VI
"CJ?"
CJ slowed her walk momentarily to let Donna Moss catch up with her.
"Is it true one of the hostages downtown is a White House reporter?" Donna asked, obviously concerned.
CJ grimaced. "Looks like it," she admitted.
"Who?"
"Rick Maskey."
Donna looked upset. "I know Rick. He's nice."
"Yes, he is," CJ agreed grimly. One of her reporters, dammit. Bad enough to be unable to help when they were at the mercy of mercenary guerrillas somewhere halfway across the globe, but this...
She changed mental gears. "The police are negotiating with the guy - Rick'll be fine," she insisted firmly, as if confidence could guarantee it. "So what can I do for you, Donna? Do you need anything?"
"Uh, no." Donna pulled a slightly sheepish face. "I'm sort of avoiding answering the phones."
CJ raised an eyebrow. "Josh stepping on Congressional toes?"
"What? Oh, no. No." Donna gave a tentative smile. "He's got nine of the votes we need on Healthcare," she offered brightly.
CJ came to a stop. "Nine?" she asked ecstatically.
"Yeah."
"As in nine of the desired eleven? As in- some percentage that's a little bit more than eighty, which if I was the president I would probably work out in my head, but since I'm not I won't bother to do the math?"
She grinned and nodded. "Yeah."
"We're really gonna pass this thing?" CJ said delightedly.
Donna's smile became a little more wobbly. "Hopefully," she hedged.
"Ten and eleven's the bummer," CJ surmised.
"Boy howdy."
"So who are you ducking, if you're not ducking angry Congressmen?"
Donna pulled a face. "Okay, CJ, I know this is totally, totally the wrong time for this, but you wouldn't happen to have any advice for putting off well-meaning parents?"
"Your parents?"
"My mother. It's my birthday next Friday, and she's been calling up to give me... encouraging chats." Donna wrinkled her nose at the thought.
CJ shot her a look. "Not the 'We're Very Proud, You've Got a Marvellous Career, and By the Way Why Aren't You Married Yet?' talk?"
"The very same." Donna nodded emphatically.
CJ sighed. "I know it well."
"So what would you suggest I do?"
"Change your telephone number," she said briskly. "Get a fake passport. Move to Mexico."
"Thanks for that," Donna said dryly.
"No problem."
They split off and went their separate ways.
"Leo." CJ ducked into his office, and he held up a finger as he listened to somebody on the other end of the phone.
"Okay, thanks." He looked up at her, cradling the phone against his shoulder. "CJ."
"Leo, it looks like one of our hostages might be-"
"A member of the press pool," he nodded. "I saw the briefing."
"Leo-"
"Hold on a second." He grabbed a small pad and scribbled something down as he listened.
"Leo, losing a reporter is something I'd really rather not do," she said warningly.
"The FBI are negotiating," he told her. "We're gonna see if this guy's willing to let your reporter be a go-between."
"Is this gonna put him in more danger?" she asked sharply.
Leo shook his head. "This guy's out to get the government. So far as he's concerned, the press are his friends."
"How sure are you of that?" CJ demanded. Leo grimaced, then shrugged.
"Relatively."
She sighed. "Leo..."
"It's a better shot than anything else we've got," he told her. She made to speak and he cut her off with a quick gesture. "Okay," he said into the phone. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll hold. We've got a guy on the scene," he told CJ. "I'm finding out what's going on."
"Okay." She hovered hesitantly. "You mind if I wait?"
He tipped his head towards the chair in invitation. "Could be a while," he warned. "This guy's pretty much setting his own timeframe."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for a few moments.
CJ looked at Leo. "Some guy just walks into a downtown gym and whips out a gun?"
"Yeah."
She shook her head slowly. More gun crime. And yet, as they all knew from experience by now, no matter how this turned out Americans would be no more inclined to equate gun crimes with regulating gun ownership than before.
Crazy way to run a country.
After a moment, she said "Donna says we've got nine of the votes on Healthcare."
