Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247
Webpage: http:// wing_nuts.tripod.com
Note: We did it again. Changed the title on you. Couldn't be avoided. Policy shift at the last minute split the chapter in half--not unlike election results in Ellie's home district last Tuesday. "Follow the Leader" will follow shortly... very shortly. Think of it like this year's election of Bartlet. There was just too much to put into one chapter.
*****************
Chief of Staff's Office
Saturday morning
30 minutes later
"Margaret!"
She hurried on wobbly knees into the Chief of Staff's office to answer the summons. She felt detached from her body and out of synch with time. It had only been 20 minutes since Sam's call sent her morning into a tailspin. There had been few details given; the staff was waiting for more information and an explanation from Sam who was still at the hospital.
"Mar...," Josh started again as he made his way toward the door and was met by the harried staffer. "Oh, you're here. Get the whatever senior staff members are in the building here now. At the absolute least, I need Toby and CJ... and find Ed. Bruno's under a rock some place so poke him with a stick and get him here, too. I need the agenda for the day and..."
"You mean Leo's agenda?"
"It's mine now," Josh said turning his back and moving toward the desk. "Yeah, and you're gonna have to get the guys from legislative liaison here--quietly. I need the last briefing that I wrote about the nose count and.... Uh, Margaret, are you listening?"
"No," she answered with a quavering voice. "I... I know that there is still work to be done, but I... It doesn't seem right. Just going about business like.... We don't even know what happened."
"Life is like that," Josh said flatly. "I know you're..."
"I'm not," she said unconvincingly. "I'm not scared or worried. Leo is..."
"He's not here and he's not going to be here," Josh said, finding some middle ground with his words. "Margaret, Sam is going to call any moment with an update. I need everything else I just asked for to be done by then so I can take Sam's call and make some decisions immediately."
"Why aren't you going to the hospital?"
"Because my job is here," Josh said trying to sound professional rather than cold. From her expression, he had failed. "As soon as I know something, I'm meeting with the President. I need our people here so we can deal with this."
"Okay," Margaret said with a slow nod. "Did anyone call Mallory?"
"I suppose Sam did," Josh said, searching for a folder on Leo's desk. "He's the kind who would think of stuff like that."
"If he hasn't?"
"Then you should, but only after you get me the..."
I just...," Margaret interrupted. "For a while now, more than a week at least, I thought something was wrong. I mean, I sensed it, but I thought maybe I was just being me. He hates it when people pry and I remember when he... I just didn't know that he... Do you think that the President is going to..."
"You didn't do anything wrong," Josh said solemnly. "If there were signs of what was going on, we all missed them because he probably hid them. We don't have the time to do post game on this right now. I need you to just do your job."
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"What I always do," Josh sighed. "Worry about the President and figure out what's going to happen in the next room."
"What about Leo?"
"That's out of my hands," he said firmly.
She nodded again and started to walk to her desk then suddenly turned.
"I know my job, but it's hard not to think the worst is all I'm saying," Margaret said passionately with a misty glaze on her eyes. "He's not as strong as he makes people believe."
"None of us are," Josh replied and lifted the phone to call Sam.
*****************
9 p.m. that evening
Amy Gardner wandered into the office from the oddly quiet corridor. She had entered the building with Toby, having spent the afternoon assisting him with discussions among the Illinois and Washington delegations. He had filled her in on the morning''s events. She asked to go back to the White House with him.
"Do you grow mushrooms in here?" she asked as she stood in the doorway and peered at Josh who was sitting in near darkness as he stared at a blank computer screen.
"I'm sorry?" he said, breaking from his trance to see her.
"Your mother says you're more at home in the dark than in the light," Amy said entering his layer. "She calls you her little mushroom boy."
"She does not," he defended in an exhausted voice.
"Not to your face," Amy agreed. "You didn't eat yet, did you?"
Josh shook his head and looked at his watch for the first time in hours. The day had flown by. His meeting with the President had realigned the structure of the office, spreading the burden of the Chief of Staff's tasks among the rest of the staff. The majority of them had fallen to Josh. He would be spared any high level national security matters but little else.
"Yeah, I think you need to take me to dinner," Amy said, grabbing his coat from the coat rack in the corner.
"I need to take you?" he shook his head. "Even if it that was true, I can't."
"Yeah, but you're going to anyway," she replied, tossing the overcoat to him. "I could have the First Lady order you in person or you can just take my word that she told me to do this. You've gotta get out of this building, Josh. Nothing more for you to do now."
"Yeah," he nodded and sighed.
Reluctantly, he stood and put on his coat. He turned off his computer and walked on stiffened legs to join her. They walked down the hall toward the lobby in virtual silence. She looped her arm through his and shook her head.
"You're too tired to fight it," she said. "So just talk to me and tell me what's going on. If you say you're fine, I swear to god I'll break your jaw. So talk."
*****************
George Washington University Hospital
9:30 p.m.
The agents walked, nearly shoulder to shoulder, enshrouding the President. There was no sound as he took the long walk down this corridor. The area had been swept and secured. There was no sign of life outside of his protection detail. Bartlet walked with quick steps, his hands dug deep into his pockets; his head was bowed slightly as heavy thoughts filled his brain.
He paused at the door and hesitated before entering. This was going to be the perfect ending to a tumultuous day. He placed his hand on the door handle and started to enter.
"Mallory, it's my phone so just give it to me," Leo argued as the President entered the room. "Ah, there. Mr. President."
"Don't get up," Bartlet waved him off as he watched his friend struggle in the hospital bed.
"I will get up," Leo announced as he struggled with the bed sheets. "I'm leaving, too. There's nothing in these IVs but water."
"That's because you're dehydrated, Daddy," Mallory said placing a warning hand on his shoulder. "You have a 101 degree fever..."
"Doesn't mean anything," Leo said, ceasing his escape attempt.
"You collapsed," she continued.
"I merely stumbled a little, and those floor were wet," Leo argued.
"And the x-rays they did show you have pneumonia," she finished planting her hands firmly on her hips. "You're staying here if I have to handcuff you to the bed. Mr. President, order him to stay here."
"You can't give the President an order, Mallory," Leo scolded her. "He doesn't work for you."
