Rating: G
Disclaimer: Um, not mine? Although I have no idea why TPTB are handing over all these characters to the tender mercies of the fans in a few months.
Spoilers: Up through Internal Displacement.
Author's Notes: This is because someone on TWoP asked about fic where Leo doesn't die. Well... I got stuck on another thing I was writing, and had been thinking about this in the background, so here it is. For, of course, John Spencer. "I'm tired of it, year after year after year, having to choose between the lesser of who cares; of getting excited about a candidate who can speak in complete sentences, of setting the bar so low I can hardly look at it ... You're gonna open your mouth and lift houses off the ground, whole houses, right off the ground."
"That went well." Josh suddenly appeared at his shoulder, braking from a jog down the hall.
Leo turned. "Really? Because I've heard the Democratic Vice Presidential candidate was all but guaranteed to flame out on the debate floor, 'cause he has no idea what to do in front of a camera."
Josh grinned. "Very funny. No, really... that was good, Leo. I may have to rank that up with the .357 Magnum thing the President pulled with Ritchie."
"Those were the days," Leo confessed with a smile. "Get back to the Congressman, will you? And I'll see him when our planes happen to be going opposite directions and pass in midair!"
"You're really a very funny man tonight, Leo." Josh clapped him on the back and retraced his steps.
Leo continued weaving through the hallways, trying not to glance sideways at his Secret Service agents; he doubted he'd ever get used to them. Oh, when they'd been around President Bartlet, he'd been able to let them sort of fade into the background of his awareness, but when he was their protectee, it was as though they were trying not to make themselves invisible to him.
Annabeth appeared the next morning as soon as he stepped out of his door. "You're late," she scolded.
"Give me my damn watch back and then we'll talk about being late," Leo returned, feeling himself smirk a little.
"I did."
"You really didn't." Annabeth stared at him. "What corners of the globe are we going to today, already?"
"You have some stops in California before we fly to the Dakotas..." she began.
And they were off again.
"Have you been stuck in a time warp?"
Leo whirled abruptly and gaped.
"I could say the same for you, Mr. Seaborn," he admonished.
The younger man just grinned. "My apologies, Mr. Vice President-Nominee."
"Shut up. How have you been?"
"I'm pretty sure this district is more in touch with the existence of the modern-day Democratic Party than it was four years ago," Sam responded dryly.
"Huh."
"That was a nice debate," Sam added after a few minutes, stopping and gesturing to a bench. Leo had just been finishing a minor meeting in a city building and had actually finished slightly ahead of schedule, although since he was pretty sure Annabeth still had his watch, or again, or whatever, it was hard to tell.
"Thanks. I'm sure you'd know better than I would."
"Yeah, and Leo McGarry has no idea what to do in front of a camera." Sam lifted his eyebrows a little bit, and Leo grinned a little bit. "Hey, listen..."
"Yeah?"
"You don't look so good." Sam was pretty sure sweat started popping out all over him as Leo turned and leveled a look at him.
"I'm fine. I feel great."
"Leo, you're-"
"Sam, we can't have this conversation."
"Leo, you're in the middle of a tough campaign. It's perfectly understandable if you get a quick checkup done, especially given your medical history." Sam was practically whispering, looking at Leo with a pleading and earnest look.
"I'm sure I'll be fine, but I'll stop by when I have a chance."
"Leo, has your breathing always been this off since your heart attack?"
The silence stretched out, while Leo slowly, slowly turned back to Sam, his mouth agape.
And listening.
"I think you may be right."
"Thank you."
"Don't get used to it." Leo stood up and waved the lead agent on duty over. "We need to make a stop..."
"The doctors said what?" Matt Santos launched himself up off the chair.
"It's fine now."
"They said what?"
"I was within maybe a couple of weeks of having another heart attack, maybe a stroke." Leo linked his hands together nervously and watched Josh and the Congressman.
"And it's fine, just like that?" Santos inquired.
"Well, I have this whole new bunch of medications and restrictions, but yeah, basically."
Josh leaned forward and rubbed his face with his hands in visible angst; his body language positively radiated guilt.
"Josh, stop it... this wasn't your fault, they caught it, it'll be fine." "It really is," Josh retorted, looking up.
"How'd they catch it?" Santos distracted his running mate and campaign manager.
"Sam Seaborn told me my breathing was off."
"Who's Sam Seaborn?" the Congressman got out just before Josh grinned and looked around, as though hoping to see said gentleman.
"Sam? Where is he? I'm gonna hug him..."
"He's back convincing his home district that the Democrats are right and the Republicans are wrong," Leo informed him with a grin.
"How'd he doing so far?"
"Pretty good."
"So, Leo," Santos interrupted, "you're comfortable continuing? You can keep up with the rest of the campaign schedule?"
"Yeah, as long as I never again eat red meat, or anything that's been near red meat," Leo admitted ruefully.
"Okay, we're keeping you away from my state, then." He gestured to the door. "Oh, I don't know Sam Seaborn, but he has my thanks too. I'm glad to have you, Leo."
"Eighteen months, sir."
