The Hardest Word, a west wing fanfic

Fanfic: The Hardest Word

The Hardest Word
Jane Harper
RATING: R for language
SYNOPSIS: Sequel to both "The Stranger" and "Rumors." A death and its aftermath leads to changes in relationships within the Bartlet administration.
ARCHIVE: Sure, just let me know. HTML available.
DISCLAIMER: Most of the folks in this story are the creation of Aaron Sorkin and the property of John Wells Productions, Warner Brothers, and NBC. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

Fights over breakfast were getting to be a normal occurrence.
"Goddammit, Marjorie, how many times in a week do I have to swear to you that I'm not sleeping with somebody? And who are you going to accuse me about next, Janeane??" Vice President John Hoynes threw down his fork and stalked away from the table.
"Well what the hell do you expect me to think, when I read these things in the papers?"
"Do you believe everything you read in the papers? Elvis is in Kalamazoo and Madonna had an alien baby?"
"Makes about as much sense as anything I hear from you."
"I'm gonna say this just once more," he said in a low voice, with careful enunciation. "I am not fucking any of the women I work with. I am not fucking either of the two women in my meeting. For that matter, I am not fucking anybody I live with, these days!"
"Well what do you expect, when I have no idea where your dick has been?" The Vice President's wife was a tall, auburn-haired beauty with the stately grace of a Southern belle and the vocabulary of a longshoreman.
"I give up," he said, putting his jacket on and straightening his tie. "I'm going to work. Will you be home tonight?"
"I'm catching the shuttle to Laguardia to go shopping. I should be back by eight or eight-thirty. I'll call if I'm held up."
"Never mind if you're held up. Call me if you're late."
She laughed, a glissando of honey and bells. "How the hell am I supposed to stay mad at you when you say shit like that?"
He stopped at the front door and turned back to face her, turning on the charm. "How could you possibly stay angry at this face? These baby-blue eyes?"
She walked over to kiss him goodbye. "You are such a giant pain in the ass, you know that?"
"It's my third Constitutional mandate, after warming Bartlet's seat and breaking ties in the Senate."
"You'd better get moving, or he'll warm your seat."
She watched his limo pull away and closed the door softly behind him.

"So what's on your plate today, Irish?" Sarah Cooper asked Leo McGarry over breakfast.
He looked down. "Not sure. Did you use those not-really-eggs again?"
"They are perfectly good eggs. Just no yolks."
"And not funny, either."
"And you're not answering my question because . . . ??"
"Damn, woman, I can't put anything over on you." He grinned at her over his coffee cup.
"I guess that means you can't tell me what's up with you today. Just for future reference, Irish – don't ever go getting any ideas about making this relationship legal. Every time you had a security briefing they'd have to kill you afterward."
"What are you talking about?"
"My second husband. His father worked in a government laboratory where they were doing nuclear arms research. The day I married his son, his security clearance got notched down. A lot."
Leo turned his head to keep from spitting coffee at her with his laughter. "Well, Toots, I think it's too late for them to do something like that to me. But thanks for the heads-up." He shoved his eggs around on the plate. "How many ex-husbands do you have again?"
"Only two. Well, three, but only two of them were my ex-husbands. Now I've got somebody else's."
He got up to take their plates over to the dishwasher. "Why won't you let me get somebody to do all this for you?" he asked.
"All what?"
"Cook, clean, you know."
"Because I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself?"
"But I can afford—"
"Irish, the issue isn't what you can afford, it's what we need. And we don't need somebody underfoot here doing things I can do quite well, thanks. Besides, I like taking care of you! And it's not like we're living in a manse."
"Speaking of which—"
"No. I like it here. Next question."
"You are one bossy bitch, you know that?" He grinned at her.
"I have to be to stand up to you, my dear." She winked at him.
As he headed for the door, he turned back to her and said, "Don't forget, I've got that thing tonight."
"Right. So you won't be at the Card Game."
"Afraid not."
"We'll survive a week without you." She rolled over to the door to kiss him goodbye. "See you when you get home. Call if you're not gonna be."

