Chapter Nineteen
A/N: To celebrate the one-year anniversary of "Gold Wings", you get one extra long chapter. Enjoy.
Six Days Before Inauguration
The White House
Press Briefing Room
The President was standing at the podium.
"That's when the Chief Justice will ask you to raise your right hand and place your left hand on the Bible," C.J. instructed.
"What do I do then?" Bartlet asked.
"You raise your right hand and put your left hand on the Bible."
"And will there be someone who'll tell me when it's time to do that?"
"You mock me?" C.J. asked.
"I do. May I continue?"
"Yes, sir."
Bartlet looked at the prompter operator and asked. "Can we pull foreign policy up on the prompter?"
"144 on the prompter, please. It's going to take a second," Toby instructed.
"'America cannot be the world's policeman. America cannot enforce its own values, its own standards across the world. Yet when it's in our clear a vital interest...'," the President read from the prompter.
"We're being candid at least," he commented.
"This is State Department language," Toby explained.
"No kidding. Look, I understand I present a uniform gap, but I want to mean what I say," Bartlet stated.
"Will, you're going to meet with my counterpart, the State Department Communications Director. He likes to have input into foreign policy language," Toby told Will.
"Isn't he going to be insulted that he's meeting with someone he's never heard of, who isn't a White House staffer?" Will asked.
"I would really think so," Toby replied.
"That's all. Thank you," Leo said and the staffer exited. The President and his Chief of Staff walked out of the room.
They stop in front of Leo's office.
"This foreign policy language is ridiculous," the President stated.
"It'll get fixed."
"What's going on in Khundu? I got a short security cable this morning about civil unrest in the Republic of Equatorial Khundu, and I had to reach for an atlas." Bartlet asked.
"Near the Ivory Coast."
"I know that now."
"The government forces run by the Arkutu have apparently killed as many as 200 Induye on the streets of Bitanga, which is the capital."
"Two warring tribes?" Bartlet asked.
"Well, no, one tribe's warring, and the other one's getting killed. But the point is we got about 500 American missionaries," Leo stated.
"They're being evacuated?"
"Yes, sir."
"Okay. Thank you."
The Mural Room
President Bartlet was attending a prayer breakfast. The room was full of various clerical people. They were standing around tables which were set with plates of food, while Cardinal Patrick Sawyer said a prayer.
"Heavenly Father, assist with your spirit of counsel and fortitude the President of the United States, that his administration may be conducted in righteousness, and be eminently useful to your people over whom he presides. And we ask this morning for the safe evacuation of the 500 American missionaries and their children in the Republic of Equatorial Khundu and for the people of Khundu, where horrible violence has broken out. We pray to you, who are Lord our God, forever and ever. Amen."
"Amen."
They all sat and ate breakfast.
"Patrick, you may pray all you wish, but thousands upon thousands of African children will die unless the U.S. intervenes. Tens of thousands of Khundunese children and their parents slaughtered," Archbishop Zake Kintaka said.
"Well, I don't control the armed forces, Zake," Sawyer replied.
"No, he was talking to me, your Eminence," Bartlet interjected.
He turned to Kintaka. "Your Excellency, I got a very sketchy intelligence report on the violence in the capital about an hour ago."
"The violence isn't limited to Bitanga, sir. It's spread to the countryside," Kintaka explained.
"I didn't know that."
"May I ask you something, sir, with all due respect, please?"
"Yes."
"If mass genocide had broken out in a small European country, would your intelligence briefing this morning have been so sketchy?" Kintaka asked.
The President didn't have to think about the answer and, chagrined, shook his head. "No."
"I join my colleagues in their prayers for the safe evacuation of the Americans," Kintaka stated solemnly.
Will's Office
Will was sitting at his desk when Bonnie knocked on the door and entered.
"Will, Assistant Secretary of State for Public Affairs, Bryce Lilly, is here."
"Thank you, Bonnie."
Lilly entered the office.
"Mr. Secretary," Will greeted.
"Bailey?"
"Will Bailey, yes, sir."
"You... are young."
"Uh, thank you. Have a seat please," Will said.
"Thank you."
"How long have you been in Public Affairs at State?" Will asked.
"Under the last three Presidents."
"You worked for both parties?"
"You know the difference? Republicans want a huge military, but they don't want to send it anywhere. The Democrats want a small military and they want to send it everywhere," Lilly stated.
"Yes, I've heard that."
"Actually, when I heard the name Bailey, I got a chill in my occipital, a Pavlovian reaction from when I used to have run-ins with a General Tom Bailey at the home store in Brussels. Any relation?"
"A little bit. He's my father."
"Really?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long have you been with the National Security Council?" Lilly asked.
"I'm not."
"How long have you been White House Senior Staff?"
"Oh, no, I'm not that either. I'm on a three-week contract with the DNC to work on the Inauguration speech," Will said. He could see that the other man didn't like those answers.
"Son, I'm an Assistant Secretary."
"For Public Affairs. Which makes you just the person I need to speak to. The President is troubled by some of the language..."
"Then this should be taken up between myself and Toby Ziegler."
"I hope you don't mind. Toby asked me to speak to you."
"What are the concerns?" Lilly asked unhappily.
"'America stands alone as the indispensable nation - a force for peace, freedom and prosperity on all corners of the globe'," Will recited.
Lilly looked at Will. "That's almost exactly what we wrote."
