Michael Cregg-Concannon took in the White House from his ten-year-old position, his father's hand on his head so as not to lose him. He watched, as people seemed extremely happy to see his father, and him. It gave Michael, staring up at his father as his dad joked and palled with people, an amazing feeling that his father was a well-liked man.

"Danny!" Sam yelled Danny's name.

"Sam, what are you doing here?"

"Josh, come here, it's Danny." Sam looked back at Danny. "We're doing some consulting work for—"

"Hey there Mikey." Josh ran his hand through Michael's hair.

"Hey, Mike, you remember Josh, he's your godfather."

"Hi." Mike said sheepishly.

"And Sam."

"I'm not your godfather." Sam said unsure how to make the boy remember. "Not that I'm not great friends with your parents, I'm just not your godfather in any way. Well, not the technical way, but I could be in the spiritual sense of the word." Sam looked away and did his best Brando impression. "Michael it's about the family." Josh, Michael, and Danny stared at him.

"He's not gonna—"Josh said to Sam.

"Sorry, I just always wanted to—"

"Yeah, Sam we know." The group continued to walk.

"You showing him the tour?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, thought I'd show him around. Show him C.J.'s old office."

"You mean where you two first..." Josh started to infer in a non-child friendly way.

"Hey!" Danny put his hands over Michael's ears.

"I wasn't gonna say anything—"

"You're implyng, don't imply in front of my kid." Danny removed his hands.

Josh put his hands over Michael's ears. "But you too didn't even really do anything. Did you?"

"No!"

Josh took his hands off Michael's ears.

"I bet he wanted to." Sam said from the back of the group. "Man, eight years?" Sam put his hands on Michael's ears. "How'd you get past that?"

"A lot of cold showers."

"Yeah, Sam, not all of us had hookers back then."

"Again a joke at my expense and I'm okay with it. But if I can just say." He paused. "You'd better." He gestured with his head. Josh gave an "oh" look and covered Michael's ears. Michael looked up at the strange grown ups. Sam pointed to Josh. "Once slept with the First Lady's chief of staff." He pointed to Danny. "Was in love with the Press Secretary for eight years while you were her senior correspondent."

"Made your case?" Danny asked.

"Pretty much."

"Good." He then nodded to Josh, who took his hands off Michael's ears as they now had reached the Press Secretary's office.

"Is this it, Dad?" Michael asked his father.

"Yeah, Mikey, this is it." Danny's phone beeped. He looked down at his text message as Michael ran off.

"Hey, Michael."

"We'll take care of 'um, we're on lunch. You got to take that."

"Yeah. I'll be right back."

"Don't worry, we got him."

"Just keep an eye out for him, he tends to get himself into things."

"In to things?"

"It's curiosity. He is C.J.'s kid."

"That's funny because I was going to say the exact same thing about you." Josh laughed.

Josh entered the Press Secretary's office and found Michael at the foot of the desk.

"We should wait for Walter to come back."

"False alarm." Danny walked in behind his son. Michael turned around and caught eyes with his father and Danny couldn't help but laugh at the red-headed kid he never thought he'd have. Danny remembered every detail of how the office used to look when CJ had lived, breathed and pushed him away in the office. He looked to the left of the desk, remembering the spot where for almost eight years Gail's bowl sat, with Gail swimming away and never knowing the symbol she was to the couple.

Years Later.

"What's with the fish?" The young woman, standing in the new Press Secretary office, asked while looking at the fish bowl on the desk.

"A gift from my mother." Michael Concannon looked at the fish with her.

"Why?" Michael's secretary Gloria asked, still looking at the bowl, as Michael went over a few things on his desk. Michael Concannon had the height of his mother, with his father's eyes and hair. At the age of 36, he was just about the same age as his mother when she held the job. He ran his hand over his cleanly shaven face.

"I have no idea."

"You ready?" Gloria perked up.

"Yeah." He lifted his head.

"You ready?"

"Yeah?"

"You pumped?"

"Stop that."

"Yeah, let's go."

Gloria started out when she heard a thud behind her. She turned around to find Michael, having tripped, on the floor.

"Mike, you okay?"

"Yeah." He said from the floor.

