VI
Josh almost flinched under the others' gazes as he entered the office. Probably none of them were even aware they were doing it, but he felt the accusation in their eyes all the same.
This is Senior Staff, and you're not Leo. What do you think you're doing, taking Leo's place?
But somebody had to take Leo's place. And that somebody, much as the weight of the responsibility threatened to crush him, was Joshua Lyman.
He sat down, and cleared his throat, shuffling his papers. The room was silent, and he remembered yesterday's meeting, when Leo had been absent but all the same it had been different. They had mocked and he'd flailed about uselessly, and it had all been a big joke.
Now, it was anything but a joke, and he had to be in charge.
He started with the easiest first. "Sam. The Goodman thing. Is it sorted?"
Sam seemed to almost flinch, as if startled to be addressed. "I, uh, I... I was with Margaret yesterday, I didn't-"
"Get it dealt with," he ordered, wondering as he said it what was happening to him. He was Bartlet's attack dog, incurable wisecracker under pressure. If there was anything to be written on his tombstone when he died, it would be 'made stupid remarks at really inappropriate times'. Today, though, he couldn't bring himself to speak in anything more than terse, sharp sentences. "We don't need that coming back to bite us in the ass right now."
Sam looked hurt, but bit back whatever he wanted to say. Josh turned to CJ. "There were no questions about Leo yesterday; there'll probably be some today. You should-"
"I know my job, Josh," she told him warningly. And now there should be a quip, or a smiled apology, but all he could muster was a stern nod.
He turned to Toby. "Toby. Weismann and Cable?"
"Under control," said Toby shortly.
"What about the land use rider? Did you speak to Terry and Walters?" He could see the irritation building up under the surface, and couldn't help resenting it. This was his job, dammit, what was he supposed to do? Let it all slide by unquestioned because they didn't want to give him the acquiescence they gave to Leo? "What about Lewisham's office? Did they-"
"I said it's under control, Josh," Toby said hotly.
"Fine," he said shortly, although it wasn't. The tension level in the room was rocketing upwards, and he couldn't find it in himself to defuse it. He glanced down at the papers in front of him, not looking at any of them.
"CJ, you have to get something done about that article in the New York Times. And the President needs a position paper on-"
"Dammit, Josh!" What surprised him most about the outburst was that it was Sam who'd snapped first. He rose out of his seat, going red in the face as he did under stress. "We're doing our jobs-"
"I know you are!" he barked back, barely recognising the tenor in his own voice. He was out of his seat too, in fact they all were, although he wasn't sure he was aware of any of them moving. "And I'm doing mine, and that means you have to listen to me."
"We don't answer to you," Toby contested hotly. "I don't know what you think-"
"I think you do answer to me," Josh hit back dangerously softly. The words were acid on his tongue, but he had to speak them anyway. "I think I'm the Acting Chief of Staff and you do answer to me."
For a moment there was simmering silence, as he and Toby stared each other down, and a little voice in the back of his head was gabbling desperate apologies - but not to Toby.
Sorry Leo, I'm sorry Leo, I didn't want this, I didn't want to do this, I didn't want them to make me do this-
Toby stepped back in a single decisive motion. "If that's the way you want it," he said coldly. And Josh wanted to scream that of course it wasn't how he wanted it, but he didn't.
Toby left without a backward look, and the others trailed after him. CJ paused in the doorway and shot him a hurt expression, and he wanted to tell her that he wasn't being disloyal, it was loyalty to Leo that was forcing him to do this, but he didn't say that either.
Sam was last to leave, and for a moment he opened his mouth to speak- but then he shut it again, and left. And Josh was alone.
He sank down into his chair and allowed his head to thump against the desk in front of him. Was this it? The taste of authority? It was a bitter, bitter flavour in the back of his throat, threatening to gag him.
He wanted to just stay slumped like that forever, but a moment later a hand on his shoulder disturbed him. "Josh." Of course, it was Donna.
"Donna," he said, unable to keep the despairing edge out of his voice.
She looked back at him with pain in her eyes, but all she said was "The President wants to see you."
Of course he did. Because it never ended. You got hurt and sick and frustrated and so very, very tired, but it never ended. It just kept rolling on and on and on. He stood up.
"Mr. President." He stepped inside the Oval Office, and the sick feeling in his stomach tightened into something jumpier as he saw who stood beside him.
"Josh," said the President with a brief nod, but Josh only had eyes for Ron Butterfield.
"Is there-"
"There's been no news," Ron cut him off briskly, before false hope could take root. "No ransom note sent, and it's been twenty-four hours. It's time we investigated some other possibilities." Josh felt rather than saw the President's face tighten across the room.
"Other possibilities?" he demanded, feeling a flash of frustrated anger boiling to the surface. "Like what?"
It was the President who answered, sounding as sickly weary as he felt. "We have a situation in Qumar, Josh. A bad one." That gave Josh pause. He dealt with political situations. When he was out of the loop, that meant military, which was-
-Leo's job, that's Leo's job-
"We may have to face that possibility that Mr. McGarry was taken to hamper our decision-making process," Ron explained, maddeningly calmly.
"No!" he retorted, before his brain even recognised the reason he was arguing. "That can't be-"
"If there were demands to be made, we should have received them by now," Ron continued implacably. "So it's possible that he's been taken to-"
"No, because if they-" Josh didn't finish the thought aloud, but the President flinched exactly as if he had.
