IV

"Hey, Leo." Jed smiled at him tiredly, pulling off his glasses.

"Where's Charlie?" he asked with a frown as he took a seat.

"I sent him home," the president explained with a wave of his hand. "Zoey's sick, he wanted to check on her."

"Zoey's sick?"

"She's got the same damn bug I've got, by the sound of things. But she should have somebody there to look after her."

"So should you," Leo pointed out. "You want me to have Margaret send someone over from-?"

"I can look after myself for a few hours, Leo," he growled. "Just me, five secretaries, and eleven hundred staff in the building, I imagine we'll muddle along somehow."

Leo remained unfazed. "You should get some rest," he counselled.

"The First Lady's scheduled me some time this afternoon," Jed said, exasperated.

"Good."

The president looked across at him, meeting his eyes. "Leo, why is Josh wandering round looking like he's seen a ghost?" he asked quietly.

Leo grimaced. "Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you not to touch that."

"Leo-" he began warningly.

"I'll tell you when we know more," he promised. "But until we know where we stand on this, I really would prefer we keep it out of the Oval Office."

"Okay." He accepted that, but still looked troubled. Leo hoped beyond hope it would turn out to be some kind of tall tale or misunderstanding... But somehow, he had a sinking feeling that it wasn't.

Josh returned to his office and found Donna just crossing the bullpen on her way back. "Hey, where did you go?" he frowned.

"I had to arrange a delivery," she shrugged briefly. "What's up?"

He waited until they were in the office and the door was shut, and then leaned forward, hands flat on the desk. "I need you to pull everything we've got on Selena McGann."

"I already-"

"Everything," he cut her off. "Newspaper articles, memos, meeting minutes, absolutely everything that exists that has her name on, I want on this desk."

"That's gonna take some time," Donna warned him, recognising when it was a time to jettison the banter and just get on with the job.

He nodded. "Start with anything from the last year. You read anything about Joe Bridges or the technology bill, bring it right to me."

"Okay."

"And get me lunch sent up, please, I'm not gonna have time to go down and eat."

No bickering about diet or treating her like a slave today. "What do you want?"

He shook his head blankly. "It doesn't matter. Just have it sent up."

"Okay."

"Thank you."

She hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. "Josh... what's going on?" she asked solemnly.

He didn't duck her gaze, but met it looking serious and sad. "I can't tell you that yet," he said apologetically.

"Okay." She nodded in understanding, and slipped out of the office to follow orders.

"Marsha!"

"Sam!" The middle-aged woman smiled warmly at him as he approached.

"I called down," he said, apologetic for interrupting her at work. "Brandy said -"

"It's fine, Sam," she said tolerantly, lighting her cigarette. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Sam smiled awkwardly. "Do you know who was responsible for clean-up after the dinner party Tuesday night?"

"Ted and Alice's crew," she answered instantly.

"They're trustworthy?"

"Every one." She eyed him shrewdly. "What went missing?"

He grimaced. "The Swedish Ambassador's lost his watch. Nobody found anything after the party?"

"Nope." She took a reflective puff of her cigarette.

"Great." He sighed. Marsha gave him a slight smile.

"And Sam, before you have to feel guilty for asking... I'd suspect that bunch that were in there partying of pickpocketing the guy before I'd pin it on one of my crew."

"Yeah." He chuckled slightly. "Me too. Thanks anyway, Marsha."

"Any time."

He headed back off towards the communications department with a frown. Checking in with the cleaning crew had been a long shot... but he'd had to indulge his last hopes of a simple solution. Nobody had found the watch, and the way the White House handled cleaning up after an event, that meant it wasn't there to be found.

And Marsha was right. If the watch had been stolen, it was far more likely to have been lifted by one of the random assortment of VIPs than any of the White House's highly dedicated, comprehensively vetted staff.

The chances of getting out of this without a massive diplomatic incident were getting slimmer and slimmer.

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly at her husband. "You didn't need to come back, you know."

Charlie pretended to be offended. "Hey, I cooked your lunch for you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and I can honestly say these are the best microwave noodles I've ever had."

Actually, she couldn't honestly say that, because her sense of taste had gone south at the same time as her sense of smell, and swallowing anything was difficult when you had to breathe through your mouth at the same time. But still, she appreciated the thought.

"You shouldn't be all alone out here, Zoey," he said worriedly. "What if you got dizzy, or you passed out or something?"

"I'm not all alone, Charlie," she sighed. "I've got like, fifteen Secret Service agents in a room across the hall, and it's not like we're living in a shack in the middle of nowhere."

"Yeah, but how would they know it if you fell?" he persisted. She glared at him.

"Charlie, I'm not carrying a panic button around in my own home!" she objected. Her freedom had been curtailed quite enough as it was, she wasn't about to start inviting the Secret Service in to take over those few aspects of her life she could still call relatively private.

He was giving her his annoyingly sensible 'I wish you'd listen to me' look. "You have to be careful, Zoey, you can't-"

"Jeez! It's a cold!" she snapped. "And considering I know for a fact I got it off my dad, it's been officially certified a cold by at least three White House doctors by now. Why is it everything's suddenly supposed to be fatal when I'm pregnant? I'm not-"

She broke off, and shrugged sullenly; partly because she was becoming short of breath, and partly because the angry comparison she'd been about to draw about being treated like an invalid made her think of her father. He had people fussing around every cough and sneeze for altogether more serious reasons. People might worry about her 'delicate condition', but he really did have a delicate condition, and the slightest hint of an encroaching fever was grounds for worry.

She stirred her noodles with a fork, suddenly even less hungry than she'd been before. "Can we just- Can we just eat lunch, without arguing about it?" she sighed.

"Okay."

Charlie shrugged and surrendered, and for a while they ate in silence. Or rather, Charlie managed silence. Zoey was unable to stop herself from sniffing, wheezing, coughing, and generally sounding like a plague victim.

She looked up to see if her husband was going to make a smart comment, and saw with amusement that not only was he not watching her... he was very nearly asleep. Too many late nights at the office were obviously catching up, and if he slumped forward any further, he was about to end up with his face in a plate of noodles.

Tempting, but... "Charlie." She prodded his shoulder pointedly. "Charlie! Wake up. You've got to go back to work!"

"What? Oh." He shook himself out of it, and blinked. Zoey giggled.

"Charlie, you just fell asleep."

"Oh. Wow." He staggered upright, rubbing his face. She pulled a face at him.

"Maybe you're the one who should be staying in bed, not me," she chided, playful but somewhat serious too.

"No, I've got to get back..." He yawned and stretched. "It's warm in here, that's what it is, I turned the heat up before I left."

"You're exhausted, that's what it is. Charlie, you've got to stop pulling all these late nights," she said worriedly.

He looked resigned. "I know that, Zoey, but your father needs me. He's not well right now, and things have been pretty rough-"

"Yeah." Things had been pretty rough for a long time now, so it seemed. "All right. You should get going."

"Yeah."

She smiled at him. "I'd kiss you goodbye, but you might catch something."

He grinned back. "Between you and the president, if I'm gonna get it, I've already got it." He leaned across and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you tonight. Be careful!"

Zoey shook her head at him. "What are you gonna do when I actually give birth?" she wondered rhetorically.

"Panic," said Charlie, with feeling. He smiled. "I'll see you tonight."

"Okay. Goodbye, Charlie. Don't fall asleep at work!" she called after him.

The door slammed, and suddenly she felt exhausted all over again. Charlie might be babying her to an unnecessary degree... but perhaps a little more sleep wouldn't be such a bad idea, after all.

She crawled back to the bedroom to curl up.