XIII

"Donnatella!"

Why couldn't the earth swallow you up when you wanted it to?

"Hi, mom!" she smiled falsely. "Welcome to the White House."

Her mother seemed typically disgusted with the level of bustling activity going on all around them, and Joletta was wide-eyed with intimidation. Donna took some measure of satisfaction from the knowledge that her sister would probably collapse with a nervous breakdown after five minutes of doing her job, but only a small amount. It was her snooty older sister, Alexia, who needed taking down a few pegs. Joletta was just... sad. Donna wished she could find some way to imbue her middle sister with a backbone, but it had taken her long enough to wake up and find her own.

I could've ended up like that...

If she'd caved to her mother's wishes years ago, it might have been her and the infamous Dr. Freeride locked together in the same sort of parasitical relationship her sister had with the awful Mike.

If she held onto that thought, maybe, just maybe, she could make it through the day with her soul intact.

She led her family to the area where she worked. "Okay, this is my desk, that's Josh's bullpen, that's Ed and that's Larry-"

"Hi, Donna."

"Hey, Donna."

"-Or possibly the other way round," she admitted with a shrug. "This is Josh's office-"

Mike stuck his head inside, and sneered. "My office back at the company is much bigger than this."

Donna rolled her eyes. "This is the West Wing, Mike. Other than the one up the hall that's big and Oval, they're pretty much all like this."

Her mother sniffed, loudly. "Disgraceful state the man keeps his desk in. Honestly, how can he possibly find anything in that chaos?"

That was one of Donna's own favourite refrains, but right now she'd die before she admitted it. "Josh is a very busy man, mom. He knows where to find things when he needs them."

Okay, now she was lying through her teeth. Her family were turning her into a moral vacuum.

And there was no end in sight. Donna prayed hastily for Josh to return from his meetings with something vitally urgent for her to do.

Or, failing that, a quick and painless death would do in a pinch.

"Sam. You wanted to see me?" Leo nodded at the young Deputy Communications Director, his attention still largely focused on his work.

Sam hovered awkwardly. "Um, yeah," he said.

After a few moments of silence, Leo abruptly straightened up and put his glasses aside. "What is it, Sam?" he asked, slightly impatient.

"I, um, I just wanted to give you a heads up on-"

"Spit it out, Sam," he suggested, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. What now?

Sam brushed his hair back from his forehead nervously. "Okay. Yeah. I just wanted you to know that I'm in, I'm in a relationship which could possibly be, um, construed as-"

Leo gave him a sharp look. "Is this Mallory?" he said dangerously. He thought that little bad idea had been blown out of the water long ago.

Not that the idea of Sam Seaborn dating his only daughter was necessarily such a terrible thing. In theory. Sam was a good kid.

In practise, however... hell, no. Not on his watch.

But the excessive amount of foot-shuffling going on suggested that this was a bigger thing for him to swallow than even that. Not the call-girl? No, not even Sam would... "Then who?" he demanded.

Sam gulped, and looked at the floor. Then he made himself straighten up and look Leo in the eye, almost challengingly. "His name is Steven Radcliffe," he said firmly.

Aw, hell.

Leo heaved a very heavy sigh, and rested his head in his hands. It was gonna be one of those days.

"Leo?" Sam said hesitantly, after a moment. He raised his head.

"Who knows about this?" he asked briskly.

"Me, Steve, CJ, Toby," Sam answered promptly. "Also possibly Katie Jackson."

"Katie- the reporter Katie Jackson?" His headache was suddenly a hell of a lot larger.

"She happened to know Steve personally and saw me with him, so she asked CJ if I was dating him."

"And what did CJ say?"

"CJ said she had no idea, 'cause at the time, CJ had no idea."

"And what happens when-"

"Katie's not gonna make this a thing," Sam said firmly.

"Maybe not, Sam, but somebody's gonna make this a thing," Leo said pointedly.

"I understand that, Leo, but-"

"Do you?" he snapped. Then he rubbed his forehead, and sighed. "Sam..."

"Leo, I understand that this could get nasty," Sam said softly. "Steve understands that this could get nasty. But this is... I'm not prepared to give this up."

"Okay." Leo had made plenty of personal sacrifices for his job; but he could not, in good conscience, ever ask anybody else to do the same. Sam stood before him, head held high, the picture of the white knight ready to go into battle for what he thought was right.

You couldn't knock that. In times like these, you just couldn't knock that. It was something too precious to smash, no matter what nightmare political consequences it might bring.

Sam was young, single and unattached, and it was okay to be gay. There was absolutely no reason why this should be a thing.

But what did reason ever have to do with it?

"We can't take another coverup, Sam," Leo told him. "Whatever else happens... we can't take that."

"There's not gonna be a coverup," Sam said firmly. He nodded his head slowly, and added "I'm taking my cue from Toby."

Leo gave him a sardonic look. "Toby has a boyfriend now?"

Sam gave him a small smile in return. "Toby says we've gotta stop caring about what things look like, and just do what we know is right."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." Leo slid his glasses back on and contemplated for a beat. "You don't lie, you don't hide, you don't sneak around. But you don't make any announcement, and you don't go around telling everybody who'll stand still long enough."

"Don't ask, don't tell?" said Sam dryly, raising an eyebrow.

"They ask, you tell," Leo said firmly. "And they will ask, sooner or later." 'The truth will out', so they said, and never was that truer than in a town full of politicians and reporters. "But until then, you just... do what you do."

Sam nodded, and then shrugged at him. "Leo, I just... I just have to be who I am."

Leo glared at him over the top of his glasses. "What is this, a Broadway musical? Get out," he ordered. Sam smirked, and did as commanded.

But when he was at the door, Leo had to call him back. "Sam?" The younger man turned to look at him, and he gave a single, pointed nod. "Okay."

Sam flashed him a brilliant grin in return. "Okay."

The president appeared in Leo's doorway. "You were talking with Sam?"

"Yeah," he nodded, shuffling paperwork on his desk.

The president gave him a sharp look. "Anything I should know about?"

Leo looked up and met his eyes. "Sam'll tell you, if and when," he assured him.

"Okay."

The president hovered, seemingly at a loose end for something to do. Leo watched him for a few moments, then put his glasses aside and folded his arms. "Are you nervous about the First Lady coming home this afternoon?" he demanded.

"No!" said the president, too defensively, slipping his hands into his pockets. Leo rolled his eyes.

"Okay, what did you do?"

"Nothing!" He quickly and blatantly changed the subject. "Is there anything happening? Something I should be doing?"

"Running the country, possibly?" The president gave him a look, and Leo shrugged. "Seriously, there's not a lot we need your input on right now. Josh is taking some meetings about the Peterson thing, Sam and Toby are cutting an early draft for this thing in two weeks' time, and CJ's getting our new mission statement out to the press."

"We have a new mission?"

"Yeah."

"And nobody thought to inform me?"

"We didn't think you needed to know," Leo said. "Oh, and it's Donna's birthday," he added. The president tilted his head.

"Our Donna?"

"Yeah."

He nodded slowly. "Okay, I'm gonna go-"

"Embarrass her hugely in front of her friends and family?" he guessed.

"Her family are here? Bonus!" said the president cheerfully. Leo watched him go, shaking his head.