"Yeah, it's the other two that are gonna hurt," Leo nodded.
"Yeah."
They continued to wait.
"Hey, Donna."
"Oh, hi, Sam." She smiled up at him, fingers still flying over the keyboard at a million miles a minute. "Do you need Josh? 'Cuz he's still-"
"No, it's okay." He held up a hand to forestall her. "Just wondered if he needed anything."
"I don't think so. He's kicking Congressional ass right now, he's pretty much happy as a clam."
"Yeah." Sam sighed, and perched on the edge of her desk. It was late, but Josh's bullpen was still bustling, staffers running about compiling information on just about every Congressman Josh had ever met.
"Looking for something to do?" Donna asked.
"Toby's got his teeth in another of my drafts," Sam explained. "I figured the best way to preserve my sanity was to just stop watching."
"I think Toby's got a problem," Donna sympathised.
"Maybe." Sam looked unconvinced. He sighed again. "Maybe it's me. Maybe I've lost my... something."
"Well, if you get your something back, could you maybe write me a position paper?" asked Donna hopefully.
Sam wrinkled his forehead in a frown. "What kind of a position paper?"
"The kind that lays out for my mother that my job is actually quite important, I'm not gonna get infected by all the politics flying around and become evil, and I'm nearly positive that I'll still be able to find someone to marry by the time I'm a ripe old maid of thirty-five."
"Yeah." Sam smiled softly. "Yeah, I don't think I can help you there." He rubbed his forehead and stood up. "I need a drink."
"Sam." Donna gave him a concerned look. "You shouldn't go out drinking on your own."
"Why not?" he demanded, a little more aggressively than he'd intended.
"'Cause you're-" She hesitated, and amended whatever she'd been planning to say. "'Cause you've lost your something." She offered him a tentative smile.
"And I won't find it at the bottom of a pint glass?" he completed wryly.
"Well, I can't speak for speechwriting, but I gotta say being drunk plays hell with my typing."
"Typing under the influence?" He smirked, but there was a desperately weary edge even to his amusement.
"Hell, I type in my sleep." Donna smiled at him. "I woke up one morning and found I'd typed six pages of briefing notes on the GDC. I wouldn't even have minded, if I hadn't done the exact same work the day before when I was awake."
"Yeah." Sam smiled wryly. "I don't suppose it matters. We're going round in circles anyway."
"CJ and Leo are trying to get the hostages freed using the reporter as a go-between," Donna offered, because she wasn't quite sure what to do with this new, resigned, tired-looking Sam.
He smiled harshly. "Yeah. Yet another thing I can't do anything to help with." He sighed once more, and got up to go. Donna had to call out after him.
"Sam." He turned back, and she gave him a taste of one of her guilt-faces that always worked so well on Josh. "Don't go out and get drunk on your own, okay?"
He hesitated, and then smiled tiredly. "Okay," he promised.
She stared worriedly after him for a long time once he'd gone.
Sam strolled back into the bar, and smiled as he recognised a familiar blond head at a corner table. He dropped into the seat across from his drinking buddy of the previous night.
Steve blinked in surprise, and then smiled. "Hey, it's the prodigal politician," he said brightly. "Still contributing to the downfall of society?"
Sam couldn't help grinning back. Steve seemed completely cheerful and carefree; something neither he, nor any of his coworkers had been for a long, long time. "Oh, I'm doing my best."
"Cool." The young man sipped his beer, and Sam eyed it for a moment.
"I promised a friend I wouldn't go out on my own and get drunk," he admitted. Steve shrugged fluidly.
"Well, what am I, chopped liver?"
Sam's heart already felt lighter. "Yeah," he grinned, and gestured towards the bar. "I'm gonna go get a beer."
Beer, peace and quiet, and the company of somebody who wasn't run into ground by terminal depression and didn't give a damn what the nosecount was on Friday's Healthcare Bill. Just what the doctor ordered.