If they took him to hamper us, then he's not coming back. Even in the hidden recesses of his own mind, it felt like treachery to finish the thought. If that's why they took him, then he's already dead.
"You have to find him!" He rounded on Butterfield, because there was nobody else to shout at. If he shouted at Butterfield, the agent would calmly take it; not flinch in that heart-wrenching way the President did.
"We're working on leads from the Qumar angle-"
"Work harder!" Josh demanded. "Work faster!"
"Josh." The President's quiet voice silenced him faster than any shout. He wheeled around to face his leader, not looking into his eyes for fear of what he would see there. "We have to keep functioning. As much as-" His voice faltered. "As difficult as this is, as much as it hurts, we have to keep functioning."
This was an ironic little flavour of the bitter pill he'd forced upon the senior staff. Contrary to popular wisdom, neither giving nor receiving had been particularly enjoyable.
"Yes, sir," he said, looking at his feet.
There was a long silence, and then the President said heavily "I have to call Jenny and Mallory." Now Josh finally looked up, and saw an echo of his own pain written on that so familiar face.
"I could-"
"I have to do this myself." Josh nodded, and hated himself for the sharp blaze of relief that shot through him. For a moment they just waited. Then the President sighed, and ran a hand over his face.
"I'll need to know what's going on with the Weisman situation. And this thing in the New York Times."
"Uh-" Josh was caught flat-footed. This wasn't what he did. It was Leo who reassured the President things were going swimmingly, or warned if they were not, told him what he needed to know and left out what he didn't.
"Not now, Josh." The President waved him away. "Later."
Josh nodded gratefully. "Yes, sir. I'll, um, I'll send Donna over with the files in a little while."
The President dismissed him with a nod, and he fled the room with some relief.
Jed sat at his desk, and mused on small ironies. Ever since the dark day he'd learned of the disease lurking inside him, his biggest fear had been the day that he would try to think and find his mind completely blank.
Today, he found himself wishing that day had come upon him.
He was supposed to be working, but he was barely aware of himself, let alone Charlie's entrances and exits, or the files on his desk. All he could think about was Leo.
They had first met over thirty years ago, and there had been no fanfare, no big neon lights to tell him he'd met a soulmate. Their wives had been friends, their children had been friends, and they had known each other in passing.
And, somewhere along the line, that casual acquaintance had grown, until it had become something so powerful he could imagine living without it no better than he could being without Abbey or without one of his children.
So much wasted time... Why hadn't they sat down and talked, that very first night they met? All those years Leo had been Jenny's husband, Mallory's father, Abbey's friend... All those years they'd smiled in passing and exchanged brief pleasantries, and he'd never realised that he was missing out on the friendship he'd been looking for all his life.
Maybe if I'd known you better then, I could have saved you later. Saved you from the bottles, from the pills, from yourself. He knew it wasn't true, but he believed it anyway. Believed it down in his gut, the only place where it mattered.
I wasn't a good enough friend. I was never a good enough friend. And now here I sit in my Oval Office, just waiting - waiting. You're gone, you're missing, I should be tearing the world apart. And what am I doing? I'm sitting here. Waiting. Because I'm the President, and I'm more a prisoner of this office than I ever would be in a jail cell.
He wasn't aware of the door opening, until a meek voice said "Mr. President?" He looked up, and Donna Moss nervously held out a stack of files.
He took them from her, and leafed through them for a second. Then he threw them down angrily. "Dammit, I can't read these. Where are my glasses?"
"Um, Mr. President? They're... on your head." Donna winced as she pointed out the obvious. Jed pulled them down onto his face and glared at her.
"Thank you," he said harshly. She scurried for the exit, and he had to make himself stop her. "Donna." She froze in mid-step and turned around, looking like he had her in his firing sights.
It took every bit of muscle power he had, but Jed forced his face up into a smile of apology. "Donna. I'm sorry."
She answered him with a beam that was blinding even through her obvious sorrow. "That's okay, Mr. President. I get worse from Josh every day."
"He's lucky to have you," he told her, and meant it. An older, more familiar pang of grief ran through him. Oh, Mrs. Landingham, how much I need you now...
Donna smiled again, shyly, and approached the desk again. "Is there anything I can do to help, sir?"
He was amazed anew at the sheer dedication of the staff in this building. Donna had to be more than run off her feet with Josh doing two jobs simultaneously, yet she wouldn't hesitate to offer her assistance. I wonder how big a fit the budget department would throw if I declared a pay rise for everybody in the building?
Jed sighed, and came around the desk to stand with her. "Thank you, Donna. I appreciate that. But the best thing you can be doing now is helping Josh. He needs a lot of support at the moment." Jed looked down at the floor, and sighed again. "We all do."
"Yes, Mr. President." Donna gave him another of those electric smiles. And then, impulsively, she hugged him.
It was a toss-up which one of them was more surprised by the gesture. Donna pulled away from him instantly, and looked utterly shocked by her own audacity. Jed, for his part, couldn't help smiling at her. A real smile... just about the first one he'd had in the last twenty-four hours.
"You should be getting back to Josh," he suggested gently.
"Yes, sir," she agreed, and disappeared out of the room with one last gentle smile.
Jed returned to his desk and sat down. Leo was still missing. Qumar was still hanging on his decision. He still had to make those godawful phonecalls to Jenny and Mallory. Nothing had changed.
And yet, somehow, he felt a little warmer.