A/N: Nice to see everyone again! I continued this story at the request of Flaming Knight, and it might be better now that I've learned to use profanity sparingly (and I've actually taken a government class and begun to pay attention to politics).

Unfortunately, we'll have to do without the accent over the in because I lost the sheet my Spanish teacher gave me on how to create accents on a mac.

==================

Tirragen's boss was always the first to wake up. When Alex stumbled into the kitchen after a five-hour rest that seemed more like a power nap, Conte was already fully dressed, drinking strong coffee and flipping through a stack of papers. His secretary, clad only in blue-and-green striped boxers and a t-shirt, yawned and dropped himself onto a chair.

he mumbled incoherently. Conte sighed and shoved a mug of coffee across the table, careful not to spill a drop on the President's medical records.

Tirragen paused, coffee halfway to his lips. The President's medical records?!?

Conte laughed. I see you're not too foggy-brained to grasp the importance of my acquisition.

You...what...how did you...? Tirragen jabbered. This was beyond belief, absolutely -

Conte said casually, though his flushed cheeks and elevated heart rate spoke of great excitement. Our contact in the Secret Service was able to steal them right off an agent's desk. Wish I could've seen the look on the kid's face when he had to face Goldenlake...

Tirragen laughed. I know I've known you for years, and yet you never fail to surprise me. Well done, Roger.

Conte smiled. Thank you, Alex. I'm glad I brought you along for the ride.

===================

Lines like three thousand a month, you start tomorrow sound so sincere, Numair thought as he balanced five cups of coffee on a breakneck journey through the crowded newsroom floor up to the executive conference room. The pay was about half what he'd been promised, the employment paperwork had taken a week to go through, and so far he had not been called upon to write a single story. The value of a college degree had never been so evident.

a reporter called, waving at him frantically from a cluster of computers. Numair sighed and thrust his tray of coffee into the arms of an intern. It had taken the news staff two days to discover that he had been studying physics. The liberal arts types, he knew, didn't see any remarkable difference between physics, engineering, computer science, and mathematics. Still, Numair was a naturally helpful person and was perfectly willing to do whatever needed to be done.

Are you certain you've turned it on? he called to the reporter, shoving his way through the crowd.

===================

Watching the press conference on closed-circuit TV, Jonathan Conte was once again glad he had not given Gary the post of press secretary. The post may have been created for Herbert Hoover, he thought, but it might as well have been custom-made for Alanna Trebond.

I already answered that, Alanna said impatiently in response to a reporter's question. Were you fantasizing about your camerawoman? Let's hear a less stupid question.

Doing an excellent job simply doesn't begin to cover it, Jonathan thought.

===================

Alanna sighed and adjusted her dress. She hated dresses. She also hated stupid honorary dinners. Thayet had specifically asked her to come to this one - as vice president and First Lady, she attended these events several times each week - and Alanna was beginning to wish she hadn't agreed.

Welcome, Vice President Conte! proclaimed a banner. Underneath was another banner proudly announcing the annual gathering of the American Veterinary Association. Currently a man who, Alanna couldn't help noting, looked like a cat was rambling on about the rookie of the year, a seventeen-year-old prodigy who had discovered a talent for veterinary medicine while working on her mother's farm and had been awarded a full scholarship to veterinary school. Blah, blah, blah.

The award was presented by Thayet, the pretty young woman thanked her mother and grandfather, and lukewarm chicken was served. Alanna began counting down the minutes until she could leave.

===================

Numair soon realized that he had been assigned a job, presumably with the title Head Coffee-Deliverer to the Vice Presidential Press Corps. He hadn't even known that there was a Vice Presidential press corps.

When the most junior reporter of that group had suddenly come down with food poisoning, Numair had found himself with his first story assignment. He was to attend an event hosted by the American Veterinary association and write a story. Now acquainted with the news business, he knew that this story would never be used, and no one but the veterinarians and the Vice President would ever care about this event. He was wrong.

===================

Well, he was mostly right, except for one. Because as he was checking his coat at the Georgetown Holiday Inn, he noticed a young woman with curly brown hair and a beautiful older blonde enter the hotel.

Love at first sight is complete bullshit, he said before he could stop himself. The coat check boy laughed at him, and Numair blushed.

The remarks at the beginning of the dinner were long and boring, but Numair heard nothing. He gazed at Ms. Sarrasri, the mother of the guest of honor, and wondered if she were married. He admired her long, shining hair, elegantly coiled at the back of her head, and the graceful lines of her neck. Her green dress matched her eyes, and it took all Numair's self-restraint to stop him from wondering what the woman would look like without it.

Then the meal came, and Numair was disappointed to notice that it was chicken. He was a vegetarian. Catching a glimpse of Daine, the beautiful woman's daughter, he hypothesized that she was, too. While the members of her table conversed brightly and enjoyed the cruelly murdered animal, Miss Sarrasri pushed her plate back several inches and rested the top of a textbook on the empty space.

With the excuse of congratulating the guest of honor in mind, Numair pushed back his chair and made his way across the floor to the table. Very recently he had begun to adjust his perception of himself from awkward teenager to fairly good-looking, when it's not a bad hair day and the confidence had manifested itself in a great measure of success with women.

However, the closer he got to Ms. Sarrasri, the more he felt that confidence draining out of him. She was a beautiful, mature woman, and he was a news network errand boy with no friends outside of the college that had expelled him and -

Numair immediately covered his mouth, but the damage was done. Ms. Sarrasri glared at him for his foul language in front of her teenaged daughter, and turned her back to him to converse with the Vice President. Daine laughed and picked the textbook up off the ground.

It's no big deal. The book'll live, she said good-naturedly.

Numair couldn't help noticing the author's name on the spine. Annina Tashike! he said, surprised.

Daine looked amused. You know the author of my physics textbook?

I know her son, Numair said. Well, I used to... He had been all alone in Washington for too long, unable to tell anyone about his life at Princeton for fear that his unsavory reputation would follow him. Before he knew what he was doing, he had poured his heart out to Daine. She listened sympathetically, and seemed perfectly understanding and willing to trust him, even against the word of the son of the head of the University's physics department. After he had finished his story, he felt remarkably free and relaxed, although the danger of being discovered was still present.

Would you tutor me in physics, then? was all Daine had to say. Numair smiled.

===================

You've checked with the administration of the rehab clinic? Roger Conte asked.

replied his secretary.

You've confirmed the witnesses?



You have copies of the records?

In triplicate.

The Speaker smiled and patted the couch next to him. Tirragen sat down and handed Conte a glass of wine. The other man sipped it thoughtfully.

You realize, obviously, that whichever reporter we have break the story must be...convinced...to keep his sources secret.

Tirragen smiled. He realized. I found a kid working for CNN who's trying unsuccessfully to be a reporter. He was expelled from Princeton for plagiarism not too long ago.

Conte raised his eyebrows. I didn't know the network was looking for cheating physics majors. Tirragen shook his head, awed as usual by the amount of information Roger seemed to have on every topic imaginable.

So you've heard about him, then. Well, his bosses haven't.

Roger smiled.

===================

A/N: I'm not sure if I've made this clear enough, and I know it's bad form to tell people these things outright, but I'd like everyone to notice something: in the books, the attack on Jon was likely to be an attempt on his life, but Alanna was there to defend him with superior swordsmanship skills. In my story the attack will be on his reputation, so it stands to reason that Alanna is well-known for her ability to give a story a positive spin.

Thus, an end to the complaints that I gave her the press secretary job because she's the only woman, just like CJ on the West Wing. That's not why.

Anyway, I'd like some reviews. I think I like this and might keep working on it.