IV

"CJ." Leo looked up, but held up a finger to forestall the hovering press secretary as he listened to the phone cradled against his neck. "Okay. Okay, Jim. Thank you." He hung up.

"What's happening?" asked CJ, with an inquisitive eyebrow.

Leo grimaced. "Hostage situation."

"Where?"

"Downtown."

"Here downtown?" Her eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah. From what we can gather, it's a single gunman holed up in a gym."

"A gym?"

"Yeah. Apparently he's been there since quite early this morning. Odds are good he's got a couple of Congressmen in there."

CJ winced. "What's he after? Lower membership fees?"

Leo shrugged. "There's been no contact with the guy inside so far. No demands, and we're not too sure of the condition of the hostages."

CJ rubbed her forehead gingerly. "Leo, any chance this guy belongs to some kind of fringe group, or-?"

"Cops on the scene don't think this guy's a terrorist. He's operating alone, and if he's got pre-planned demands, he's taking his own sweet time issuing them. Until we hear different, we're working under the assumption that he's just-"

"Your average, everyday nut," CJ completed.

"Yeah."

"Strangely, I feel less than reassured."

"Uh-huh," he nodded. "Press have already got wind of it, so you might as well keep 'em informed. Carol should be getting the details through any minute."

"Okay. Thanks." CJ headed back to her office with a heavy sigh. So much for the morning she'd planned keeping a close eye on Josh's vote-grabbing machinations.

"Charlie, has he got a minute?" Charlie looked up at Leo's approach.

"Uh, yeah, sure, he's got a ten-minute gap before his next meeting." He stuck his head in the Oval Office door, and frowned a little as he saw the president slumped down in his chair. He looked tired; not at all uncommon these days. Still, attempting to suggest he get more rest wouldn't get him anything more than a presidential sulking session. "Mr. President? Leo."

"Thank you, Charlie." It was impossible to miss the way the president winced as he pushed himself to his feet.

"Sir, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He waved his young aide's concern away, even as he absent-mindedly rubbed his back. "Just a little stiff."

"Would you like me to get your back pills for you, sir, or-?"

"I'm fine, Charlie," he insisted a little more firmly. Largely unconvinced, Charlie withdrew, and Leo took his place in the doorway.

"Ah, Leo. What's up?" It didn't take a Nobel Prize winner to read the lines of concern in the Chief of Staff's face - not that Leo ever exhibited much else.

"We got a hostage situation in a gym downtown. Kid with a pistol's got the place sealed off - we think he's got a couple of Congressmen in there with him."

"Ah, hell." The president rubbed his face. "Politically motivated?"

Leo could only shrug. "He hasn't released any demands so far. Doesn't look like he's affiliated with any kind of terrorist group, but-"

"That doesn't mean he doesn't have a grudge against - who knows? The latest tax hike on tobacco sales," the president completed.

"Yeah."

"The press?"

Leo pulled a face. "Odds are they already know. CJ's gonna put it out in the briefing - better that than get a question out of left-field."

"Okay." The president nodded. "What about Healthcare? We're putting our weight behind it?"

Leo shrugged. "Josh says he can drag it through. We're playing it 'cautiously optimistic', not beating the drums, but still..."

"We'll take a hit if it doesn't go through." It wasn't really a question; the Healthcare Bill was the latest in a depressingly long line of political manoeuvres that had just refused to go right for them. Ever since the frighteningly narrow margins of reelection, getting any legislation passed had been a political nightmare.

"We're bleeding credibility, and there are a hell of a lot of sharks circling right now," Leo agreed. The president shot him a look.

"Well, thanks for comparing me to a harpooned whale, there, Leo."

Leo said nothing, but managed to flavour the ensuing silence with a well-placed smirk. The president pointed a warning finger at him. "And don't think I can't see you trying to find a way to work the word 'blubber' into the conversation."

Leo's grin widened. "Wouldn't dream of it, Mr. President."

"Get out."

"Yes, sir."

"Donna!"

Donna spun around in her chair, and launched a file folder through the open office door into Josh's lap before swivelling back to the computer.

"Ow." There was a blessed moment of silence while Josh rifled through its pages, then- "Donna! I need-"

Another folder zipped through the air the way of the first. Donna extended her feet to brake the spinning chair, barely missing a beat in her typing.

The phone suddenly started to bleat. Josh leapt to his feet and stuck his head through the doorway urgently. "Wooden, Zantowsky, Reeseman, I'll take. O'Bannon, LeBrandt, Burns, I'll call back. If it's Tavestock, I've left the country."

Donna gave him a distracted nod and cradled the telephone against her cheek. "Josh Lyman's office. Yes. Okay. Thank you. Mmm-hmm. Yes, I'll tell him." She spun to give Josh a quiet thumbs up, and he pumped his fists in a ridiculously macho victory pose. "Thank you." Donna put the phone down.

"Zantowsky?" he asked hopefully.

"Kendall."

"Kendall? I didn't even call Kendall. That's seven!" He battered the back of her chair with his hands in a quick victory tattoo. "We're gonna get this, Donna. Get on the phone to Brays, Bradley, Peterson, Hendricks, Gaveney, Juliard- oh, and I'm gonna need the file on 704, and the Heathers farming subsidies initiative." He clicked his fingers. "Oh, and-"

Donna stood up, and glared at him. "Okay, that's it. I'm declaring lunch."

He blinked at her. "You're what?"

"Declaring lunch." She pointed at the floor, and drew an invisible circle around herself in the air. "See this? This section of the room is now on lunch break."

"You can't take lunch," Josh objected, pouting.

"Actually, I can. You're legally obligated to provide me with it."

"I have to make you lunch?"

"No, 'cuz that would probably kill me. You're just not allowed to prevent me from getting it."

"It's not your lunch hour."

"Oh, that's right." Donna put her hands on her hips. "I do believe my lunch hour is, in fact, two and a half hours ago."

"Donna." He tried it on with the 'look at me, I'm overworking myself' puppy-dog eyes. "We really don't have much time on this."

Donna softened, but refused to give in. "I know that, Josh. But trust me, this is more efficient."

"How?" he demanded.

"From a point of view of; if I kill you, the chances of you talking anybody else into voting our way are pretty slim."

"You know, I'm fairly sure we can have you taken out and shot for threatening the life of a superior."

"Josh, we're not in the navy."

"No, 'cuz if we were in the navy, you'd have to do what I say. Plus, you'd be wearing a uniform, and one of those cute little hats."

Donna snorted. "Hats, Josh?"

He waved a hand vaguely. "You know. Those hats. That navy people wear. Unless they're army people."

She gave him a look. "I'm going, Josh." She grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair and turned away.

"Twelve minutes!" he called after her.

"It's my birthday!" she objected.

"Your birthday period extends over the two weeks before the anniversary of your birth?"

"And two weeks after. 'Cuz I'm special like that."

Josh grinned. "And does this period of celebration have a name? Donnataleia, perhaps?"

She pointed an accusing finger at him. "Don't mock the birthday, Josh."

He looked innocent. "Wouldn't dream of it. So tell me, is there anything special I should be doing to mark this period of festivity?"

"You could bow down and worship me every morning and evening," Donna suggested.

Josh gave her his best dazzling smile. "I do that already."

It was impossible not to grin back - but she was nobody's fool. "I'm still taking a half hour, Josh."

"Dammit." He pouted, then went back into his office.