcing a smile onto
her face.
CJ grinned; unsure what else she should say though she
was now wondering how she hadn’t picked up on obvious signs previously. Looking at Donna, she could see the formerly
lithe silhouette was changed in a not so subtle manner. This also explained her nearly constant look
of exhaustion and Josh’s odd outbreak of sensibility where his assistant’s
schedule was concerned. Donna could rarely
be found at the office past
“I’ll say it’s something,” CJ continued.
The President wandered into their sphere, locked in
conversation with Sam about the fine art of observation; they appeared to be discussing
fine art, though from the look on Sam’s face he was no longer certain.
“I, myself, am a keen observer of details great and
small,” Bartlet said. “It’s not a
question of intelligence so much as it is a question of selective focus.”
“Did your keen selective focus notice that Donna’s
pregnant?” Abbey asked, sparing Donna the pain of saying the words again.
“She is?” Bartlet beamed then turned to Donna. “You are?”
“Yes, sir,” Donna said.
“Another theory joins Galileo in the
great beyond,” Abbey said, quickly gripping Donna’s hand for a moment to let
her know she was doing well.
“And the other good news is that I’m
not the last to know,” CJ offered again with a giggle of delight. “Maybe they don’t compare in the grand
scheme, but in my world this is huge.”
“Now,
wait just a minute,” Bartlet said as he observed his Press Secretary’s
mirth. “Why am I just hearing about this
now? Why does CJ know this before I do?”
“Well, sir, I think it was just a thing,” Sam
explained. “You see, we were all....”
“You don’t seem surprised, Sam,” Bartlet noted. “Why?”
“Because I knew,” Sam said. “Before CJ.”
“And before me?” Bartlet asked
with a more stern tone.
“Yes, sir,” Sam replied and sounded guilty. “But that’s mostly Donna’s doing because she
told me.”
“You want me to blame Donna?” Bartlet asked. “I’m not blaming a pregnant woman, Sam. That’s bad politics.”
“Well, you could blame Josh,” Sam offered quickly.
“He’s not even in the room,” CJ pointed out.
“Which begs the questions why?” Bartlet asked as he
looked around in search of him. “He
should be here for this. I mean, I just
gave… I stood there and gave that toast and he never even… Oh, you’re damn right I’m blaming him. Where is he?”
“With Toby,” Sam said as he signaled to Leo who entered
the room with a dour expression and deep worry wrinkles in his brow. “They’re locking up Manning’s vote.”
“That’s no excuse,” Bartlet said excitedly as he turned
to face Leo. “And what do you have to
say about this?”
“What is there to say?” Leo replied with thoughts of FEMA
and the disaster declarations hitting the fax machine on his mind. He was in for a long and tedious weekend of
infighting for the sake of infighting.
“So you know?” Bartlet asked. “They told you?”
“Yeah, I just got it in the hall,” Leo replied, wondering
why it was that natural disasters liked to hit just before weekends.
“Josh?”
“He gave me all the details,” Leo said.
“Well, I learned about it second-hand from my wife,” Bartlet
continued. “And CJ knew before I
did. Honestly, Leo. There are things I feel I should know
first—at least before CJ.”
“I agree, sir,” Leo sighed, wondering how Abbey Bartlet
knew about the FEMA territorial feud.
“The whole thing is a colossal screw up, and I promise you that we will
straighten it out.”
“A screw up?” Bartlet echoed
with confusion. “Leo, it's wonderful.
How can you say....”
“It's a natural disaster, Mr. President,” Leo
answered. “How is that wonderful?”
“Well, I agree Josh does have his moments and were I
prone to ulcers, he would not have lasted long on staff, but I think calling
the baby a natural disaster is overstating the ramifications a bit,” Bartlet
proclaimed.
“Jed,” Abbey interrupted quietly. “Leo doesn’t know what you’re talking about;
no one’s told him this news yet.”
“You're not talking about the tornados?” Leo asked.
“Certainly not,” Bartlet replied—he had been brief by Ken
Sussman (one of Josh’s deputies) on the essential
details of the weather stories several minutes earlier.
“Then what are you talking about?” Leo asked.
“Well, if you don't know then perhaps it’s not my place
to tell you,” Bartlet said haughtily as Josh and Toby could be heard
approaching from down the hall. “Your
staff doesn't keep you well informed, do they? I'm not sure how that
makes me feel, but as I know more than you in this circumstance, I'll let it
slide.”
“Oh for god's sake, will someone please let me know
what’s going on?” Leo growled. At that
moment, Josh and Toby appeared in the doorway bickering in a friendly fashion.
“Look, I know you’re mad,” Josh said.
“I’m not,” Toby grumbled.
“I think you’re mad because I’m brilliant,” Josh said.
“No, you’re mad, the idea was brilliant,” Toby replied.
“Actually, it’s more of a concept,” Josh corrected him
then noted the group immediately in front of them staring. “Leo, Manning is on board. We’ll lose some ground on the clean water
amendments we are going for in the spring, but it’s the best we could do. We saved just about everything else on the
table. Oh, by the way, the governor of
Josh was greeted by quiet as he observed the group. Sam grinned triumphantly. Leo looked like he’d woken up in a strange
room. The President gazed back at Josh
expectantly and rocked on his heels in a patient fashion. Donna’s face remained passive, but there was
a sorrow and regret in her pale blue eyes that Josh understood quickly.
“Josh, my good man,” Bartlet said. “Have you something to say, perhaps, of the
familial news genre?”
“Do I?” he asked then looked at Donna who nodded
stiffly. “Oh, right. That.
So you know?”
“Know what?” Leo asked still trying to grasp the facts of
the conversation.
“Donna’s pregnant,” Sam offered quickly and
excitedly. “We’re having a baby. Isn’t that great?”
“Who’s having a baby?” Toby asked, wishing he had paid
attention when Sam started speaking.
“Well, not me,” Bartlet
chuckled.
“That would make for an interesting briefing tomorrow,”
Toby said.
Leo turned his sights on Josh and shook his head. His deputy’s timing was always
impeccable. It was either the best in
the business or the worst anyone could imagine.
Not that Leo had any thoughts on there being a baby, but the
announcement could have been timed better, he thought, particularly not just
moments after he came into the room seeking to discuss national business that required
his full attention and that of the President, who was looking more like he
wanted to knit booties than mediate a jurisdictional morass.
“Does it ever occur to you to tell me things like this in
a better setting?” Leo asked Josh.
“Not usually, no,” Josh answered honestly.
“We need more information,” Toby said in reference to the
FEMA issues as he began dialing his cellphone.
“Toby, Donna’s having a baby,” Sam said again.
“Yeah,” Toby said flatly.
“Great news.
I’m past it. I’m working again.”
“I was just making sure you were following,” Sam said
helpfully as he shook Josh’s hand. He
had a lot of questions he wanted to ask, such as why he had played everything
so secretive the last few weeks and why he had flatly denied the news before
that. But this was not the time or
place, Sam decided. This was a
celebration.
“And for the
record, congratulations, Donna,” Toby said mildly. “But I’m not sure letting him reproduce is a
good idea.”
“Well, you didn’t pass any prohibitive legislation so
you’re as much to blame as anyone,” CJ chuckled.
“This is definitely not a conversation I want any part
of,” Toby said and then scowled as his call went unanswered.
“He has a point; it’s wonderful and exciting and mildly scary
all at the same time, isn’t it?” Bartlet remarked.
“Sir, Josh is standing right there,” Sam offered in his
friend’s defense.
“I can see him,” Bartlet assured the speechwriter. “Donna, this is wonderful news. Congratulations. You, too, Josh. Speaking as a long time parent, I can tell
you that your work here has been good training.
On a good day, parenting is similar wrangling Congress into line for a
budget vote.”
“Yes, sir,” Josh said, casting a quick glance at Donna
who seemed to be taking the attention well.
“And when are we to meet the newest member of the staff?”
Bartlet asked.
