DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or dialogue taken directly from the show. I do not claim to be a political expert, I am far from that, I am a biology major. Therefore I would like to preface this story with the notion I wrote this story out of pure love of the show and the characters. Thank you & enjoy.
Part 2: Saturday, November 20, 1999I awoke in my apartment in Georgetown as the sun began to rise. Stretching and sprawling out in my bed, I let the sun leak through my blinds. It was almost Thanksgiving recess and it was beautiful. Besides having a mound of paperwork for my dad, I was free. It was time to go for a morning run. I got up and dressed in navy shorts and baby blue sports bra.
Washington DC is so beautiful in the morning. The early morning business tycoons sat in little cafes, just sipping their fresh-brewed coffee while glancing through the New York Times; it was peaceful. I did a five-mile run and stopped to stretch in front of the White House. I always ran with my ID badge shoved somewhere just in case I had to burst through the doors and conjure up some amazing solution to help us out of a tight situation. Today it was in a little zipper pocket, held with Velcro on my wrist. I was enjoying the scenery when a voice interrupted the stagnant air.
"Mack?"
I turned to see Sam Seaborn walking up to me.
"Hi," I smiled, not enthused to be stopped by the Deputy Communications Director half naked.
"What's up? How are you?" he asked.
"Doing well, just out for a run, how about you?"
"Good. I'm also out for a run. I just finished."
"Yeah," I smiled and began stretching my quads.
"So, um, Thanksgiving break is coming soon. That ought to be nice," he smiled, obviously filling an awkward silence.
"Yeah, it is."
"Um, I know you're probably really busy, but I was wondering if you wanted to, um, maybe get dinner some time?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Sam Seaborn are you asking me out?" I smiled.
"Yeah … "
"Sure, why not?"
"Really? Wow, that's great. Um, are you free tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow … Sunday … sure, sounds great."
"Do you want me to just meet you somewhere?"
"Doesn't matter to me," I replied and looked into his eyes. He just stared back at me. "What?" I asked a little nervous.
"Nothing, it's just … you have two different colored eyes," he stated.
"Thanks for telling me," I relaxed.
"I've never seen that before."
"It happens … rarely … but it happens."
"It's quite beautiful actually. And very hypnotic, I might add."
"Thanks … Sam … " I responded uncomfortably.
"Hmm, anyway, how about I meet you just outside the West Wing entrance, say 7:30?"
"Sounds good," I glanced down at my watch. "I have to go, but it's nice seeing you again, Sam Seaborn. I'll see you later."
"Sure, later … "
I closed my door and went over to my message machine.
"You have three new messages," the computer voice talked to me. "First message: 'Hey Mack it's Dad, I was wondering if you could come into my office Monday. Call me back.' Saturday, November 20th, 8:02am. Second message: 'McKayla, honey, it's Mom, I'm just calling to remind you that your grandparents are flying in from England on Tuesday. Pick them up from the DC airport at 7:30. Talk to you later, sweetie.' Saturday, November 20th, 8:15am. Third message: 'Hello McKayla, it's Jed; I know it's Saturday, but you would mind swinging by the White House some time today? I appreciate it. And tell your family I said hi. Thanks, bye.' Saturday, November 20th, 8:22am. End of messages."
Confusion swept over me as I stared at the machine. It had to be wrong. I played the message over again. No, the President of the United States had definitely called my home phone and left a message on my answering machine. I don't think I would ever delete it, but of course I was a former first daughter, so I already knew what it was like to be best friends with the President. I dialed Mrs. Landingham.
"Office of the President."
"Mrs. Landingham, it's McKayla Adams."
"Oh Miss. Adams, so good to hear from you, he's expecting you."
"I know I got his message. It was a little weird. Anyways, what time should I come by?"
"At your leisure dear."
"Okay, I should be there around noon."
"That's fine dear, I'll see you later."
"Bye Mrs. Landingham," I hung up the phone, still confused. I stared at the message machine and then called my mother and brother back.
The West Wing wasn't as chaotic as the last time I had visited. Even though it was my day off, I dressed to impress – who I don't really know – I wore black heels, khaki skirt, white blouse, and black coat. I threw my hair up in a French twist and strutted in (sans my backpack), but I had a bag with a pad just in case.
"Mack, you're back, oh and I rhymed," Donna smiled at her cheesiness.
"Yeah, just here to visit the President."
"Just to visit? What?"
"Don't worry, everything's okay," I smiled and went over to Mrs. Landingham's desk. "Hi Mrs. Landingham."
"Oh McKayla, how are you dear?"
"Well," I leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
"Good, good, have a cookie, they're in a staff meeting right now, but he'll be done shortly."
"Oh no thank you, that's all I need is to have food in my mouth when I go to speak to the President. I already fumble my words in his presence."
"I don't know why, he's a family friend and your godfather."
"Yeah, but, c'mon, you know," I smiled.
"I suppose," she went back to her pile of papers. "So, McKayla, when are you and Josh going to get married."
"What!" I turned to her wide-eyed.
"You heard me. When? I want to be at the wedding."
"Um, Mrs. Landingham, I'm glad I didn't take a cookie because I would have choked on it. Whatever gave you the notion that I would ever marry Josh Lyman?"
"You two are crazy for each other," she replied nonchalantly.
"You're talking about the Josh Lyman that works two doors down?"
"Yeah, him."
"Well, don't hold your breath. I'm going on a date with Sam tomorrow."
"Don't waste your time on Sam, take it from me dear," she peered over her glasses.