"No, that is exactly what you wrote. I'm quoting the State Department text."
"You memorized it? It was 1,200 words."
"I'm pretty sure it was 1,123."
"What's his concern?"
"Well, I'm supposed to begin with - and this neither here nor there - but globes don't have corners."
"If this is about style and not substance..."
"No, it's about substance."
"We've been over this long before you got here, and I imagine we'll keep on going over it long after your three weeks are done. This White House has to be careful about the use of force. It's a hostile Congress," Lilly stated.
"Well, personally, I'd have no problem using force on Congress, but that's not my call," Will replied.
"This President can't write himself a blank check when it comes to foreign policy. Especially this President," Lilly pointed out more heatedly.
"'Especially this President'?" Will narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the emphasis on the 'this'.
"That's right."
"Because of the Clause in Article One that says not every President gets the full powers of Commander-in-Chief?" Will asked sarcastically.
Lilly ignored Will's questions. "Are you rewriting the section?"
"Yes, sir."
"Dramatically?"
"Well, I like to think I have a certain flair."
"I mean significantly."
"That's what the President is looking for, sir."
"In consultation with State?"
"That's entirely up to Toby," Will replied.
"Thank you, sir," Lilly said and stood. "Apparently, I'm not done with the Baileys," he said and left brusquely.
"Apparently not... you effete..."
BANG! There was a loud thud on the window. Will turned and saw Toby throwing a ball against the window that separated their offices. Will walked over.
"What are you doing?"
"I throw a rubber ball against the window, that means you come to me," Toby responded.
"Really?"
"As my frustration level grows, so does the velocity of the ball against the window."
"Okay," Will said. "Anyway, I just told off Bryce Lilly."
"Good."
"What's in there?" Will asked as he pointed to boxes piled on Toby's desk.
"Did you ask for transcripts of public remarks from Manchester?"
"Yes."
"That's what they are."
"Okay."
"And the 14 other cartoons outside."
"Okay."
"So we're dumping State's language?" Toby asked.
"Yes."
"Which means we'll need some of our own."
"Yes."
"I'm talking to myself right now, so there's no reason for you to be answering," Toby stated.
"Is there a reason for me to be standing here?"
"No."
Will left and Toby threw the ball at the window again.
The Oval Office
The President was meeting with Bob "Bobby" Slattery from Dr. McNally's office.
"Bobby, what's going on?"
"Intelligence is thin outside Bitanga. In fact, the Archbishop's network of clerics is probably as good as it gets," Slattery replied.
"The Catholic Church has better intelligence than we do?" The President asked unhappily.
"It's a tiny embassy, maybe ten people. And no Agency presence."
"None?"
"No, sir."
"How many are dead right now?" Bartlet asked, dreading the answer.
"We have no way of knowing."
The answer didn't satisfy the President. "Estimate."
"Could be as many as 5,000."
"Bobby, I don't want to make noise, but I want to see a forced depletion report. I want to know how many we'd lose, and I want to do it without going three rounds in the newspaper with Miles Hutchison. Who do we have at the Pentagon who could do this for us?"
"Jack Reese, Nancy's aid."
"You trust him?"
"I do."
"Tell him I want to see forced depletion on a peacekeeping force in Khundu. And tell him we'll do our best to keep it away from the Secretary's office."
"He won't need to hear the second part, sir. You just gave him an order."
"Thank you."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
Press Briefing Room
The next day, C.J. was briefing the reporters. "First things first. We're going to have to learn how to pronounce it. I learned it as 'Kuhn-doo'. The Republic of Equatorial Khundu."
"C.J.?"
"Yes, Mark."
"There are reports that the Arkutu government-issued identification tags."
"We don't know."
"I mean, stating whether a Khundunese is Arkutu or Induye."
"We don't know. Danny?"
"Archbishop Kintaka, who was coincidentally in the White House yesterday for a prayer breakfast, said the government's using the radio to direct mobs. Does the White House know anything about that?"
"Well, I don't."
"Apparently, one of the bishops had provided refuge to about 800 Induye in his church. When the radio station in Bitanga heard about it, they directed a mob. They had machetes, they sent them to the church..."
"Did they...?"
C.J. asked, but already figured out the answer from Danny's behavior.
"They hacked up all 800," Danny said solemnly.
There was a moment of shocked silence in the room.
"No, I didn't know that."
"Apparently, every broadcast ends with the word 'Krawala'."
"It means 'cleanse'," C.J. said.
"Yeah. So I guess my question is, is the President going to send U.S. troops in to knock this off?" Danny asked.
"The White House is monitoring the situation very carefully," C.J. said weakly.
"I can tell," Danny said sarcastically.
C.J. ignored him. There was nothing she could do. She felt sick on the inside.
"Katie."
"State Department estimates yesterday put the dead at anywhere between 3,000 and 7,000. Are there revised estimates today?"
"15,000. Sheila?"
Situation Room
The next day, Leo was getting briefed.
"At 900 hours we're running the field tests of the next generation predator. Specifically, that's the new night vision capabilities at Camp Red Cloud in Uijongbu City," someone told Leo.
"Okay. Europe?"
"INTEL's reporting potential Basque terrorist plots in Spain," another advisor stated.
"State's going to issue an alert?" Leo asked.
"Yeah, and DCI's liaising with Guardia Civil."
"And there's a border dispute between Lithuania and Belarus," someone added.
"Okay, thanks," Leo said, and the advisors left.
