Again, thanks to everyone for your lovely reviews. You guys are the
coolest.
A/N: I will not be elaborating on the situation with Charlie in this story anymore than I do in this chapter. Maybe I'll do an additional fic about him, but since this one is mainly focused around Carl and the rest of the senior staff, there won't be much in this. Chapter 3/6
Carl and CJ were in her office, preparing for Carl's first press conference. They originally weren't going to have him go up, but the press had been clamoring for information about him that CJ hadn't known. So it was either send Carl up to be interrogated, or CJ spend some quality time with him. She chose the former. It wasn't that he was a bad guy. It was just that she couldn't look at him without remembering the last time she'd seen Josh, lying broken and bleeding on the gurney.
She shook her head to get rid of that image. "You don't have to answer any questions you don't want to." She said, watching Gail swim around her bowl, "They may ask you questions about your personal life and you are allowed to answer, but you don't have to. For now they don't need to know whether you're married, gay, whatever. Chances are though that they'll mostly be asking about background and your feelings about taking the job. And if there's anything about the job that you're not sure about, don't try to make up an answer. And never be sarcastic. They take that the wrong way. Like this one time—"
She caught herself as she was about to mention a secret plan to fight inflation. Carl watched her expectantly, but she didn't finish.
"So anyway, it'll be forty minutes or so. Call on whoever you like. I'd suggest the more business magazines. The others will probably be asking more personal questions..."
That night Carl was pacing the room outside the Oval Office. The President wanted to meet him. He'd been here three days already but the only contact they had had was a thirty-second meeting in Leo's office the first day.
Charlie was reading some book that the President had lent him. He didn't understand any of it and had a sneaking suspicion it was written in Latin. He looked over the top of it at the man pacing by the door and felt the familiar guilt crash into his stomach.
Carl felt the assistant's eyes on him. He could feel the anger in them burning into his flesh like a laser.
Charlie couldn't look at him any longer. This man brought it all back. Not that it had gone very far to begin with, but just looking at him made Charlie want to cry or vomit. Or kill himself. It was his fault.
The door opened and the President escorted Carl inside. He shut the door behind them, then sat down. Carl remained standing.
"Sit down Carl." He said after a moment of awkward silence. "Do you want a drink?"
"No thank you, sir." Carl replied, sitting down opposite the President.
"So how do you like it?" the President asked.
"Like what? The job?"
"Yeah."
"Fine, sir."
"Good. Leo said you'd be good for this job. He needs a deputy. We all knew that he should've hired someone months ago, but...."
He looked beyond Carl and sighed. After a moment he spoke again.
"How are you getting along with the other staffers?"
How was he getting along with them? No one would look him in the eye. "Fine sir." He said, "You've got a good staff out there."
Bartlet raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
TBC...
A/N: I will not be elaborating on the situation with Charlie in this story anymore than I do in this chapter. Maybe I'll do an additional fic about him, but since this one is mainly focused around Carl and the rest of the senior staff, there won't be much in this. Chapter 3/6
Carl and CJ were in her office, preparing for Carl's first press conference. They originally weren't going to have him go up, but the press had been clamoring for information about him that CJ hadn't known. So it was either send Carl up to be interrogated, or CJ spend some quality time with him. She chose the former. It wasn't that he was a bad guy. It was just that she couldn't look at him without remembering the last time she'd seen Josh, lying broken and bleeding on the gurney.
She shook her head to get rid of that image. "You don't have to answer any questions you don't want to." She said, watching Gail swim around her bowl, "They may ask you questions about your personal life and you are allowed to answer, but you don't have to. For now they don't need to know whether you're married, gay, whatever. Chances are though that they'll mostly be asking about background and your feelings about taking the job. And if there's anything about the job that you're not sure about, don't try to make up an answer. And never be sarcastic. They take that the wrong way. Like this one time—"
She caught herself as she was about to mention a secret plan to fight inflation. Carl watched her expectantly, but she didn't finish.
"So anyway, it'll be forty minutes or so. Call on whoever you like. I'd suggest the more business magazines. The others will probably be asking more personal questions..."
That night Carl was pacing the room outside the Oval Office. The President wanted to meet him. He'd been here three days already but the only contact they had had was a thirty-second meeting in Leo's office the first day.
Charlie was reading some book that the President had lent him. He didn't understand any of it and had a sneaking suspicion it was written in Latin. He looked over the top of it at the man pacing by the door and felt the familiar guilt crash into his stomach.
Carl felt the assistant's eyes on him. He could feel the anger in them burning into his flesh like a laser.
Charlie couldn't look at him any longer. This man brought it all back. Not that it had gone very far to begin with, but just looking at him made Charlie want to cry or vomit. Or kill himself. It was his fault.
The door opened and the President escorted Carl inside. He shut the door behind them, then sat down. Carl remained standing.
"Sit down Carl." He said after a moment of awkward silence. "Do you want a drink?"
"No thank you, sir." Carl replied, sitting down opposite the President.
"So how do you like it?" the President asked.
"Like what? The job?"
"Yeah."
"Fine, sir."
"Good. Leo said you'd be good for this job. He needs a deputy. We all knew that he should've hired someone months ago, but...."
He looked beyond Carl and sighed. After a moment he spoke again.
"How are you getting along with the other staffers?"
How was he getting along with them? No one would look him in the eye. "Fine sir." He said, "You've got a good staff out there."
Bartlet raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
TBC...