“The staff?” Josh asked.
“Yes, this would be the Special Assistant to the Deputy Deputy
Chief of Staff,” Bartlet offered, having
heard Donna’s joke about her position before and being one of the few who found
it quaint if not actually funny. “So
when is the big day?”
“Uh…,” Donna said then froze.
She didn’t know.
She had never known. It wasn’t
going to happen so she never received that information.
“April 2,” Abbey tossed out quickly and again
surreptitiously squeezed Donna’s hand briefly.
“Donna was just giving me the details.”
“Ah, the springtime,” Bartlet mused. “When life renews itself.”
Josh sighed loudly for two reasons. One, he was grateful the First Lady had saved
Donna from further conversation and lies, but also because he was trying to
center himself for the dissertation the President was obviously ramping up to
give.
“Was that a rebuke?” Bartlet asked, eyeing him carefully.
“No sir,” Josh said weakly as Donna stifled tears behind
a well-timed yawn. “I was just…. Donna is tired and I’m just not sure she
could fully appreciate whatever it is that you’re about to explain… ad nasuem.”
“You’ll get away with it this time,” Bartlet said,
raising his eyebrows and scowling lightly.
“And this time only. Donna, you
do look exhausted. Call it an
evening. Josh, this is your night off so
do something you’ve never done before: Take the rest of the night off. Escort your wife home and enjoy your birthday
tomorrow.”
“Thank you, sir,” Josh said and nodded to the others as
he walked with Donna to the door.
CJ and Sam began to drift away as did Toby.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Bartlet asked.
“Well, the party is breaking up,” Toby offered. “The guest of honor just left.”
“I dismissed him for the evening,” Bartlet said. “We can still celebrate and mingle. Besides, I was about to impart some wisdom
regarding the renewal of life.”
“I thought that was for Josh’s benefit,” Toby remarked.
“It was, but he’s gone now,” Bartlet said.
“So we have to suffer in his place?” CJ asked.
“Unless you have an equally good reason not to,” Bartlet
said.
“I think I have a baby.... defrosting on a shelf some
place,” Toby offered jerking his thumb over his shoulder hopefully.
“Sit, Toby,” the President commanded.
*****************
Lyman House
Saturday morning—
Josh returned from the office by
“You okay?” he asked cautiously as he entered the living
room suspicious that neither the radio nor the TV were on and she did not appear
to be reading anything. “You’re just
sitting here?”
“Your mother called,” she said.
“Is something wrong?” he asked alarmed.
“She’s fine,” Donna sniffled. “She just wanted to wish you a happy
birthday. She tried your cellphone apparently.”
“It was on my desk,” Josh said relieved. “I was in Leo’s office most of the
morning. She have
anything else to say?”
“I didn’t talk to her,” Donna said. “I couldn’t.
She’d have asked how I was and…”
“Donna, she doesn’t know any of this,” Josh said. “She wouldn’t…”
“I can’t lie to her, Josh,” Donna said. “Maybe you can but I can’t. I won’t.”
“So you want to tell her?”
“No, I don’t,” Donna said. “She wants grandchildren more than
anything. She sat right here in this
room when we thought you were…. She said
that’s what she had hoped for and… I
won’t break her heart with this.”
“Your mother knows,” Josh argued. “I don’t see why we have to lie to…”
“My mother knows because Frannie
has lived with this and been through it half a dozen times,” Donna
snapped. “You don’t have to understand
my reasons, I just want you to respect them. We’re not telling her anything. You can call her back and talk to her, but
tell her I’m not here.”
“How is that not lying?”
“I won’t be here,” Donna said in a huff as she stood and
walked toward the stairs. “I’ve been
meaning to start cleaning out the carriage house outback so it can be converted
into…. I don’t know… something. I’ll be
out there.”
“Are you sure?” he asked letting his concern show. “You look… pale.”
“I’m fine,” she said, though she did feel woozy and
flush.
She ascended the stairs to leave him alone to make his
phone call. He did so and received both
his birthday well wishes and the typical 20 questions from his mother. He was able to manipulate the conversation
away from specific questions about Donna by merely restating his normal
complaints that his mother preferred talking with his wife and again swearing
he had not begged his mother to move to
The rest of the day was quiet. They did not go out to eat as had been
previously planned as Donna was exhausted after spending several long hours in
the small three room structure in the backyard that she quaintly called a
carriage house. It had a façade of such
a dwelling but it was actually a mother-in-law apartment. Josh did not mind the name Donna used. Though he had not objections to Patricia
Moss, the thought of her living in his backyard and around on a daily basis was
more than he could handle. She was a
good-hearted and interesting woman, but her thinking patterns and conversations
let Josh know that Donna early-on had a teacher for what he considered her more
flighty tendencies.
The White House—
The week began again with Donna receiving cards and
well-wishes from other staffers who were not a part of the Friday
gathering. She handled it well on the
outside, but Josh could see the hurt in her eyes each time someone said how happy
he or she was for Donna. Their congratulations
were like little razors cutting into her deeply. She was having a hard time staying awake as
the evenings drew near. He knew it was
part chemical and part emotional—she was showing signs of depression, he
feared, though she denied it each time he asked. He did what he could and didn’t keep her at
the office past
He was luckier in that he was able to detach himself from
the well-wishes from others by diving into the budget issues. An all out war with Congress would have been
better to distract him, he knew, but with only minor skirmishes left to fight,
he was focused sufficiently on them to keep back the dark thoughts that plagued
his quiet hours at home. So when Sam
off-handedly asked if he’d be willing to go over two small items for him on
Friday rather than go home, Josh jumped at the opportunity.
The discussions dragged on longer than expected as more
wrinkles appeared, particularly those pertaining to the economic conference the
Vice President was chairing just after Thanksgiving. They would be tacking questions of permanent
tax cuts, tort reform, class action law suits and the shoring up of the US
dollar abroad. However, if any plan the
White House forwarded to the Hill in the next year for any of those items, it
needed to mesh well with the current budget negotiations and not conflict too
strongly with Hoynes’ eager agenda. The
man wanted his chance at the Oval Office and was now poised to take every
opportunity that came his way to ride on the legacy of the Bartlet
administration as well as distance himself from it.
Heady thoughts like these after a stressful week of
haggling with the talking heads of congressional subcommittees left both Sam
and Josh not up for the task of solving the country’s economic ills. This task was made even harder when one of
them penned a sketch of the VP riding a dollar sign into the ground. A punchy and tired round of chuckles invaded
the room and kept popping up as they attempted to remain on topic.
“So, I’m on the moon,” Sam said as he tried to finish his take on the question of restrictions on class action law suits. He then paused and cocked his head to the side. “What did I just say?”
“Apparently, you’re on the moon,” Josh repeated and offered a tired grin. He was tired and didn’t find the remark as humorous as it was ridiculous, but he had precious little that allowed him to smile lately so the chuckle—like the one about the VP—was much needed.
“Okay then,” Sam laughed and took his glasses off then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, that just makes no sense. You know you’ve reached a special point…”
“When you transport yourself off the planet?” Josh ventured as he yawned and buried his face in his hands.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, wiping tears from his eyes. “I have no idea why that came out. I was trying to say I’m satisfied with the stipulations.”
“And yet you said moon,” Josh pointed out.
“Apparently,” Sam continued to laugh. “One time, in law school, I dozed off in class. You know how they tell you to say ‘I object’ whenever you doze off and suddenly get called on?”
“No,” Josh shook his head. “I never heard that.”
“Well, someone said it to me,” Sam said.
“Obviously, it wasn’t someone who liked you,” Josh chuckled.
“I think it was my father or maybe my undergrad advisor,” Sam said, painfully trying to get his story out. “Anyway, someone said it… I…. I believed it… Of course, when it happened, I was in contracts.”
“You announced that you objected in contracts?” Josh reveled.
“Almost,” Sam said continued breathlessly. “I dozed off and meant to say it when I got called on. Instead, it came out ‘I instruct.’’”
