VI
She was the White House press secretary. She had made some truly horrifically difficult decisions in her time, some of them in a matter of split seconds. She'd made some well, and some badly - but she'd made them.
This one, however, was defeating her.
With the wrap, or without the wrap? That was the question. She'd already casually asked Carol once; going out and attempting to ask casually again was not going to reduce her assistant's level of knowing glances any.
And it had absolutely nothing to do with looking good for her dinner with Danny Concannon, no. It was a vitally important matter of outfit coordination, dammit!
CJ was aware of somebody entering the office behind her. Ah, a saviour! She turned, and saw that it was Josh.
Not a saviour. Damn.
Judging by the preoccupied look on his face, at the present time Josh would only have a fifty-fifty chance of noticing what gender she was, never mind what she was wearing. Still, any port in a storm.
"Josh, do you think I should wear this wrap with this dress, or take it off?"
"It looks nice," he said, extremely vaguely. Considering he hadn't even cracked wise about the possible alternate interpretation of that question, she guessed his brain wasn't anywhere near the vicinity of the building. He rubbed his face tiredly. "CJ, why would Senator McGann be meeting with Rita Wells?"
"They're old friends; they went to college together," CJ supplied absently, checking her hair in the handheld mirror.
Josh blinked at her for a few moments. "College?"
She twisted around to give him a wry look. "Yes, Josh, you remember college? I have it on fairly good authority you graduated. Although do I seem to recall something about a fish that made the Dean's List, and I'm beginning to wonder if maybe you let it take some classes for you."
For a moment he just stood still, and then shook himself. "Okay. Yeah, thanks." He turned to leave, and then paused, and glanced back at her. "Hey, wait, you're dressed up."
She mentally went back and demoted Josh's opinion of whether or not to wear the wrap a few steps further.
Josh's forehead wrinkled in bemusement. "Did I miss the dinner party?"
"The dinner party's tomorrow, Josh," she told him patiently.
He gestured at her outfit helplessly. "So...?"
"I'm having dinner with Danny," she said with a pre-emptive glare, and braced herself for the inevitable smart remarks. They didn't arrive.
"Danny's back?" Josh said vaguely, and then he wandered off. She wondered what the hell train of thought he was quite so wrapped up in, and what on earth it could possibly have to do with Rita Wells.
"Is he in his office?"
Charlie nodded. "We're keeping his schedule pretty light." He looked beat; no doubt he'd been rushed off his feet, dealing with the joy of working for a Jed Bartlet who was both under the weather and stubbornly refusing to admit it. Add to that a pregnant wife and a job description nobody would envy at the best of times, and it was a wonder he could even remain upright, never mind functional.
"Thanks, Charlie." Leo smiled at the young aide as he went in.
The President of the United States was a miserable sight. Hunched over his briefing papers with a pained grimace, clammy-looking skin, and reddened eyes with deep pits of shadow under them, he looked as though he should have been consigned to bed several hours ago.
"You look horrible," Leo said matter-of-factly.
Jed lifted his head and gave his Chief of Staff a wry smile. "And that's a pretty ugly tie, my friend," he countered.
Leo glanced down at his chest. "This is a good tie. There's nothing wrong with this tie. I mean, it wasn't hand-picked by a team of tie consultants, but-"
"They do other jobs!" Jed said defensively.
"You have your ties picked by committee." He let his dry look speak for itself.
The president tugged at his collar irritably. "Never liked the damn things, anyway. I think I have the wrong shaped neck."
"I think you should take a break," Leo said, dropping the teasing tone and speaking more earnestly.
Jed waved an annoyed hand at him. "I've been taking breaks! I've had nothing but breaks all morning. If I take any more breaks, they'll have to officially declare this a vacation day!"
"With all due respect, Mr. President, you look as if you're about to keel over."
"Rubbish," he snapped shortly, and Leo was left to reflect on how few people actually said things like 'rubbish' anymore. "It's just a cold."
"Well, it might be just a cold, but do you have any idea what you look like right now? I can feel my hay fever starting up just looking at you."
"You don't suffer from hay fever, Leo," the president reminded him with a flat look.
"Well, such is the power of your zombie-like appearance! Mr. President-"
"Leo, I really am fine," he insisted, smiling to blunt the edge of denial that clung to it.
He sighed, and subsided. "Okay."
"Thank you."
After a few moments he looked up, allowing himself the beginnings of a smirk. "I thought you didn't get colds?"
The president glared at him. "It's a viral infection, Leo, it has nothing to do with-"
"This is you standing in the snow without a coat, isn't it?" he said knowingly.
"Leo, it's a common misconception that strains of the common cold are contracted just by going out into weather that's a little below certain sections of society's arbitrary temperature standards. The fact is that airborne viruses-"
"You went out there in the snow, and you caught a chill. Admit it."
There was some most un-presidential pouting going on. "Leo-"
"Admit it!"
"I admit no such thing." He folded his arms petulantly. Leo smirked.
"You're investigating the leak?" Jed asked after a moment.
"Josh is looking into it."
The president nodded vaguely. "Good... Hey, I hear Danny Concannon is back?" He looked up.
"Yeah." Leo wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that, but eventually opted to go with a smile. Danny was a friend to the administration, at least as far as reporters went... but he was also a damn good journalist, and at times the two were mutually exclusive. Danny wouldn't have liked taking them apart in the various scandals that had rocked the administration since his hiatus from the White House... but he'd have done it. He was too professional not to. Leo didn't like to think what else might be next on the list now he was back.
They lapsed into silence, and Leo watched his old friend worriedly. Whatever he said, he looked pale and clammy. And of course, with Jed, some symptoms that might spring from a simple cold carried additional worries. "Are you feverish?" he asked. He leaned across to reach out a hand and see for himself.
Jed pulled back indignantly. "You just felt my forehead!" he said incredulously. "I'm the President of the United States! You can't just go feeling my forehead, willy-nilly. Secret Service!" The joking call became a cough, and Leo handed him his glass of water, patting him on the shoulder. Jed sipped from it gingerly, and pulled a face.
"You okay?" he asked concernedly.
"Yeah." He managed a tight smile. "Seriously, Leo. I know I sound a little rough - I am a little rough - but it really isn't anything more than that."
His eyes were clear enough as he looked up at Leo, and sure enough, though he was horribly clammy he didn't seem to be running much of a fever. Still... "I worry about you," he said quietly.
Jed smiled up at him, and briefly squeezed his hand where it still rested on his shoulder. "And I appreciate that, Leo, but really, you don't need to. Abbey's had the doctors check me over, I don't have a fever, it really is just a nasty cold. You don't need to worry about... that." Even now, with Jed's health condition very much a piece of public information - and even acknowledged to be more of a worry with his recent poor health - it wasn't something that was easily spoken aloud.
Leo gave his old friend a wry, gentle smile. "I'd still worry about you if you didn't have that," he reminded him softly.
The look that passed between them said all that needed to be said, and after a moment, Leo left the Oval and returned to his office.