"Technically, I do," Bartlet grinned. "So, I'll do as she said, and so should you. You're staying here, Leo. That's an order. If you won't take one from me, and I know you will, but if you won't, my wife will be by to see you. These doctor's hang together. They're like a gang so I'd just do what they say for a while. Mallory, how are you?"
"When Sam first called, I was a wreck," she said. "Now that's Daddy's giving people orders and lost all his manners, I feel much better."
"She won't give me a phone," Leo said. "Tell her I at least need my phone. She had them remove the one here in the room and now she's taken my cellphone hostage."
"I don't know that you can take an inanimate object hostage," Bartlet pondered.
"Mr. President, I'll leave you to deal with him," Mallory said with a relieved sigh. "I'm going to the cafeteria for some coffee. Daddy, behave or I'll see that you only get lime Jell-O for dessert."
The Chief of Staff's daughter grinned and offered a cheery wave to the President upon departing, showing her father that she had taken possession of the battery of his cellphone. Leo grimaced at her then shook his head. He vowed he'd find either a way out or a way to get his communication network back shortly.
"Pneumonia?" Bartlet remarked. "That's an old man's disease."
"I'm an old man," Leo said.
"Yeah, but not that old," Bartlet said, sitting in the chair beside the bed. "Remember, we're almost the same age."
"I'd ask you to switch places, but all things considered...."
"Yeah, we cover up my health crisises much better than yours," Bartlet grinned. "Why didn't you say something? If you weren't feeling well, you should have take some time off to take care of yourself."
"Wasn't time," Leo said. "Besides, you know these doctors. They make a little thing like pneumonia sound serious, and it's not real pneumonia, by the way. It's walking pneumonia."
"Yeah, the mobile kind is the cool kind," Bartlet nodded.
Leo nodded then sighed. The next part of the discussion was the part that he had been working on since the moment Sam left him in the doctor's care. Their nearly impossible mission had possibly just gotten harder and it was Leo's fault.
*****************
9:40 p.m.
Josh pushed the noodles around in his plate. He didn't want to eat. He didn't want to talk, either, but Amy had a way that made not talking more difficult than saying what he didn't want to say.
"It's understandable that it scared you," she sympathized from across the table.
"I wasn't scared," he said. "Angry, maybe."
"You weren't scared?" Amy scoffed. "Josh, you got word that your mentor and one of the men you revere collapsed and... How did that not scare you? Toby said for a little while, before anyone had information, people thought Leo had had a stroke or might die. That didn't scare you?"
Josh shook his head. He had harbored a secret belief that Leo would never die.
"Well, look at everything that's just fallen on your shoulders," she continued. "That doesn't scare you? You went from Leo's deputy to the guy in charge. That's a hell of a promotion at a time like this. That has to be daunting. Even I'd be a little trepidatious."
"You're not me," he said, pushing his plate away.
"Okay, your macho thing doesn't really work on anyone, Josh," Amy informed him.
"I wasn't doing a thing," he said honestly. "I've been here before. I don't like it, but it's not unfamiliar territory."
"What do you mean?" she asked. "Leo's never been sick enough or crazy enough to leave you in charge for kicks."
"I didn't mean Leo," Josh said as he stood and prepared to leave. "Thanks for dinner. It looked edible."
"Josh?" Amy halted him. "What did you mean?"
"A long, long time ago," he said as he pulled on his coat. "I didn't like it, but I didn't have a choice. Life throws a pretty nasty curve ball from time to time."
Amy looked at him compassionately and knew he wasn't referring to politics. She knew some parts of him were so frail they were on the verge of breaking at anytime and other parts of him so strong there was no force in the universe that could make them crack. She knew why he was that way. It pained her as much as it intrigued her. And it was those very traits she found the most irresistible in him.
"Leo's gonna be okay, Honey," she promised him.
"I know," Josh nodded.
"If you need anything," she offered.
Josh looked at her through a mix of emotions: fear, exhaustion, curiosity. He nodded again wondering if she was another of those pitches he was facing. There was only one way to find out, he decided.
"I'll call you later," he said as he opened the door. "It'll be pretty late."
"I'll be here," she nodded.
*****************
Leo McGarry's Room
"Sir, you know how I love these little inconsequential chats and all, but could we finally talk some business, please," Leo wearily pleaded with the President. "CJ's gotta comment on this thing with me and show that it was nothing. 'Cause if she doesn't...."
"You need a nap," Bartlet smirked. "We're way ahead of you so take five, compadre. She dealt with it hours ago."
"How?" Leo asked with a furrowed brow as he pointed to the TV across the room. "This thing doesn't work."
"Our health care system is abominable," Bartlet shook his head.
"Sir, now is not the time to...."
"I think it's a great time to do exactly this," Bartlet continued with delight. "You're trapped. We're on the fifth floor so the window isn't an option and, even if I didn't half have the Secret Service out in the hall, you're not dressed to make a strategic retreat."
"Mr. President, please," Leo sighed, attempting to return the discussion to something productive. "I mean it. This could make or break the vote in two weeks and..."
"Leo, relax," the President said. "CJ popped into the briefing room with something about the Housing Secretary and a Chicago thing then she passed this off as nothing. She broke the story; we controlled it. It died more easily than you ever will."
"How?"
"She walked in," Bartlet said airily. "We have a light briefing for you today. Topping the news is Leo McGarry's fainting spell in the Capitol a little while ago. Judges say it lacked said artistry but it was loaded with technical merit."
"Sir."
"She gave them the bare and boring details that you got yourself sick like the rest of the town and didn't have the good sense to take a day off," Bartlet informed him. "There were a few questions. She summed up by saying you were going to live. There was a collective groan and then they were more interested in what the Fed. Chairman might do on Wednesday."
"What would that be?"
"I don't know," Bartlet scowled. "I know what he should do, but he and I don't often agree. Josh assures me it will be a fascinating morning."
"Josh," Leo nodded. "You said you have things squared away with farming stuff out. He's stepped up?"
"It's his job, isn't it?" Bartlet asked. "If it's not, he's doing a good impersonation of it."
"I'll be back tomorrow," Leo promised.