The two men unraveled into a controlled fit of hysteria. The room was stuff with the last blast of the Indian summer pushing a storm front through the region and messing with the climate control in the office.
“You crack me up, Sam,” Josh said, finally taking a controlled breath and finding his voice.
“You think that’s good, listen to this,” Sam said recovering and feeling better than he had in months. “Last winter, after the Inauguration, I thought Donna was in love with me.”
“Donna?” Josh asked. “Donna who?”
“Donna,” Sam said forcefully.
“You mean,” Josh began then held up his hand where his wedding ring should have been. “I mean, my Donna?”
“Yeah,” Sam said.
The expression on Josh’s face froze for a second and Sam grew worried until Josh suddenly tipped his head back and laughed loudly. Sam joined him and salted his gasps with details. The noise carried into the hallway. Leo, passing by, decided the boys need a chaperone and entered the room.
“I wrote her this note after her father passed away,” Sam explained then noticed Leo. “Leo, I’m telling Josh about my almost-affair with Donna.”
Leo grinned instantly and leaned on a chair. He shook his head and remembered the fear in the speechwriter’s eyes as he tried to avoid contact with the assistant during the weeks following the Inauguration. The mirth that brought to his world was nearly as refreshing as seeing two of his top staffers finally breaking out of their stressed out zombie-like states that each had sported for weeks.
“You wrote her a love note as a condolence letter?” Josh asked, barely able to contain himself as he drew a ragged breath in an attempt to keep from blacking out from oxygen deprivation.
“I didn’t mean it as one,” Sam explained, tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes. “So I wrote her this note, and I thought she was feeling vulnerable and I had… turned on the love charm.”
“The love charm?” Josh rocked back in his chair.
“And when I saw her at the Ball, she looked all… you know, anxious and happy,” Sam cried. “I thought it was for me. I asked CJ to help me…”
“Turn off the love?” Leo asked, chuckling dryly.
Sam nodded, tears rolling freely down his face as the three men fell into deep guffaws.
“Admittedly, now that I know you two had a thing, it seems pretty stupid,” Sam continued. “You had this thing going on and there I was all that time trying to run interference so you won’t fall for her.”
“What?” Josh asked amid his laughter.
“Leo and I,” Sam said pointing to the older man. “Oh, it gets better when you know this part. You’re not going to believe this. We came up with this plan. Well, it was my strategy, but Leo let me run with it. We were going to see that you two didn’t… I mean, it was funny.”
“Yeah?” Josh asked, finally catching his breath and still grinning as he listened and processed what was being said.
“It was insane sometimes,” Sam continued, slowly regaining his composure as the laughing fit burned out. “We switched your schedule like a 20 times and gave her busy work whenever I could; we even set you up with chaperones in about a dozen different instances.”
“What?” Josh asked, his laughter faded and a puzzled look appeared on his face. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”
“I was worried,” Sam explained. “So I… did what I could to remove the worry, which is funny because all the while I thought I was preventing something, you were all ready… I mean… I look back now and it seems foolish, but at the time…”
“What do you mean?” Josh asked.
“We thought that you would do your typical disastrous job with a relationship,” Leo added, looking at Josh and no longer seeing him laughing. “There was some concern that you’d do something characteristically stupid, and we didn’t have room of time for it or the aftermath or more directly we didn’t think you had the time.”
“But you had room to run a Three’s Company skit?” Josh asked in a mild tone but the look on his face was sharp.
Sam looked at him and realized that the humor had left his voice.
“We had enough trouble with everything else,” Leo said sagely. “You gotta admit Josh, there is ample evidence to show that when you screw up, it’s usually big. It seemed like a good idea to remove any unnecessary obstacles from your path. We were cruising along at a good clip. Donna was speed bump we didn’t need.”
“A speed bump?” Josh repeated.
“A blond speed bump,” Sam added then realized his attempt to return to humor had failed.
Josh sat very still in front of them, hearing his heart start to pound in his ears. He thought back to the campaign. He recalled Leo telling him not to work as closely with Donna. He recalled Sam telling him that Donna was not worthy of him. He recalled Toby being sent…
“Toby was in on this too?” he asked.
“No,” Leo said.
“He thought it was stupid,” Sam
said. “I told him my concerns, and he
told me… Well, he offered to throw me off Air Force One when we were over
“He should have followed through,” Josh said darkly.
“What?” Sam asked instantly.
“Josh,” Leo began.
“No,” Josh said suddenly standing. “We're finished here.”
“Josh,” Leo sighed and shook his head. “Sit down.”
“No,” he snapped. “I mean, Sam here. He surprises me. But you…. I don’t even have the words.”
“Listen,” Sam said trying to ease the tension in the room. “It didn’t mean anything and I’m sorry.”
“Like hell it didn’t mean anything,” Josh seethed. “But I swear to God if you ever call Donna a blond speed bump again you will know what it means to be sorry.”
“We had bigger things to deal with,” Leo reasoned.
“Apparently not since you found time to screw around with my life,” Josh argued.
“It’s over and passed,” Leo said trying to sound sage and calm. “Let it go.”
“Oh well, that just makes it fine,” Josh said.
“Trust me,” Sam began was cut off swiftly by Josh’s cutting tone.
“No, I don’t think I will,” Josh said suddenly. “Which is probably a good thing since you obviously don’t trust me. But hey, if you want to just say it’s over, then fine.”
“Fine?” Sam asked hopefully. “So that’s it.”
“Josh, frankly I think this indignation is a bit misplaced,” Leo said. “I can see being a little pissed, okay, a lot pissed for a few moments when you found out, but you’re not walking out of here mad like this. Look at reality. We failed, spectacularly. You got what you wanted—we all did. We won the election and you got the girl. What does it matter what else happened? No one got hurt and it’s long in the past; life is good.”
“Life is good,” Josh mumbled and shook his head as he stared down at his hands.
“Yeah, we’re still here and you’ve got the happily-ever-after thing going, complete with baby makes three,” Sam said encouragingly. “Let the good times roll. Everything is fine.”
“I can't even form the words,” Josh said feeling the rage in him, bottled up with his anxiety of the secret he and Donna were still keeping, began to poison his blood.
“So now what?” Leo asked aggressively. “You’re gonna hold a grudge like a four-year old who had to sit in time-out for the afternoon? You’re an adult, Josh. Act like it.”
“I am,” Josh said hotly and pointed menacingly at Leo to make his point. “I can’t believe you… I’m ashamed that I ever thought of you as a friend—either of you.”
“Hey,” Sam interrupted. “This has gone too far. Look, we said we were sorry. Let’s move on.”
“No, Sam,” Josh said coldly. “The only thing you’re sorry about is that I didn’t find your little game funny. And don’t try to apologize now. I won’t accept it. You just don’t get it, do you? Just because you are incapable of keeping your private life in any type of order, you had no right to assume that I would do the same.”
“I think, based on your track record…,” Sam began.
“I don’t have a track record,” Josh said. “What I have is a life that is my own. How I conduct it in my personal time is my business; I don’t break the law and I don’t do anything that interferes with the work we do here—which is more than I can say for either of you. It wasn’t your job to see that I…. You just… You don’t see it, do you? You pretend you’re sorry, but you don’t see that you were wrong; you were out of line!”
“Look, it wasn’t personal,” Sam said approaching Josh as he turned to leave.
“It wasn’t?” Josh exclaimed. “It was my life, Sam! It was her life! How the hell is that not supposed to be personal?”
“Josh,” Sam said, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. Josh raised his arm abruptly and shook of the other man’s grasp. He turned and offered a nasty glare for the both of them as he spoke in cool, controlled acidic tones.
“Leo, you’re an alcoholic and a drug addict,” Josh began. “I know this and I know your history, but I never doubted you; I never turned on you; I never showed you anything but loyalty. And you, Sam….”
“Josh, you’re…,” Sam began but was cut off by Josh’s scoff.
