XVI

"Well, dad?" Mallory took the opportunity to ask him, as Brandon slipped off to use the restroom.

Leo shrugged slightly. "Isn't he a little skinny for you?"

She elbowed him. "No he's not, and don't evade the question."

"He... seems to be rational enough. For a radio person," he allowed, with poor grace.

"I told you!"

"That's really not the point," he reminded her, taking a sip of his remaining coffee. It was starting to turn cold; they'd been sitting talking for a while now. Mallory's boyfriend seemed personable enough, and a good debater... but still. "Just because he's a reasonable guy doesn't mean you can bring him to the State of the Union."

"He's not against the administration, dad. He's not even against Hoynes."

"He just called for his resignation!"

"He said he thought it would be the most noble thing for Hoynes to do, to preserve the integrity of the office."

"That's a pretty fine distinction."

"Not that fine!"

"The media won't make it."

"Dad, what are the odds any reporter there has the slightest idea who he is?"

"You know, it's just as well I don't have low self-esteem," Brandon observed from behind her. She twisted around, and smiled up at him.

"Hi."

He didn't sit. "Mr. McGarry, I appreciate that you have the best interests of the president at heart, but believe me, I'm not acting against them. The press don't know me, I'm not out to court them, and I've absolutely no intention of causing a scene."

"And what will you say when these press who theoretically don't know you from Adam mysteriously do recognise you, and do chase you up, and do harass you into giving them a quote?" Leo demanded.

Foxton managed to hold his gaze. "The truth," he said simply. "That I'm there in an entirely apolitical role with my date, President Bartlet wouldn't know me if he ran me over with his bicycle, and my comments about the Vice President were made in the spirit of supporting the integrity of a government that's made me proud of voting for it more often than it's disappointed me."

Leo nodded slowly, digesting that. Mallory chose to speed the process by giving him another less than subtle jab with her elbow. "Dad..." she said pleadingly.

He wondered, resignedly, just how many government-shattering disasters had been preceded by the thought 'Well, okay, I guess it wouldn't hurt to let it go just this once...' "All right," he scowled. "You can bring him. But if I see this guy within fifty feet of the president, I'm retroactively taking back that car I bought for you in high school."

She wrinkled her forehead at him. "Dad, I haven't seen that car in fifteen years."

"That's okay. I'll take cash," he shrugged.

She ignored this threat, and leaned across to give him a kiss on the temple. "You're a sweetheart, dad," she smiled.

He rolled his eyes, knowing the president would be mocking him mercilessly if he could see this now. "Whatever you say."

Mallory stood up when he did. "I'll walk you back to the hotel."

"Thanks, Mal, but I'm allowed out on my own now. The president wrote me a note," he said sardonically.

"I wouldn't mind you being out. I just know for a fact that if I let you go now, you'll go straight back to the White House." She linked her arm through his as Brandon reached for his coat. "Come on, dad. Let's get you home."

There were times when Leo wondered just why the hell anyone imagined he was in charge around here.

"Goodnight, Charlie."

"Goodnight, Mr. President." His aide gave him a warm but weary smile.

"Kiss Zoey for me," he ordered.

"Yes, sir!" his son-in-law agreed, with what Jed considered just a tad too much enthusiasm. He pointed a cautionary finger.

"That's one little kiss, no need to go overboard, Skippy."

"Oh, I think the ship's already sailed on that one, Mr. President," he smirked.

"Whereas the ship to take you to your new posting in Alaska is just waiting at the docks for my signal," Jed warned.

Charlie only smiled. "Goodnight, Mr. President," he repeated, as he shrugged on his coat and departed.

Instead of going straight up to the Residence, he walked through the West Wing. A light remained under Josh's door, so he knocked lightly on the doorframe, and walked in.

"Mr. President." Josh scrambled tiredly to his feet, but Jed waved him back down again. This was just a social call, really; he had an itch to be moving around, and he'd had a feeling Josh would still be here. He leaned against the back of the chair in front of him.