Abigail Adams Bartlet was having breakfast in bed with her husband for the first time in months.
"I can't remember the last time we were able just to sit here like this in the morning," she said. "When do you have to be in the office?"
"Not until eight! This is the first morning in weeks I haven't had to do something with somebody in another time zone at the crack of dawn." The steward came in to get their breakfast trays, and Jed waited until he was gone to lean over and kiss Abbey again.
She snuggled up against his shoulder as he turned on the TV. "Jed, do we have to have that thing on every waking moment?" Sliding up to nibble his ear, she whispered, "Just one morning can't we get along without it?"
He was plainly distracted from his channel flipping by his wife's tongue on his earlobe, but then a picture flying by on the screen made him pull away. It was a clip of the Vice President speaking to a veteran's organization the preceding night. "Why is it," he asked rhetorically, "that when Leo talks about being a vet, it doesn't bother me, but when Hoynes says the same kinds of things it seems snide?"
"Because you can't stand the man?" Abbey responded.
"Well there is that." He chuckled. "I had Mrs. Landingham make up a list of reasons why I need to keep that jackass around – I stow it in my desk drawer for the times when I want to throttle him. God, how I wish I could fire his ass."
"Don't let it raise your blood pressure, Pumpkin. It's not worth it." For one flashing moment, Abbey was thinking of the last time she had seen John Hoynes, under thoroughly different circumstances. She gave a tiny sigh.
"I know," her husband answered. "You'd think I'd be over this by now. Or maybe I'm just jealous of the way he looks at you."
Abbey blushed scarlet. Does he know?
"Of course," he continued, "I'm jealous of the way anybody looks at you. Except maybe Leo."
"Oh," she chuckled, "you don't mind if Leo ogles your wife?"
"If he did, I would, but Leo doesn't ogle. Besides, if you're not safe with your husband's best friend, who are you safe with?" He started to climb out of bed. "Care to join me in the shower?"

The Vice President had been dreading this meeting, so he put it off until the end of the day. It was difficult telling anyone that their job had fallen to the budget axe, but more so when the co-worker was also a friend.
"Come on in, Sarah," he said, coming out from behind his desk to join her in one of the casual chairs.
"What's up? You look worried."
"Well, I have some good news and some bad news. Which do you want first?"
"The good news of course!" she grinned.
"I've been very pleased with the work we're doing together, and the folks from DVA have even managed to say a couple of nice things about you. This is especially noteworthy since your job is more or less to tell them they can't have what they want."
"Thanks. I enjoy this, it's the best of both my worlds. I get to play with the electronic toybox and still stay connected to health care." She waited for him to go on, but he just stared at his shoes. "What's the bad news?"
"You know how hard it is to try to be friends with someone you supervise. Well, the conflict between our working relationship and our friendship will be gone soon."
It took a minute for her to get what he was saying. "You're firing me?"
"God, no, Sarah. The opposite. You've done such a good job that the project is smooth sailing from here on out. I need to move the funding into something that's not doing so well."
She laughed. "So I've worked myself out of a job?"
"You're too good!" He unleashed that million-dollar grin. "Listen, I'll put you in touch with a couple of people who I'm sure will be able to help you find something else."
She sat and thought for a minute. "Well, I guess I could always write my book. . ." She winked at him.
"I'd be happy to call my editor for you."
"You have an editor?"
"Of course, I wrote one of those obligatory please-elect-me books when I was running for the nomination."
"Oh right, I remember seeing it. Great picture."
"But .. ?"
"Until the shooting, I had sworn off politics since '72. I voted, but that was about it."
"You hanging around for the Card Game tonight?"
"Of course. Leo has a thing, but I'll be there with bells on."
A commotion in the hallway interrupted them. Janeane came in without knocking; Sarah had never seen a dark-skinned woman look so pale. "Mr. Vice President?" she said. "Would you pick up line 6 please? It's President Bartlet."
Sarah started to roll her chair toward the door, but Janeane signaled her to stay. "He's going to need us," she said just loud enough for Sarah to hear.
Both women watched Hoynes pale and sit down suddenly. "When?" he asked. "What— Yes sir. Thank you sir. Thank you very much." Like a man in a daze, he looked up at the two. "Janeane, can you—"
"I'm clearing your calendar for the rest of the day, sir. You should go home."
"I should go home," he repeated.
Sarah turned to Janeane and whispered, "What the hell happened?"
The younger woman swallowed hard. "Mrs. Hoynes was on the shuttle coming back from Laguardia; it went down in the Bay."
"Was she—?"
"The Coast Guard hasn't found any survivors."

