My first WW Fic, and my first fic on , so be kind…

Usual disclaimers… this has been bouncing around in my head for a while, and I've worked on a couple of drafts before settling on this version.

Wednesday November 8, 2006.

Here I am, Josh Lyman, sitting once again on Airforce 1, it's been almost a year since I've had this privilege, but I can't think about this now. I cannot fathom what I should be doing, or why I'm here. I should be back in Houston, helping the President-elect and the other staff deal with the aftermath of yesterday.

There's so much to do, so much to plan, and so much that needs to be said to so many people. I'm not certain I can handle the responsibility of it all. I'm at fault for what happened yesterday, how on Earth am I supposed to fix this. Again and again the phrase rings in my head: The King is dead; long live the King. I need to try and find a replacement VP, but all I can think of is how much we have lost with Leo gone.

Malory came to sit next to me ten minutes ago, I thought she wanted to talk but she hasn't said a word since. Five minutes ago I reached out and put my arm across her shoulders, letting her know it was OK, and that I was here for her. In truth, I blame myself for all the hurt I have put her through, I just don't know what to say.

"What am I doing here, Mal? The President came up to me and asked me specially to come on this flight. Yet, for all I've seen of him, I might as well be back in the Houston doing something useful."

"I asked him to invite you aboard, Josh. He asked if there was anything he could do for me, and I really needed to speak with you."

"I'm so sorry, Mal. It was all my fault, I killed him. I can't believe you'd even want to look at me right now, let alone speak with me."

"It's not your fault, Llama-head, and you know it."

I turn to look her, surprise beaming off my face more than anything. Nobody has called me Llama-head since Joanie's funeral… in fact, the last time that phrase was uttered came out of Mal in almost exactly the same tone.

"Mallomar, why would you say that?" If inflammatory childhood nicknames is what she wants, then two can play at that game.

"Because, J-Bear, I remember exactly when I last called you "Llama-head", and I remember you telling me angrily that only your sister called you that. I wanted to remind you that, for all intensive purposes, I am your sister." She paused for a jagged breath, before continuing in a calmer voice. "J-Bear, you and I are all we have left, from the old days, I always thought of you as a brother, and my father always thought of you as his son."

"I'm thinking of giving it all up, Mighty-Mouse." (She's slipped to using a more comfortable nickname, one that Joanie never used, so I will too). "I can't let my ambitions and arrogance hurt any more people. Maybe I could teach, or write a novel, or something, anything other than politics."

"Where's this coming from, Jaguar? Forgetting the fact that you'd make a terrible teacher, we both know you don't have the patience, and that we both know Donna and others have been doing all your writing for the past 8 years. However, the fact is that you've wanted nothing else except politics since you first ran for class president back in elementary school. I remember when my dad told me how you saw some kid getting bullied, and ran on a platform to make the school integrate a better anti-bullying program."

"And lost to the kid who promised to buy anyone who voted for him candy, and beat his any supporters of his opponent to a pulp. The bully became class president, the bullying got worse when it was institutionalized by the jock who could grant favors to his friends at will. Yet another example of why I should quit politics, every time I try to get involved someone gets hurt."

"You've had a lot of success over the past 8 years, J, and you have a further 8 more ahead of you to do more good than you can even imagine right now."

"First of all, if we weren't on a plane I'd ask you to go outside spin around three times and spit. We've got four years with an option, not eight. But more importantly those were President Bartlet's successes. Want to know what I've achieved in the past 8 years? Let's see, for a start I left my father on his deathbed to be with Bartlet; I encouraged Charlie to go out with Zoe, only to have Neo-Nazis attempt to gun us all down (causing a constitutional crisis whilst I was at it); I sent Donna to Gaza to be blown up, which later resulted in the deaths of our own soldiers who were sent there on my suggestion in order to keep the peace; and last but not least, I urged your father to run in a presidential campaign, despite knowing he had a serious heart condition and a history of addiction."

"Llama-Head, I repeat that none of those things were your fault. Well, except for your secret plan to fight inflation." She paused again, before pressing a small leather box into my hands. "As Dad would have said were he here, you've done good kid. He wanted you to have this."

I think I know what's in the box, but I can't bring myself to open it yet.

"Mighty-Mouse, I really don't know what to say. But truth be told, we wouldn't be sitting here, talking like this, if it weren't for my foolish pride. I was too arrogant in thinking that I could be of any use in changing the world. If I hadn't mentioned it in passing, Santos wouldn't have asked your father to be his running mate. He asked me what sort of person he should be looking for in a VP, and I mentioned to him how I actually wanted your father to take over from Hoynes all those years ago, not Russell. Your father's sense of duty to his fellow man and to the country is what we desperately lacked during that crisis when all we could see were Republicans again vying for what they could get out of Zoe's kidnapping. I couldn't think of anyone I admired more or who carried with him the unifying grace and gravitas that the country needed in order to move forward."

She just looked at me, her eyes swelling with pride at the way I just described her father, the man I admired second only to my own. I must clarify "But, Mighty-Mouse, that was before… It was before Gaza and the peace-talks, before the heart attack, and before the bypass surgery. I should have known that he wasn't up to it. I should have tried harder to find anyone else in order to spare your father from the stress of this campaign."