When everybody was out of the room, Leo turned to Secretary of Defense Miles Hutchinson. "Miles? What's the general thinking in Khundu?"
"That we should support all the international diplomatic efforts to... You know the U.N.'s already made overtures to the Arkutu," Hutchinson replied.
"That's what's happening at the State Department. I want to know what's happening at Central Command," Leo stated.
"If you mean militarily, we're going to want to supply the bordering countries," Hutchinson said.
"That's not what I mean. We're getting INTEL that isn't making it onto CNN, but that's a matter of a couple of hours. Truly horrible accounts of mass slaughtering..."
"Leo..."
"...that should make us at least want to investigate whether there's a genocide."
"Lee lost 10,000 at Gettysburg, didn't make it genocide," the Secretary stated.
Leo looked at Hutchinson, aghast. "Okay, so I'll go to the President with it."
"In our case, we'd lose closer to a thousand, which is pretty stupid. Magnificently so when we realize we're talking about a guy who's never led an army."
That statement angered Leo.
"First of all, the guy is the President. Second, he's been leading one for 3 years, 51 weeks, and three days. How much more training would you like him to have? And third, it's not a thousand. We saw a forced depletion report. It's 150."
Hutchinson ignored the first points.
"You saw a forced depletion report?"
"Yes."
"How did he see a forced depletion report?"
"Look, from time to time, just to expedite things, Nancy will print..."
"Nancy's out of the country. It was a raid."
"The guy was following a direct order."
"I have no doubt he was. That's my problem, Leo."
"I don't give a damn what..."
"What?"
"I said I don't give a damn what your problem is, Miles. The Man wants to know if he sends troops, how many are going to die," Leo stated.
"And if he wants to see forced depletion, he asks me."
"He asks you and three days go by before he sees it, Mr. Secretary. Yet miraculously, the Wall Street Journal gets it on day two, the numbers inflated all to hell. It's 150, not a thousand."
"And that's acceptable to you in Khundu?" Hutchinson asked.
"I don't know what you mean when you say 'in Khundu'. Nah... yeah, I do."
"Go to hell," Hutchinson told Leo angrily.
"Okay."
Hutchinson exited the Situation Room.
Will's Office
Will was sitting at his desk working on his speech when someone knocked on his door. "Keep your pants on, Toby. I'm almost there," Will said without looking up.
"Toby been taking his pants off again? That's just something he does," a voice Will instantly realized wasn't Toby's said.
Will immediately stood up. "Good evening, Mr. President."
"How's it going?"
"Fine, sir."
"Good."
Will paused. "No, it's not."
"Yeah. What's hard is that foreign policy has become a statement of what we won't do."
"Yes, sir."
Bartlet picked up the speech off of Will's desk and read out loud. "'A new doctrine for a new century, based not just on our interests, but on our values across the world'. Well, that's pretty spicy stuff," he commented.
"You wrote it, sir."
"Yeah, I know. Why is a Khundunese life worth less to me than an American life?"
"I don't know, sir, but it is."
Bartlet looked at him. "That was ballsy."
Will shrugged. "I won't be working here long."
"You are Tom Bailey's son?"
"Yes, sir."
"Talk about the very model of a modern Major General."
"Yes, sir."
Bartlet exited.
C.J.'s Office
C.J. was in her office and listened as Carol informed the members of the press through the PA system that the briefing was about to begin. She put away her notes. The previous evening, Harm had agreed to talk with her about the legal definitions of 'genocide' and what he thought the United States should or could legally do. It turned out that it wasn't as simple as she had thought before. She sighed, steeled herself, and grabbed her notes. She made her way to the briefing room when Danny called out to her.
"I found your ramp signal agent," C.J. told him without greeting.
"Me too. He took a job in an airport in the Cooperative Republic of Guyana. That's where you're sending people?"
"We don't send anyone anywhere who doesn't work for us, but I understand he's gotten a salary-bump and he's co-captain of a local cricket team."
"I called him."
"And?"
"He doesn't remember me. Then he does, but he doesn't remember anything about an airstrip. He does, but he doesn't remember anything about not getting in."
"Mystery solved."
"C.J…" Danny warned, but C.J. walked away. When she was about to enter the Press Room, an aide handed her a piece of paper.
"Good evening. I have revised estimates for Khundu. We said 15,000 yesterday. Intelligence reports are putting it closer to 25... 25,000," C.J. told the reporters who immediately shout out her name.
"Mark?"
"Is the White House being careful not to call this a genocide?"
The Roosevelt Room
The President and various directors were in the room holding a meeting.
"King Nawa of Bhutan died," one director told the President.
"We'll send condolences. What's next?"
"The new king is Yeshey Pradhan Nawa," the same man added.
"Okay," Bartlet said, not knowing what the man wanted to tell him.
"He's 13 years old."
Bartlet looked at him. "Well, if he's old enough to marry like Jerry Lee Lewis, I guess he's old enough to be king of Bhutan. What's next?"
"A detained ship 12 miles off the Port of Miami; Nigerian flag," another director informed him.
"Coast Guard got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"The joint training exercise has been cleared for the Black Sea and the Caspian. This is actually..." another interrupted.
"What's happening? I'm sorry, what's happening in the REK?"
"The General Assembly's debating a proclamation."
"Well, a proclamation ought to do the trick. What's the CIA know that I should know?"
"Neighbors are... swapping family members."