"Yeah. See you."
Occasionally, I wish I could drink just to take the edge off the stress, Leo thought, discreetly checking the even more discreet monitors watching his blood pressure, heart rate and a couple of other things.
It was The Day.
Even a recovering alcoholic can be excused for wanting to sit back with a beer or something similar on this most stressful of days.
Perhaps not so much when said individual is also the candidate for Vice President of the United States.
Leo glanced around the swarm in the room. It was only 3 pm; he could just imagine how much crazier it was going to get in the next several hours. He could have sworn election days hadn't been this crazy either Bartlet election.
Of course, on those days, he'd actually had something to do. Today, he just had to sit around and be the VP candidate; there had been some photo ops earlier, and then Annabeth had vanished off on some election-related quest.
He had absolutely nothing to do.
Oh. Yeah, sure he did. Spotting a familiar figure, he waded carefully over.
"CJ!"
She grinned, taking in the atmosphere of a staff room going full tilt. "Having fun?"
"I'm bored, actually. Want to step into the next room? I was about to take my afternoon nap..."
"You have an afternoon nap?" she asked. "I'm so glad I don't have to spin that."
"Yeah. Seriously, though, I'm going to sit down under a blanket or something. What are you doing here?"
She shrugged. "Believe it or not, there's practically nothing to do today. I left Cliff in charge and told him to page me and get Will in on it if anything happened."
"Well, that's a surefire guarantee to get yourself a day off," Leo said sarcastically.
"Yeah, the wrath of the whatever." CJ brushed her hair back from her shoulders a bit. "The President wanted to be here," she told him.
"Yeah."
"He can't..."
"I know." Leo looked sideways at CJ. "Danny Concannon?"
To his surprise, she blinked, glanced at him, looked away, and then looked back again with a smile he'd almost forgotten. "We're going to hold hands," she said, rubbing her hands together.
"Okay." Leo looked at the single TV in the room, volume turned low. "Yes, we know you can't call the election yet, leave us alone, would you?" he griped at it.
CJ turned to it and laughed. "You're talking to TVs now, too?" she asked.
"Yeah." Leo sighed and leaned back a little, closing his eyes and listening the the sounds from the next room filtering through the wall.
"You look pretty good," CJ said after a while, apparently in relation to nothing at all. Leo cracked his eyes open to look at her, not sitting up. "I mean, you look better than you did earlier in the campaign. Before you signed on as VP, even."
"What are you talking about?" Leo wondered at her.
"Earlier this fall. You didn't look so good, and I wanted to ask you if you were keeping up okay, but the thing with China and Russia..."
"Yeah," Leo said, suddenly feeling chilled. "Yeah. No, I'm feeling pretty good. I saw somebody; we got my diet adjusted again, that kind of thing."
"I'm glad." CJ leaned back herself, sighing, and Leo looked at her.
"You all right?"
She chuckled just a bit, low in her throat. "I've only got about nine more weeks left in this job, Leo, and you're trying to go back for four years. I'm fine... it's just been a long eight years."
"Yeah, some days I wonder what I'm doing here, and then I remember who the Presidential candidate is."
Slow hours passed, CJ relaxing more and Leo getting more nervous. It was strange to see the tension drain away from her features, this senior staffer who had unexpectedly lasted eight years in the White House. They weren't supposed to last that long, and both of them knew why.
"Thanks for jumping," Leo murmured.
"Sorry?"
"Chief of Staff. Thank you."
CJ looked at him, mouth curved in a wordless smile.
Josh popped into the room. "Leo? They're getting ready to--oh, hey, CJ. I didn't know you were here."
"I am," she told him, standing up. "Let me take a look at the campaign manager to the next President of the United States."
"Go outside, turn around three times, and spit," Josh told her immediately, backing up a little.
"Go away," she told him, smiling. "And leave me alone..."
"I would, but they're probably going to call it in the next hour or so."
Leo just nodded and stood up, buttoning his suit as he stepped into the next room.
Forty-six minutes later, the first network called the election.
Santos-McGarry. The ticket nobody thought could make it; the candidate nobody thought could make it; the candidate with a bad heart.
Yet the heart that counted was pure selfless gold, or perhaps over time it had turned into a big block of cheese.
Leo listened to the jubilation, only registering it when Josh and the Congressman--sorry, President-Elect--both piled into him for a hug. Returning it, he grinned up at his running mate, who nodded and tilted his head toward Josh.
"Four more years," Josh mouthed through the shouting. Leo gave him a thumbs-up, and started wondering what would be covered in the Inaugural speech.
CJ latched onto him as well, wrapping him in a huge hug before pointing to her cell phone and rolling her eyes a little. Leo waved at her, and received a tilt of the head and then a quiet smile in return.
Weeks later, he stood at his Inauguration, holding the page that had been delivered to him just that morning. There was no name, but he recognized Toby's writing.
The sun was warm for January, he thought, tilting his head back and enjoying it. It could have been so close; he was, indeed, fortunate to be here.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the President and Vice President of the United States: Matthew Santos and Leo McGarry!"
And so it was well.