"No, you won't," Bartlet commanded. "The doctor said bed rest, and the only person on staff who has a bed at the office is me. And though I like you, I don't like you that much so you are staying at your home."
"Mallory's home," Leo growled. "She's going to take me hostage."
"Well, she's got your phone so you'll have company," Bartlet quipped.
"Mr. President..."
"Leo, the staff will handle things," Bartlet replied. "When we need you, have no fear, your phone will ring. Well, that is if you ever get a phone again. Maybe we'll try smoke signals. Do you have a clear view of the air space over the White House from here?"
"Sir..."
"Until then," Bartlet cut him off, "you will rest, get well and come to grips with the idea that you are never going to live this down. At least, not with me."
"Josh is running the show?"
"Part of it," the President said. "We still have cabinet secretaries and military advisors. I thought of turning the whole thing over to him--just to see what would happen--but the Attorney General advised against it."
"He's driving you nuts," Leo surmised with a heavy and worried sigh. "Mr. President, I know everyone is under a lot of strain and the next two weeks aren't going to do anything to improve that. I would hope that, whatever other things people are feeling about each other, that we can all make it through this and work together so that..."
"Leo, I know this will sound unbelievable, but I'm a mature adult," Bartlet said. "The entire staff is or fakes it well enough most days that only their mothers know the truth. I can work with Josh as I have for years. From what I've seen, it's almost like Josh has done work in politics before. I swear to you, he's doing a wonderful imitation of a Senior Staffer. It's as though you trained him to be your deputy."
"Yeah, well, he shouts," Leo said.
"You don't say," Bartlet deadpanned. "What I want to know is how he learned to do all those things that he does that we're not supposed to talk about."
"I can't sit this out and you know it," Leo informed the President.
"You have to," Bartlet told him. "For now. At least take a few days to rest. You'll be fully apprised of what's going on. But you need to take care of yourself because if you die on me, I'll never forgive you."
"Sir..."
"I mean it, Leo," Bartlet stood and prepared to leave. "You do and we're finished. You have a lot of people who are as concerned for you as they are for this election and some even more so. You had us worried--and not just about our jobs. Things like this remind us that... Well, that even on bad days, we do like each other, if only a little."
"There's no need to worry about me," Leo assured him.
"I know that," Bartlet said. "It was amazing thing to see, Leo. All of them working in that quasi-crisis mode with no disagreement. They worried about you, Leo. You mean much more to them than you know. You inspire them, and don't worry about me and Josh. Right now he's is staying so focused that nothing is going to sidetrack him for even a moment. He's got that look in his eyes. It's his game face and it's not going away."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Bartlet said. "Since Sam first called in today, Josh has been so busy that he hasn't had the time to think about that moment he confronted the possibility that you might not be there tomorrow."
"He doesn't exactly need me to hold his hand," Leo said.
"I don't mean for work," Bartlet said solemnly. "Leo, you're more than just his boss. He would step in front of a train for you, and you scared the hell out of him today. I've found that it takes a lot to honestly scare Josh Lyman, and you did it."
"Is he all right with all of this?" Leo said, looking at the spot where the phone used to be by his bed. "I mean the workload. He hasn't called. At least, I don't think he has."
"He hasn't had time," Bartlet said. "Margaret deserves flowers already."
"He appropriated her?"
"She'll need a vacation after this," Bartlet said. "She's probably the only one on the assistant level who can handle working with him right now. In other circumstances, it would be comical. He keeps calling her the wrong name, and she keeps correcting him."
"I'll be back as soon as the warden lets me," Leo vowed.
"Then you'd better be on your best behavior," Bartlet said.
*****************
Dec. 4, 11:45 AM
A steady December rain was falling outside the White House. Josh sat behind Leo's desk, looking over the latest numbers. The days were split between being Acting Chief of Staff and his normal duties. As Josh flipped through the pages, he became increasingly unhappy. The report showed that the still undecided race for the presidency was still undecided. President Bartlet and his Republican counterpart were still as close in percentage points as they were on election night.
"Donna!" he yelled, not moving.
No response.
"Donna!" he tried again.
Again, no response.
Margaret appeared in the doorway. "Did you need something?"
"I called for you," he said.
"No, you called for Donna," Margaret said calmly. "Again."
"What?" Josh looked up from his reading. "Oh, I…"
"Did it again, yes," Margaret nodded. "Would it be helpful if I wore a big name tag or maybe put a large sign of some sort on the desk?"
"Margaret."
She noted the less than amused tone in his voice. It was very Leo'ish in her estimation and let her know that it was going to be yet another arduous afternoon.
"What do you need?" she asked.
"My assistant," Josh sighed.
"That would be me," she responded.
"You're Leo's," observed. "I have explicit instructions in that area."
"You also have purged most of the secretarial pool as possible temps…."
"They call them temps for a reason," Josh noted.
"And practically none of the senior assistants will even step into the hall when you're out of this office," Margaret finished. "I would say you shouldn't take it personally, except that from what I've heard it is."
"It's personal?"
"You scare people," Margaret said confidently. "Not me personally, though you are a bit loud. I mean, Leo isn't quite a lamb or anything, but he doesn't normally shout. It's not that your intimidating….."
"I can be intimidating," Josh protested.
"Right," Margaret breezed through the topic shift. After more than a week of dealing with the Deputy Chief on an hourly basis she was adapting to his seemingly pointless sidebars and learning to avoid them for the sake of expediency. "Is there anything intimidating that you needed done or that you want me to attempt? I've just finished the memo Leo requested and was going to bring it to him over lunch."
"Who's left?"
"In the temp pool?" Margaret asked and received a curt nod in response. "I believe we're down to the recycled ones; the first up is the last one you sent back, Debra."
"I thought it was Tammy."
"No, Tammy was the one who cried," Margaret said.
"That was Karen," Josh corrected her.
"Actually, it was both of them, but at least Tammy lasted the whole day," Margaret said. "The current generation of substitute help is Debra. That's fifth generation, if you were counting—which the personnel office is; they're not giving you anyone more."
"They work for me," Josh said. "I oversee…"
"Yes, we know," Margaret replied promptly in an understanding tone to cut off the justification that she did not care to hear. "You've run out of people who are brave enough to come work for you right now. They don't dislike you, well not most of them anyway; they just think there is too much stress involved in the position what with you doing your job, some of Leo's, the congressional vote and the thing with the President."