The President stared at the man for a moment before he closed his eyes.
"All right, thank you."
"Thank you, sir. Thank you, Mr. President."
Bartlet walked into Leo' office and closes the door.
"Good evening, Mr. President."
"Did you talk to Hutchinson?"
"Yeah."
"Did he tell you for me to shut up and let him run the Pentagon?"
"In so many words."
"How many?"
"Not that many. As a matter of fact, we didn't get that far. I got Jack Reese in some trouble."
"So Hutchinson knows I've seen forced depletion."
"Yeah."
"He should be pissed at me, not Jack Reese."
"He should be pissed at you?" ..." Leo exclaimed.
"The Secretary of Defense should be pissed at the President?"
"Don't worry about it."
Leo looked at the President. "Yes, sir."
"Clark says neighbors are swapping family members in Khundu."
"Really?"
"Also, there's a new king of Bhutan. And he's been bar mitzvah'd and everything."
"All right."
"Hey, this guy you hired for the Inauguration speech gave me a little backchat a few minutes ago," Bartlet stated.
"Bailey?"
"Yeah, he was using a floor speech about El Salvador I gave 98 years ago to demonstrate that the U.S. should send troops to Khundu. Rhetorically, I said, 'Why is a Khundunese life worth less to me than an American life?' And he said, 'I dont know, sir, but it is'." Bartlet quoted.
"I'll try to get some better information," Leo said.
"Thank you."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
Josh exited the Oval Office and where Donna was waiting.
"What's going on?" Josh asked when he saw that Donna looked distraught.
"I don't know what's going on, but Jack's been reassigned."
They made their way to Josh's office.
"To where?"
"Aviano."
"Air Force Base?" Josh asked, surprised.
"Yes. Aviano Air Force Base."
"When?"
"He got his orders."
"What happened?" Josh asked, surprised.
"I don't know. He said he was asked to do something and he did it. He got a slap on the wrist and wouldn't tell me more than that."
"The reality of the fast-track Navy guys is they're going to bop around the globe a lot."
"He was here less than three months, plus he said something happened," Donna replied.
"You can't begin to conceive of the internal politics of the Pentagon. Right now, Hutchinson and his boys..."
"But he worked here. This is internal politics of the White House."
"Well, no one's told me about it and I'm not going to ask," Josh stated.
"He said he was asked to do something for somebody. It can only be Nancy, Leo or the President."
"Three doors you definitely want to knock on to complain about your boyfriend being transferred to the Italian Alps," Josh warned her.
"Hey, I'm not Gidget, okay? Something..." Donna began.
"Is he complaining?" Josh asked, exasperated.
"He doesn't complain."
"I ask you that because sometimes people request transfers," Josh said carefully.
"Somebody asked him to do something and he did it. I take him at his word. As should you, there being no reason not to. Is there anything you need?"
"No."
"Thank you, sir," Donna said and stormed off.
Josh watched her walk away, a little shocked. That was the first time she had called him 'sir'. And it was definitely not meant as a sign of respect. He didn't understand why she was angry with him. He had done nothing to Jack Reese. His musings were interrupted when Charlie walked up to him.
"Hey, Josh. What's wrong with Donna? She looked angry."
"Jack Reese got transferred."
"Oh. Too bad."
"Yeah." Josh could barely hold back a grin.
They started to get back to their countless tasks but stopped to look at footage on the TV about Khundu. They saw people marching and armed jeeps riding through the streets.
"Intelligence says neighbors in Khundu are sleeping in each other's houses," Josh told Charlie.
"What does that mean?"
"It means they're making people in the same house rape each other on the promise their lives will be spared," Josh commented.
Charlie looked shocked and disgusted. "Okay. Do you need anything?"
"Nah."
When Charlie walked out, TV showed footage of a slain child lying in the streets. Then it showed footage of hundreds of dead bodies piled up on top of each other in a heap. Disgusted and with tears in his eyes, Josh shut off the TV.
Three days before Inauguration Day
The West Wing
Toby's Office
Toby threw a ball up against the window, signaling for Will to come to his office.
"You're never worried about the window breaking?" Will asked a few seconds later.
"During moments of peak frustration. When the Speaker of the House threatens to repeal the 16th Amendment. A couple of Yankee games. And there was the time Congress censured my boss. But it's always held up, that window. That window's a game-day player."
"What do you need?"
"Leo was just in here," Toby said and closed the door. "What did you say to the President last night?"
"The President came to my office. He just dropped in."
"I know. What did you say?"
"His speech transcript was right on top. He read it."
"What…Did…You…Say?" Toby repeated through clenched teeth.
"He asked me, 'Why is a Khundunese life worth less to me than an American life?' And I repeated, 'I don't know, sir, but it is'."
Toby looked at him, frustrated. "Didn't we talk about this?"
"Yes."
"But you gave it a shot, anyway?"
"I wasn't giving it a shot, Toby. It was a casual conversation."
"With the President?"
"He came here. He was standing in my doorway."
"The Dow plummets because of casual conversations with this man, but that's not the point."
"What's the point?"
"You can't get in his head this close to something this important. You've got to keep the train on the tracks."
"I apologize, but there's..." Will said.
"No, no 'but' at the end of that. Not on this one. This one haunts him. It haunts everyone," Toby stated emphatically.
"Well, I finished the language."
"How is it?"
"Bloodless, compromising and half a loaf," Will stated.
