XII
"...And that's all we have on that for you for the moment." CJ surveyed the press room, gauging their mood. "Questions?"
A hand she was getting very used to seeing shot up again. The shine of having an old friend back in town was certainly starting to wear off... "Danny?" she queried resignedly.
"Just out of curiosity, CJ, why was Leo McGarry meeting with the Vice President last night?"
Dammit, how did he do it? She didn't even know Leo had been over there, let alone what it was about. "Government business, Danny," she slid in sardonically, enjoying the undercurrent disgusted groans that rippled through the room. "Hey, contrary to popular belief, it happens."
"Okay," he accepted cheerfully. "Swedish Ambassador's watch?"
She pointed at him accusingly. "That's two for the price of one, Danny," she chided jokingly. "You've got to learn to let the other kids play. Arthur."
"CJ-" he began, spreading his hands almost apologetically as he prepared to chase the line of enquiry. Of course she'd known she couldn't duck the watch question so casually, but it had allowed her a beat to collect her thoughts, and a little yanking of Danny's chain just for fun besides.
"We're investigating the watch thing, Arthur," she said. "The Swedish Ambassador was... a little inebriated... on the night in question, and we don't want anybody jumping to any hasty conclusions."
That was by way of a little verbal rap on the knuckles to the press corps; 'give us time, or we could both end up looking stupid'. They only had the shortest of grace periods before the ambassador started mouthing off about sneak thieves, but might as well hold the brakes on the story for as long as she could.
The press corps obeyed the hint, although probably only because they knew that particular scent of blood in the water would only get fresher with time. She looked for an appropriately friendly face. "Katie."
"CJ, how's the president doing?"
She smiled slightly, relieved to be able to report the truth on that front. " He's doing swell; I have it on good authority that he's feeling much better. We fully expect him to be up to full health in next to no time, and be back in perfect condition for the State of the Union."
She could have pointed out that he'd delivered that particular speech with considerably worse problems than a mere cold, but the last thing she wanted to do was give them any help steering the subject back to fever-induced MS attacks.
"Is he taking any medication?" Chris chimed in. It was just as well CJ was an expert in straight faces, as she recalled how even the perfectly innocent pills he'd been taking Tuesday night had almost caused a disaster with a little champagne poured on top.
"Just a good old-fashioned dose of chicken soup, vitamin C, and cough medicine," she assured. Keeping it light, always keeping it light, because God forbid she suggest the president was in danger of even so much as a headache or a coughing fit.
She smiled then, however, as she decided that it was the right time to bring out her secret weapon. "In other news," she added playfully, "I can report that the Bartlet family has finally decided to follow the example of previous administrations, and liven up the White House with the introduction of a First Pet. Yesterday morning, the Bartlets were moved to give a home to a male black and white kitten whose previous owners were unable to look after it. No word on a name just yet, but I'm told he and the president have hit it off and are fast becoming inseparable."
She smirked at the veritable forest of hands that shot up in the wake of that surprise announcement. "Yeah, I thought that would get you going."
Seasoned political hacks? The public at large might think they lived for muck- raking and scandal, but she knew better. Throw them something light, fluffy and heart- warming, and they were yours for life.
"Melanie?" Sam smiled enquiringly as he approached the young woman in the lobby. She turned, and gave him a cautious smile.
"Sam Seaborn?" she assumed, more for confirmation than an outright question. If she was a regular at White House events she'd probably seen him around, at least from a distance. He recalled her face from the party now, although the mysterious green dress both CJ and Steve claimed to remember was a blank to him. He'd never been good with noticing clothes and hairstyles. Back when he'd still been with Lisa, an open-ended 'So... what do you think?' had been enough to inspire mortal terror.
"Yeah. Thanks for coming; if you'd like to follow me..." He guided her away from the busy public space of the lobby. He smiled politely as they sat down. "Coffee?"
"No. Thank you." She sat slightly hunched, looking nervous. Sam guessed that while she might have seen the inside of an exclusive party or two, she'd never been invited into the West Wing. He leaned back in his chair, trying to keep things relaxed and unintimidating.