“It’s late,” he said frigidly. “Shouldn’t you be in bed with a hooker?”
Neither man stopped him as he exited the room this time. Sam stared at the open door and waited for the feeling to come back to his legs. He turned his head to see Leo whose expression likely mirrored his own.
Josh continued down the hall and disappeared into his office. Neither man made any move to reopen the conversation. Leo left with a rueful shake of the head but an expression that said he was mostly unconcerned by the recent blow up. Sam wasn’t as optimistic. He’d looked into Josh’s eyes; there was something in them that chilled the speechwriter to the bone. He wasn’t sure fully what it was, but it strongly resembled betrayal. Sam slowly and quietly gathered his notes from the table and made his way back to his office.
He was back at his desk when he looked up to find another pair of disgusted staring at him. He was silhouetted in the doorway looking down at Sam with equal measures of mystification and shame.
“Hey Charlie,” Sam said slowly. “You look kind of wet there. Did you fall in a swimming pool or something?”
“It’s raining,” he said simply.
“Right,”
Sam said, noting he could hear the soft pecking of the drops against his
window. “What are you doing here? The President’s in
“I came in to get ready for tomorrow,” he answered.
“Can I help you?” Sam asked, feeling like he was the one who wasn’t supposed to be there. The aide’s stare was a combination of accusation and antipathy.
“It’s none of my business, but you’re a jackass, you know that?” Charlie said in a respectful yet forceful tone then turned to leave.
“What?” Sam asked standing and following him.
“You really did that?” Charlie asked, keeping his back turned as he walked toward his office. “He was your friend—they both were.”
“You’re talking about Josh,” Sam surmised. “How did you…”
“Maybe I should add stupid to that description,” Charlie said shaking his head. “It’s the Roosevelt Room, Sam. Not the Situation Room.”
“All right,” Sam said dejectedly. “So I was a jackass. I agree in some ways. But I really feel like is…”
“Who gives a damn how you feel?” Charlie said as he arrived at his desk. “It wasn’t about you. No, wait. I’m wrong. It was about you. It was about you from the start.”
“Josh told you?” Sam asked. “Is he here still?”
“No, Josh didn’t tell me anything
and I just saw him leave as I was getting here,” Charlie said. “I thought you were just taking nonsense last
year at
“The same reason I do anything this awful,” Sam confessed. “I was scared.”
“I guess that’s one more difference between you and me,” Charlie replied. “When I get scared, my first thought isn’t how to turn on my friends.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Sam said feebly. “Charlie, we were in the middle of the closest election this country has ever seen. The numbers didn’t look good—even the first primary was a fight. The outlook was dismal, appalling even. I thought we would lose if we all didn’t buckle down. I also honestly thought it might look bad; we didn’t need sordid stories about the White House being a hotbed of sexual intrigue, and we wouldn’t have survived another scandal. Plus what if it didn’t work out? Donna’s an asset to this work we do. I thought it was the best for everyone if I just…”
“I think the only part of what you just said that’s true is where you kept saying ‘I’,” Charlie surmised with pity. “You were worried about your job. You know something, Sam? For a smart guy, you really are limited. I’d call you shallow or self-centered, but that’s not what it is. You’re limited. What I don’t get is how Leo fits in; don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“Charlie, you should understand that….”
“No,” Charlie cut him off. “I shouldn’t and I don’t want to; it’s none of my business and if you had learned anything from this or if you felt the least bit sorry, you’d know it was none of yours either.”
“I am sorry,” Sam protested.
“No, what I think is that you’re feeling guilty,” Charlie said. “Maybe you’re sorry you got caught or whatever happened so that he knows what you did.”
“You know, I’m not sure I have to listen to the indignation,” Sam argued. “Yeah, I made some choices, but we all do. No one got hurt.”
“That’s not what I hear,” Charlie said. “Sam, you’re right. I’ve got no right judging you. Maybe you should just go back to your office.”
“Look, I feel bad about this,” Sam sighed, regretting snapping at the man. “It’s been a bad night, I guess. I’m going to go grab some coffee. Do you want…”
“Yeah, I don’t think you get to soothe your conscience by feeling bad after the fact,” Charlie replied. “You’re gonna have to cry on someone else’s shoulder.”
“What do you want me to say?” Sam asked. “I was wrong. I know that. I think Josh will see that when he calms down. And I’m not worried about him. He’s fine—mad but fine; Josh gets mad a lot. He’ll get to his car, realize he forgot his keys or something then come back to his office and spend four hours viciously attacking raw legislation on his desk. He’ll think of a bunch of new names to call me and then….”
“I thought you were his friend,” Charlie said shaking his head as he sat down and turned his back to Sam. “He did, too.”
Sam followed him, puzzled by Charlie’s brush off. Sure, the indignation was predictable, but the resignation and concern seemed a little more than Sam expected from the reticent aide. Rather than argue further, Sam bowed his head then left. He wandered down the hall, not interested in returning to his office. He stopped and listened to the hushed hum of the building, still alive with some activity on a stormy Friday night.
Okay,
so Josh is upset; that’s fairly obvious, Sam thought as he stood in the
hallway.
But Charlie, too? It’s not like I killed someone. It’s not like Josh can’t take care of
himself or that he didn’t end up on the winning side in this thing despite what
I did. And really, why is Josh even
mad? I can see a little surprise, shock
perhaps at first, but the guy doesn’t have any reason to be angry. It’s not like what I did I
actually made any difference. He dated
Donna; he married her! They’re having a
baby—his life couldn’t get any better.
No, Josh is being indignant just because he can be.
“Sam?”
The speechwriter turned to see Leo in the door to the Chief of Staff’s outer office. He was looking as grim and glum as Sam felt.
“Josh is upset,” Sam responded unnecessarily.
“Yeah.”
“I was thinking of going to check on him,” Sam said. “Try and smooth this over before it becomes a thing.”
“Josh will be fine,” Leo said unconvincingly. “Pissed but fine.”
“That’s what I said,” Sam replied. “Charlie said…”
“Charlie?”
“Grapevine is in high gear apparently,” Sam said sourly. “My clandestine plans to rule the world starting with sidetracking Josh’s love life have been exposed for the evil to the universe that they are. Charlie seems to know the whole story and Josh is pissed at me.”
“At us,” Leo corrected. “He’s pissed because we didn’t trust him.”
“But it wasn’t like that,” Sam offered.
“Yeah, it’s exactly like that,” Leo disagreed without remorse.
“It hurt him,” Sam said sullenly. “I’m sure it sounds funny considering, but that wasn’t my point. I never wanted to hurt anyone.”
“We never do, but it happens anyway,” Leo said matter-of-factly. “I’m always surprised by how much--and at the same time how little--it takes to do that to a person.”
“Will he forgive us?”
“It’s Josh,” Leo said. “I just don’t know. We forgot one thing.”
“Just one?”
“One big one,” Leo said.
“What’s that?”
“It’s Josh,” Leo informed him. “There are certain lines that don’t get crossed with him. Even though he’s a politician, Josh places a lot more stock in trust than most of us do. Tonight, the market crashed.”
“I never meant to hurt him,” Sam said again.
“Hardly matters now, does it?” Leo remarked. “Sam, let it go. Leave Josh alone for the weekend. He’ll be fine. It’ll blow over in a day or two. Until then, steer clear.”
*****************
Deputy Chief of Staff’s
Office
Monday evening—
Leo arrived
at Josh’s office just before
Leo noted Donna was not at her desk but was unconcerned by this. For her part, she did not seem to bear any ill will toward he or Sam that Leo had noticed. He thought this was more professional than her husband and boss’s actions until he realized that she likely didn’t know the story yet. It would be like Josh to withhold that kind of information from her—preferring to brood alone and in silence. Although, given their recent announcement, it might also be chauvinistic tendencies.
“Josh,” Leo said as he entered the dimly lit room. Josh sat at his desk reading reports and looked up briefly.
“What?”
