VIII

"Josh?" Donna shrugged her coat on and peered through the office doorway. Her boss looked up from his paperwork and blinked at her blearily.

"Hey... You're still here?"

"I was just leaving. It's late."

"Yeah." Wonder of wonders, he took this for the hint it was, sitting back and running a hand over his face before beginning to straighten the papers on his desk.

"You've been quiet most of the day," she observed, careful not to sound accusing; it was hard to tell sometimes if it was just an ordinary quiet or the worrying Josh-quiet.

But he shrugged it off, and smiled disarmingly. "Hey, it's Toby's turn. We've worked it out in shifts so the White House always has at least one irrational guy wandering the halls and ranting." He stood still, and cast around helplessly for a few moments.

"File cabinet," Donna directed, without needing to ask. He twisted around, saw the folder he was looking for sitting atop the indicated cabinet, and gave her a sheepish smile.

"Thanks." He tucked it into his backpack, had another look around, and gave up on finding anything else he was supposed to take with him. "You're finished up here?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded.

"Come on. I'll walk you out." He steered her out of the office with a hand on the small of her back.

"Hey, Zoey."

"Hey!" He could hear his wife's surprised smile in the way she answered the phone. He knew Zoey was feeling frustrated with being so housebound; the extra security protection surrounding her pregnancy and her own hampered ability to get about were combining to make all but the most routine of trips an increasingly difficult proposition.

"We're finishing up early so your father can get some rest ready for the State of the Union," he explained. Against the president's will, of course, but what else was new? "I'll be home pretty soon. You want me to pick you up anything on the way back?"

"Ben and Jerry's?" she requested instantly. He had to smile.

"Okay, you say these are cravings, but this is just getting me to buy you ice- cream, isn't it?"

"Make sure it's got chocolate," she ordered. "Lots of chocolate."

"Your wish is my command, my lady," he said dryly.

"Hey, if I've got to be the size of a house anyway, I might as well feed the fat."

"You're not the size of a house," he said loyally.

She giggled. "Is that what your books on dealing with crazy hormonal pregnant women told you to say?"

"Maybe the size of a one-bedroom apartment," he allowed. She laughed more, and if he'd been there would probably have swatted him on the shoulder.

"Charlie!"

"I'll be home soon," he promised.

"Okay. See you then."

"I love you. Bye."

Sam was passing as he put the phone down, and paused to give him a nod. "Hey, Charlie. Managed to get the president tucked up in bed yet?"

"Leo's gone up to glare him into submission." On nights when the First Lady was out of town, the president had a distinct tendency to stay up reading reports long after they thought they'd successfully argued him into getting some sleep. "I was just leaving."

"How's Zoey?" Sam asked him.

He grinned. "Bossing me about."

Sam smiled in return. "She's in training to be a mom."

"Yeah."

They fell into step together as Charlie pulled on his coat. "Getting nervous yet?" Sam teased.

"You have no idea."

"No. I guess I don't." For a moment the Deputy Communications Director was quiet; no doubt thinking of the complicated prospect a future family of his own might be, if he and Steve remained together. Charlie glanced sideways at him - and then blinked.

"Hey."

"Hey?"

"You shaved your beard." He'd been sensing something slightly off about Sam all day, but it was only now he'd finally put his finger on it.

Sam had been wearing his new goatee for - wow, it must have been a couple of months now - but, though it had suited him well enough, somehow there had always been something... fundamentally un-Sam-like about it. Now that it had vanished, he just looked like himself again.

Sam smiled wryly. "Fifteen hours I've been at work today. You know you're the first person who noticed?"

They'd reached the point where they had to split up. "See you later, Sam."

"See you tomorrow."

They went their separate ways.

"Hey, Leo," the president called through the door at the sound of his gentle knock. He was sitting propped up in bed with the black-and-white kitten curled up nearby in a hollow in the bedclothes. The piles of paperwork he'd expected to have to confiscate were nowhere to be seen, but...

"Next time you want to pretend you're not working late, try taking your glasses off," he suggested.

Jed tugged them off with a guiltless smile. "Ah, is that how Abbey catches me all the time?"

"That, and the fact that she knows you," Leo pointed out. He nodded towards the kitten. "Is that thing allowed on the beds in here?" he wondered.

The president shot him a look. "These are my own blankets, Leo, it's not like they belonged to Abraham Lincoln. Besides... he gets lonely." He lightly brushed a fingertip over the cat's curled form, eliciting a small 'mrrp' of protest and an inquisitively raised head.

"Ah. I see. It's the cat who wants company."

Jed narrowed his eyes, and then relaxed and allowed himself a sheepish chuckle. "Oh, all right. Yes, I admit I like the cat. Yes, it's nice to have him here," he conceded petulantly. He grew more solemn as he let the little creature nuzzle his hand. "Still not the same as having Abbey here, though," he sighed.

Leo smirked. "Okay, there are so many bad taste jokes there that I'm not even gonna-"

"Oh, give it a rest, would you?" But the slightest flicker of a smile touched the corner of his mouth for a moment. "I heard Mallory was here earlier," he added. "You two were arguing about something?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Leo dismissed the question. "She wanted to bring a totally unsuitable date to the State of the Union. I talked her out of it."

Jed said nothing, but gave him a rather pointed look.

"...Or I will, eventually, talk her out of it," he conceded. "Anyway, it's nothing for you to worry about. You should get some sleep."

"I should start calling you mom now?" he smirked.

"Damn right," Leo nodded firmly.

Jed smiled affectionately. "Goodnight, Leo."

He smiled back. "Goodnight, Mr. President." It was a definite relief to see him back in a lighter mood again. "And get some sleep, or I'm telling Abbey you let the cat stay in here with you," he threatened as a parting shot.

"Traitor," Jed called after him, chuckling.

Leo closed the door, straightened his jacket, and headed for home.