A/N: I originally wrote this before I finished watching s6 in its entirety, and it got hella jossed. So the ending is now tweaked to feel (hopefully) more canon-compliant.

Set during 6.01.

"Good morning. Please let me go," he says. Every morning, like clockwork.

"Not today, Mike." The President is quick on the brush-off, and quicker every day.

Today, he decides. It's gone on long enough. He'll make the call today.

He's mindful of the time difference, so he waits until lunchtime to pull out his phone and dial the number. He's getting desperate—truly, honestly desperate—and that's the only reason he's brave enough to try this.

The line rings a couple of times before—

"Hello?"

"Hi. Hi, it's Mike Barnow." His heart is hammering.

There's a faint crackle of static. "Well this is a surprise," Nadine says. "And on your work phone, too."

"It's a work-related call. Listen," he says, "You know I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important. Life-or-death important."

"Life-or-death, huh?"

"Yeah," he says, "because I'm going to die in this job if I don't find Elizabeth a replacement Chief of Staff she'll accept."

"And you wanted… my advice?"

"Well…"

"Because if you called to try and drag me back to DC, you're going to be very disappointed with my answer. Just tell me you called for advice."

Though he knew it was a long shot at the outset, Mike's heart sinks all the same. "You… you don't even wanna sleep on it?" he tries. "Because you could."

"So generous," she snips lightly, without any real ire.

"Nadine, if there was even the suggestion that you were interested—"

"There isn't."

"—she'd take you in a heartbeat."

"Elizabeth knows better than to ask," she says curtly. "You should know better, too."

"Look, I'm desperate here," he pleads. "She rejected thirty vetted resumes this week alone."

"Her standards are high."

"I vetted them!"

"She doesn't like working with people she doesn't know."

"I know that. Tell me something useful," he snaps. He sighs then, a little ashamed of his own petulance. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I don't mean to take it out on you; it's just been a long hundred days. And this wasn't how I envisioned spending them." He scrubs a hand over his face.

"It'll work out, Mike," she says reassuringly. "Things always do for you."

"Not everything," he mutters, but backpedals immediately. "Sorry. Sorry. Let's just forget I said that."

"Fine."

"Okay."

There's a long, protracted pause. Mike feels himself being cooked ever-so-slowly into the hot seat of the White House Chief of Staff, the highest-ranking member of the Executive Office, the gig he never even wanted, senior aide to the President of the United—

"Well you know," Nadine says finally, and he shakes himself out of his spiral of misery. "I hear that Russell Jackson spends a lot of time watering his lawn these days."

He perks up, just a little. "Russell Jackson, huh?"

"That's who she really wants, isn't it?"

"And you think he'll go for it?"

"The last thing that man wants to do is spend the rest of his days gardening. I bet he's already going stir-crazy."

Mike leans back in his chair. He chuckles a little. "I didn't realize you kept up with DC gossip."

"I have a lot of friends in DC. They don't know how to talk about anything else," she says. There's a teasing lilt to her voice that he remembers. It's gone in the next breath. "Get Jackson. If Elizabeth were to appeal to him in person…" she says meaningfully.

Mike exhales. "Okay. I can—she can do that."

"She'll think of it on her own if you give her enough time."

"Yeah, probably."

"It'll work out," she tells him again.

His face twists. "Is that your new life motto? Because it's not a good one."

She chuckles. "It's serving me just fine in academia."

"Uh-huh, well it doesn't work at all in Washington."

Through the line, he hears the faint sound of muffled voices.

"Mike," she says, "I've gotta let you go. Good luck with everything, alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Nadine. Seriously."

"Bye-bye."

/

Nadine ends the call and eyes the clock. She has the time. She pulls up the contact on her phone and makes the call.

It rings three times before the other woman answers. "This is Dr. Jackson."

Nadine puts on her warmest voice. Sell it. "Hi, Carol. It's Nadine Tolliver. I wanted to talk to you about something."

/

Nadine gets a text a couple weeks later; it comes through while she's lecturing and she sees it once she's finished. It's from Russell Jackson.

I'd say I owe you one, but she's going to leave me for this.

Nadine frowns. Well that doesn't bode well.

I'm sorry if I overstepped, she types back. I thought I could warm her up to it.

He responds almost right away. You warmed her up alright. She's been stewing angry for a week and I didn't know.

"Shit," Nadine mutters to herself.

Then turn down the job. The President will understand. She follows it up quickly with another text. You owe Carol that much.

If she had known that the price of her suggestion would be Russell's marriage, she would have given Mike very different advice.

It takes a minute for him to text back. Three dots appear, disappear, and reappear again, pulsing.

I'll figure it out, his message says finally.

And Nadine, who has certainly spent too many years of her own life prioritizing career over family, is in no position to judge.

Okay, she responds easily. Don't fuck it up.

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

She rolls her eyes, and puts away her phone.