Forked No Lightning

When talking about politics, the little victories often get shuffled off to the side and forgotten as the big battles rage on around them. It is the big battles, after all, that draw the most attention and the most resources. Everyone has a position on the big issues, on abortion and on the definition of marriage, but the 'little' things, the things that keep our government functional and our country moving forward, are not so black and white. And they're really not so little.

Education and health care are more important to the lives of average Joe American than euthanasia or capital punishment, but the headlines are not reserved for these things. It is much rarer, therefore, to have a candidate define themselves on the issues of immigration and foreign policy than it is for candidates to come out as pro-choice or anti-deficit. But these things, so often swept under the radar by the polarizing issues, are the most vital.

These 'smaller' issues may 'fork no lightening' in their debates, but they are what will define the future of our nation and are what will ensure that America continues to grow. Candidates don't come into Congress or into state legislatures to solve the little problems. They want to solve the big ones. But thrust into the little issues, the ones that shape our nation, some people find their true callings. And those people rise up above the rest, floating on a million little victories to the point where the great victories can come to them.


Alex rapped lightly on the half-closed door, reaching up to push an escaped strand of hair back behind her ear with her other hand. She hoped that the secretary had given her the right office number; she didn't want to both more people than was strictly necessary, especially when she was trying to be inconspicuous.

"The sign's on the door," a voice responded shortly. "My office hours don't start for another half an hour." It was obvious that he had already been disturbed several times that morning.

Undaunted, Alex knocked again, this time calling out to make sure she was in the right place. "Mr. Cohen?"

She heard the creak of a chair and knew that the office's occupant was coming to the door this time. "I know that you have papers due this week," the man said. By not correcting the name she had called out, he had at least provided Alex with the assurance that she was in the right place. He continued, "But I have work that I need to do too." He pulled open the door as he finished the last statement. It was immediately apparent that Alex wasn't what he had been expecting to find on the other side of the door.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Cohen," Alex apologized while the man tried to get his bearings back. "But I was wondering if you could spare a few moments of your precious time for a quick word."

"Of course," he replied, blinking a few times in confusion, almost as if he were trying to place her face. "I'm sorry about the mess," he continued, stepping out of the way so that she could enter the tiny office. He hurried to move a stack of books off of the spare chair so that she had a place to take a seat.

"It's fine," she assured him lightly. "I was a grad student once upon a time; I understand how quickly research and papers can build up inside an office." She lowered herself down to the proffered chair, reflecting that Congressional offices really weren't that much different. But she didn't want to bring that up, at least not yet.

As he walked around to the other side of the cluttered desk and sank down into his own chair, Alex offered him her hand. "Mr. Cohen," she started.

"Please," he interrupted, "it's Patrick."

Alex's polite smile widened to a grin. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Patrick," she began again. "I'm Alex McCosham. I don't know if…"

"I know who you are," he interjected, taking her hand and giving it a firm, if over-enthusiastic, shake. "Bartlet scholar, D.Phil. in International Relations from Oxford, six-term representative from the Rhode Island First…" His voice trailed off and he blushed, realising that she was likely intimately familiar with her own résumé.

She laughed, telling him, "That's right." He was visibly relieved to see that she was laughing at his exuberance.

"But I'd like to be known for something else too," she added, leaning toward him earnestly. "I'd like your help to do that."

"I'm not quite sure if I know what you mean, Congresswoman," Patrick said slowly, confusion battling with realization on his face.

"I'm not sure if you've heard rumours, but I'm in the market for some campaign staff," Alex explained. "I'm planning to declare my candidacy for the Democratic presidential nomination within the week."

Patrick nodded. "We've heard the rumours, even out here in California." He was smiling, but it was obvious that he still hadn't quite finished putting all of the pieces together to figure out exactly why Alex was sitting in his office. "It'll be quite a campaign. Hopefully I'll be able to do some of my post-doc work on it."

"One of the papers that you published last year came to the attention of one of my friends," Alex started, unsure of what phrasing to use to tell this young man that he could do work on the campaign that was far less academic than the work he was picturing.

She needn't have worried. With that last statement, it was almost as though the proverbial light bulb had gone on in his head. "Toby Ziegler," he said in shock, sitting back in his chair with the weight of the realization.

Alex nodded solemnly, her grin lighting up her face.


"I don't suppose that I could entice you to join the staff, could I?"
Sarah threw back her head and laughed. "Jack, you're incorrigible!"

"Is that a yes or a no?" Jack asked, roguishly sticking his tongue out at her. He was positive that he knew what her answer would be. Jeff, sitting silently at Sarah's side, thinking deeply, was more of an enigma. He could go either way. Jack wasn't sure if he would accept a campaign position, if he would try to continue on at the Post, or if he would rather look for another job entirely.

"It's your fault that I've been transferred off the political beat," Sarah accused lightly. "The absolute least you can do is give me another job."

"Welcome to the team," Jack told her. "When can you start?"

It was going to be tricky trying to launch a campaign with only minimal staff; they had left selecting outside staff until rather late in the game and then had proceeded to pick people who were busy with other things. Toby hoped that by skipping right to announcing their candidacy, they could take some of that pressure off. But Alex was about the only person who actually seemed to believe that that would be the case.

"I'll give the Post my notice as soon as I get back this afternoon," Sarah stated. She was absolutely beaming. It was blatantly obvious that she was looking forward to the upcoming campaign just as much as any of the others. Watching her now, it was hard to believe that before she met Jed, Sarah had been absolutely apathetic about anything to do with politics.

"How about you, Jeff?" Jack inquired, trying to keep some of the enthusiasm out of his voice. They'd all known Jeff since just before the Congressional scandal first broke, but he had never really been a member of their inner group.

