VIII
"Did you know there's a man in Malaysia who's been best man at over a thousand weddings?"
"Shut up."
"I'm saying, he could probably come give you some tips on your speech."
Josh glared at his assistant. "I don't need tips."
"Sure you don't. That's why you're writing it on the plane," she agreed amiably.
"I'm writing it on the plane because certain people won't stop interrupting me."
There was a moment of blessed silence, and he frowned over his words. Then- "Do you know where the term 'best man' comes from?"
"Do I care?"
Apparently, his exasperated look was as good as an invitation.
"It comes from Scotland. Back when the men used to kidnap their brides, all the groom's friends would help. And the one who was best at it got to be best man."
He gave her a look. "I'm supposed to kidnap Zoey Bartlet?"
"Well, I don't know, 'cause, if Charlie was to round up all his friends and do that, I don't think you'd be best at it."
"Nobody would be best at it, we'd all be shot by the Secret Service!"
"You know, that's exactly why you can't get anywhere writing this speech."
Josh was lost. With Donnatella Moss, this was far from uncommon. "What?"
"You have a negative attitude."
"I have a negative attitude?"
"You do," she confirmed.
"I resent that. I'm amazingly positive! I'm so positive, I attract electrons!"
Ha, take that!
She took that, casually flipping over the page in her magazine. "No, Josh, that's just because you suck."
Dammit.
"I can write this speech, Donna," he insisted to her.
"Of course you can," she sighed mildly.
"Are you humouring me?"
"Golly, no, Positron Man," she said, putting on a wide-eyed expression. "Gee, wow, you're one of my biggest heroes with your super electric suction powers."
"Stop that."
"We should get you a cape. And some tights."
"Don-na!"
"I'm not sure what would be best for the colour," she mused. "Traditionally it's red for positive, but I'm sensing some complexion issues there."
"Will you be quiet and let me write this thing?" he demanded.
"Okay," Donna shrugged.
Josh gave a satisfied, manly nod and stared back down at the scrappy beginnings of his speech.
And started wondering how the lyrics to Positron Man's theme song would go.
CJ wandered the plane, looking for someone who was still awake. Ever since the horrific flights to and from Ohio at the time of her father's death five months ago, she'd had trouble with insomnia during flights. It was stupid, illogical, but the feeling of keyed-up tension wouldn't leave her. Somehow she couldn't feel fully secure until they'd touched down at the other end and she'd reassured herself that there was no great tragedy awaiting her.
Normally she could bury herself in work to hide the feeling, from herself and from everyone else. Today, though, there was no work to do. Everybody else was taking advantage of that fact to get in some quality dozing time. Even Toby was nodding in the reflected glare of his computer screen. She'd weighed the amusement inherent in waking him up against having to attend a protracted wedding ceremony with a grumpy Toby the next day, and decided to let sleeping writers lie.
The president would still be awake, and so was Leo; she'd spotted the Chief of Staff going up the corridor to join him a few minutes ago. But both of them had enough problems of their own, and the president was far too sharp to these things to let her sudden onset of insomnia go unremarked. And the last thing she wanted to do was bring anything to do with fathers to his attention.
Ah; at last, a light.
"Hey, Chuckles." Charlie gave her a tight smile as she dropped into the seat next to him. "The others are all sleeping," she informed him.
"Yeah."
"I'm not sleeping," she added.
"Yeah."
"Neither are you."
"No."
"You should be sleeping."
He gave her a look. "I'm getting married to the president's daughter tomorrow morning, you think I'm getting any sleep tonight?"
"No," she conceded. And smiled. "So you don't mind if I come annoy you for a couple of hours, right?"
Charlie continued to stare into the middle distance, keeping hold of the arm rests in something approaching a nervous death grip.
CJ settled down beside him for a long, sleepless wait.
"Hey, Leo."
"Mr. President." The Chief of Staff accepted the seat Jed nodded him into.
"You spoke with Hoynes?" he asked.
"Yeah."
Leo showed the first faint traces of a smirk - too precious after so long in depression to take offence at. "Am I gonna need to speak to CJ?"
Jed lowered his eyebrows in a thundery expression neither of them believed. "I was not patronising."
"Sure you weren't." Leo leaned back in his seat. "You just gave him a pat on the head and told him not to break your country while you weren't using it?"
"I felt like I needed to do... something," he said, instead of pointing out that patting his Vice President on the head would have required a short pause while he went off to get something to stand on.
"It's thirty-six hours," Leo reminded him.
"It's my daughter's wedding," Jed said pointedly. "It's not government business. I feel happier knowing..." He shrugged.
That if anybody takes advantage of this tailor made diversion for a terrorist attack, the Vice President would... know he had his blessing? Was that condescending? Maybe, but he meant it. It wasn't some kind of belief in his own importance that motivated his moves, but the weight of his position that he was never less than conscious of.
"The security's been double-checked?" Leo asked, although he really meant 'checked fifty times in the last three days and being rechecked all the time'.
Jed nodded soberly. The security was going to be the best the world could provide... but what if somebody decided that his daughter's marriage to a young man with the wrong coloured skin just couldn't be? What if there was an assassin in the church, a bomb from above, poison in the wedding cake?
The Secret Service had thought of all these things, and billion more that he wasn't near suspicious enough to envision. They'd thought, they'd checked and they'd prepared. But nothing was ever certain.
A matched pair of entry and exit scars, too small to really believe that a bullet had ever passed through them, gave him a momentary twinge. No, nothing was ever certain. And if the worst came to the worst...
Well, he felt better knowing the Vice President knew he had his blessing.
He looked across at Leo and smiled slightly, to say he wasn't really dwelling on the things that he was dwelling on.
"You're okay?" Leo asked him. And Jed thought about Neo-Nazis, arguments with Ellie, the irrevocable loss of another daughter to adulthood...
"Yeah," he said, and looked across at his oldest friend. "You?"
"I'm fine," Leo said.
They both nodded for a moment, and Jed glanced at him again.
"We're lying, aren't we?" he said, with a curl of wry amusement in his voice.
"Yeah. But I think we're getting pretty convincing," Leo nodded.
They sat together in companionable silence.