Josh looked at her in mild shock. The thing with the President was not a thing; Sam and Toby had said so to him. He had convinced himself they were correct. If strangers in the personnel office were picking up on the atmosphere….
"It's bad mojo," Margaret continued.
"I'm sorry?"
"There's a vibe," she said. "Between you and the President. Like before a bad storm. By the pricking of my thumbs…"
"You're quoting Shakespeare?" Josh remarked. "It's that bad?"
"Worse," Margaret confided to him softly.
Josh nodded and fell silent for a moment. There was more going on than he knew about—hardly a new event in his career—but for the first time in a long time, he didn't like the chaos.
"I'm a likable guy," he protested.
"You're also very high maintenance," Margaret informed him.
Josh stared at her. "I called you Donna?"
"Three times today so far," she said. "Which is down from the five times yesterday by this time."
"I'd call that progress," Josh offered.
"Sure," Margaret nodded. "So, I'll ask again, would it help you if I wore a big name tag?"
"You've talked to Donna?"
"Got email this morning," Margaret reported. "No change. She put a ding in her mother's rear fender in the hospital parking lot, but it wasn't her fault. You see, medical reports now believe that excessive amounts of vitamin C...."
"I stopped caring right after you said nothing's changed," Josh cut in as he cast a brief glance at the laptop computer on the desk.
He had not received any email from her in recent days. Not that he had had time for such things. The days were stretching to 20 hours as he tried to hold down the fort at the office and keep the election momentum going.
"Find me the transcripts from the Ritchie's last television interview," he ordered. "I mean, the one with Lou Dobbs."
Margaret left her post to find the documents, while Josh engrossed himself in the polling numbers. A knock came at the door, snapping Josh back into reality.
"That was quick," he observed.
"I'm all about the fast lane, mi amore," CJ said as she entered.
"What do you want?" Josh asked bluntly.
"To know why anyone finds you charming would be nice," she said. "Steve Thornton, Detroit News, asked if you were losing your grip. Hallucinating or something. You're seeing Donna around all the corners. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was love."
Josh looked back at her blankly.
"You're like Pavlov's dog," CJ chuckled. "You've been trained so well that you can't change your behavior. You're calling Margaret by the wrong name still?"
"I was distracted."
"Demented," CJ nodded. "You need sleep, and you're suffering from Donna-Withdrawal."
"What did you want?" he asked again.
"We had a meeting," she noted.
"Damn!" Josh seethed and pounded his hand on the desk. "Why didn't anyone come get me?"
"Turned out we didn't need you," CJ said. "We had Leo on the phone, and you're really no substitute for him."
"Tell me about it," Josh sighed and slumped in the chair.
*****************
December 5
7:23 a.m.
Josh rounded the corner and headed toward Leo's office still shaking his head and scolding himself internally. He had been in a meeting with Toby since six a.m. After the meeting, he went back to his office. He was still not used to the idea that his office was currently not where he worked.
"Josh, is there something going on with the Department of State?" Margaret asked as he neared her desk.
"I would hope there is a lot going on," Josh said. "We're paying them for something."
"But nothing in particular," she continued. "I read the papers and caught Headline News this morning and nothing really jumped out at me.
"So apparently they're doing something right," Josh shrugged. "Why? What did you hear?"
"Nothing," Margaret continued. "You have a phone call from Ambassador Brennan and I was wondering if maybe..."
"He's on hold?" Josh asked sternly.
Margaret looked at the flashing button on her phone then nodded.
"Yes," she said then looked at his face. "You probably want to take the call now?"
"Yes," Josh hissed then entered Leo's office and slammed the door.
He winced as the clatter rattled the walls. He wasn't supposed to do that, he knew. Not this close to the Oval Office. At least the President was in the Situation Room getting a morning briefing. Josh was normally able to control these impulses, but as the days continued to bleed into each other and the polls continued to reflect the vote in the house wasn't going to be any further apart than the general election, Josh's nerves were more frayed than he considered comfortable.
"Ambassador?" Josh asked as he took the phone. "What can I do for you?"
"Tell me how you got Vince Myrtle to drop out of the campaign the last year you worked for me," Brennan said heartily.
"So this call is just to annoy and harass me," Josh surmised, breathing easier that there wasn't an international crisis brewing in Ireland. He had been the strongest voice advising the President to appoint Brennan. Considering how his record was lately, another screw up could be disastrous.
"I was calling to check in on one of my boys," Brennan relented. "I've been following the election aftermath closely. Saw you on Crossfire this morning," Brennan said.
"This morning?"
"Satellite at the Embassy," Brennan explained. "I watched the show around one this morning my time--seven o'clock your time yesterday evening. Joshua, I don't like what I heard. Don't be so hard on yourself, kid," Brennan said. "This election was an ideological cluster fuck from the start."
"Please tell me you are on a secure line right now, Mr. Ambassador," Josh moaned as he slumped in his seat.
"Joshua, you know what I mean," Brennan growled. "One guy was an idiot; the other gets tripped by his IQ when the wind blows stiffly enough. I'm not the most liberal member of the Party..."
"Hardly a news flash," Josh said, recalling why he had left Brennan's camp.
It was the ideological shift as well as the chance for advancement that prompted him to switch to a post in the Senate years earlier. Brennan had been a moderate to liberal congressman, but after his third divorce, attitudes in his home district wore him down and pushed him further to the right than was Josh's liking.
"I'm hearing a lot of rumbling," Brennan continued. "Word is McGarry's boy is on his way out after this vote--even if you folks win. Now, that being said..."
"Who said it?" Josh asked.
"Does it matter?" Earl remarked. "Would I repeat it if it wasn't something with any credibility?"
"Probably not," Josh sighed. He hadn't officially heard such rumors, but they didn't surprise him either. That they were floating around in the US Embassy in Ireland only further emphasized how out of the loop Josh was on his own stability within the administration.
"I've talked to John Chase and Albie Duncan," Brennan said. "There's a place for you at State, you know."
"I don't do foreign affairs," Josh said.