"I don't know," he replied. "I figured that something like this would be coming, but I'm still a little shell-shocked. All my life, I've ever wanted to do was be a reporter; I've never even thought about doing anything else. I need to think about this for a while."

"You can think about it all you want," Jack assured him. "Alex wanted me to make sure you know we're not going to approach anyone else for the position until you've made a decision one way or the other."

"Thanks," Jeff replied. "You're planning to announce on Monday, right?" he asked. Jack nodded his affirmation. "I'll let you know by Friday," Jeff promised.


"We'll be looking forward to hearing from you."
Satisfied that he had managed to secure another new client for the firm, James McNamara hung up the phone, scribbling a few final notes on his legal pad before looking up to acknowledge his waiting secretary. "Is my three o'clock here?" he asked brusquely.

She nodded. "The representative is waiting. Should I send her in?"

He sighed, gathering up the papers he had been making notes on and passing them off to his secretary. "I might as well get this over with so that I can get back to some productive work. The last thing I need is another whiny Congresswoman trying to protect herself against another scandal." He rolled his eyes, clearly showing his contempt for that particular breed of politician. "Which one is it this time?" It was obvious that the name was inconsequential.

"Alexandra McCosham," the secretary replied, hurrying out of the office to send Alex in.

A strange look passed across his face as he recognised the name and realised that perhaps this meeting was likely going to be different than he had originally anticipated.

"Congresswoman," he said, standing to formally greet Alex as she entered the office. His 'courtroom' face had made an appearance and he was unreadable.

"Mr. McNamara," she responded lightly, stepping across the office to offer the lawyer her hand.

He grasped it firmly, making it clear that he was evaluating her. "I'm pleased to welcome you on behalf of Gage-Whitney," he started, motioning for Alex to take a seat. He had a set routine developed for meetings like these and his curiosity was no reason to deviate from that script.

"Unfortunately for Gage-Whitney, I'm not here looking for legal representation," she declared frankly, her eyes meeting his calmly for a moment. Then she smiled and let her eyes wander up and down his form, making it clear she was conducting her own evaluation of him.

He found it slightly unsettling, especially when she didn't continue past that first statement. He waited for a moment, but found himself having to make the next move. "If you don't need representation, how can I help you then?" he finally asked, leaning back in his chair. "I know for a fact that this meeting could not have been easy for you to arrange, especially on short notice."

She gave him a sudden grin. "Both easiness and importance are relative terms, Mr. McNamara. But I'm sure that you've discovered that in the course of your work."

He was suddenly struck by the similarity of the conversation to a chess game. Each word was so lightly spoken and yet so carefully weighted. He quirked an eyebrow at Alex, deciding to go with the flow of the conversation, if simply for the sake of amusement. "Their relativity is something most lawyers learn early on," he noted. "Good lawyers are the ones who learn that they're not necessarily mutually exclusive."

"The same holds for politicians," she observed. She saw the way the corners of his lips tightened slightly. "I see you have no great love of politicians," she noted glibly, willingly passing the offensive off to him.

He seized it with a ruthlessness that he was unaccustomed to from himself. He had been trained to be more cautious in such situations. "The experience I've had with politicians hasn't been the most pleasant sort. It seems to me that people who need protection from scandals have no business being the leaders of our nation in the first place."

Alex refrained from commenting on the fact that he made his living ensuring that those same people were able to continue serving in the positions of power. Instead, she asked a far more relevant question. "What about the ones who don't need protection?"

His mouth twitched upward into a smile, despite himself. It seemed as though the offensive was perhaps no longer his. Surprisingly, he didn't mind. "With specializations in Constitutional and legislative law, practicing at a well-known law firm in the aftermath of the biggest political scandal in the history of the country, I don't have a lot of opportunity to encounter politicians like that."

He paused for a moment, and then added, "Although someone in my position might be justified stating that there are no politicians who don't need protection and that the ones that think they are safe are fools."

"Touché," Alex responded, flashing another grin at him. "But your first statement tends to lead me to think that you still believe that honest politicians exist."

"I have no doubts that they once existed," he admitted. "But I don't know that they still do. I haven't seen a lot of proof that they're not an extinct breed." He tilted his head toward her, clearly inviting her response.

"And if an opportunity to prove that they still do were to arise?" she questioned eagerly, leaning forward.

He deliberated for a moment, considering his next move. "Well, I'd have to say that, depending on the circumstances, such a situation would bear further consideration."

"I see that you haven't lost all of your faith yet."

He wasn't sure what gambit she was using, or even what her objective was. His eyes drifted across his desk, landing on his clock. "Your time with me is running short, Congresswoman. Enjoyable though this is, maybe you'd like to get to the point?"

"May I ask a blunt question?" she asked.

"You can ask anything you want," he declared with a shrug. "It doesn't mean that I'll answer."

"Why did you specialize in Constitutional and legislative law? I'm assuming that it wasn't so that you could protect people that you so clearly detest from legal difficulties that they so richly deserve."

"What reason does anyone do anything for?" he questioned. "In my naïve youth, I guess I thought that I could make a difference."

"And if someone told you that you could?"

So, they were still playing chess. Or maybe poker was a better comparison. "Then either they're a fool of the worst sort," he said, waiting to see if she would lay her cards on the table.

"Or?" she prompted.

"Or they're the sort of fools that deserve more time to make their case."

He reached across his desk to press the button on his intercom. His hand hesitated for a split second as he decided. "Jeanette, could you push back the rest of today's appointments? Unfortunately I'm going to be tied up in this meeting for a while longer."