XX

"Mr. President." Leo stood up with a start at his unexpected visitor. "You should be taking it easy," he chided.

"I'm at ease," Jed waved him off shortly. "And so are you, so sit down." He took his own advice, and sat down opposite his old friend with a barely audible groan.

"That doesn't sound very easy," he noted caustically.

"It's fine," Jed waved him away shortly.

Leo retook his own seat. "What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Charlie."

He didn't need to guess in which context. "He's taking it hard," he said, not really as a question.

Jed looked troubled. "He won't talk to me."

"He's a private guy," Leo reminded him.

"Yeah." He sighed. "I know how hard this is on him, but he shouldn't- I wish he wouldn't keep it all bottled up like that."

"Talking's not gonna help, Mr. President," he pointed out softly.

"I know, but... He's an angry young man. And Lord knows he's got a right to be, but..." He trailed off.

"I was one of those, once," Leo noted quietly.

"Yeah."

"It never ends well."

He'd come back from a war that should never have been fought with twice the disillusionment he'd left with, and a burning core of angry resentment aimed at the world in general. And he'd locked it all down, because that was what men did, until it poisoned his system in a thousand different ways, and the only cure he knew for them was alcohol.

Jed looked saddened. "He's angry at the world because he wants to hold himself to blame for things he knows just aren't his fault."

"Remind you of anybody we know?" Leo couldn't help the light jab. Jed gave him a sharp look.

"I'd say something about pots and kettles, but I swear to God one day Toby's gonna kick that door down and kill us all in an anti-cliché rampage."

They both contemplated that for a beat. "You don't think the Secret Service would bring him down?" Leo mused eventually.

"Stand between Toby and a language rant? They're the most highly trained professionals in the western world, Leo, but even they have their limits."

There was a long silence, and then Leo sighed heavily. "I know what it's like to crash and burn on trying too hard to fix everything for the people that love you."

Jed smiled, and covered Leo's hand briefly with his own on the desktop. "You do just fine," he said sincerely.

Leo held his gaze for a moment, then abruptly pushed back in his chair and stood up. "Okay, I don't know what the hell it is they're putting in that cough medicine, but I'm really not sure I want you in charge of the Sit Room right about now."

Jed chuckled and echoed the movement, but his gaze remained serious. "You're too hard on yourself," he chided softly.

"Round here, it's a catching disease." Leo rubbed his brow. "You want me to have a word with Charlie?"

"If you think he'll listen to you."

"Maybe not, but I'll talk to him." Jed nodded. "Now, you should go get some rest," Leo added sternly.

"It wouldn't hurt you to take your own advice," the president told him, but he moved obligingly towards the door.

"Don't stay up late reading reports again," Leo called after him.

"Yes, mom!" he smirked, with a short salute, and left the room.


Andy gave him a fragile smile when he picked her up from the office. She was silent during the drive to the restaurant; he tried to catch her eye in the mirror a few times, but she was always looking out of the window.

Toby knew that when she made up her mind, it was made - but he still had a card to play. She was convinced that nothing had changed, he hadn't changed, but he was determined to prove that she was wrong. He'd been thinking long and hard since their reconciliation; time had passed, and he was an older man than he'd been when they divorced.

As their second term progressed, he was increasingly dogged by the feeling that his life's major work was coming to an end. It was one he doubted Sam or Josh would understand, but the president would sympathise only too well. This was his time; his chance to do something of importance. In less than three years time, it would be gone - and then what? There would be other works, but none of them would ever be quite the same as this.

He needed there to be something more. In three years time, he would be a man whose greatest accomplishments were behind him, not ahead... and when that time came, he would need there to be something more.

He would do things differently this time around. He'd already decided that; he just needed to convince Andy of the truth of it.

As they walked into the restaurant, Toby slid his hand into his inner pocket, and momentarily closed his fingers around the wedding ring that rested there. He quickly pulled his hand free again, before his ex-wife could attach any significance to the gesture.

He watched her as she ordered; she was pale-faced, but carefully composed. He'd been prepared to exhibit unaccustomed patience while she browsed the menu, but she quickly picked out a lightweight salad instead of deliberating as she usually did.

He took a breath to speak while they were waiting, but Andy interrupted him. " Can it wait until we eat, Toby, please?" she said tiredly.

He nodded acquiescence, and the rest of the waiting took place in near silence. Andy didn't look at him.

"Toby," she sighed finally. "I know you want to argue this with me, but-"

"We should-"

"-I think it's the best way," she continued determinedly, speaking over him. He shook his head.

"It's not the best way."

"Toby-"

He looked her in the eye earnestly, setting aside his knife and fork. "It can be different this time."

Andy rubbed her forehead, looking pained. "Toby, it's not going to be different this time. It's never different. It's- Nothing's changed, Toby."

"I've changed," he said forcefully.

She smiled wryly. "You don't change, Toby," she said, not harshly. "You're the least changeable person I know."

"I change when I want to change," he countered.

"You don't, Toby. You say you want to, but you don't. And that's okay. I've made my peace with that. You're- you're who you have to be. But I can't be around you, Toby. I can't keep coming back to you and living the same old cycle over and over again."

"I can do it differently. I can do it properly," he insisted.

She just looked sad. "Toby, let's not-"

"Marry me again," he said, the words coming impulsively though the intent had been there all along. For a moment, Andy looked startled, and then her face crumpled. She shook her head, more refusal of the question itself than an answer to it.

"Oh, Toby-"

"Please - marry me again," he repeated. He took her hand across the tabletop. "I have changed, and I will change, and I want to change. I want to do this again. I want to make this... how it should have been, the first time."

He could see his sincerity was striking home, but it only made her look more tortured. She started to speak and then choked, beginning to tear up. "Please... please, Toby, can we not do this here?" she pleaded. "Can we not do this now? I don't- This isn't a good place and time to do this."

Toby slowly withdrew his hand from hers, gaze still locked on her face as she looked down at the tabletop, trying to blink away tears and compose herself.

His hopes for a gesture that could mend the rift silently shattered, and drifted away on the wind.


"Mr. Lyman?"

Josh jolted upright with a start, half asleep in his chair. Ashley Bowers frowned down at him, and dropped the file he'd sent over on his desk.

"Why did you give me this?" he demanded.

Recovering his equilibrium, Josh leaned forward. "I just thought you had a right to know who your boss is in bed with."

"My boss isn't in bed with anybody," he refuted.

"Then why do you care what's in that file?" Josh shrugged pointedly. Bowers narrowed his eyes.

"Half of that stuff is unproven. I could have gone straight to the papers, you'd be in a world of hurt for even writing it down, letting alone handing it over to me."

"But you came here," Josh pointed out mildly. The secretary looked down at the floor for a moment, as if trying to get a grip on his frustration.

"Mr. Lyman, leaving aside the whole issue of what kind of person Senator Bridges is or isn't, the fact remains, I'm not working for him."

"But Selena McGann is," he countered coldly. "Now, I don't know why, but I think you do, and whatever it is here you think you're protecting, there's no way it's worth letting Senator Bridges get his way with a bill that could help hundreds of thousands of people. So why don't you close the door and sit down?"

For a moment the young man stood stiffly glaring at him, then he moved across to push the door shut, and sat down.