The President hung up his phone. "He sounds bad," he said to his Chief of Staff. "But then I would too. What's the latest word from the Coast Guard?"
"They have some wreckage, no bodies, no survivors. Eyewitnesses say that the plane hit the water nose-first and broke apart. I wouldn't be looking for lots of people coming out of the water alive, even if it weren't so damn cold out there. Margaret!" he called through the connecting door to his office.
His assistant appeared in the doorway.
"Call Sarah over at OEOB, make sure she knows. He's her . . . friend."
Bartlet looked over at Leo and cocked an eyebrow. "I had no idea they were close."
"Long story," McGarry responded. He walked through the connecting doors back into his office just in time to see Josh Lyman stride in.
"Marjorie Hoynes?" Josh asked.
Leo nodded. "Down in the Bay."
"How long ago?"
"Half an hour."
"Anybody picked up yet?"
"Nope."
CJ appeared in the door next. "Did I hear—"
Leo nodded.
"Plane crash in the Bay," Josh added.
Sam was not far behind her. "Plane crash?"
Josh nodded.
"Sam, get to work on a condolence message, would you? We'll need to do a press release. CJ .. ?"
"I'll take care of it."
Margaret called from the outer office. "Leo? Sarah's not in her office. Should I call home?"
"No, she won't be home until late. Never mind."

Sarah sped over to where Hoynes was seated. Softly, she said, "Come on, John. You need to go home."
"No," he said, distractedly. "I have too much—"
Janeane joined the two. "Don't worry, sir. I'll take care of everything. You just go." She turned to Sarah. "Will you . . .?"
Sarah nodded.
The two women bundled him into his suit jacket and overcoat and literally pushed him into the grip of his Secret Service escort.
"Rick?" Sarah asked.
One of the agents turned.
"I'm following you in my van."
"To the Observatory?"
She nodded, then hurried into her office to pick up her backpack. On her way past the bullpen, she called out, "Pat? Please call Leo and tell him I'll be at the Observatory residence."

Abbey Bartlet called the Vice President's office as soon as she heard.
"Janeane, this is Abigail Bartlet. Is the Vice President still there?"
"No, ma'am, he's gone to the Observatory residence. They just left."
"Thank you, I'll call him there." She hung up and dialed his cell phone.
"Yeah?" a dazed voice answered.
"John, I just heard, I'm so sorry," she murmured into the receiver.
"Thank you, Abigail. I'm—I'm numb. I'll call you . . . later." He clicked off.
She buzzed her secretary, Sally. "How much more do we have this evening?"
"We're done, Mrs. Bartlet. Your last meeting of the day was just rescheduled."
"Thank you." The First Lady grabbed her overcoat and headed for the door. As she walked by, she said, "Please call the President and tell him . . . I'm out shopping for his birthday." She turned to her agents and said, "Let's take the Suburban. I don't need a lot of fuss."