"Like hell you don't," Brennan snapped. "You're a Fulbright Scholar, you know heads of state and you're fairly sharp when you put your tongue away."
"Just what time of day do you begin drinking, Mr. Ambassador?" Josh asked as he looked at his watch.
"I'm not talking about you being an Ambassador," Brennan continued. "You've no skill for that, but you know how to work back rooms and that is more than half the game. You wouldn't even need to leave Washington. Albie says he has just the place for you."
"No doubt," Josh said, recalling the Assistant Secretary's lack of enthusiasm for most anything Josh did for the administration. About the only thing Duncan liked about him was his first name, Joshua, and that only because it was the same as Duncan's own grandfather. "Look, Mr. Ambassador..."
"It's Earl, Josh," Brennan said. "We go too far back to stand on pretense or titles."
"Right," Josh continued. "I would appreciate it if you didn't make phonecalls on my behalf regarding career opportunities at this point."
"See," Brennan chuckled. "Right there! That's a diplomacy answer. You just told me to mind my own damn business without so much as insulting me. This is where you belong. You've worked the Legislative Branch and Executive Branch. Now it's time to step into the last unconquered territory."
"Judicial is the third branch of government," Josh sighed and shook his head. "The State Department is not it's own branch--despite what some people..."
"You mean Albie..."
"Some people," Josh said with emphasis, "believe."
"All right then," Brennan laughed again. "I just wanted to mention it. I was actually calling to see how much fight you had left in you. This is a drawn out contest you are locked in and I was... well, I was worried you'd be worse for it. It can't have been easy. I know there is trouble in the house."
From his tone, Josh knew what he meant by house and it wasn't Congress. Josh remained silent. Brennan's call was not just to check in, he knew. His offers of a job and career shift were two-fold. He was letting Josh know about options--it was the back-slapping Irish politician in him; and he was making Josh know that the rumors were likely true. For as gruff and clumsy as Earl Brennan could be at times politically, he was a sharp and sly man who could convey many bits of information without ever needing to say anything directly.
Josh thanked him and disconnected.
McGarry's boy is on his way out after this vote.
It was roughly the same information Danny Kincannon questioned CJ about in the hallway two days earlier. It was all the confirmation Josh needed.
*****************
Alexandria, Va.
Mallory O'Brien's home
Dec. 5, 6:30 p.m.
"MALLORY!" Leo bellowed from the confines of her living room. He had been released from the hospital into her custody late the previous afternoon and had been looking for an escape route ever since. All attempts had failed.
"I'm right here," Malloary said cheerfully breezing into the room. "The bellowing is not necessary. I have two well-functioning ears and I'm not Margaret."
"Yeah," Leo nodded. "Where the hell is the remote? They're showing parts of Bruno's interview on MSNBC at seven."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I have this note here from Margaret that says," Leo stated as he put on his glasses and read from the email on his laptop computer, "they're showing parts of Bruno's interview on MSNBC this evening at seven."
Mallory offered him a scornful and shaming look. He returned it with equal fervor.
"Daddy, you're going get all worked up and start yelling the TV and then you're going to demand a phone and.... Well, let's not even go there. Okay? You just got home from the hospital. You need your rest."
"When did I suddenly become an invalid?" Leo asked. "Mallory Elizabeth, I am capable of taking care of myself."
"Yes, you've proven that with great prowess by collapsing with a 102 degree fever and needing to be hospitalized for a three days," she reminded him.
"I told them I was fine," Leo said gruffly.
"Yes, in your delirium, you also told them you could have them all fired," Mallory remarked.
"I could," he replied belligerently. "I know a lot of people."
"I know," she said in the tone she normally reserved for belligerent students. "And that makes you an important man."
"I need that remote," he said flatly.
"You need to rest."
"I need to work, Mallory."
"You need to work on taking better care of yourself, but since you're incapable of doing that, they put me in charge now," the Chief of Staff's feisty daughter said firmly--her tone reminding her father that her red hair was not a bluff. "Funny, MSNBC isn't in your treatment for this evening."
"You're treating me like I'm in a Home," Leo snarled. "What's next? Tapioca pudding for dinner?"
"It's more of a lunch food; and you are in a home. This," she answered with a sweeping gesture to the room, "is part of my home, temporarily your home. You should really take a look at and get used to it. It's a nice place and you're going to be here for a while, Daddy."
"I've got to do this thing on the Hill next week, Mallory," Leo said emphatically. "You'll need a court order to keep me out of it."
"I know lawyers," she replied.
"And they all work for me," Leo argued. "Sam wouldn't dare. As for Toby and Josh...."
"They support me 100 percent," Mallory cut in. "They do, Daddy. They want you to get well. I've spoken with them, and they agreed with me that you need to take it easy for a little while."
"Oh, great," Leo moaned. "You're taking advice from Tom and Jerry. You know, there's a reason they're never left in charge."
"You leave them in charge all the time when you travel with the President without them," she reminded him. "And, I must add, you hired them."
"Which means I can fire them, too," Leo grumbled.
"Yes, you do that," she nodded sweetly and picked up the tea cup on the table beside him.
"I can find my clothes," he informed her. "The second I do, I'm calling a cab and I'll..."
"That'll be entertaining considering I have them locked in the trunk of my car," she said as she breezed into the kitchen. "Think of the headlines then. Leo McGarry seen skulking around Alexandria in his pajamas and slippers. That would look nice right next to the security camera pictures of you fainting in the Capitol."
"Mallory..."
"Dad, you need to take it easy for a few days," she said returning from the kitchen with a stern look. "A few days, that's all. But if you don't, you're going to end up in the hospital again."
"I thought you were getting me my dinner," Leo said tersely knowing he'd lost yet another round with her. His plan was to make himself such a nuisance that she threw him out. So far, she was displaying the patience of her mother.
"Your soup will be finished in 20 minutes," she said.
"Soup?" he asked. "I'm half-dead on the floor of Congress a few days ago and all you're giving me is soup?"
"It's homemade soup," she smirked, anticipating his tactics and steeling herself against locking him in a closet or abandoning him in the street. "You like homemade soup."
"No, not so much," Leo shook his head. "Call Givonnchi at Maison Blanche and get their tomato soup."
"No."