“Donna gone?” Leo asked casually, wading into the discussion slowly.
“Is she at her desk?” he asked coldly and receiving no response answered the question. “Then apparently she’s not here.”
“Josh,” Leo sighed forcefully. “Look, I've had enough of this...juvenile behavior. This needs to end. What's done is done. Move on.”
“So I should just forget about this?” Josh remarked. “Pretend it didn’t happen?”
“That would be best,” Leo said though he knew it was unlikely.
“Is that how it works?” he asked. “Do you pick and choose on the 12 Steps that way, because if it is, then I know how you got into that mess back just before the election in 1998.”
“Hey,” Leo snapped. “You’re out of line.”
“So were you that night,” Josh shrugged. “I seem to recall doing a lot of damage control for you after that. Funny. I don’t remember thinking you were incompetent to do your job though I had ample evidence. I really should have learned better from you the master.”
“That’s enough,” Leo said.
“Hey, it's in the past,” Josh replied. “Move on, Leo. Pretend I never said it; it’ll be like it never happened.”
“This is the White House,” Leo said firmly. “If you want to be pissed at me, fine. You can be pissed at me, but the attitude has no place in this building.”
“You know, I can handle that you don't respect me or the work I've done here,” Josh said. “What I mind is your assumption that you have a right to better treatment that you afforded me.”
“You want to hate me personally, go ahead,” Leo said shaking his head, realizing that this fit was not going to burn itself out quickly. “The office, mine and yours, deserves better than a juvenile tantrum.”
“No man inherently deserves respect,” Josh informed him confidently. “It’s something you have to earn it and something you have to keep earning. Fine, I can respect the power and the duty of your office; I don't have to respect the man who holds it.”
“Then maybe it’s time you should consider working somewhere else,” Leo said, feeling like father scolding a toddler who didn’t understand the word no.
“You’re pissed because Toby was all over you about McClesky,” Josh surmised thinking back to the heated meeting in the Roosevelt Room that morning in which Toby had sided loudly and vehemently against the Chief of Staff. Josh was in that meeting and though he disagreed with Toby felt that his briefing memo outlined that sufficiently. While the battle raged, Josh sat back impassively and let Leo take his lumps and flounder on several points until the Deputy Chief of Staff opted to step in and correct their boss on two integral points that led to the end of the meeting.
“You think I need you to fight all my battles?” Leo scoffed. “You have a decidedly over developed sense of self. I’m not a novice at this politics stuff and I have a pretty tough skin. I think its past time you grow up and grow one of your own.”
“You wanted a position paper on 203—you got it and the President agrees with me, by the way,” Josh said in a mechanical fashion, listing off his tasks for the day. “You needed someone to deal with Ways and Means and get them off McPhereson's back—it’s done. You needed want a list of candidates to replace the deputy secretary for education--the short list will be on your desk by tomorrow. I've done everything you asked be done as well as a few dozen other things that popped up in the interim. Where precisely have I neglected my duties?”
“You haven't,” Leo said flatly.
“I thought I was being unprofessional,” Josh said, knowing this discussion was petulant, but not caring.
“You know damn well your attitude needs more than a little adjusting,” Leo said. “I’m not going to fight this battle with you every day. I don’t have time for it and there’s no place for it in this White House. So grow up or put your letter on my desk.”
“Am I still allowed to hate you, sir?” Josh asked, adding the last word strategically.
“We’re done,” Leo said and turned his back to leave. “Go home and figure out what you’re going to do.”
“Go to
hell,” Josh said, stopping the man in his tracks. Leo turned back to look at him. “I serve at the pleasure of the President.
I'll leave when he asks me. You want to tell
him to do it, go ahead.”
*****************
Naval Observatory
Home of the Vice
President
Wednesday evening
Josh
arrived at the home of the Vice President of the
It had been
brisk in the office since the revelation the two weeks earlier Friday. Josh was fortunate to have been gone as often
as he had. Schulman
led protests across the country, though none were more vocal nor
received more coverage than the ones in
So, it was with deep weariness in his bones and a distinct desire to return to his home and see Donna—who was strategically in the dark on Sam and Leo’s campaign antics—that Josh followed the Vice President’s request to meet him after hours away from the White House. Josh rarely relished his one-on-one discussions with Hoynes and was certain this one would be no different. He wanted to be home. He knew he needed to be home; he and Donna were in the middle of some important discussions regarding their future, which he knew had her more worried about his sanity than her own health. Whatever Hoynes wanted, Josh hoped it would be a short and pointless meeting.
“How are you?” Hoynes asked as Josh entered the study and was ushered into a seat.
“Fine,” Josh said quickly. “What do you want, sir?”
“Come on, Josh,” the Vice President replied casually. “You know I remember a time when you let me play the know-it-all hard ass just to assuage my ego.”
“Mr. Vice President…” Josh began.
“I want you back,” Hoynes said. “To the point enough for you? I have a job, and you’re the best man for it.”
“I have a job,” Josh said skeptically.
“A job that has zero growth potential and doesn’t utilize your considerable talents,” Hoynes said, warming to the conversation. “You’ll never sit in Leo McGarry’s chair during this administration. You had your little stint last year, but it isn’t your place. Or should I say, it isn’t your place yet?”
“I’m not looking for a promotion,” Josh answered.
“I know,” Hoynes said. “You’re looking for a way out. But you’re torn. You like what you do, you just don’t like who you do it for any longer. You’ve had some offers that you find tempting right now. What? You think it’s a secret the Mayor of New York City made you an offer to be his deputy? Mitch and I are friends, Josh. Who do you think told him he should pitch you the offer?”
Until that
moment, Josh believed Donna was the only person in
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Josh lied.
“Sure you do,” Hoynes said confidently. “Mitch Colton wants to be President some day, and he knows he needs varsity level help to get there.”
“He should consider a different sport,” Josh sighed.
“I agree,” Hoynes said then shifted tactics. “But the maintenance staff is running in circles to figure out why it’s so damn cold over in the west wing lately. We both know it’s got nothing to do with the weather or the heaters. You’re the one who masterminded Jed Bartlet’s victory, and they treated you like an intern that needed to be ushered through the motions. Hell, you’ve covered up their missteps, obfuscated their mistakes and even thrown yourself in front of political bullets for them, and they paid you back by showing you no trust, no respect and no apologies—no sincere ones anyway. Ah, you’re surprised. Yeah, I know what they did.”
“Who?” Josh asked feebly.
“Judas and Brutus,” Hoynes said with a disappointed look on his face. “Two of the people you’re closest with and they handled you like some tawdry mistress you sneak out the back door so no one sees her.”
“Sir, this really isn’t…”
“You can’t even look at Leo when you speak to him, and you won’t even speak to Sam Seaborn,” Hoynes informed him confidently. “You talk in his general direction when you absolutely have to, I’m told. Josh, you and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye and I won’t lie to you; we’ll disagree in the future. The difference is, I respect you and I’ve never, would never, treat you otherwise. I think you know that. Now, don’t insult me or my intelligence. We both know you want out, Josh. I think leaving is the right choice; I’m so sure of it, I’m showing you a door.”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to, John,” Josh said smoothly. “I like my job just fine.”
“You like the work you do,” Hoynes said. “I know. You’re good at it—too good to be stuck moving along a political agenda for a president who’s on his way out. Jed Bartlet is a good man. I know you’re loyal to him; I know how deep your loyalty runs, but they don’t recognize what they’ve got. I do. Josh, you’re meant to be more than Leo McGarry’s errand boy.”
“I like to think the Deputy Chief of Staff is slightly more than an errand boy,” Josh said. “Sir, can you maybe just get to the point?”
“Truth to power—it doesn’t scare you,” Hoynes shook his head. “That’s what impressed me first about you. You’re not a yes-man. It’s not always easy having you around, but I learned my lesson the hard way. I made a mistake back in 1998; I should have listened to you. I know that, and I’m a big enough and wise enough man to say it. We made a good team, Josh. I’ve learned a lot in the last few years. I make it a point not to make the same mistake twice. I’m going to run for president again, Josh. I want to win, and I need you to do that.”