"We had been fighting," Hoynes was saying to Sarah. "Almost every morning. She was in a terrible mood, nothing I could do would make her lighten up. She kept accusing me of sleeping around."
"I hope it wasn't because of that business with me at the Four Seasons. I thought about calling her after that . . . "
"No, that might have been the last straw, but it certainly wasn't the first."
"She's not in program, is she?"
"No, why?"
"Because if you have any, I want to get rid of the liquor. No need for you to have to deal with temptation on top of everything else."
"Sarah, I've been sober twelve years, you don't need—"
"You don't need to have it here, either. Where is it?"
He pointed to a cupboard.
She rolled over and opened the cabinet door, and let out a low whistle. "There'll be drunken alligators in the sewers tonight." She grabbed an armful of bottles and headed for the closest bathroom. As she was coming back out to make another trip, she heard the front door close and a familiar voice.
"John! Oh God, sweetheart, are you OK?"
Sarah looked up to see Hoynes and Abigail Bartlet locked in a passionate kiss. She rolled backwards into the bathroom again and took a deep breath, then rattled the empty bottles in the trashcan before re-emerging.
The Vice President's voice was a little louder than it had to be. "Mrs. Bartlet! How good of you to come! Sarah's here."
She knew her cue when she heard it. Rolling out of the bathroom again, she smiled and said "Hello, Abbey!"
"I had several appointments cancel this evening, so when the word came about . . . about the accident, I came right over."
"It was very gracious of you, ma'am," Hoynes said.
Sarah desperately wanted to tell both of them to stop acting like such phonies, but knew that it would be better to keep her secret to herself. So instead she went looking for the steward to see about dinner. She couldn't help but wonder what the house staff had seen that they weren't talking about.
Within a few minutes, Abbey excused herself and went back to the White House. Not long thereafter, the residence filled up with Hoynes' staff, the Coast Guard liaison, someone from FAA and someone else from NTSB, so Sarah decided to go.
"Come walk me out, John," she said to him. "Living on the grounds of the Observatory must have its consolations," she continued. "They can at least keep the press at bay." Once she was inside her van and secured to go, she leaned out the driver's side window. "I'm not going to preach to you, my friend," she said, "or take your inventory, but you know it's going to be tough for awhile. Let me leave you with a thought: scrupulous honesty. And remember I'm here if you need me. You held me together not too long ago, the least I can do is return the favor." She leaned out and kissed him on the cheek. "I guess I can get away with that now that I don't work for you anymore."
He chuckled and waved her on. "I'll call you if I need to."
The Card Game would be very small tonight.

It was midnight before the Coast Guard gave up looking for survivors in the frigid water. Sarah was sitting in the study listening to CNN and working on her resume when Leo got home.
"Hey Toots!"
"Hey Irish!"
He stuck his head into the study. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Updating my resume. I'm outa work."
"What?"
"Yeah, I'm too good at what I do, the DVA project is ready to fly without me. So, I'll be back on unemployment in a few weeks, I guess. We hadn't gotten to the details when John heard about Marjorie and went home. I'll get the scoop from Janeane or somebody later."
"You upset?" he asked.
"I don't know, I haven't really processed it yet. I was telling John, maybe it's time for me to write my book."
"What book?"
"About Rosslyn."
"Are you out of your mind?" Leo nearly jumped out of his skin. "You can't do that!"
"Why not?"
"Didn't you ever hear of privilege? Jesus, woman, you're talking about the dirty laundry of the White House senior staff!"
"Leo!! You know me better than that!" She batted him with the papers in her hand. "I would be using the framework of the shooting and the aftermath to talk about people recovering from trauma, in general. At least, that's what I'm thinking. But who knows if it would sell?" She shrugged. "Or maybe it's time for me to go back to school. Think I can get some Title IV money?"
"You've got pretty good connections," he quipped. "'Course you've also got a fairly wealthy lover who'd be happy to pay your way through if you promise to come home to him occasionally."
"Define occasionally."
"Oh, once a week too much to ask?"
They were interrupted by the telephone. "McGarry here," he answered. "Yeah. I heard. I'm really sorry. You OK? Sure, just a minute." He handed it to her.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
"Everybody leave?"
"Yeah, finally. What time is it?"
She looked at her watch. "Almost 1:30."
"I always forget how big this place is when everyone's gone," he said sadly.
"You need me to come over?" she asked.
"No, I can't ask you—"
"Yes you can. I owe you one."
He didn't respond.
"John?" She was worried.
"Yeah?"
"I'm coming over. Call the gate."
"OK."
She handed the phone back to Leo and waited for him to react. "Go," he said, nodding.