"Hey, what happened to that kid you wanted me to meet?" he wondered, after a little mental filtering to figure out when he'd last spoken to the Deputy Chief of Staff.

"He, uh- we sent him home." Josh rubbed the back of his neck. "He'll be back again tomorrow."

Jed dredged up a mental picture, already somewhat unclear; he saw too many faces in this job. He vaguely recalled spiky hair and a nervous, extremely young-looking face. "How old is he, fifteen?"

Josh gave him a small smile that made him think he wasn't the only one feeling his age. "He's twenty-three, Mr. President."

"He looks like he should be in school!"

"He's a good kid," Josh assured him.

"They're all good kids," he allowed. He sighed faintly. "Washington used to be full of old men when we got here. Now it's full of kids."

"Well, maybe your presence has rejuvenated them, Mr. President," Josh said, with barely perceptible sarcasm.

Jed cocked an eyebrow pointedly. "Your tactfulness is noted."

"Toby wants to write about the Lubbock County shooting."

He wasn't surprised at the non sequitur. "And what's your opinion?" he asked mildly.

"I..." Josh spread his hands and sighed. "I don't have one. Honest to- I don't have one."

Jed nodded, and let him keep talking.

"It's just-" He shook his head. "This is political, and that's my thing, and- everybody assumes this is gonna be my crusade now. Everybody expects me to be out there waving the banners, and..." He trailed off.

"Yeah," Jed agreed softly. He thought of all the people queuing up after the revelations about his childhood, expecting him to sign off on a dozen domestic violence initiatives. And of course he supported them, but... The fact that it was personal hadn't magically swept aside all his other duties and responsibilities, all the other issues he had to weigh such decisions against. It hadn't suddenly raised it above all the other things.

Just because you'd been through something didn't make it your personal crusade.

Josh looked up at him. "Do you have an opinion?" he wondered.

"On being shot?" He considered for a moment. "It hurt, and I'd rather not go through it again, and I'd rather nobody else had to go through it, either." He hesitated for a beat, then smiled. "Too simplistic, you think?"

Josh smiled back at him. "Maybe just simple enough." He stood, and ran a hand through his rumpled hair. "Goodnight, Mr. President."

"Goodnight, Josh."

He left.

He outlined it all, in bold, powerful words. The good words. The right words. Words that could shape or shatter the world; words that flowed straight from the subconscious to the page in a surge of fiery certainty. Exactly the words that needed to be said.

Toby stopped, and balanced his pen between his fingers.

A soft sound from the doorway made him look up. Andy knew him well enough by now to know that a loud interruption wouldn't be welcomed if he was caught up in mid-sentence; a quiet one wouldn't be heard.

"What are you doing?" she asked him mildly, when it became clear after a moment he was neither going to write on nor respond.

Toby hesitated for a while, then snapped his fingers closed around the pen. "Brooding," he admitted honestly.

She gave him a faint smile. "Working on the State of the Union?" she guessed. Though Toby's head was never less than overflowing with words, it was a rare speech that occupied him to such an extent that he didn't feel comfortable leaving them to percolate until the next morning.

He looked down at what he'd written. "In another universe, maybe," he conceded.

These were good words. These were the right words. This was the gun control argument he wanted to make.

And they couldn't use it.

He knew, much as it grated, that Leo was right. If they tried to launch this now, it would only drown in the controversy surrounding Hoynes and the concern over Bartlet's health. But he also knew that if they left it until after the State of the Union, it wouldn't pack nearly the punch they needed to have a hope of getting somewhere. Nobody would believe it was any more than the usual token flurry of quickly-forgotten meetings if they didn't announce it tomorrow night.

And the hell of it was... if they didn't announce it tomorrow night, then it would only be a few token meetings.

Andy leaned against the doorframe. "Coming to bed?" she enquired, with a sympathetic smile.

He stood, and tore the front page off his notebook. On his way out of the room, he crumpled it and tossed it in the trash.