"I'm sorry?"
"I listen to your doctors, do you?" Mallory scolded
him. "You have walking pneumonia--that's your immediate ailment--but
your cholesterol is up. That tomato soup is made without about
two gallons of heavy cream. A cup of it could give a 10-year-old
a heart attack--and no smart remarks about being able to take on a 10-year-old.
You are getting homemade vegetable soup, and you will like it."
"When did you learn to cook?" Leo asked mildly.
"Where every girl learns," Mallory answered quickly. "In college from boys."
"I wanted you to go to an all girls school," Leo said then spied the look on her face. "I mean, a women's college."
"I learned a lot at my college," Mallory responded.
"That's my point," Leo grumbled.
"You make very interesting points, Daddy," Mallory replied as she kissed him on the cheek then turned to head back to the kitchen. "I'm going to go finish your soup. Do you need anything? And if you mention your cellphone or the remote, I will spoon feed you the soup."
"My shoes, my suit and the keys to the car," he said despite the warning.
"I'm not even giving you the TV remote," she said. "What makes you think I'll even let you see your car?"
"What if I promise to take a cab?" Leo negotiated. "Where's the phone?"
"It's with your car and keys and clothes and remote," she answered.
"Mallory," he pleaded again as he rose from the chair and walked to the kitchen. "See, I stand, I walk and if I had a fever still I'd dance a gig. But I don't have one so I'm really fine. I'll stay here one night more to make you happy, but you've got to let me do my work. This is important. Young lady, I know you can hear me. I'm still your father."
"Yes, you are," she said with a patronizing nod. "Now, be a good little Daddy and go back to your chair. You don't need to call the office. They are handling things."
"Yeah," Leo questioned. "How do you know?"
"I listened to NPR in my car," she grinned. "They said Josh gave Puerto Rico to Cuba. Was that a bad thing?"
"Mallory," Leo sighed.
"Daddy, is your staff intelligent?"
"Depends on who you ask," he said truthfully.
"Do they understand politics?"
"Again, I gotta go with depends upon who you ask," he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the thick robe Mallory had bought him--he thought of it as his prison garb.
"They know how you do things? They're aware this vote in the House is important?"
"If they don't then we all belong in the hospital," Leo said. "Them for being clueless and me for hiring them."
"Well, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say they might have things under control at the office," Mallory argued as she walked her father back to the living room. "They might have had the meetings you were going to have, talked to the people you were going to talk to--or the people you would have asked them to speak with--had the discussions with the staff you were going to have. I'll bet they've got a plan and ways to implement it that has the support of the President. Know how I know this? No one has called to tell you the staff has run amok. They are giving you what you need: time to rest."
Leo reached the recliner Mallory had assigned to him. He slowly sat in it, digesting her words. He wanted them to be true on one hand; on the other hand, he craved returning to his post and doing his duty. The more they needed him at the office, the more quickly that could happen.
"Now, if you sit there quietly like a good little patient, I might even give you some crackers for your soup," Mallory said, tucking a blanket over his legs.
"Oh, boy, really?" he said sarcastically.
Mallory returned to the kitchen and turned down the stove. She prepared a tray for her father and conceded to give him the newspaper--but only after shredding the section containing information about the upcoming vote and its effect on the markets. The sports section and homes and fashion sections would do him just fine, she decided.
She placed the tray in front of him and received a grumbling thanks. She resisted the urge to pat him on the head as she returned to do the dishes and leave him to his meal in silence. She had just filled the sink when there was an unexpected knock on the side door. She opened the door to find Sam standing there holding a brown bag.
"Hi, Sam," she said stepping aside so he could enter.
"How are you?"
"He's still alive," she nodded. "I'm putting myself up for a commendation."
"Driving you nuts?" Sam ventured.
Mallory's stiff grin answered for her.
"Demanding little patient is he? Bet you thought your students were bad."
"I've had worse," she said diplomatically. "He's just sat down to dinner."
"So you're not spoon feeding him?" Sam joked.
Leo overheard the conversation and suddenly appeared in the doorway.
"No," he said sternly. "The demanding little patient has mastered the spoon."
"Daddy, you're not supposed to be in here," Mallory promptly replied. "Now, what are we supposed to be doing? Sitting and eating peacefully."
"I don't recall agreeing to that," Leo argued. "I recall something about crackers and you not giving me my car or clothes. Sounds like abuse to me. Sam, what do you think?"
Sam looked from the father to the daughter then back again. This was a no win situation.
"Well, you see," he started. "I think, whoever I agree with, the opposing party will... Well, it just wouldn't be good for me."
"Sam can drive me to the office," Leo said instantly.
"Sam will be doing no such thing," Mallory said, offering Sam a glare for an offer he had in fact not made.
"I'd love to kidnap you, Leo," Sam said. "Well, what I mean is.... Never mind. I'm just here to bring you some good news. The last nose count was wrong."
Mallory glared at Sam further. He was breaking the rules. There was to be no discussion of the vote in her house. Sam saw Leo's dire expression and decided breaking the rules was more important that his safety.
"We still have a chance at Ohio's vote," he said quickly. "Not a great chance, but it's better than it was before. Toby's working on it."
"SAM!" Mallory sneered.
"I really just wanted to stop by and say things were looking up," Sam retreated. "That's good, right? I mean, we've got things under control so you can relax, Leo. I was heading home actually. I'm just leaving the office. We had an all-nighter. That's why I stopped at La Colline's." He held up his paper bag. "After nights like this, I like a good bowl of clam chowder. I don' t know. It helps me sleep."
"Clam Chowder?" Leo asked.
"No," Mallory warned. "Daddy, remember your cholesterol."
"You won't let me forget," Leo replied.
"It's New England style," Sam continued. "Not Manhattan. I like a lot of things about Manhattan, but not their clam chowder. Hungry, Leo? You are looking a little gaunt. You look better than you did though. Much better. Then again, no one ever looks good falling to the pavement."
"You'd better leave," Leo said flatly. "Now. Wouldn't want your chowder to get cold."
"Right," Sam agreed. "It's not as good reheated. That's why I carried it in here. It's cold out there. Leaving it in the car would have cooled it too quickly. Well, take it easy, Leo. We've got this thing under control. I mean, it's like you're right there with us, only its not like that at all. You know what I mean."
