IX

WEDNESDAY:

"Toast."

"Thanks." Sam accepted the plate automatically from his other half, still focused on the TV news despite the fact that the sound was turned down to a few steps shy of mute. Steve sat down beside him, frowning at the graphic behind the anchorwoman.

"Is this about those kids in Texas?" he guessed.

"Yeah." He sighed, shaking his head. "It's amazing how quick these guys are to pull out the fact that with stricter gun laws, this girl wouldn't have been able to defend herself. Nobody seems to question whether she should have been defending herself with lethal force in the first place."

"Did they find out any more about the two boys?"

Sam shook his head. "They're just- by all accounts, they were just two ordinary teenagers. Maybe they were going to rob that house, who knows? But one of them's dead, and if the other dies too, we'll never find out."

The solemn silence that fell after that was broken only by the crunch of toast for several moments. Sam reached for the remote when a picture of Hoynes appeared, and jacked the sound back up.

"-still given no word on whether he intends to run for the presidential nomination in 2006. Leading Congressional Democrats are putting pressure on the White House to have Hoynes step down to clear the field for a VP with a fighting chance of securing the election. Many experts attribute the narrowly scraped victory for the Democrats in the last election to Bartlet's own personal charisma, and the added advantage of running as the incumbent. This scandal will have done a great deal to undermine the Vice President's support base with the American public, and consequently within the party itself. I have here with me today Cindy Walmington from the Traditional Values Coalition -"

Steve gave a sharp snort at that, which Sam acknowledged wryly. Nothing good for the Democrats ever came out of an organisation with a name like that.

"Cindy."

The woman across the desk was wearing a neatly pressed blouse, rather too much makeup for the camera, and a supercilious expression. She carefully arranged her hands before speaking. "Well, Jennifer, I think one thing many people are overlooking is the place of Jason Hoynes in this. I ask you, is it fair to this young man-?"

What, exactly, was supposed to be horribly unfair to the Vice President's teenage son would forever remain a mystery, because at that point, Sam turned the TV off in disgust. "Gah."

Steve smirked at him.

"What?" he demanded.

"You know, sometimes you're a lot like Toby."

Sam blinked. "Okay, I'm going to hope that was meant to be complimentary."

"But of course," Steve agreed airily, standing up.

Sam stood too. "I'd better get going."

"Yeah. So what are you guys doing about Hoynes?" Steve wondered as he headed towards the kitchen.

"Honestly? I have no idea. Which either means there's a plan that nobody's bothered to tell me... or nobody else knows, either."

"I'm sorry, Mr. President, the First Lady and her party left the hotel half an hour ago. If you like, we can put you through to-"

"No, no, that's fine," Jed said, trapping the receiver between chin and shoulder as he sat up with a creak that he hoped was the chair. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

He hung up and frowned at the phone. Abbey wasn't supposed to be moving on her next engagement until the afternoon. If there'd been a last minute reshuffle, that didn't bode well for her getting home tomorrow morning as planned. He'd hoped to have at least a few hours to spend with her before the State of the Union.

There was a gentle knock. "Come in, Charlie!" he raised his voice.

His aide hovered apologetically, knowing he was again cutting in to the time Jed usually set aside for talking with his wife when she was away. "Mr. President? CJ."

"Send her in." He stood up.

"Mr. President." She gave him a warm smile.

"What news on Lubbock County?" he asked.

The expression dimmed a little. "David Calgary still hasn't woken up. They won't know until he does - if he does - if there's going to be brain damage."

He sighed regretfully. "What's happening about the girl?"

"I honestly couldn't say. It turns out she would have known them both from school; the police are still trying to figure out what they were doing in the yard in the first place."

Jed shook his head sadly. "What a senseless thing..."

"Yeah." CJ looked down.

He shook himself out of it, and wandered over to where the kitten sat curled on the corner of the couch. "Leo tells me you want me to give this fella a name?" he asked, smiling at the small wet nose that rubbed across his knuckles to greet him.

The press are beginning to get itchy," she agreed, following him over.

"Yeah, well, they're not the ones who got a kitten dropped on them out of nowhere. You know, this is exactly how Zoey ended up with that damn pony." The complaint was more by rote than anything else by now. Abbey knew him entirely too well. As soon as the expense and inconvenience he was objecting to was turned into something that could stare at him plaintively, the battle was already lost.

"Zoey had a pony?" CJ enquired, perhaps a touch enviously.

"We live on a farm," he reminded her.

"I never got a pony. I always wanted a pony."

"Claudia Jean, are you asking me to buy you a pony?"

"I don't think I could fit one in my apartment," she noted. She smiled down at the kitten, now pointedly ignoring them both in favour of delicately licking the back of one paw. "So, sir, did you have any ideas? Something literary, maybe mythological..."

He scratched his pet between the ears. "I was thinking probably Buster."

CJ blinked. "See, sometimes you're whimsical, and sometimes you're just messing with my head."

"What's wrong with Buster?" he demanded.

"It's not very... presidential," she said diplomatically.

"And I'm sure that will hamper his chances in the 2006 election," Jed said dryly. "However, I don't think he's going to meet the age requirement anyway, so-"

"You know, it's not too late to let the children of America write in with name suggestions," she offered.

"Cats have to be allowed to name themselves, Claudia Jean," he chided her. "And this one wants to be called Buster."

She hesitated for a beat. "Okay. Please don't ever tell the press room your cat is giving you instructions."

Jed smiled. "Buster..." he murmured softly, to get the kitten's attention. " See? He knows I'm talking about him. He just looked at me."

"All due respect, Mr. President, he just looked at you because you just prodded him in the ear."

"Oh ye of little faith." He pointed at her. "Buster! Kill."

The kitten, probably by complete coincidence, actually did stand up and move perhaps half a step - before flopping down again with every evidence of heaving a world- weary sigh. CJ couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Jed smirked in response.

"See? He's a born comedian. Buster it is."

"Buster it is," she agreed, still grinning. "Thank you, Mr. President."

"No problem." He saw her out of the Oval Office with a smile.