"That's foreign policy."
The Press Briefing Room
"I'm sorry, was Nigeria in that meeting?" a reporter asked.
"Ghana, Nigeria, and what did I say?"
"Zaire."
"Ghana, Nigeria and Zaire. The Arkutu met with representatives from those countries. They met for three hours, and we're told the talks were amicable but that no progress was made. Steve?"
"C.J., there's a 1948 U.N. Convention on Genocide, and the U.S. is a signatory. Simply put, it says that if it's determined that genocide is taking place, the United States is compelled to intervene."
C.J. knew this. This was one point Harm had briefed her on. He had also added, "The problem is the Convention distinguishes between acts of genocide and genocide."
"It distinguishes between 'acts of genocide' and 'genocide'?" Katie asked incredulously.
"It does. Mark?"
"How many acts of genocide constitute a genocide?"
"I don't know. Danny?"
"What's the weather report for Sunday?"
"Two below with the wind chill. That's a full lid. Good night."
"C.J., thank you."
"Good night, C.J." The reporters replied.
"Two below, that's beach weather for the President," Danny said when he walked up to her.
"Yes."
"So, what is the distinction?" Danny asked.
"Danny, I could tell the legal definition or definitions. I had Harm brief me on in. But it is also a political question. All I know is I got a memo from State - close your notebook- a memo from State to make sure not to call it genocide."
"Okay," Dann replied.
He knew C.J. well enough to know that she was frustrated and furious about the situation in Khundu. So, he changed the topic.
"I want to talk to you about something."
"No, we're not going to do that anymore. We're not going to talk about Shareef."
"This isn't about Shareef."
"Okay, then what?"
"It's a little about Shareef."
"Good day to you, sir."
"C.J."
"I said, good day, sir."
"Get in there, would you?"
"Nobody takes me seriously when I say 'good day, sir'."
"Get in there," Danny repeated when they went inside C.J. office.
"What is it now, Danny? I'm tired and want to go home. Hopefully, Harm has cooked something nice."
"I found Shareef's pilot?" Danny told her.
"Jamil Bari?"
"Yes. He went to Augsbury Aviation in Bulgaria. He's survived by his wife, Marita, and his two children."
"You don't even want to say you were wrong and apologize for your superior attitude lately," C.J. said.
"I do. First, I want to tell you this."
"Rifts at the Pentagon."
"Jets and the Sharks. I talked to an officer who works in U.S. foreign intelligence activities there who believes that Miles Hutchinson is the Commander-in-Chief. And in the course of the discussion, he told me, the President had rescinded Executive Orders 11905 and 12333," Danny stated.
"The President hasn't rescinded any Executive Orders," C.J. said, surprised at what she just heard.
"Well, not publicly. This was an incredibly clumsy attempt by this officer to send a turf message to the President, and obviously, he's not a rogue, so I thought I'd give you the heads-up."
"The President appreciates it, and it's not like it's anything new. I don't know who the Jets are and who the Sharks are, but it's Fitzwallace and Hutchinson," C.J. commented.
"That's pretty much what I'm writing. Who here can a researcher talk to about Pentagon employees who are detailed to the White House?"
"Josh's office. You can get it from Donna."
"Okay."
"Hey, what are Executive Orders 11...?"
"11905 and 12333?"
"Yeah."
"Making it illegal to assassinate a foreign leader. I told you it was a little about Shareef."
The Oval Office
"I saw C.J. smiling before. Has something good happened?" The President asked Leo.
"Yeah."
"What?"
"You didn't rescind two Executive Orders."
"I didn't?"
"It was an NSC Presidential Decision Directive - it's different."
"It's not different."
"It is, and that's how I was able to look C.J. in the eye and tell her that you didn't rescind 11905. And that's how she was able to look Danny in the eye and do the same."
"Well, then it was a dodged bullet," Bartlet said.
"No, sir, we didn't dodge anything. They hit what they aimed at."
"Leo, come on..."
"It was a shot across the bow, it was," Leo told Bartlet. "This guy giving it to Danny."
"You're being paranoid."
"And you're being unbelievably naïve, sir."
The President looked sharply at Leo.
"You think in your wildest dreams that Hutchinson's running an offense? He's that pissed that I asked for forced Depletion Report for Khundu that he's going to let something slip to Danny about what happened Bermuda?"
Leo looked straight at his boss. "I do. In my wildest dreams, I really do."
Bartlet sighed. "Abbey's already gone to bed. I should get up there. Good night."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
Club Iota
C.J., Harm, Toby and Josh were sitting down at a table. "Tank and tonic," C.J. told the server.
"Uh, two. Cynthia, I left a message for Donna. She might call," Josh said.
"Sure."
"The guy across the street is beating up a pregnant woman. You don't go over and try to stop it?" C.J. asked.
"Guy across the street is beating up anybody. I like to think I go over and try to stop it, but we're not talking about the President going to Asia or the President going to Rwanda or the President going to Qumar. We're talking about the President sending other people's kids to do that," Toby replied.
"That's always what we're talking about. And besides being somebody's kids, they're soldiers and sailors like Harm here. And if we're about freedom from tyranny, then we're about freedom from tyranny, and if we're not, we should shut up," C.J. stated.
"Yes," Toby agreed.
Josh looked at him.
"Back at the office, you were telling Will..." Josh said.
"He said that to Will 'cause that's what we say it," C.J. stated.
"You weren't even there."
