II

"Thirty-one years old," said Josh softly.

"Three years younger than Liz Bartlet," Toby said pointedly. They all winced.

"Dammit!" shouted Josh.

Sam rubbed his temples. "It can't be true, right?"

"No way," said CJ, shaking her head.

"Nuh-uh," agreed Josh. But the worried gaze they exchanged was a little less certain.

"The president's family like, founded that state," Sam pointed out, sitting up. "There must be Bartlets all over New Hampshire."

"Yeah. Yeah!" said Josh, more forcefully. "We need to track this down. Find the connection, find the relation, find the motive."

"Jealous cousin?" suggested CJ, a touch more hopefully.

"We can spin that," Toby nodded firmly.

"If it's the truth," said Sam darkly. None of them knew how to answer him.

Josh sprang to his feet. "Who is this guy? Why now? We got a name? Is there a mother?"

"An aunt," said CJ, grimacing. "The mother just died. Cancer."

Josh closed his eyes. "Oh, this gets better and better."

"What's the boy's name?" Toby asked matter-of-factly.

"Daniel Gerrold. The aunt is Felicity Gerrold. No name on the mother."

"Well, let's find one, by God," Toby said forcefully. "We need to know who these people are, and why they've got it in for the president."

"On it," agreed Josh. They all split up and dashed for their separate offices.

Leo cleared his throat awkwardly as he hovered outside the Oval Office. When was the last time he'd felt this nervous about approaching the president? Well, that was easy to answer. Because it had been never.

Charlie looked up at him curiously. "Leo, d'you want me to-"

"Uh, yeah. Is the president-?"

"He's sitting with the First Lady," Charlie supplied.

Well, wasn't that just the icing on the cake? "Can you tell him I need a word in private?"

"Yes, sir."

He couldn't bear the thought of catching Abbey's eye right now. Not with this burning a hole in his pocket.

It wasn't true. There was no way in hell it could ever be true.

All the same, he didn't want to be the one to catch Abbey's eye.

The president looked up as he entered, his wife mercifully already gone. His face tightened as he caught Leo's expression, and he automatically stood up. "What is it, Leo?"

"You should probably sit back down, sir." He hesitated, wondering if he could actually begin to approach this subject, put any kind of question into words. He didn't think so. Instead, he simply held out the envelope. "There's a story. It's gonna run tomorrow morning. You should read this."

Jed looked at him in puzzlement, but silently extended a hand for the envelope. He slid his glasses on, and began to read. His expression remained flat and unchanging as he scanned the report, and even when he looked at the picture. He neatly shuffled the pages back together, and handed them back to his Chief of Staff. "Deal with this, Leo," he said softly.

"Yes, sir." Not that he had the faintest of ideas how to go about doing that. This wasn't a scandal the Bartlet administration knew how to take on. It wasn't an eventuality they'd ever bothered to make plans for, because it could never happen.

It could never happen.

But here he was, Leo McGarry, right-hand man to the president... and terrifying as the prospect was, he knew it was his place to do this. Much as he didn't want to. He licked his lips nervously. "Sir-"

"Leo." The president's tone and expression were a warning. Don't cross this line. He sure as hell didn't want to cross this line. But what choice did he have?

"Sir, I'm sorry, but I have to ask you-"

"Leo," the president growled, "don't even think about-"

"Sir, I'm sorry, but I have to ask you," he shouted his president down. "Is there any possibility-"

"Leo." Jed shook his head sharply.

"Is there any possibility-" He soldiered on relentlessly, too far in to turn back. "Any possibility at all... that the boy could be your son?"

The heavy words fell like stones into a calm pool, sending ripples through the silence. Jed met his eyes, gaze as cold as a glacier. "No," he said, firmly and deliberately.

"Sir." Leo nodded slowly. His brain was gabbling at him to apologise, but how could he? A line had been drawn somewhere here; a line between what the job of the Chief of Staff demanded... and what the trust of a thirty-year friendship forbade.

The question had needed to be asked... but now that it had, there was no way to un-ask it.

"Go," Jed ordered, voice low, but hard and unyielding as concrete.

Leo left.