"Sorry to drag you back here like this," he apologised, "but it's a matter of some diplomatic delicacy. You spent some time Tuesday night with the Swedish Ambassador?"
She smiled wryly, a politer expression of what might have been a snort in other company. "You mean, did I notice him chasing me around the dance floor like I was the second course? Yes, I remember the Swedish Ambassador."
He grinned slightly in response. "Well, the ambassador contacted us yesterday in a state of high distress. Apparently, at some point during the dinner party on Tuesday evening, he lost track of a highly valuable engraved gold watch. We were hoping you might be able to shed some light on what could have happened to it."
She shrugged easily. "Sure, I know what happened to it." She pulled back the left sleeve of her blouse, revealing a chunky gold band around her wrist. "I've got it."
"Josh." She knocked lightly on the doorframe as she entered to get his attention. He pushed himself upright with a groan and a grimace; she guessed he must have been leaning back staring at the ceiling for some time.
"Hey, Donna," he smiled tiredly.
"Do you need anything?"
"No... no." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm fine."
Donna pulled the door shut behind her, and crossed over to join him. "Do the others know yet?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "Leo wanted to talk to the president first, and speak with Hoynes again on the phone. The next step's to involve CJ." He grimaced at that thought. "We've left her out of the loop too long on too many things, and it never goes well. Danny's already sniffing something, he must know Leo doesn't go over to see the Vice President late at night over nothing."
"I thought CJ did well with the briefing," she offered, trying to cheer him up a little. She'd watched for the announcement at the end, and seen CJ step around some potentially awkward questions with a great deal of grace.
"Yeah." Josh rested his chin in his palm for a moment, then glanced up at her wryly. "You gave the president a cat?" he asked, a little incredulously.
"The First Lady gave the president a cat," she corrected quickly. "I just ran interference."
"Donna-" he began, sounding exasperated.
"I didn't even suggest it! I was just on the phone to Shelley over at accounts, and the First Lady overheard me talking about finding a home for a kitten..."
"Okay." He waved any question of deliberate kitten-placement away with a lazy hand.
"The First Lady thinks it'll be good for his blood pressure to have a pet."
He glanced up at her. "Yeah?"
"They've done studies, Josh."
"And I'll bet you can quote me the facts and figures, too," he noted tolerantly.
"Pets are good for people. Did you know that in this country people spend more money on cat food alone than on baby food?"
"That's probably because you can't breastfeed a cat, Donna," he said sardonically. He blinked. "Or at least, I would hope not."
Donna gave him a look. "The point being, Joshua, that many many people in this country like cats. The president among them. You don't need to act as if I parachuted into the place in the dead of night and boobytrapped his office with kittens."
He sniffed, probably of the opinion that she'd basically done exactly that. She sighed.
"I don't know why you're so afraid of cats, Joshua. Very few of them are likely to attack you, and contrary to what you were muttering that time you came over to my apartment drunk, absolutely none of them vote Republican."
"They would if they could register," Josh insisted mistrustfully. "Donna, I have no objection to cats... in their right place!" he protested. "Their right place being as far away from me as humanly possible, and nowhere near the centre of this country's government."
She gave him a dry look. "I don't think you have to worry about a military coup, Josh."
"It's distracting! This is the White House, not a-" he gesticulated wildly, " farm, or something. Now, every time I've gotta go into the Oval Office, there's a kitten sitting there staring at me!"
She let that hang in the air for a beat. "Well, I can see how that would be far more intimidating than just the President of the United States on his own."
Josh sighed, and deflated.
"It's really supposed to be good for his blood pressure?" he wondered, after a moment.
"I think the president could do with just about any aid in relaxing he can get," Donna pointed out.
"Yeah." He looked tired. After a brief pause, he sat up, and met her eyes. " We're going round in circles, Donna. Every time we put one crisis in the drawer, there's another one lining up to take its place. We're rowing ourselves round in circles, and we're not getting anywhere."
She considered that, and then shrugged slightly, and smiled. "At least we're still afloat."
After a moment, he nodded briefly, and smiled back. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose we are."