Tearing Down and Building Up.

Chapter 1: Unexpected

Saturday, 7:55a.m.

Veep Headquarters

Dan sneaked into work early the next morning, hoping - no, praying - that no one saw him. He was humiliated, fired from his job when he was at the pinnacle of career success. He was just grabbing his lucky mug and turning on his computer to lift all of his personal files when Amy came barging through the door, and flicked on the light switch.

Dan froze. His stomach contorted itself into a knot. "Dan," Amy asked, quizzically, "What are you doing here so early?"

"Well, Amy," Dan retorted with his voice sounding a little more guttural and gravelly than he would have liked it, "I'm just clearing out my desk. As you happily reminded me yesterday, I got fired."

Amy stood there, bewildered. "Dan, the Veep didn't actually fire you. She just demoted you. You still have a spot on our team," she smirked, "Albeit a lower spot to the one you previously enjoyed."

She started walking towards his monitor, a sway in her step - victorious and confident. "She," and she allowed her weight to rest on her back foot, contemplative, "Or should I say 'I' now, would never let someone with your amount of inside knowledge leave our team."

Dan sneered to himself, "I'm so happy to be gainfully employed and valued for my expertise."

Just as he finished talking, Selina dashed through the door. "Dan!" she exclaimed, evidently surprised to see him in so early given their most recent communication, "You fucked up, Dan. You fucked up, as the immigrants would say, 'mucho'." She turned to Amy, "That's right, isn't it?" Amy shrugged, "I'm sure it is, Ma'am."

Selina shook her head slightly, "Regardless, Dan. No hard feelings. And, I have a task for you! Maddox has been ass-fucking me this week with all this inside scoop about my office – your epic firing, this one," she gestured haphazardly at Amy, "Picking up a promotion for doing hardly much of anything. I need a plan, Dan. You know? You used to be my plan guy, and I need a plan."

She tread closely until she was inches from him, her eyes dead-set on his face, "Or we, and by that, I do indeed mean you, are FUCKED."

In response to this, Dan reflexively blurted out, "Why can't your saviour Amy Brookheimer, Queen Campaign Manager do something about it?"

Selina looked at him with a harsh gaze, "Because we are fucking women, Dan. And our only route to Maddox is through that freak troll and sexual pervert, Jonah. So, your mission is to go to him, do whatever the FUCK you can to make this media shitstorm go away, and then come back here with his balls in your hand for me to squash like that wicked witch," she looked at Amy, "You know the one I'm talking about? With the horns? Played by that famous actress?"

Dan responded before Amy could get the chance, "Maleficent". Selina smiled back to him, "Yes," she motioned to the door, "Now, git!"

Saturday, 12:07p.m.

Jonah's Residence

The sky was harsh and grey. For late fall, it was far too cold. Dan could feel the tendrils of winter wrapping around his shoulders, and he didn't like it. His head hurt. There was a sharp ache in his skull; it was irritating his vision, and making his chest ache. He couldn't even recall whether he had slept the night before.

If he was being honest with himself, he probably hadn't. It was a harsh blow – not only because of all the hard work he had put into the position, but because he now finally realised how important his work life was, and how little he had outside of work. Who were his friends?

As he stepped up the cold, stone steps of Jonah's porch, he wondered whether he had anything left in him. And whether being divvied up the task of dealing with the teething infant that was Jonah 'Jonad' Ryan was enough to push him over the edge. His knuckles freezing and cursing his lack of gloves, he rapped hard on Jonah's door. He didn't know why, but he had a subtle hint – and his intuition had always been his greatest strength – that Jonah would be at home.

Almost immediately, the door flung open, revealing Jonah in a black heavy metal band tee, and baggy, baby blue pyjamas with trucks on them. He guessed Maddox really did give his campaign team the licence to relax on the weekends. For a moment, he seemed perturbed by the scene. Why was it that he, in all his prowess and expertise, had to slave away every day of his life, lose his sleep and his sanity to somehow lose his position and Jonah, who, as far as Dan knew, had never worked hard a day in his life, was able to retain a full-time paid advisory position on a Presidential Campaign with weekends off?

He sighed. "Hello, Jonah."