It was two o'clock by the time she got to the Observatory residence. Hoynes was sitting alone in the study, by the light of a single lamp. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
Then he spoke, in a soft, even voice. "Why don't I feel anything?"
"Because you're numb, John. It's OK. People react to grief in different ways."
"She and I won't ever get to work out— I mean, I'll never know if— we'd been having such a rocky patch."
"That's hard."
He nodded. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now."
"You're not supposed to do anything. Let your friends do for you."
"I don't have many of those left, you know. Politicians don't have friends, we have acquaintances, we have people we can play and people who want to play us."
"None of those people are here now."
He looked over at her with glistening eyes. "I might just be beginning to believe you."
She rolled over next to him and wiped the single tear from his cheek with the back of her hand. "Hurting, angry, lonely, or tired?" she asked. "My guess is all of the above. You've got to reach out or else you're gonna crawl back in that bottle. You've got to be willing to go to any lengths, John."
She leaned over and put her arm around his shoulders as he began to weep on hers.

It was four-thirty by the time she got Hoynes to go upstairs to get some sleep, and nearly five by the time she got home. Exhausted, she stripped down to her T-shirt and underwear, crawled into bed, and put her head on her lover's shoulder. Reflexively, his arm went around her, though he continued to snore softly. She lay there, mind racing and almost too tired to sleep, for the few minutes before the alarm went off.
"When did you get back?" he muttered sleepily.
"Just a few minutes ago."
"How's he doing?"
"How would you be doing? He's hurting, but I made sure there was no liquor in the house, and he finally went up to bed. I'm assuming Janeane knows he won't be in today. I'm going to catch a few hours' sleep and then go back over."
"Should I be jealous?"
She laughed. "I owe him, Irish. And I like him. And he needs somebody, at least until his family gathers." She leaned over and kissed him. "And I'll tell you what I told CJ when she asked if I was sleeping with him – when I've got chateaubriand, why should I crave pot roast?"
"CJ thought you were sleeping with him?"
"People saw him, the night he came to the hotel. You remember. With the brass band and Cirque de Soleil?" She laughed again, quoting something he had said in anger at the time.
"Yeah." He hugged her. "I'm so sorry about that night."
"I know. It's OK. As my mama said, live and learn, die and forget it."
He looked over at the clock. "I gotta get moving, Toots."
"Ten more minutes?"
"OK. I'm easy."
"Oh yeah right." She snuggled up as close as she could get to him, and her voice became wistful. "It's at times like these I can't help but wonder what it would be like—"
"Don't," he said, brushing her cheek with his hand. "Don't 'what if'. I love you, and I'm here, and that's that."
"Irish!" she laughed. "Listen to you!" She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. "Just for that, I'm gonna make you late for work."
He reached up, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard.

The President had the Coast Guard liaison on the carpet before lunch.
"So, the search was broken off when?"
"At midnight, sir." The young man stood stiffly at attention.
"And salvage operations started when?"
"At daybreak, sir."
"And what's been brought up so far?"
"Nothing, sir."
"And that's because .."
"We're having trouble finding the wreckage, sir."
Bartlet shook his head. "Where's the NTSB liaison?"
"He's on site, sir."
"Let me make sure I understand this," Bartlet said with a scowl. "You've been looking since daybreak, it is now nearly noon, and you can't find the wreckage? You did manage to locate Chesapeake Bay, didn't you??"
"Yes, sir."
"Go away." He waved toward the door.
The shaken lieutenant commander pivoted on his heel and left the Oval Office.
The President turned to his personal aide. "Charlie, what the hell am I gonna tell Hoynes when he asks me when he can bury his wife?" He dropped into the big leather executive chair and shook his head.