“Now’s really not the…,” Josh began.
“I want to win,” Hoynes said again. “I may be the Vice President, but there’s a lot of ground to chew between today and the New Hampshire Primary. Come work for me.”
“You have a Chief of Staff,” Josh said. “Stu does his job just fine.”
“I don’t want you in the OEOB,” Hoynes said. “I want you to run the campaign. I can trust my staff to keep the schedule; I need your help to win the nomination and then election.”
Josh shook his head. He received offers from time to time—one of the perks and downsides to working in the White House. There was a myth that if one had worked in that building that he could work miracles anywhere else, as if an old business card was a genie in a lamp bestowing him with magical powers. It was true; he did believe that if Hoynes had listened to him during the first campaign, it would have been a very different outcome to the primaries. He had liked John Hoynes in many ways. They didn’t see eye to eye on all subjects, but he was a strong and shrew politician who had untested depths of for being a survivor, a warrior and a magnanimous victor. Josh did trust him to run the country in an emergency because he did believe that the man had the welfare of the many as his prime focus—how he went about getting at achieving that end and how best to convey that message was often where they parted ways.
“I’m not looking for a new job,” Josh said.
“You’ll
never be happy in
Josh stared
back at the man. That he knew about the
job offer from
“How is Donna?” Hoynes asked, sensing he was working the proper strings.
“Fine,” Josh said simply.
“I can only imagine how hard this is on her,” Hoynes continued. “You as well. Marcia and I were lucky. She was healthy both times when she was carrying the boys, and there were no complications. I remember when Christopher was in the accident; until we knew it was only a broken leg, I was half out of my mind with worry. Being a father does that to you. Everything takes on a new light when you find out that you’re responsible for part of the next generation. I’m sorry it has to be like this for you, Josh. I truly am; I wouldn’t wish Donna’s illness on an enemy.”
“Sir, this really isn’t…,” Josh began, uncomfortable with the new direction of the conversation.
“Do you remember when the hospital called about Chris’s accident?” Hoynes recalled, referring to an incident during his tenure as a senator when his son was injured. “What stands out in my mind most are two things: First I remember is being worried blind. The other thing I remember is you; you took care of everything—that floor vote I couldn’t miss but needed to in order to get to the hospital, and later you took care of the reporters who set up camp on my front yard. Earl Brennan always said I was getting more than just a political operative. He’ll be your shield and your sword, John, he said. He had that right. You’ve been the same thing for this administration, but they don’t seem to appreciate that. And now, of all the times when you least need the fickle and petty nature of this town, you find out they cast you out long ago.”
“How do you know?” Josh asked, stunned by Hoynes’ knowledge of his and Donna’s private situation. “About Donna, I mean. We haven’t said…”
“Josh, I
know,” Hoynes said. “That’s what
matters. I know you didn’t want it to be
public knowledge. I can’t blame
you. This is a hard time for you and
especially Donna. My offer gets you out
of
“They didn’t say she couldn’t work for…,” Josh began.
“I know what they said, but I also know what they did, Josh,” Hoynes said. “It’s in the past, but you’re not past it. How could you be? You’re looking to break away and leave this behind you. I think this is the offer you shouldn’t refuse.”
“Now is not…,” Josh started. “Mr. Vice President, I… Donna and I aren’t looking to… What I mean to is…”
“Think about it, Josh,” Hoynes said, rising from his seat. “Talk to Donna. I don’t need an answer right now. You both had some rough days ahead of you, and you should concentrate on getting through those first. But when you’re ready, the job is waiting for you. It’s your destiny, Josh. She’s waiting.”
Josh cocked his head to the side, the words of his father’s long lost letter running through his mind. There was no way that Hoynes knew of that; no one did other than Josh himself. He looked back at the Vice President with a thoughtful gaze then shook the man’s hand.
He didn’t recall most of his drive
home and was mildly surprised to realize he had parked his car in the garage
before he realized he didn’t remember the drive. He entered the house to find the downstairs
dark. It was a setting he was now
familiar with; Donna was upstairs sleeping most likely. He didn’t see her when he returned any night
after
He had been the opposite. He had wanted to work in politics for as long as he could remember. He was at the top of his profession more than a decade before of any of his mentors had been in their careers. He liked working at the White House; he liked the power but mostly he liked what the power allowed him to do. Most people only dreamed of making a difference in their lives, the lives of others and the world at large. Josh knew that was a reality for him every day. As the Deputy Chief of Staff he was one of the most influential men in the nation. He had the ear of the President and orchestra the Congress of the most powerful country on the planet into action. He knew precisely how to do it and when he needed to be done to achieve the administration’s goals.
Hoynes knew this. He also knew Josh was a man with the skills
to put other people in the White House.
And Hoynes wasn’t the only one.
Whether word of the divisions within the senior staff was making the
rounds in
He prepared to go to bed and had just climbed in beside her when she opened her eyes.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“I had a meeting,” he said.
“CJ was looking for you,” Donna replied. “You weren’t at the office and no one there knew where you were.”
“I was in a meeting,” he said again. “I got caught up in it. I guess I didn’t check my cell phone. What did CJ want?”
“She’s upset,” Donna yawned. “Apparently Jack was pulling some wire stories for her to look at and he found something he thought was funny but she obviously didn’t.”
“What?”
“Apparently, CJ’s gay,” Donna said
flatly. “At least, that’s what some
woman in
“What?”
“This woman…,” Donna began but stopped as Josh lifted the phone beside him and began dialing.
After several seconds, he began speaking. Donna listed in a detached fashion as she snuggled closer to him, finding it easier to sleep lately when she could hear Josh’s heartbeat. It was predictable and soothing—two things she desperately needed in her world at this point. When he wasn’t there, she dozed but she found herself tossing fitfully as her mind raced in anticipation of the awful day which she woke up each morning believing would be that very day.
“You have kinky lesbian sex in college and this doesn’t plague us during a campaign,” Josh said as an opening. “How did we get so lucky?”
“Okay, that joke got old about four hours ago,” CJ said in a perturbed fashion. “Where have you been?”
“Combing through photos at the National Archives to see if you’re in any civil unions marches in Massachussetts,” Josh chided. “What’s this story?”
“Some woman in Ohio who was a teacher’s aide got fired for budgetary reasons,” CJ explained, not enjoying the attention she was receiving and seething to respond to the ludicrous story but fearful that even a staunch denial would give the tale more life. “She’s claiming it wasn’t the budget but because the school board found out she’s gay. She thinks she’s a victim of discrimination and during her little speech in front of the school with her attorney, she started outing other people in town.”
“And the state of
“After naming the mayor’s son and a state legislator, she announced that they were proof that homosexuals are competent professionals that we can all trust and finally…,” CJ said.
“She named you,” Josh said. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” CJ snapped.
“Are you sure?”
“Josh!” CJ growled. “You’re not helping. It’s not true. She went to UC Berkley the same time I was there, but there are like thousands of students there and I swear I never met this woman.”
“She’s not from your home town, you don’t know any of the same people, you didn’t get drunk at some party and…,” Josh began.
“No,” she said firmly. “And I’m not sure you’re forgiven for whatever sordid images you’ve got running through your mind, by the way.”
“Who has this?”
“It’s just a small paper with a circulation of about 6,000,” CJ said. “But it hit the wire.”
“No one’s going to run with it,” Josh assured her. “Its libel and they all know it. Hell, Danny Concannon can refute it—just have him tell the story about how his phone got into the back seat of your…”
“Are you done?” CJ cut him off.
“Ignore it,” Josh offered. “It’ll be hard, but don’t jump at this. It’s a non-story. Someone might ask you, but I say make a joke
or two—nothing too insensitive because we have the modifications to the hate
crime legislation to push through before we break for the holidays. The thing in
“Sam said I should ignore it entirely and tell them I’m not commenting,” CJ said, unsure which approach to take. When Josh didn’t respond immediately, she questioned him. “Josh? I’m sort of leaning toward doing what Sam suggested. What do you think?”