Jonah eyed him warily, "Hello," he stepped back a fraction, "This isn't about my taunts yesterday, is it? Because defamation can be defended with truth, Dan, and I stand by my claims. You are a butt-muncher."

Dan let out a huff of anger, and barged through the entrance into the corridor, "It's not about your infantile taunts. This is about your media strategy. You better stop attacking the Veep, or things could get very ugly for you," and he slowly enunciated the last word, "Jo-nad."

Jonah's face flushed with rage, and he retorted, "I'm in my motherfucking pyjamas, bitch! I just had a fucking bubble bath and now my body is ready for a nap, so you can fuck right off, Dan."

Dan grit his teeth, "It's a clear conflict of interest, Jonah! The information you're spreading about the Veep was only obtained through your work for the West Wing, or alternatively through overheard conversations that were clearly not meant for your ears. And that's called breach of confidence. Also known as an offence with no maximum on damages."

Jonah scoffed, "Oh, it is on, Dan. You want to talk about legal liability? Let's talk about it. You just came into my home and threatened me with litigation unless I withhold information from my boss. That amounts to blackmail. Another offence with no maximum on damages. And while we're on the subject, this is private property. I have not granted you entry. This is technically a trespass. And the longer you stay in my hallway without my permission, Danny boy," he said, ruffling Dan's hair, "The stronger that presumption becomes. Go eat a dick."

In that moment, Dan cracked. Jonah, fucking Jonah bested him in an argument. And it was at that moment that something broke inside his mind.

"If I can't even influence you," he stated in a quivering, desperate voice, "I must be an incompetent, Jonah."

Jonah looked at him in bewilderment. It was not like Dan to admit weakness or failure. Dan was strong. Dan could take his taunts. That was one of the reasons why he liked to hang around him.

Dan continued, "Is that why I lost my position as Campaign Manager? Am I really an incompetent, Jonah?"

His eyes were unfocussed and blurred as he stared into Jonah's astonished face. He clearly didn't know what to say, and Dan didn't wait for a response, becoming more and more manic with every second passing, "I just… This isn't what I wanted when I studied at Yale. And Harvard. Harvard, Jonah. I'm an Ivy League educated SCHOLAR and I can't… I just can't get any thing to go my way anymore. Why is that? Why am I so defective and ineffectual? WHY?" He yelped the last question into the silent air.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I'll have to leave the country, but I can't… because I can't. I just, I need to just calm down." He started to breathe deeply for a few seconds. Jonah started to ease towards cutting in, but then Dan sporadically clapped a hand to his mouth, finally in some way cognoscente of his behaviour, "Just keep a lid on it, Egan."

He then began to tear up, and put his hands over his face to hide his shame. Jonah, feeling an uncharacteristic stab of empathy, started towards him and began slowly with, "Dan are you..."

However, before the sentence, which invariably would have ended in "Okay?" could be completed, Dan pointed to his index finger sharply and directly at Jonah - fearing Jonah's next words would be "a psycho," "a manic," or "mentally unstable."

His voice rose to a shrill bark, "Don't you dare, don't you fucking dare make any labels. I am fucking fine! This isn't happening. I can't allow this to happen. I won't allow myself to, to..."

He proceeded to wipe his watery eyes and began an indignant march to the door, when Jonah swiftly enveloped him in a tight hug.

The room froze. Dan just sat there stunned as Jonah engulfed him in warmth, his muscles flexing to encapsulate the entirety of his subject's body. It was tender, but strong. It smelt of Jonah's lavender soap still clinging to his skin, of his generic brand of scented shampoo still lingering in his hair, and a strange mix of feeling and sense that Dan could only have described as "safety". Dan buried his face into Jonah's chest, heavily sighing, and wrapped his arms around him.

In the silence, Dan's tears fell, but neither man acknowledged it. However, after a few moments, it came time to extricate himself from Jonah, as all hugs (sadly) come to that inevitability.

And then, almost gracefully, Dan tilted his body to the right, dodged Jonah's probing questions and outstretched arms, and ran out the door, leaving Jonah cold in the now drafty house.

Jonah was alone, and it was in that singularity that Jonah realised something. Whilst taunting Dan was one of the reasons why he liked the other man so much, it was not the main reason.

Shocked, his mouth open in horror, it dawned on him. He liked Dan Egan.