"Actually, Sam, most times I do not," Leo answered.
Sam departed, abandoning Leo to Nurse Mallory. He continued to complain about her rules violating the Constitution, the Geneva Convention and any number of unwritten father/daughter laws he felt were more than reasonably obvious. She weathered the storm and kept her distance by reading in the kitchen. The hours rolled by and he eventually grew quiet. She knew he was not sleeping. The terse rustling of the newspaper let her know he was reading under protest.
The dark hours marched onward. As the clock approached 10 p.m., there was another knock on the door. This visitor Mallory had been expecting for quite some time.
"Hey, Josh," Mallory said to him as he stood on the darkened stoop.
His hands were jammed into his pockets and his shoulders were hunched. Her first inclination was to make a crack about him starring in a Cold War movie, but the look on his face stopped her. He looked as inwardly lost as he was outwardly tired.
"Come in," she said easily as she stepped back from the door.
"I know it's late," he shrugged as he spoke softly. "Can I see him?"
"Sure," Mallory nodded. "I was wondering when you'd end up here. Margaret said you might stop by; she told Daddy, too. He's been sort of waiting. I mean, everyone else has called or stopped to see him; he's beginning to feel neglected by you."
"I sent e-mail," Josh said feebly without stepping inside. "I... I was tied up."
"You weren't avoiding him?"
I wasn't," he replied unconvincingly.
"That's not what Margaret says," Mallory said, pulling him into the house by his arm and closing the door swiftly behind him. She took his jacket.
"Margaret doesn't know everything," Josh said with a shrug. "Just a little bit about a lot of things."
"I'm sure," Mallory nodded as she gestured toward the living room where Leo was quietly reading an edited version of the day's paper. "Don't get him too worked up, and ignore any comments about the newspaper."
"How is he?" Josh asked, reluctant to enter the room.
"About 50 percent better than the way you felt after you came home from the hospital," Mallory said.
Josh nodded. He'd been fine, he remembered that. He also remembered having a warden.
"Donna had to hide my keys," he said.
"He's already asked for those," Mallory said. "Three times."
"Actually, Donna was flat out cruel about it," Josh recalled as he stalled before stepping out of the kitchen. "She put them on top of the fridge. I knew they were there, but I couldn't get them."
"She was taking care of you when you couldn't do it for yourself," Mallory said. "She was making sure you rested."
"I didn't need to rest," Josh answered. "I was fine."
"You couldn't even touch your toes," Mallory reminded him.
"On a daily basis in doing my job, touching my toes never even ranks in the top 1,000 things asked of me," Josh noted.
"Are you here to annoy me or see him?"
"I could just bug you," Josh offered.
"And while I would absolutely love that, it might do Dad some good to see you," Mallory said, nudging him toward the living room. "Just don't rile him up too much, okay?"
"Who? Me?" Josh remarked amid her glare. "Seriously, Mal, the dagger looks would normally go far with me... Okay, not far, but I'd feign terror or something, just not after the last few days." He patted her on the shoulder as he stepped toward the living room. "Better work on something else."
Josh entered the room. It was mostly dark except for a table lamp illuminating the newspaper in Leo's hands. He wore a navy colored terry cloth robe and what appeared to be freshly pressed light blue cotton pajamas with leather slippers. His glasses were perched on his notes, and he snarled as he read the few sections of the paper Mallory had allowed into his possession.
"Winter white?" Leo grumbled as he read the fashion and trends section. "What the hell is winter white?"
"What are you doing?" Josh asked in astonishment. "Checking out hemlines?"
"Who in the hell in this Martha Stewart?" Leo asked as he looked up.
"From my understanding, she's like an Anti-Christ who lives in Connecticut," Josh replied.
"Oh, one of yours?"
"I didn't say it with pride," Josh reminded him. "And, for the record, I don't think she's a native."
"So, Sam told me that the nose count was wrong," Leo said folding the paper and letting it drop to the floor so business could begin.
"It was," Josh nodded and sighed as he walked toward the window and rested on the sill. "So was the recount."
"How good does it look?"
"I'm not using the word good right now," Josh replied.
"How reasonable then?" Leo prodded.
"First, I've been told not to rile you up or discuss work too seriously," Josh explained. "We both acknowledge that's pretty much impossible, right?"
"Yeah," Leo nodded. "I won't tell if you won't."
"Finally, an instance where the military policy works for me," Josh quipped. "I'm just making sure we did the full disclosure bit up front."
"We're good," Leo agreed.
"Okay," Josh sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Hard numbers separate us by seven states. Soft ones by five."
"The time frame for making that up?"
"This thing is going down to the wire," Josh said firmly breaking the bad news. "The strong money is that we're going to lose,"
Leo digested it quietly with a slow nod. He looked at Josh and shook his head.
"We sank too much money with Davis in the midterms," Leo said. "We should have backed Graham and Delloy."
"Delloy won," Josh said mystified at why a junior senator from Kansas was of concern.
"I meant the other Delloy," Leo scolded him. "Michigan."
"Oh, right," Josh shook his head.
That he hadn't made the connection worried him; he was more tired than he let himself realize. Josh let his eyes roam the room for a moment, refusing to meet Leo's eyes or gaze in his general direction if possible.
"We should have paid more attention to Ohio," Josh added eventually.
"What are you going to do?" Leo asked. "The President came to see me the other day. He mentioned something about those things that you do that we don't really talk about except that we do so I'm asking you: What's your plan? What do you intend to do? Who've you got that you aren't saying you've got?"
Josh turned to face the front window, looking out on the quiet, darkened street and sighed.
"No one," he said simply.
"Josh," Leo scoffed.
"No one," Josh sighed. "I'm serious. The well's dry, Leo. I've got nothing. No one. Nadda, zip, zilch, el... uh, um.... I've got nothing. I'm... I'm done. I failed. I blew it; that's the ball game, coach."
