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"Good afternoon." Sam walked to the podium with as much confidence as he could muster. He knew many of these journalists, had chatted with them on Air Force One or struck deals and called in favours. But now they were all out for blood. Specifically, his blood.

"As I'm sure you're all aware, some photographs of me were published on Thursday morning, with the result that my current relationship has been making the news. I've called this press conference with the intention of answering any outstanding questions and correcting misinterpretations, in order to get this business out of the way as quickly as possible and return to the business of governing."

Oh, good start, said his internal editor, pointing out that he'd used 'business' twice in one sentence and come off as confrontational. He should have written a prepared statement beforehand - but he hadn't wanted it to look like he was guarding his words. He shouldn't have to be doing that.

Katie Jackson helped him out with a simple first question. "Mr. Seaborn, is it true that you're currently in a homosexual relationship with the other man in those pictures, a Mr. Steven Radcliffe?"

He nodded briskly, determined to look directly into the cameras even though it was next to impossible to figure out where all the different flashes were coming from. "Yes, that's true."

Apparently, that was all he could expect in terms of softballs.

"Mr. Seaborn, given this administration's progressive attitude towards gay rights, why did you feel the need to conceal your sexuality?" He wasn't even sure which reporter had spoken. They were already beginning to blur together into a big blob of journalistic hostility.

"I made no attempt to conceal anything," he insisted.

"But you didn't disclose that you were in a homosexual relationship."

"I didn't - and don't - consider it relevant to the job I do for this administration."

"Not even the administration's position on gay issues?"

"This administration also employs women, but nobody's suggesting that we take their gender into consideration when we look at equal opportunities legislation."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw CJ flash a smile at him. Well, at least that was one question he'd managed to hit right.

"Mr. Seaborn, how long have you been in a relationship with Mr. Radcliffe?"

"A few weeks." The questions were flying so fast now that it was hard to think about them, hard to consider whether they were something he was supposed to brush off or reply to. How did CJ do this every day?

"How did you start dating?"

"We struck up a conversation in a bar," Sam filled in quickly, eager not to make it sound like a one-night stand. "We met on a few consecutive occasions, and then he asked me out."

Kissed me on my doorstep, same difference.

"Do you make a habit of picking up men in bars?"

Oh, who the hell was that? Sam hoped CJ was taking notes, because it was all he could do to keep track of the questions, let alone who was asking them.

"Uh, this would be my first, although I've met a few girls that way." Dammit, dammit, way to bring up Laurie. Idiot. "Steve is the first guy I've dated."

There. See? See? No coverup!

"Mr. Seaborn, would you describe yourself as bisexual?"

"Well, it's not my favourite word, but..." he shrugged. "I guess. I don't... I don't really see any need to stick a label on myself."

"Would you care to comment on the photographs that were published three years ago showing you in the company of a known call-girl?"

Oh, he should have known where that line of questioning was going. He had the sinking feeling that any story which included the words 'bisexual' and 'call-girl' was not going to go a long way towards painting this as a completely innocent and non-sleazy relationship.

Sam hesitated for a beat too long, but CJ was already charging to the rescue. "Mr. Seaborn's comments from that period are already on record," she said, giving him a quick nod and a less-than-subtle nudge to get the hell out of there. "That's the end of the Q and A, folks, and I'd like to remind you before you ask me that the White House does not comment on the personal lives of its staff, but hey, why let that stop you from going ahead and asking me anyway-?"

Under the barrage of camera-flashes, Sam left the room with his head still held high.

And a strong urge to throw up.

"Hey, Sam." Leo stopped the younger man in the corridor and gave him a quick nod. "Good job."

Sam's jaw was tight and he was clearly frustrated; no doubt he was beating himself up for all the things in that press conference which nothing on heaven or earth could have made turn out any better. "That got totally out of control. I should have just read from a prepared statement."

"And looked like you had your cover story all written out? You did fine, Sam. You did great. Your parents'd be proud."

Or not. Leo couldn't miss the way he flinched at that, and cursed himself for bringing Sam's already-fractured family status into it. "Aw, Jeez, Sam, is your dad-?"

"I haven't talked to him," Sam said shortly.

Which meant, presumably, that it was Mrs. Seaborn who wasn't taking her boy's new circumstances exceptionally well. So Sam was on the outs with both of his parents.

"Give it time, Sam," he offered, wishing he could come up with something a little less... lame.

"Yeah. I have to go," Sam said abruptly, and stalked off. Leo would have followed, except Toby intercepted him.

"You wanted to see me?

"Yeah. Come with me." He led Toby back to his office and closed the door. "Hate crimes," he said shortly.

Toby scowled. "Leo-"

"We can't."

"We-"

"You know we can't." He funnelled his frustration over not being able to help Sam into snapping at Toby. "Take on homophobia right now? We just can't do it."

"There's no connection," Toby pointed out. Leo glared at him.

"Of course there's no connection, Toby. Nobody in this building's arguing that anything we want to say about gay issues has to do with Sam. Nobody with half a brain would argue that it has anything to do with Sam. But there are a lot of people out there without half a brain, and unfortunately, a great many of them belong to the United States Congress! We don't want it to look like we outed him for a publicity stunt, we don't want it to look like we're scrambling to back him up to minimise our embarrassment, and we cannot take on hate crimes right now!"

Toby looked him in the eye for an uncomfortably long time, then nodded sharply and turned to go. Leo had to call after him.

"Toby." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Don't tell Sam why we're-"

"He'll know anyway."

Of course he would.

"Yeah."

The door fell closed, and Leo buried his face in his hands.

This was all getting too much. Way too much. First all this stuff with the Healthcare Bill and Josh, and just when it seemed like they were crawling out of that hole, Jed had dropped the bombshell on him. And now Jed was claiming to be fine, but Leo knew him better than that, and he really didn't like the way the president and First Lady were avoiding each other's eyes. He didn't like the feeling that the righteous battle they'd fought with Congress over the MS might not have been so righteous, and he sure as hell didn't like posing himself uncomfortable questions about what he would do if it came down to Jed's health or his presidency. He didn't like the fact that he was supposed to be the president's closest friend, but he was praying like mad that Jed would turn to somebody, anybody else for advice if he had to make that decision.

And as if that wasn't enough to be bouncing endlessly around the inside of his head, everybody else's lives were falling apart too. Here was Sam, caught in the middle of a media vortex just because he'd wanted to follow his heart. And what was Leo supposed to be able to do to help? Nothing. He couldn't chase the press away, couldn't wave a magic wand and fix all the problems Sam had with his family. He snorted wryly at that. Mend other people's families? Like he'd been so successful dealing with his own?

No, the only thing he'd ever been good at was doing his job, and now he couldn't even do that. Their hands were tied at every turn, and he was stuck in charge of enforcing decisions even he couldn't stomach. How could they hope to change the world when they had to fight so hard to simply stay afloat?

And now Sam was going to blame himself for the fact that they couldn't move forward on hate crimes, and Toby was frustrated, and that was bound to get Josh bouncing off the walls, and CJ was already upset about something though he didn't know what...

He didn't know how long he sat that way, doing nothing but chasing depressing thoughts through his head. He wasn't jolted out of it until Margaret knocked and entered.

"Leo? Do you need anything?"

She looked worried. Well, she always did, but his troubled mood over Jed had not gone unnoticed. She wouldn't believe him if he said there was nothing going on, but what could he tell her? If he couldn't fix it, she definitely couldn't, and Margaret was by nature a worrier. She was better off not knowing.

"I'm fine," he lied, and went back to his work.