Abbey Bartlet was having a lot of trouble concentrating; her mind was miles away from her work. She sat in her interminable meetings, nodding, and smiling, and shaking her head at appropriate times, and absolutely nothing anyone said really penetrated her consciousness. Her focus was entirely on an internal debate. Go? Don't go? Call? Don't call?
Between her morning meetings and her lunch meeting she called to Sally. "Sally, would you check with Mrs. Landingham about making a time for the President and me to pay a condolence call on the Vice President?"

The Observatory residence was like Grand Central Station. Sandy, Hoynes' personal aide, had organized a buffet for the many visitors who stopped by without regard for whether the Vice President was ready to receive anyone; Frank, the Press Secretary, was keeping the press corps apprised, and at the same time receiving information from them about the salvage operation and the search for bodies in the Bay. Before leaving the house, Sarah called her friend's cell number.
"Yeah," he answered.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
"Did you get any sleep?"
"Some. You?"
"I'm fine. I bet it's a madhouse over there."
"Yeah."
"If I were you, I'd throw 'em all out," Sarah grinned.
"Don't tempt me."
"I just wanted to check up," she said. "You don't need another body cluttering up your living room right now."
"I'll call you when all these tacky people go home." The humor was forced, but it was there.
"John?"
"Yeah?"
"Hungry, angry, lonely, or tired."
"I know. I'll call."
She hung up and went back to sleep.

That afternoon Sarah began to wonder if she were psychic. She was sorting laundry when the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Sarah? It's Abbey."
"Hello! I was just thinking about you."
"You were?"
"Uh huh. What's up?"
The First Lady sounded nervous. "I think maybe we need to talk."
Sarah wondered if the other woman somehow knew what she had seen. "Well I'm happy to oblige, you know how I love to jabber."
"You free for dinner?"
"Don't tell me you are!" she laughed.
"Believe it or not."
"Want me to come to the residence?"
"No . . . can I come over there?"
Now Sarah knew something was up. "Sure. How many of you will there be?"
It was Abbey's turn to laugh. "I'll just bring Sheryl and Mike. Can you manage, or shall I bring dinner with me?"
"Please! I think I can handle dinner for four!"
"Four? When's Leo coming home?"
"Who knows? I expect him when I see him, unless we've made plans beforehand. What time will you be here?"
"How's seven?"
When seven came around, Abbey and her escorts arrived on the dot. Sheryl stayed by the condo door and Mike waited down in the lobby, each fortified by a plate of the pasta Sarah made for them.
They were both hungry, and it was well into the meal before she asked, "You said you thought we needed to talk. What's up?"
"Well . . . " she hesitated, ". . . I wanted to say how glad I was to see you keeping watch with the Vice President the other evening."
Sarah put down her fork and looked the First Lady in the eye. "I was under the impression that you were surprised to see me."
Abbey took a deep breath. "OK, Sarah, I'll cut the crap. Were you there when I arrived?"
"Yeah."
"And you heard—"
"Yeah. Please, my friend, please tell me I misunderstood."
She sighed again. "No, you didn't." She looked directly at the younger woman. "We've been . . . involved for awhile now."
"God, I was hoping you wouldn't say that. But I did see you just after you came in, and it was pretty obvious . . . " She shook her head.
"Go ahead," the First Lady said. "Tell me what an ass I am."
"I'm not gonna take your inventory, Abbey. Your life is yours."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Well, I'm not going to volunteer the information, but I'm not going to lie. If Leo asks me I'll tell him."
"Why would he ask you?"
"I have no idea, but I won't risk my recovery or my relationship, not for anybody. Not even my best friend." Her eyes filled with tears. "I really love you, Abbey, and I wish to hell I didn't know about this."
"I know. I'm really sorry." She came around the table to hug her friend.
"What are you gonna do?" Sarah asked.
"I guess it's time to tell Jed," she sighed. "But how the hell do I do that?"
"I don't know. No matter how you handle it, it's gonna hurt."
The First Lady nodded.
"Can I ask you something?" Sarah went on.
She nodded again.
"I love you like a sister, but what the hell were you thinking? Your husband is . . . he's platinum in a world full of fool's gold."
"I know. It was . . . it started right before the convention. John had just gotten trounced and I was being pushed away while the old boy's club met . . . both of us felt so useless. We each understood how the other felt when nobody else could."
"But that was two and a half years ago!"
"I know. And I don't know what kept John coming back— I know he and Marjorie were having trouble lately, but they weren't back when it started. But for me . . . promise me you won't laugh, and don't breathe a word . . . it was the most incredible sex I'd ever had." She blushed a little. "I grew up a good Catholic girl, Sarah. I was a virgin on my wedding night. He was the forbidden fruit." She shook her head. "I was mesmerized."
"I think I can understand that. I grew up Catholic too. My father was Irish."
"You're kidding."
"Nope. It just didn't take." She grinned for a second. "Abbey, if there's anything I can do to make it easier . . . I love you both so much. Just let me know, ok?"