"It's what we always say," C.J. said, frustrated.
"On Sunday, he's taking an oath to ensure domestic tranquility," Toby said.
"And to establish justice and promote the general welfare. Stand by while atrocities are taking place, and you're an accomplice," Harm said without a bite.
He knew that C.J.'s colleagues weren't indifferent to the suffering of the Khundunese. While he didn't know how the others coped, he had to hold C.J. several times when she cried about the pictures she had seen of the dead people lying on the street.
"I'm not indifferent to that, but knuckleheaded self-destruction will never burn itself out. You really want to send your kids across the street into the fire?" Toby asked Harm.
"Want to? No. Should I? Yes, absolutely," Harm stated.
"Why? Why are you sending your kids across the street?" Toby asked, surprised.
"'Cause those are somebody's kids, too," Harm replied without hesitation.
"Yeah…"
"Harm, you're a soldier. Do you really think the President should send troops to Khundu? And why?" Josh asked.
He and the others could talk about the reasons they should or shouldn't send American troops to some place. Harm, at least to a point, was one of those people that could be sent there.
"Yes, absolutely, and here is why. The United States is the last remaining superpower. We're for freedom of speech everywhere. We're for freedom to worship everywhere. We're for freedom to learn... for everybody. And because, in our time, you can build a bomb in your country and bring it to my country, what goes on in your country is very much my business. And so we are for freedom from tyranny everywhere, whether in the guise of political oppression, Toby, or economic slavery, Josh, or religious fanaticism, C.J. That most fundamental idea cannot be met with merely our support. It has to be met with our strength. Diplomatically, economically, and if all of these fail, then yes, militarily," Harm said with full conviction.
"As C.J. said earlier, if we're about freedom from tyranny, then we're about freedom from tyranny no matter the reason. Otherwise, we should keep our mouths shut."
The others looked at him in surprise. While C.J. knew his opinion, she had seldom heard him speak with so much conviction.
When nobody said anything for a few seconds, Harm asked. "What?"
"You know, Harm. I'm not one for guns," Josh said. "Or violence at all. But after your speech, even I'm having the urge to pick up a gun and fight tyranny."
A little while later, the men were sitting at the table while C.J. was taking a call.
"I'm not talking about fighting two wars at once. I'm not talking about fighting wars at all. Intervening when there's violence against defenseless people…" Harm said.
"Fine, but if we go here, then that means they can go there and look, there's more injustice over there," Toby said pointing between Josh and him.
Josh sighed. "We elect these people. And not for nothing, but if I had been the world's policemen in the 30's, you and I..."
"We would have had a lot more relatives," Toby stated.
"That's right," Josh said.
"Where the hell is Donna?"
"Leave her alone, Josh. She's having the last night with Commander Reese before he leaves for his new station," Harm said.
"How do you know that?"
"C.J. called her at Jack's, and I paged her."
"Like Harm said, leave her alone," Toby said.
C.J. came back running back to the table. "I've got to go back to the office."
"What happened?" Harm asked.
He stood up and helped C.J. put on her coat. He had known that C.J. wanted to unwind, so he was the designated driver for them.
"Danny screwed me, and somebody on one of our staffs screwed the rest of us," C.J. stated.
"What do you mean?"
"Danny's got a piece out tomorrow on fault lines between the White House and the Pentagon," C.J. replied.
"He writes that story twice a year," Josh huffed.
C.J. sighed. "A researcher gathering background spoke to three people, one of whom was Donna, because your office is one of the places that keep breakdowns of how Pentagon staff are detailed to the White House. The researcher was given an unprompted quote, which he gave to Danny's editor, who put it in the piece."
"What was the quote?" Josh asked unhappily.
"'Everyone's very loyal to everyone else around here unless you wear a uniform. Or sleep with a member of the senior staff.'"
They looked at her, aghast.
"What…"
"Never mind, now. Let's go, Harm."
The White House
Lobby
Harm and C.J. came bursting through the entrance by the Press Room where Danny was waiting for them. When Harm saw him, he slowed down and walked to the side to give them time to talk. However, instead of talking, they started a rather heated discussion.
"This is not what happened," Danny said, frustrated.
"I don't believe this."
"Listen to me."
"This is garbage. That was... that was totally out of the left field on the piece on the unnamed White House source..." C.J. said.
"It wasn't mine," Danny defended himself.
"What do you mean, it wasn't yours?"
"It got dropped in."
"Who dropped it in?"
"My editor and my researcher."
"They dropped it in?"
"Yes."
"Without your knowledge?"
"Yes," Danny exclaimed.
"And you're okay with that?"
"How do I sound?!" He asked angrily.
Harm thought it was obvious how Danny felt about it, but he remained silent. Their problems were none of his matter. So, he silently followed them a few steps behind to C.J.'s office.
"What was the name of the researcher?"
"Oh, you're not..."
"No, the researchers looking out for his future. He's twenty-three and times a-wastin'. I want to give him a Lexus. What's his name?"
"C.J.!"
"What's his name?!" She asked angrily.
"That's going to stay between me and my boss. The researchers talked to three different people on background - just nuts and bolts," Danny stated.
"Asking how many nuts and bolts doesn't get this quote."
"As a matter of fact, he told them what I'm writing about. C.J., I don't know who he talked to."
"I sent you to Donna when you asked..."
"I'm saying it wasn't necessarily Donna. I mean, in a million years, do you think Donna..." Danny said incredulously.