“I wouldn’t take any advice on anything that affects you personally from Sam Seaborn,” Josh said in a calm yet angry tone.
“What does that mean?” she
asked. “What is it with the two of you
lately? Did he take your favorite
baseball card? I’m in the middle of a
crisis trying to figure out if someone other than this loony toon in
“You think someone else is behind the story?” Josh asked.
“Well, the thought did cross my mind,” CJ said as though he was dull. “It wouldn’t be, you know, out of the realm of possibility that someone who doesn’t like us put her up to it or will take this and use it against us. Who though?”
“Check the backyard,” Josh said.
“You think it could be a Democrat?” she asked. “That’s crazy.”
“Hey, it’s politics,” he said bitterly. “You can’t really trust anyone—least of all those you think are your friends.”
They disconnected several minutes later as CJ decided she would let discuss the matter more thoroughly with Toby when he returned her call. As Josh replaced the phone in its cradle, he found Donna looking at him with a suspicious gaze. He knew he could not avoid her questions much longer. He knew he would tell her the truth soon.
*****************
Old Ebbit’s Grill
Friday evening—
Josh sat at the back bar of the restaurant just around the corner from the White House. He was meeting Toby there as he didn’t seem to get anything done in the office in the evenings any longer. Their discussion didn’t need to be long, but any time spent away from the office was good time for Josh lately—or at least not arduous time. There were few people in the normally busy restaurant he noted but thought little of it. The weather was bad and there had been hellish traffic in the city all day as the last ditch efforts to get road construction done before the frost fully set in for the reason was underway. That effectively kept many of the tourists away.
He was joined shortly by Toby who was looking drenched and proclaimed he wanted to find some way to blame two congressmen for the rain but hadn’t figured out how yet. Josh listened to him rant for several moments then drifted. Toby noticed, having seen the despondent gaze in the deputy’s eyes in recent days.
“Hey,” Toby said. “What’s going on?”
“It’s raining,” Josh said, trying and failing to prove he had been listening.
“You and Sam and you and Leo,” Toby said. “I’m not sure if there’s anyone else you’re pissed at—there’s only so much melodrama I can process when sober.”
“I thought we were here to talk about McClesky,” Josh said, avoiding the question. “I know you don’t like it, but we have to go to Avrill. There’s no other way.”
“Fine,” Toby said, ordering a Dewer’s straight up for himself. Josh passed on a refill of his beer. “You talk to Avrill, and I’ll sit in my office and ignore her.”
“Toby,” Josh sighed. “I know you don’t like it, but we have to talk to Avrill at some point.”
“Not this week,” Toby agreed tersely and received and nod of ascent from Josh. “You’re not on your game.”
“I’m fine,” Josh assured him.
“Okay, I want no part of this but as you all seem to be around me I feel I have to say something,” Toby sighed. “I mean... I'm a 50-year-old divorced man who knows nothing about relationships except this: you don’t throw everything away because someone disappoints you. Don’t. Let me finish. I know there’s more to this than that, but in the end that’s what it boils down to. They’re sorry. They’re wrong. Get over it.”
“It’s not that easy,” Josh said. “Sorry isn’t good enough. In fact, I’m tired of people being sorry or feeling sorry. You know, I think I actually hate pity. I didn’t think I hated anything, but the more I think about it, I hate pity.”
“There’s not pity here,” Toby said. “I think you’re a bit too self-involved in this one. Find the high road. Hell, I’ll draw you a map if you need it. At the end of the day, you win. You have two things in your life that are yours and no one is going tot take away from you: a woman who loves you and a child on the way.”
“No, I don’t,” Josh said tearing little shreds from the napkin under his glass.
“I’m sorry,” Toby said. “Is there trouble with you and Donna?”
“No,” Josh shook his head. “Look, never mind. I should go back and finish reading the…”
Toby looked back at him, startled by the devastated expression that played briefly across Josh’s face.
“What is it?” Toby asked. “What's wrong? Is it… Josh, how is Donna doing?”
“She’s fine,” he lied unconvincingly. “Great even. She’s tired, but that’s normal.”
“Josh, is the baby okay?” Toby asked gently.
“No,” he answered softly, staring at his hands. “I mean, I don’t know. We don’t know anything really except that it's genetic—the problem. Donna’s family has a history of…. She wasn't even supposed to be able to conceive. It's only a matter of time before…”
“Oh,” Toby said chastely. He paused and let more than a minute of silence pass before speaking again. “There’s nothing to doctors can do?”
“They don’t
even have an official name for it,” Josh said.
“
“Is there anything I can do?” Toby asked feeling useless.
“Toby, frankly, I don't even know what I'd ask for if there was anyone with that kind of power,” Josh said. “I mean, do you ask for it to be over sooner or for it to never have started?”
Toby sat in thoughtful silence. He knew some of what Josh was feeling. He and Andrea had gone through several failed pregnancies before it finally pulled them so far apart their marriage didn’t survive. He didn’t think there was anything he could say or do to help; he recalled that nothing anyone did ever seemed to help him when he and his wife faced this problem.
“I know
you’re not someone who goes to
“Last time I checked, the only one of our guys who had the kind of skills Donna needs could walk on water,” Josh scoffed. “Unless you’ve got a direct line and a favor to call in… Chatting with a rabbi won’t change how I feel.”
“Why did you guys announce it anyway if you knew that…”
“The First Lady was about to out Donna,” Josh said. “She said people would notice and she was right. When its over, everyone will just think it was one of those things and we move on. Don’t, uh, don’t tell anyone. Donna doesn't want anyone to know because then people will feel sorry for her and that's going to make her feel even worse and she doesn't need that.”
Toby nodded. It wasn’t his way to gossip. He understood now better why Josh was unable to let his anger with Sam and Leo go. It was something tangle and in front of him. It was something he could be angry about that was outside of himself. Whether all of his anger was the anxiety of the loss he and Donna were awaiting, he did not know. But he was certain that until that situation resolved itself, there would be no room in Josh’s mind for forgiveness for the transgression of others.
“Josh, I’m hearing things,” Toby said.
“Are the voices friendly?” Josh quipped though the friendly jab held no mirth, Toby could sense.
“Not really,” Toby replied. “I hear that you’re leaving.”
“Things change,” Josh shrugged and pulled on his coat. “People move on. Leo said that to me; about that, he was right.”
“Well, I, for one, would prefer it if you did not go,” Toby said with difficulty as he tossed money on the bar to pay for his drink. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”
“Don’t forget,” Josh said as he started toward the door. “We need to talk about Avrill.”
“Yeah,” Toby agreed. “You talk. I ignore. Sounds like a plan.”
*****************
Thursday evening
Oval Office—
Josh shook himself awake as he caught himself dozing while the President spoke about architecture. At least, Josh thought he was talking about architecture. It was the last subject Josh consciously recalled paying any attention to in this discussion. He had staffed the President all day, as he did much of the time, but this had been a light day. With the budget ready to sail through with relative ease after all the early battles had been settled, the year was winding down quickly. Thanksgiving was on the horizon and the days were growing shorter and darker, not unlike Josh’s patience with two other senior staffers. For his part, Leo kept their communication terse and short, mostly orders. Josh reported back as needed in as few words as necessary. For that, things were running in an expeditious and efficient manner. As for Sam, he had simply stopped trying to speak to Josh about their situation. Their tasks on any given day were so vastly different that they did not need to speak with each other much. When Josh did need input from the communications side of the house, he sought out Toby.