Josh Lyman was at a loss for what to do. He had worked for then-Senator Hoynes for a year before joining the Bartlet campaign, and was still the one that the President turned to frequently when he had to convince the Vice President of something. But he hadn't been able to bring himself to reach out in his former mentor's grief.
A dozen times that day he had picked up the phone to call, and a dozen times thought better of it. Finally, early that evening, he managed to punch in the number.
"Residence," a woman's voice said.
"Hi, this is Josh Lyman. To whom am I speaking?"
"Hello, Mr. Lyman. This is Sandy. The Vice President's just sitting down to dinner. Shall I get him?"
"No, just tell him I called."
Hoynes' voice came through the receiver. "Josh?"
"Yes, sir."
"What can I do for you?"
"I just wanted to extend my condolences, sir. Is there anything you need, anything I can do?"
"I appreciate it, I really do. Maybe if you have time after—" A hand covered the receiver, and a forced cough sounded in the distance.
"I won't impose on you, sir. But please—" He sighed. "Mr. Vice President, I hope you know that—" He stopped again. "This isn't coming out right, sir."
A smile crept into the older man's voice. "It's OK, I know. And thank you."
"Good bye, Mr. Vice President."
"Good bye, Josh."
In the several years he had known him, Lyman had never heard his former boss sound so sad, or so tired, or so defeated. He got up, grabbed his coat, and headed for the lobby.
When Josh arrived at the Observatory gates, there was a large crowd holding a candlelight vigil in sympathy for the Vice President's loss. Several hundred people stood in small groups, talking, singing, praying, hugging. It reminded Josh of the pictures he had seen of the crowd outside the hospital while Bartlet (and he) were in surgery. Seeing the love and support brought a tear to his eye.
The gatekeeper phoned the residence to make sure Josh was expected; even though he wasn't, Sandy asked them to let him in. He pulled up to the driveway around the residence and parked down the hill. Someone must have been watching for him, because the Vice President met him at the door.
"Josh, you didn't have to—"
He decided not to risk trying to hug his old mentor, and took his proffered hand instead. "I wanted to. We've been down a lot of roads together." They went through the foyer into the sitting room, and he continued. "Have you been outside?"
"Not since . . . " Hoynes gazed off into the distance. "Not since day before yesterday."
The younger man took him by the elbow and headed for the door, handing him an overcoat on the way. "Then come with me."
The two walked toward the gate in silence. They had to round a curve in the access road before either of them could see the assembled throng. One of the Secret Service detail sprinted to catch up with them, and asked, "Are you going to work the crowd, sir?"
Josh smiled and nodded, pushing him toward the gathering. One agent on either side, he walked up the barricade, slowly and with great dignity, blinking back tears. People reached for him gently, handed him flowers, wished him well, cried with him. It was nearly an hour before he returned to the residence.