"Okay good. 'Cause you got a gaggle." She handed Michael her folder as he stood.

"Just give me a moment to regain."

"Your manhood."

'My composure. My composure." He swatted the folder from Gloria's hand.

"Fair enough." Michael handed Gloria back the folder as he noticed he was unkempt from the fall. Michael began to swat off the dirt and lint off him while straightening his suit for public viewing.

"You know if I wasn't married I'd take you right now." She said dryly.

"Thanks for the support." He looked up at her.

"Tripping, in a man, is pretty damn sexy." She was dry as ever.

"Yeah, I got that." He said with sarcasm. He took back the folder.

"So what's it like being in Mommy's old office." She teased him.

"Listen Gloria." He yelled at her as he began his walk to the Press Room. "Now that you actually have the job you can stop this honeymoon period of being nice to me. I mean it's really unbecoming."

"Well, sarcasm isn't a lovely color on you either."

"You know my father worked here also?!"

"Are we back to the mommy comment?"

"Yes!"

"I knew we would at some point."

"My father was a very highly respected and decorated member of the White House press corps, so shake a stick at that why don't you."

"Okay?" Gloria didn't get it. "You father was in the Press Corps. I didn't know that?" She hurried up to catch his pace. "Really?"

"Yes?"

"Is that how they met?" Gloria tossed her hair as they waited for a large group of people to pass.

"How did you not know that?" He looked at Gloria with his father's question mark look.

"I didn't."

"He has two Pulitzers for his work in the White House?"

"I knew he was a reporter. I met the man. And he's like famous."

"You didn't know they met here?"

"I'm sorry they didn't cover inter-office romances when we studied the Bartlets in History class. Of course who knows, I could have been sick that day."

Michael gave her a look and they started walking again.

"So, like wasn't that some kind of conflict of interest thing."

"They didn't—"

"Oh my god!" Gloria stopped.

"What? What? Did we forget something?" Michael stopped.

"You don't think your parents did it in your office!"

Michael took a breath.

"Gloria." He tried not to freak. "Even though, as I was going to tell you, nothing happened while they worked here—I'd just like to say thank you for loading me up with that image." He began to walk again. "Like that's not going to need sixty hours of therapy and a can of Lysol."

"They could have—"

"Again, can't wash that kind of stuff out of my brain!"

"So if they didn't have a relationship until after, they were just friends for eight years?"

"If you mean my father was in love with my mother for eight years and she—"

"Denied him access."

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Concannon men."

"What about us?"

"Concannon men are piners."

"I'm not a piner."

"You're a piner. But knowing your dad I don't think he was as private about it as you." They stopped by the Press Room door. "You hold things in for too long? Maybe you get that from your mother?"

"Can we dissect my DNA another day." He gestured with his head toward the door.

"You ready?" Gloria asked.

"So ready."

"Now, just try to forget all about the pressure, your mother being one of the best Press Secretaries a Democratic president has had, and the fact that your parents probably conceived you just there on the floor of your office—and it probably had something to do with a fish."

"Yeah, had the image gone, but now---even stronger."

"Glad I could help." She smiled.

Michael made sure his jacket was pulled down and waited.

"It will be a moment." A woman said entered the room.

Michael looked over to the side and saw a woman walking toward the back entrance of the Press Room. She wasn't as tall as Michael, but just the right size and something about her, he didn't know, caught his attention. Maybe it was her laugh, or the look in her eye. He didn't know. She didn't look like his type, but his heart skipped a beat. Gloria looked over at him.

"Michael? Mike?"

"Who's that?"

"I think that's Cecelia McGovern from the Sun---oh no—"

"What?"

"I know that look?"

"What, what look?"

"That look. The look. The Candice Ford and Cindy Wick look. Only it's different. But it's definitely the look."

"No, not her." He looked up. "No, no. Not me." He prayed he wouldn't be like his father again.

"Concannon men." She smirked.

"Shut up."

"Concannon men."

"One, shut up, two, you're wrong, and third, just shut up."

Michael entered the room.

"Concannon men." Gloria smirked and followed Michael Talmidge Cregg-Concannon into the room his parents once occupied.

THE END OF THE END