VI

"Josh?"

Charlie's sudden voice startled him, and he banged his head on the desk.

"Ow." He sat up and rubbed his head miserably. Charlie smirked.

"What were you just doing down there?"

"Putting my shoes on... Charlie!" He stood up. "What are you doing here? I thought you didn't start back until Monday? Do you need me to sort something out for you? If you don't want to work full hours that's okay, I know-"

"Actually I'm gonna be here most of tomorrow... I wanted to ask you something." Charlie seemed awkward, not quite sure what to do with himself; Josh came around the front of his desk to sit on the edge of it and regard him seriously.

"What can I do for you, Charlie?" The brutal bruises were gone from Charlie's face, but from the stiff way he was carrying himself his ribs were still causing him some pain. Josh could sympathise; even now, three years on when it was supposed to be all in his head, the twinges from his chest could keep him up at night.

"Are you busy?"

"Well, I've got to go kick the ass of the entire US military but, you know, Donna went home."

"So you're taking a rain-check on that?"

"Just 'til tomorrow." He leaned forward. "What is it, Charlie?" He wondered if he was going to be asked about his own recovery from the shooting - and whether he'd know how to answer it if he did. It was still a dark and complicated corner of his recollection, a nest of dangerously vivid memories he preferred not to revisit.

But that wasn't what Charlie wanted to talk about.

"Okay, I need to ask you a favour that's probably going to freak you out."

"Okay...?" he accepted tentatively.

"I want you to be my best man."

He choked.

"Yeah, I thought you might do that," Charlie noted dryly.

"Charlie, I, I- Me?"

"Is there somebody else in this room?"

"Well, you could be talking to the walls," Josh noted, "'cause you're obviously delirious. Charlie, I, I'm not- I can't be your best man."

"Why not?" he asked mildly.

"Because I'm not-" He cut himself off. "What about Sam? You could ask Sam. Sam would be good."

Charlie grinned and shook his head. "Yeah, Sam would be good. I'm asking you."

"Charlie, I'm not..." He rubbed his forehead. "Seriously, I'm not best man material. You should ask somebody who, I don't know, who-"

"Josh." Charlie looked him in the eye. "I didn't pull your name out of the air, okay? I've thought about it. And I picked you. I want you to do it. Now, are you turning me down?"

"No," he said quietly.

"Good." Charlie straightened up and turned to go. He hesitated in the doorway. "You put me where I am, Josh. I haven't forgotten that."

Josh met his eyes, and heard the phantom howl of sirens. "Most people wouldn't expect you to thank me for that."

"And most people would be wrong." He smiled. "Goodnight, Josh."

"Goodnight, Charlie."

After he was gone, Josh leaned back against his desk and stared into space for a while.

There was a light under Leo's office door. Jed stood in the darkened corridor and contemplated it for a moment. He thought perhaps he was searching for a metaphor, but it wouldn't quite come together.

Leo was here. Leo was shut away in his office. And something was very, very wrong.

He'd been so preoccupied with his own traumas that he worried it how long it might have gone without him noticing. The fear over his MS; the adjustment to all the rules and restrictions of his new lifestyle; concern over Charlie; a hate crimes bill to craft and shepherd through Congressional hurdles. And somewhere in the middle of that, something had changed with Leo, and it had slipped through the cracks.

He knocked.

There was no response, but he went in anyway. Leo was half dozing over his desk, but he leapt to attention as Jed entered. He hated that. He wanted very much to talk with Leo, just the two of them, and he couldn't do it. There were always three of them in any given room now; him and Leo and the presidency; an awkward, uninvited guest to muscle in on any attempt at intimacy.

"Sir?" he queried tiredly. His face was lined with weariness; Leo had always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but lately it seemed like the world had got a whole lot heavier.

"You shouldn't be here, Leo. Go home, get some rest."

Leo gave a wry little smile that made Jed feel like there was some bitter little private joke he wasn't in on. Then the expression cleared, and he just said "I'm just finishing up on the-"

"Leo... what's wrong?" He was surprised at his own words, and by the nakedly pleading quality in his voice. This had gone on long enough. He needed to know. He needed his oldest and closest friend to let him in.

Leo sat back in his chair and pushed back his glasses with a frown. "Mr. President-?"

"Oh, don't give me that crap," he snapped angrily. "Leo, I'm not blind. And I'm your friend. Talk to me."

He wished the glasses weren't there to place an extra layer of insulation between him and Leo's eyes. For a second he thought he could see something, hesitation and misery and an aching pain that made him want to cry. And then it was gone, and damn him for knowing how to be inscrutable.

Leo stood up and straightened the papers on his desk, and every trace of his old friend was buried behind the face of the Chief of Staff.

"It can wait until morning," he conceded, but Jed knew he was talking about his work and not his secrets. "I'll go home."

"Leo..." But he didn't know how to finish that, and Leo just gave him a brisk nod and walked away.

Jed remained behind in his office, miserably wondering what could be so bad that his old friend wouldn't talk to him. It was so like Leo to try to shield him from his personal problems... didn't he realise that seeing him suffer was a million times worse than dealing with any trial, however complicated?

He was patting his pockets for a good long while before he realised he was searching for cigarettes that weren't there.

"Hey." Abbey smiled at her husband as he came and sat down on the bed in the Residence, tiredly loosening his tie.

"Hey." He smiled back fondly as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, but his eyes were sad. She slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his shoulder.

"Jed, what's wrong?" she asked gently.

He sighed. "I don't know. There's... I think there's something wrong with Leo."

Abbey frowned. "What kind of something?"

He could only shrug. "I don't know," he repeated. "I really don't. And he won't..." He made a frustrated gesture.

"Give him time, Jed," she counselled. "You know Leo. He doesn't open up easily about anything. He'll come to you sooner or later, honey, you're his best friend."

"But I want to help him now." His blue eyes were flooded with the innocent distress of a child wanting the world to make itself simpler. It tugged her heart, and she smoothed back a strand of his hair and smiled gently.

"Leo loves you, Jed. Give him time."

"Yeah." He sighed again, heavily, and Abbey gave him a playful squeeze.

"So..." she began tauntingly. "What's all this I hear about you being the president of sex?"

It produced the desired effect, and the edges of a grin began to unfold across his features. "Yeah, I heard about that. I've been wondering all day what my official duties are."

"I think it's mostly a ceremonial position," she said dryly.

The grin escaped into a full-fledged smirk. "Well, I'm not sure I agree with that," he said, in the kind of low, rumbly voice that made it very pleasant indeed to be pressed close enough to his chest to feel it. "I believe in practising what I preach."

"Do you now?" He was leaning towards her, and she was leaning away.

"It seems to me that as the president, I really ought to set a good example for my people."

She looked at him pointedly. "In that case, you'd better get some practise in, hadn't you?"

"Oh, I think so."

He captured her for a kiss, and for a while the weight of concern and responsibility was forgotten.