Josh returned to the West Wing after his condolence visit to his former mentor, and found Toby and Sam waiting for him. "Hey!"
"Hey," Sam responded. "Where you been?"
"I went over to see Hoynes."
Toby rolled his eyes subtly. "It's hard to keep up a healthy hatred for a schmendrik who's just lost his wife."
The other two turned and gaped at him.
"I can't believe you just said that," Sam murmured.
Toby spun on his heel and went into his office.
Josh sighed. "Sometimes I really wonder how we got into this space. Can't we disagree with someone without demonizing them?"
"C'mon Josh, you've done your share of demonizing."
"I know. But if you could have seen him . . ."
"OK, it broke your heart. But in six months he'll be right back out there, screwing us again."
"Maybe," Lyman said. "Maybe not. People change."

Abbey waited until she and Jed had sent everyone away from the residence for the night.
"I need to talk," she said.
"OK." He put his feet up and leaned back in the chair.
"I don't know how— I don't know what— I'm not sure—"
"For God's sake, Abbey, just blurt it out! What's so awful—"
She began to cry. He stood and reached out for her, but she turned her back and stepped away. "Please, don't. This is the hardest thing I've—"
He put his hands in his pants pockets. "You've been seeing someone."
She spun around to face him. "You knew?"
"I've always known, Abbey. I was just waiting for you to grow out of it."
She was dumbfounded. "And you know who—?"
He shook his head. "No. And I don't want to know. It doesn't matter. I don't care about them, I care about you"
"Please," she said, walking over to put her arms around his waist, "don't ever doubt how much I love you."
"I don't. And I don't doubt how committed you are to our marriage." He reached down and tipped her chin up toward his face. "Abbey, you went from being your father's daughter to my wife to our children's mother, without missing a step. I knew sometime you'd have to go looking for yourself." He pulled her close to him.
"You're not angry?" she murmured.
He shook his head. "Not any more. I was furious at first. I thought about trying to track him down, about a lot of stupid things I could have done. But that would only have made it worse." He stroked her hair. "Don't get me wrong— I'm not condoning what you've done. But two years ago I decided not to let it destroy us. I love you, Abbey, and I couldn't do this job without you, and I'll do what it takes to hold onto you."
Wordlessly, the two of them walked down the corridor toward the master bedroom, arms around one another.

Two days later, a large crowd assembled on the shores of the Bay for a memorial service for those lost beneath the waves. The group was thick with VIPs come to express their sorrow at the Vice President's loss, and the program was very subdued. The President made a few short remarks, and he and the Vice President together threw the first wreath in the water. Soon the surface of the Bay was littered with flowers. That evening, there was a reception at the White House for the families of the victims. And the following morning, Hoynes was back at his desk.
Sarah had come in to work on the final report of her project, and stopped in when he had a free minute. One of the side tables in the office was covered in flowers, small arrangements from the staff. On the desk was a single white rose in a small vase.
"How perfect," she said, stroking one of the petals softly. "From Abbey?"
His eyes widened for a split-second, then he nodded. "You knew?"
"Just since I saw you two at the residence that evening." She covered one of his hands with one of hers. "I don't know how you're doing this, my friend. Either one of those losses could have knocked you for a loop."
"I'm a card-carrying bubba, Sarah. We don't do that." He flashed a wistful smile.
"Well listen, we're gettin' outa Dodge this weekend, but we'll have the cell if you need us, OK?
"Please tell me you're taking a commercial aircraft."
They both laughed, remembering how the last time Leo had flown himself and Sarah somewhere had ended in disaster.
"You better believe it. The President threatened to have Leo's pilot's license revoked. Anyway, I'll have this report ready for you by the middle of next week."
As she turned to leave, Hoynes called after her. "Sarah, listen, I got a call from the director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy. Would you be interested in moving over there?"
"I'm sure willing to talk to somebody about it," she said. "After the weekend."
"Godspeed, Sarah."
"See you Monday, sir."