XVII

THURSDAY:

"CJ." Carol met her in the corridor as she walked towards her office.

"Good morning, Carol." She hastily downed the last gulp of copy and disposed of the cup. "Do we have that file through from-?"

"It's on your desk."

CJ sensed from her assistant's unusually sober demeanour that there was something unpleasant lurking in the wings. She led the way into her office and turned around when she reached the desk.

"News from Lubbock County?" she guessed.

Carol nodded, and handed her across a sheet of paper. CJ unfolded her glasses and slipped them on to read.

After a moment, she let out her breath in a slow, sad, sigh. She looked up at Carol. "The press have this?"

"They will have soon."

CJ nodded, and sighed again. "What a mess," she said softly, mostly to herself. "What a sad, sorry, pointless mess."

Carol gave her a sad smile of agreement, and diplomatically slipped away, shutting the door behind her.

It was a pleasant change to take a few minutes with his wife and just relax in the morning. No chance to stay in bed, of course, but at least they could actually snatch a little precious time together over breakfast. With, of course, the latest addition to their family on hand.

"Jed, stop feeding that cat your breakfast," Abbey chided mildly, without looking up.

"He's just looking," he protested innocently, as Buster nosed his way over the contents of his tray. "Whoa there, kid, that's a lemon slice, I don't think you're going to- see, what did I tell you?"

The kitten shook himself and blinked indignantly, before retreating to Jed's lap to try and lick himself clean. It was amazing how quickly pets seemed to realise exactly the same thing his daughters had: namely, that daddy was a soft touch for making a fuss over anybody who could make a convincing enough display of wide-eyed innocence. He ruffled the kitten's fur gently, and Abbey smiled at him.

"You look rested," she noted, looking pleased.

"Well, I had good company last night," he grinned. He never slept well without Abbey there beside him.

"Oh, like that kitten hasn't been sleeping on my pillow every night I've been gone," she teased him knowingly.

Jed spread his hands, all innocence. "Careful with the accusations there, lady. You can't prove a thing."

"Unless I bribe the staff."

"Ah, Buster has them wrapped around his paw. Don't you, Buster?" He induced the purring furball to briefly raise its head, and planted a kiss on it.

"Well, he's certainly got you wrapped round it," his wife agreed, but she smiled fondly. "Ready for tonight?" she asked.

He nodded. "Do I get another steak dinner?" he wondered hopefully.

"One's your limit. We want you lean and mean."

"Well, I'll definitely be mean," he grumbled, but it was pure habit by now. This damn diet was here to stay, alas, although he was allowed a little more wiggle room now that Abbey thought he was a little too thin. He'd never thought of himself as particularly overweight in the years when he'd been carrying perhaps a touch more padding than he truly needed, but now he was actually skinny - a word he couldn't have laid claim to since he was in his early twenties. In the grip of that bad cold he'd seemed frail even to himself, and it was a relief to feel so much better now.

Leo knocked, and let himself in apologetically.

"Good morning, Leo," Abbey greeted him, warmly enough considering the interruption. He gave her a nod.

"Good morning, ma'am. Sir-"

His Chief of Staff most definitely had his political hat on. Jed stood up, brushing crumbs from his lips. "What's up, Leo?"

"We've got Chad on the phone."

"Finally." He turned regretfully towards his wife. "Abbey-"

She waved her toast at him in acknowledgement. "Duty calls," she accepted with a shrug. He pressed a kiss on her in passing.

"How are you feeling?" Leo asked, as they left the Residence.

Jed stopped in the middle of the corridor, and held out a hand. "Hi, I'm Jed Bartlet. I thought we'd met sometime before, but judging by your question, I'm mistaken."

"It's the State of the Union," his Chief of Staff reminded him.

"Yes, thank you, Leo, I'd almost forgotten. Look, how about, if I keel over in the middle of the hallway you can assume it's a good time to ask that question, and other times, we take it as read? Is that too much to ask?"

"Well, I worry."

"I hate it when you come over all maternal. Good morning, Charlie."

"Good morning, Mr. President. Admiral Fitzwallace is waiting for you now."

"Thank you, Charlie." He gave his aide a nod, and kept on walking.

Fitz stood up to meet him. "Mr. President. We have the Chadian Ambassador for you on line one."

"Thank you, Fitz." He took the proffered receiver from a nearby military aide. "Mr. Ambassador."

"Mr. President. It is a great-"

"I'm sure it is," he cut the man off shortly. "Listen, Mr. Ambassador, we're less than twenty-four hours away from the State of the Union and I'm a busy man, so let's make this very direct. Was there, or was there not, an incident two days ago in which Libyan fighters pursued a Chadian plane across the border, where it promptly crashed somewhere to the north of Aozou?"

"Yes, Mr. President, there was."

He exchanged startled looks with the rest of the room.

"Yes?"

"Yes. But Mr. President, on one particular you are mistaken. The craft did not originate with us. It was a Libyan plane."

"Hey, Sam." Josh gave him a nod over his coffee as they met in the hallway.

Sam looked grave. "You've spoken to CJ?"

"About Lubbock County?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah." There was a brief beat of sadly resigned silence. "How did they find out?" Josh asked.

"Turns out one of the girl's classmates overheard her with the two boys. They were threatening to come over while her parents were out... there was no way she didn't know they were going to be there."

"Did she crack?"

"The girl? No. She hasn't said a word. But apparently, an amazing number of other kids started miraculously remembering things after the first one came forward. The boys had been harassing her and bullying her for years."

"And so, one night, they threaten to come over, and she sits up in wait with her father's shotgun..." Josh filled in, and trailed off. "What's going to happen to her?"

"I don't know." Sam shook his head slowly. "What should?" he genuinely wondered.

"Toby knows?" Josh asked, after a sombre moment.

"It's taken the wind out of his sails. He's not fired up anymore, just... depressed." By the look on his face, Sam was on his way to joining him. Some days, you were angry at all the compromises and restrictions that stopped you from getting out there and changing the world.

Some days, you wondered if you even knew where to start.

"You wrote the stronger language," Josh reminded him softly.

Sam gave him a small, quietly sad smile. "We knew all along we weren't going to use it."

They split up, and went their separate ways.