Harm shared that feeling. Donna was one of the most loyal people in the White House. Harm was sure 'though that her first loyalty was with Josh. She would do nothing that would hurt him intentionally, no matter how angry she was. And leaking something like that would hurt him. He thought he knew who the source was, and C.J.s next words showed she had the same idea.
"No, but yesterday, her boyfriend Jack Reese, a Navy Lieutenant Commander, was reassigned from a White House position, and she was furious about it."
"Sometimes people say something to a researcher 'cause they think they're not on the record," Danny said.
"They're not on the record!" C.J. exclaimed.
"No."
Carol entered the office. "C.J.?"
"Yeah?"
"It's Donna on the phone."
Danny turned, nodded to Harm and walked out. C.J. picked up the phone to speak to Donna. Harm tried not to listen to the conversation, but it was obvious that C.J. wasn't happy.
When she finished the call, she told Harm that she had to go to the Oval Office.
"Don't worry about me, C.J. I have some files I have to read through. I'm going to stay here in your office for a bit."
"Okay. I'll let you know how long it's going to be. It's a good thing Mattie is with the Roberts," C.J. said, briefly kissed him and walked to the Oval Office.
The look of anger and betrayal on her face… He shook his head. Harm waited a moment, then pulled out his phone and made a call.
"Moss."
"Hi, Donna, this is Harm."
"Uh, Commander? Is everything alright with C.J.? And Josh?"
"Yes, everybody is fine. At least, physically."
"Alright. What can I do for you, Commander?"
"First, you can stop calling me commander. My name is Harm. I think we've been over this."
"Oh, okay, Harm."
"I know that it is not my place, but the reason I'm calling is to talk to you about what's going on with you, C.J. and the Post."
There was a moment of silence.
"Com, uh, Harm, as I told C.J., I didn't think that I was on the record... And I'm sorry about what I said about you…"
"Donna. I'm not calling on behalf of anybody but myself here. And I'm not angry at the implication. Well, that's a lie. I am angry, but not at you. I may not know you that well, but even I know you don't make such a mistake. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the only answer you give to reporters is 'no comment', unless you somebody ordered otherwise. Just like you have done in the past. So, I find it hard to believe that you would suddenly make such a rookie mistake. That leaves two options: one, you did it on purpose, or two, you're not the source."
Donna was silent again. "No, it was an honest mistake…?"
She replied, but to Harm, it sounded more like a question.
"Look Donna, I am sure that you have your reasons for trying to take the blame for somebody else. And I have a pretty good guess for whom."
Donna sighed.
"He was working a lot of nights, and it really wore him out," Donna said. She knew that there was no point in denying it anymore. "And then he was transferred. He didn't think he was on the record."
"Donna—"
"He really didn't, Harm."
"If you say so," Harm said, not believing it.
"Obviously, it is your decision, but let me ask you something: have you thought about all the consequences involved in taking the blame for this? And if so, is that somebody more important to you than Josh, the President and your career?"
Harm heard Donna taking a deep breath. "Think about that, Donna. That is all I wanted to tell you. Have a nice evening."
"Uh, thank you, Harm."
Inauguration Day
Capitol Building
Finally, Inauguration Day dawned. President Bartlet was walking with Ed, Larry, and several aids through the lobby when C.J. approached him.
"Good morning, Mr. President," she greeted him.
"Why are they talking to me about the order of the balls?" Bartlet asked.
"Political Affairs thinks it's important," C.J. replied.
"They'd like you to start with the Plain States, followed by the Rust Belt Ball, then the one from the Pacific Northwest," Larry said.
"It shows you're President of the entire country," Ed added.
"Aren't we about to demonstrate that pretty clearly right now?" C.J. asked sarcastically.
"He could start with the New Hampshire ball," Ed suggested.
"Make it clear he knows where he came from," Larry added.
"The President has a driver's license," C.J. deadpanned.
"What if he starts with all the states where jobs are in decline - make it clear our message is the economy," Larry suggested.
"Well, that's only going to be clear if we also hand out decoder rings. Listen, it's an Inauguration Ball. Let's enjoy ourselves," Bartlet said.
"Yes, sir," Ed and Larry agreed.
"Thanks, ladies and gentlemen," Bartlet said.
"Knock 'em dead, sir."
"Game on, sir." Ed, Larry and the rest of the aids departed.
"Actually, it's eight Inauguration Balls," C.J. told the President.
"You read it?" Bartlet asked.
"Every draft all night long," C.J. replied.
"You haven't weighed in," Bartlet said.
C.J. leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I just did. Anything else, sir?"
"No."
C.J. walked away but yelled back. "Eat 'em up, Chief."
"Thank you, Claudia Jean."
Bartlet walked into the green room where he spotted and called out for Josh.
Later that day, the women were getting ready for the Balls.
Donna was overwhelmed. She had been overwhelmed for a few days now. She knew she had made a mistake in taking the blame for Jack's statements. At first, she hadn't really thought about all the consequences, but had taken time for it after Harm's call. She had called C.J. later that evening and apologized for lying to her. She knew that C.J. was still disappointed and a little angry with her. Nonetheless, she had accepted Donna's apology pretty fast. She had been shocked and honored to get the invitation to get ready with the First Lady.
Josh, however, was another story altogether. She had called him 'sir'. She couldn't remember when she had done that the last time. If she had done that at all. She had been angry that Jack was being transferred. She had acted towards Josh like it had been his fault.