This new order had not gone unnoticed. Most pretended there were not problems with it and as very little in the way of business were obstructed by it, that was easy. It was the assistants mostly who noticed the change as they found themselves in the uncomfortable position of relaying messages most often between the two camps. The President had let the drama play itself out for a while but he was seeing the toll it was taking on his staffers. What they did about their personal feelings he did not care. But he was worried that it would intersect with their work and that was unacceptable. In the lull of the early evening, he broached the subject with Josh
“Josh?” Bartlet said catching the man’s attention.
“Sir?” Josh said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, sir. I… wasn’t listening.”
“I’d give you points for honesty but I’d have to take them away for ignoring me,” Bartlet said. “It’s a bit chilly here lately, isn’t it?”
“It is?” Josh asked, not noticing any difference in temperature between his office and the Oval.
“The atmosphere,” Bartlet said. “What’s going on with you and Leo?”
“Nothing,” Josh said truthfully.
“The Speaker took a good swing at him in the Times this morning,” Bartlet observed.
“I said we can counter his attack on the policy,” Josh said. “McKenna can just…”
“I know what you said about the policy,” Bartlet said. “I was surprised at what you didn’t say about what is obviously a personal attack on Leo in the second part of the article.”
“The Speaker is entitled to his opinion, sir,” Josh said. “It’s not libelous.”
Bartlet looked at the man. He had taken the sterile, legal route to answer the question without giving Bartlet and answer. The President hadn’t anticipated that exact response. He had expected a resolute denial that there was any tension between the two men.
“What happened after the Ways and Means meeting yesterday?” Bartlet asked.
“Sir?”
“You had a meeting with Leo,” Bartlet said. “I overheard a little of it. It was shorter than I expected. You and Leo normally do a longer post mortem than that.”
“We covered everything that needed to be covered,” Josh answered simply.
“I’m saying the two of you normally plot the demise of the chairman longer than that during your passes through the hallway,” Bartlet pointed out. “So I’m asking you, what’s going on?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with, sir,” Josh assured him.
“All right,” he nodded. “You’re checking on the final thing with the agriculture subsidies? That’s coming up at the economic conference next week.”
“Yes sir,” Josh nodded and stood to leave. “Ed was supposed to have those for me by now. I’ll check.”
“I’ll wait here with bated breath,” Bartlet promised as he looked above the rims of his glasses.
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Josh said then departed.
Bartlet shook his head as he watched the man leave. That was another thing he noticed that day. Josh nearly always ended meetings with Leo when the Senior Staff was present the same way. The meeting was over when Josh said “thank you, sir.” He no longer did that. It might be nothing, Bartlet knew, but it didn’t feel like nothing. He and Josh had spent a long and relatively boring day with half a dozen meetings with various officials on twice as many topics. He saw no point in prodding the man further except that he was seeing the strain on Leo as well. It appeared more pronounced during the day’s meetings as Josh practically refused to look in Leo’s direction and only responded to him when asked a direct question. Leo had been in on three of that day’s meetings. Each time, there was coldness between the two men that Bartlet could not dismiss. There was only one way to find the answers he needed. He summoned Charlie.
“Yes, Mr. President,” the aide asked as he entered the room.
“Yeah, what the hell is going on in this building?”
“A lot, I would hope, sir,” Charlie offered. “Our tax dollars at work and all.”
“You’re better than a cliché punch line, Charlie,” Bartlet scolded. “I meant between Leo and Josh. What’s that about?”
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” Charlie lied uncomfortably.
“I’ve asked both of them and they lied to me,” Bartlet said. “I don’t think this office is the appropriate place for doing that so I’m going to ask you again: What happened?”
Charlie didn’t want to say, but the man had asked and he too thought the Oval Office was not the place to lie to your boss—especially when it was his office. The aide took a deep breath and gave the President a brief rundown of what had happened. The President made no comment when Charlie completed the tale and dismissed him with a brief nod as he returned to his reading.
Josh returned to the Oval Office
just before
“Josh, I’m not going to tell you how you have to react,” Bartlet said.
“I think I’ll wait until we get slammed in committee before I…,” Josh began.
“Not about that,” Bartlet said then looked toward the door leading to Leo’s office. “I mean the other thing. I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be angry.”
“Oh,” he replied.
“Josh, I am going to remind you that this job requires a cohesive relationship,” Bartlet began again in an earnest tone. “You’re Leo’s deputy and he depends on you greatly. I’m also going to remind you that we can’t do the work we do if we don’t trust one another.”
“Well, I’d say it’s a bit late for that, but I get your point, Mr. President,” Josh acquiesced. “I believe I have been professional. If I have acted in any way to make you feel otherwise then I…”
“No, no,” the President waved him
off. “I didn’t mean that you had, though
as I mentioned earlier, it is a bit chilly in here these days and it’s not just
the stiff breeze blowing off the
“I’ve done my best to be professional, sir,” Josh said tensely.
“I know, but you need to do better,” Bartlet said.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m not taking sides,” Bartlet continued. “From the little I know, I must say you’ve showed a level of restraint that I was not aware you possessed.”
“I get it from my father,” Josh shrugged.
“The fiery litigator?”
“Actually, from him and my grandfather’s dream about Hitler,” Josh said, hoping to move on but realizing his comment prevented that. He was weary, he knew, and knew he should just shut his mouth and let the President finish his lecture so that he could go home.
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s nothing,” Josh shook his head. He was more tired than he knew and wasn’t sure why but stress seemed like a good culprit.
“I can honestly say I’ve never had a member of my staff give credit to Adolf Hitler—especially in the Oval Office,” the President said intrigued. “I certainly never expected it from you.”
“Not the man, a dream of him,” Josh
said, feeling the need to explain his odd remark. “It’s nothing, sir. It’s….
My grandfather—my mother’s father—was a jeweler. He had a comfortable life in
“A trial attorney wasn’t good enough for his little girl,” Bartlet surmised with a grin.
“Not by a long shot,” Josh agreed. “My grandfather was a talented jeweler, I’m told. Creative and all that. Successful without really trying. He didn’t think much of ambition—it worried him. My father was aggressive and ambitious so he…”
“Scared the hell out of him?”
“Without even trying,” Josh answered easily and proudly.
“So your father’s career progresses and it just gets worse,” Bartlet inferred.
“Yeah,” Josh nodded, taking a seat on the couch as the President gestured. “My father wasn’t a puritan with the law; he didn’t only take those cases he believed were right. He was an ethical man for sure, but he took cases he thought he could win. Sometimes, they weren’t popular cases within my grandfather’s circle. Apparently, my grandfather got fed up with reading and hearing from his cronies at the country club about his son-in-law.”
“This came to a head at some point?”
“Oh yeah,” Josh nodded as the
member rose fresh in his mind. “I
remember this like it was yesterday. I
was maybe eight. We were sitting at this
long table in my grandparent’s home on
“Interesting choices?” Bartlet asked curiously. “Did you father have an answer?”
“Always,” Josh smirked. “He said he’d take the case without that hesitation.’”
“He would?”
“Yeah,” Josh answered and dropped
unconsciously into an imitation of his father.
“He said: Jonah, I’d take the
case; I’d win it and then I’d kill the son of a bitch—after I got paid.”
Bartlet chuckled at the both the imitation of the man he had never met as well as the sentiment it expressed.
“Anyway,” Josh sighed, grinning briefly at the memory, “his point is my point. The job is the job, Mr. President. I can do what I’m charged to do without liking who I work with; it doesn’t have to affect my results.”
Bartlet sighed. He nodded as Josh stood waiting to be dismissed.
“Is that all, sir?”
“How is Donna?”
“She’s fine,” Josh said automatically.
“I’m prying,” Bartlet informed him. “I know about… I know. Donna spoke to Abbey; Abbey told me.”
“Oh,” Josh said and suddenly found his shoes fascinating. “She’s fine for now, sir.”
“I understand you both want to keep your privacy and don’t want sympathy, but I’d like to say I’m sorry all the same,” Bartlet offered.
“Thank you, sir,” Josh answered quietly.
“Go home, Josh,” the President said.
“Good night, Mr. President.”
Up next: (Chapter
18): Impact Tremors