Leo shook his head as he stared at Josh's back. The guilt surrounded him like a halo; it was nothing new. Josh believe in a lot of things, Leo knew. He believed in himself and his abilities but he believed in his own fallibility even more. It served him at times--keeping him humble in appropriate moments and allowed him to admit he was wrong without a bloody fight with his pride. Still, those were not the Josh Lyman traits Leo needed leading the campaign right now. He needed the other guy--the mouth piece, the attack dog, the self-proclaimed master politician; the man who boasted he could slay serpents who wore single- and double-breasted suits.
"I'm only saying this once because you're too smart to need it repeated," Leo explained. "You didn't lose this election, Josh. Like you told me Election Night, we just didn't win. What happened was a team effort. We had more of the popular vote and more electoral votes and but for a little thing called the Constitution..."
"Yeah," Josh nodded. "This isn't second guessing my past choices, Leo. I did that. Hell, I went past second guessing. I was at third, fifth, ninth probably when I stopped. Leo, I keep running next week over and over in my head."
"And what happens?"
"Same thing every time," Josh shrugged. "We lose. Leo..."
"What?" Leo said gruffly. " Josh, I think we've been through enough that you can just blurt out whatever it is. You never seem to feel restrained at the office where I'd like a little restraint so out with it."
"Do you believe in the impossible?" Josh asked, feeling awkward. It was a childish question but one that had been nagging him for some time.
Rather than snap some quick and cutting quip back at him, Leo surprised Josh. He looked down and seemed to contemplate his response for a moment. After a pause, he offered his thoughts.
"I don't know what's impossible--not really," Leo said. "No one would ever make me the captain of the optimists team, but I know facts. So this is what I know: The Titanic sunk; man split the atom and walked on the moon; the Berlin Wall fell and I figured out how to program my VCR without the help of Mallory's students. The strong money said those things would never happen, but they did. I also know this: You didn't come this far to lay down and die; I and an hell of a lot of other guys taught you better than that."
"Yes, sir," Josh agreed quietly, though the exhaustion in his mind told him he was crazy to do so.
"Josh, tell me something," Leo said sternly. "Why won't you look at me? It's either the floor or the window. I know you're not used to me in my robe. To tell you the truth, I'm not used to it, but would you just look at me? Thank you. We've got a lot going on, so let me clear up this little bit for you. Now, hear this: I'm not dying. Not even close."
Josh looked at the intensity in Leo's eyes and the firmness in his voice. This man was far from being over and ready for burial. Josh nodded then responded.
"You sure?" Josh smirked. "'Cause it looks like you were reincarnated as Hugh Heffner."
"You recall that I can fire you, right?"
Josh's smirk disappeared more quickly that Leo liked. He let Josh have his fun once in a while; though Leo did not always fully appreciate his deputy's sense of humor, he gave Josh a long leash with it. A little tug was all he usually needed to step back in line. However, in this instance, the reaction was so sudden it looked like whiplash.
"Yeah," Josh said, ducking his head and heading toward the door. "I should go."
"Josh," Leo summoned him back. "What is it? You're not telling me something."
Josh looked back at him, knowing he could never deceive this man--knowing he never wanted to.
"You'd tell me if it was time to update my resume, right?" Josh asked bluntly.
He could tell from Leo's reaction that the answer was not clear to him either. Leo's face was a mix of emotion. He knew more than he could say, but also didn't know the whole story either. Josh shook his head, signaling that he would not pursue his question further.
"You've gotta keep your head in this game, do you hear me," Leo said firmly. "We'll worry about the other stuff later."
"We will?" Josh asked. It was the 'we' that gave him a glimmer of hope.
"You do this right, and I might have a hard time getting my office back," Leo said with more confidence than was evident in his expression.
Josh nodded. He still had Leo's support--the one thing he wasn't questioning. Leo was one of the few people in Washington that Josh trusted implicitly. Leo could see that in Josh's expression and it pained him on one level--the things he had done or condoned in the last year for the good of the campaign did not speak kindly to his trust in his deputy. Still, none of that mattered now.
"Margaret is gonna need a vacation when this is over," Josh said, opting to ignore the troubled look on Leo's face. "At least I stopped calling her Donna. That's something."
"Hey, I'm just glad she's still there," Leo quipped. "After listening to you for a while..."
"Great acoustics in your office, by the way," Josh grinned.
"Don't get comfortable in my chair," Leo ordered. "I have four more years in it."
"Not according to the New York Post,'" Josh said. "I read today that we might be burying you any hour now. So I'd be careful with your admonishments."
"Get out."
"Yes, sir," Josh nodded then added softly as he winked and shook Leo's hand formally. "I'll call you tomorrow."
Leo looked at him with pride as the Chief of Staff palmed the cellular phone Josh had slipped into his hand.
"You have always been my favorite," Leo said in a quiet, conspiratorial and thankful tone.
Josh left with a quick good night to Mallory who had stayed respectfully out of earshot during the discussion. She returned after showing him to the door and bidding him good night. She sat on the couch near her father and looked at him thoughtfully for several moments. She had observed her father in many circumstances and seen him interact with the staff many times before and one thing always struck her.
"Daddy, why does he do that?" Mallory asked.
"What?"
"Why does Josh call you 'Sir'?" she asked. "He's known you longer than anyone on staff except the President, yet whenever I've seen him finish a meeting with you or end a conversation with you, it's always with 'yes, sir' or 'thank you, sir.' Why?"
"He calls me Leo, too," her father corrected her.
"I know, but usually at the end of a discussion, it's usually the 'sir' that I hear," she said.
"I'm his boss," Leo shrugged. He had noted it many times as well but didn't think anything of it.
"You're also Toby's boss and Sam's and CJ's, and they don't say that," Mallory noted.
"It's just Josh's way," Leo said.
"He's not the most proper member of the staff," Mallory said. "The prize always goes to Sam for manners; CJ next probably. But never Josh."
"I don't know, Mallory," Leo said. "It's just how he is with me, I guess."
"He respects you a lot, Daddy," Mallory said thoughtfully.
"Mmm," Leo grunted as he looked at the newspaper again, not wanting to have this discussion.
"I mean it," she continued. "He really does, Daddy. Josh thinks a lot of you. I think he'd do just about anything for you."
"He's done a lot for me," Leo said gruffly. "He's a just good deputy."
"It's more than that and you know it," she remarked.
Up Next, Chapter 25: Follow The Leader