She knew that she had been wrong in taking out her frustration about Jack's reposting on Josh. Taking the time to think about it, she knew Josh wouldn't be able to do anything like that. He also wouldn't do anything to change Jack's orders. And then lying to protect Jack had made the whole situation much worse. While Josh had said that he understood her reasoning, she also knew that he was still angry and disappointed. He had also warned her that Leo would have some words with her. That again showed her how much she had screwed up. Normally, Leo wouldn't involve himself with the assistants. He'd let Josh discipline them or Josh would convince him to let him do it. That Leo would talk to her was also a mark against Josh.
Josh… Hopefully, she would be able to spend time with him this evening.
C.J. reflected on how unfair it was that all Harm had to do to get ready for a formal function was shower, shave, and put on his Dress Blues. For her, and all the other women, it involved so much more. The problem was that she didn't have too much time to get ready. She would have liked to get a manicure and pedicure, but that wasn't possible. However, she enjoyed her time getting ready with the First Lady, her daughters, Donna and other members of the female staff. Abby had taken over a complete wing when the Bartlet's had moved into the White House for occasions just like this one. The women had the time of their lives getting ready. They drank champagne, laughed and gossiped. Soon, it was time for them to meet the men.
C.J. looked into a mirror, enjoying how she looked in the special set of undergarments that she had picked out to go with the dress. She was so looking forward to showing it to Harm later. She grabbed her gown, unzipped it and stepped into it.
"Donna?" she called her friend, who was next door.
"Yes, C.J.?"
"Are you dressed yet? If so, can you come over and zip me up?"
"Absolutely," Donna said. When she walked into C.J.'s room, she stopped short.
"Wow, C.J. I have seen you dressed up before, but I don't think you have looked more beautiful before. Harm is a lucky man. You're… you're breathtaking," Donna complimented her friend. And she was right.
CJ wore a tight, shiny burgundy dress that showed off every curve along her 6-foot-plus length. "Thank you, mi amore!" C.J. said happily. If her dress made such an impression on Donna, she couldn't wait to see Harm's reaction.
When he saw C.J., Harm's heart skipped a beat. She looked breathtaking and Harm just stared.
"What? Something wrong with my dress?" C.J. asked jokingly, enjoying Harm's appreciative look.
"No, you look beautiful," Harm replied.
"Thank you. You don't look too shabby yourself."
"You've seen me in my blues before."
"True. Doesn't change the fact that I enjoy seeing you in it."
And oh, she really did. They stared at each other for a moment. "Sailor, it's going to be a long night if you keep looking at me like that," she breathed in his ear.
"Yeah, I know exactly how you feel," he replied.
While the President and his wife would have to attend several Inaugural Balls being held all over the District that night, the first was the one they would enjoy most. It was the one their family, closest friends, the staff and campaign workers would attend. And it was being held directly in the White House. Most of the guests had already arrived and assembled in the ballroom, mixing and mingling.
Harm had been to several balls during his career. And even though he didn't enjoy dancing very much, he had always done his dance obligations. This evening, however, was probably the first time that he was looking forward to dancing. He was looking forward to taking C.J. into his arms and dancing with her cheek by cheek.
However, they were still waiting with the other members of the senior staff and their dates for the President to arrive. No one was dancing though, as the President and First Lady would have the first dance. Just at that moment, the orchestra played a fanfare, and the moment they had all been waiting for arrived.
"Ladies and Gentlemen: The President and First Lady of the United States!"
With Hail to the Chief playing, Josiah and Abbey Bartlet entered the room with thunderous applause and jubilant shouting. The President stopped several times to shake hands but then hastened to the center of the dance floor to officially open the ball.
The White House
Private Room
Abbey, Leo, Josh, Donna, Toby, Sam, C.J., Harm and Will were waiting in a room when the President and Charlie walked in. He greeted everybody and walked over to Abbey. His wife kissed him on the cheek, then wiped the lipstick on his cheek off.
"Everything alright?" Bartlet asked Toby.
"Yes, sir."
The President nodded and turned to everybody.
"They're saying I'm rewriting the Constitution on the back of a napkin. They're saying on FOX that a guy who couldn't run a local sheriff's department wants to send troops around the world. They're saying it's liberalism with a grenade launcher. But they're not saying it was badly written, so that's something. And they sure as hell know I was serious, so that's something else. Congratulations, folks. We've got ourselves a doctrine," the President exclaimed.
They applauded.
"You know, it's easy to watch the news and think of Khundunese as either hapless victims or crazed butchers, and it turns out that's not true. I got this intelligence summary this afternoon," Bartlet said, waving a piece of paper in his hand.
"'Mothers are standing in front of tanks'. And we're going to go get their backs. An hour ago, I ordered Chairman Fitzwallace to have UCOMM deploy a brigade of the 82nd Airborne, the 101st Air Assault, and a Marine Expeditionary Unit to Khundu to stop the violence. The 101st are the Screaming Eagles. The Marines are with the 22nd M.E.U., trained at Camp Lejeune. Some of them very recently. I'm sorry, everyone, but this is a work night," the President said and grabbed Abbey's hand.
They all walked out of the room and got to work.
Harm sighed. So much for a fun night. Then he shook his head. People were dying, and he was frustrated that he wasn't about to get lucky. Clearly, there were worse things happening in the world.