"There was no-one else, J, you know that. I may strive to stay away from the political arena, but it's one I grew up in and so I could clearly see how the other candidates were muddied and bruised from the gauntlet of the primaries. You were right, in that you needed a unifying figure to unite the party. Dad said as much to me in the opening of the campaign. He understood why he was chosen, and he took the responsibility of VP extremely seriously. He would never have accepted the nomination if he had thought he couldn't handle it."

"But it was me who actually asked him to run. I could have talked sense into him about his health issues; I could have acted as messenger but relayed my concerns for his health at the same time. I've known him since time immemorial, I should have done more to protect him."

"Josh, Dad worked his whole life trying to save the world. Do you think he would have turned the offer down for any reason at all? Let alone his health? Believe me, I tried to coax him out of it myself using this same argument, and if he wouldn't listen to me about that exact issue, what makes you think that you would have been able to convince him? There's probably only one person on this planet who may have convinced him not to run, don't flatter yourself because it wasn't you. The man in question is on this flight, but as it turns out he was also a prime factor in convincing Dad to run in the first place."

"Even so, I should have watched over him better. I should have made sure he was dealing with the stress. I could have called for an ambulance sooner, or…"

"Or what? Seriously Geronimo, you couldn't have done anything yesterday. I was with him most of the day; he seemed not too bad (granted it was Dad on election day). Meanwhile, you were running around like a headless chook, so if you had been sitting with him he'd probably just have kicked you out or slapped you in the face. Or worse, your pent up anxiety would have exacerbated Dad's stress if you were in the vicinity of him yesterday."

"So I exacerbated his stress. I knew it was my fault. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. How could you ever forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive. You were doing what you had to do, Llama-head. He was doing what he loved, and he knew what that entailed. He also knew your job better than you did, and he knew you were where you needed to be."

I'm speechless at this point. There's nothing more I can say to convince her of my sincere sorrow and regrets.

"He loved you like a son, you know that right? After the first heart attack, he made me promise I'd give you that (she points to the box) if ever…. Actually, this item is specifically given to you in his will, but I thought you needed the reassurance that maybe this could bring you. You're the closest thing I'll ever have to a brother, and nothing will ever come between us, and of course none of this is your fault."

All I can do is to look at the box. She's not wrapped it; it's just a plain black leather jewelry box. I drag my sleeve across my face before bringing both hands together around the object. Slowly I peak inside and my suspicions are confirmed.

Within the box lies Leo's prized possession, a platinum Rolex watch. I take it out and look carefully for the first time at an object that I've known all my life. I remember as a kid, how he showed me the correct means to wind it up, explaining to me how the finest quality objects weren't always fancy electronics, but those which had had the most care and the finest craftsmanship that went into their manufacture. It reminds me of how carefully he selected the fine pen he gave Zoe for her graduation, and the briefcase he gave me for mine (which lies in the back of my closet because it is too good to use, not because I'm ungrateful).

On closer inspection I notice the back is engraved

29-Apr-1945

He who saves one life saves the entire world

I recognize precisely the origin of the quote. It's a condensed version of a line from the Talmud. But it's not only from Hebrew school that I recognize this phrase. I remove my own watch (which I inherited from my father eight and a half years ago) and compare the identical inscriptions. Even the date that is inscribed is identical. I know the history of my father's watch, my grandfather gave it to him when he graduated law school, but my father never explained the significance of that date. My father was born in 1948, and his parents were married a year earlier in '47, however that date is a very meaningful date within my family. It represented freedom, salvation, and hope. Why would Leo of all people have the same date AND the same quotation inscribed? The coincidence of the two inscriptions bugs me.

"What does this date mean to you, Mighty-Mouse? I thought I knew what it meant to my father, I knew they were friends but my father received this watch well before he met Leo, and now I'm baffled."

A new voice calls over our shoulders "I know the significance, of the inscriptions, and the date that's engraved as well."

"Mr. President" we chorused, and instinctively tried to stand up but I was comically prevented from doing so as I was held in place by my seatbelt.

The President, to his credit, managed to stifle a laugh as Malory reached down to pick up both watches that I had just dropped. "Please, Josh, Malory, would both of you like to join me in my study. I want to explain these watches, and a whole lot more."

I struggle to unbuckle the wretched constraints, and eventually Malory has to do it for me. When I finally stand up, I look at the President for the first time since Houston. His eyes are red and puffy. Now I feel guilty for being selfish in expecting this great man to have given me the time of day, let alone have a heart-to-heart discussion the day after he lost his best friend.

"I'm so sorry Mr. President…" I tried to stammer but he cuts me off.

"No more apologies Joshua. I think we all need a little distraction right now, so I'm going to tell you a story about two civil rights lawyers (one of whom had just joined the air force and was about to journey towards his first tour of duty), and how they both taught a humble academic that by saving one life he could save the entire world."

TBC

Notes:

The story continues immediately on from this, but I felt this was a natural place for a break.