The door opened and CJ, Toby, Josh and Sam all walked out. My stomach dropped.
"Hey Mack," Sam smiled. "Mrs. Landingham can I have a cookie today?"
"No, go away."
"You really hate me. See you later, Mack," he winked at me.
"Josh, cookie?"
"Sure," Josh took one and turned to me. "Mack, what brings you here … again? And did Sam just wink at you – "
"Yes, don't make a big deal of it, Josh," I replied shortly and then sighed. "I'm here by personal request from the President himself."
"I see … well, good luck with that. Have a good day Mrs. Landingham."
"See, a good man," she smiled at me.
"The President will see you now," Charlie Young stood in the doorway.
"Bye Mrs. Landingham."
I walked into the Oval Office. It was weird being back.
"McKayla, glad you could come, please, shut the door will you and come have a seat," he was at his desk.
I pulled the door shut and meandered over to the couches. I waited for Jed to sit down next to me. He looked tired, but still youthful.
"So, first things first, what do I call you? I've known you all your life, you're my goddaughter. Mack? McKayla? Miss. Adams?"
"Whatever you're comfortable with," I smiled.
"Well, I'm formal, traditional, I'll stick to McKayla."
"And how about you? What should I call you? Mr. President? Jed? POTUS?"
"You could call me by my full name, Josiah Edward Bartlet, or Mr. Most Amazing Awesome Person in the World – "
"I'll just stick to Mr. President," I smiled. "I too am traditional."
"If you wish."
"So why did you call me down? I'm not going to lie, I had to replay that message over three times before calling back here."
"Yeah, well I figured family friends can call each other at their personal residences. But the reason I called you here is because I need your help, a favor if you will."
"Shoot."
"It's about Zoey," Jed sighed.
"Oh, how is she? Is she starting college yet?"
"Georgetown, next semester."
"Oh, that's wonderful. Will she have my mother some day?"
"I don't know, we'll see, your mom's a ways down the road as far as education goes. But tell her to keep an eye out for Zoey."
"Will do. So what's the favor?" I asked.
"Well, you were a first daughter at one point and you're constantly surrounded by Secret Service, I was just wondering … could you help me with Zoey?"
"She doesn't like being tracked constantly?" I smiled.
"Anything but that and just the other night she was in a Georgetown bar with Sam, Charlie, Josh, CJ and Mallory. There was a big of a dispute, some drunk kids tried to hit on Zoey and Charlie intervened and Josh pushed the panic button and – "
"I heard about it, Mal told me," I gave an uncomfortable smile.
"Oh, I see … "
"You know it's natural for her to resist protection," I said in a therapeutic voice.
"Yeah, but she doesn't understand – "
"She does, Sir, she just doesn't want to be who she is. She was forced into a position that she didn't have any say in," I bit my lower lip. "She doesn't resent you, she just doesn't like that she doesn't have control over her life, or at least not as much as before."
"But she's been the daughter of a politician forever."
"I know, Sir, but this is different. Now I'm going to ask you, do you understand?"
He looked at me as I gave him a sympathetic look. I knew exactly how Zoey felt. Being a first daughter was my most rebellious time of my life, but I began to accept it. Of course I didn't understand how much I needed them until some crazy guy at my school started stalking me during the summer after my first year at Stanford. I wouldn't believe that someone was after me; I thought it was a lie fabricated by my family to keep me under control. It wasn't until he attacked me one night at a bar with friends that I understood.
"Talk to her, McKayla, please. I beg you, get through to her. Tell her about what happened to you – "
"Sir, I don't want to put the fear of God in her – "
"But she needs it!" Jed yelled and stood up.
Tears formed in my eyes. It was like being reprimanded by own father all over again.
"Jed, please," I stood and sniffled. "I know what you think she needs, and it's 99 right, but there is a fine line. Jed, listen to me, there is a fine line that a father can cross, and you're on the brink of that line. I will talk to her, but please, tell me, do you understand?"
He turned to me. He gave me a hug.
"I'm sorry, McKayla, I didn't mean to cause such a problem," he muttered.
"It's okay," I stepped back and wiped my eyes.
"Why don't you go on up to the residence, Zoey's there. She's having lunch, I'm sure she'd share a sandwich or something with you."
"Okay," I nodded. "Sir, have faith in me."
"I do, McKayla, I do … "
"Okay," I gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked over to the residence.
A Secret Service agent walked me over to the residence and took me to Zoey Bartlet, a bubbly, 19 year-old girl who was enjoying a turkey sandwich. She was reading a book, A Brave New World. She looked up and frowned for a moment.
"Hey Zoey, do you remember me? I haven't seen you for some time."
"Oh yeah, of course, sorry, Mack, I've just been so out of it," she got up and gave me a hug. "How are you? Have a seat. Would you like something to eat?"
"Actually whatever you're having looks great."
"Sure, it's a turkey sandwich. Mark, would you mind asking the chef to make another sandwich?"
"Of course."
"So, how's everything going, Zoey? I heard that you're starting college soon, that's got to be exciting. You know my mother teaches at Georgetown."
"Really? What subject?"
"She's a professor of law. She taught Josh Lyman up at Yale years ago."
"Oh yeah I heard rumors about that. I heard that he tried hitting on you and then he found out that you were his professor's daughter."
"Yeah something like that," I smiled.
"So what brings you to the residence?" she took a bite of her sandwich.
"Well, you know our families have history so your father asked if I would swing by just to say hi and chat with you."
"That's nice," she replied with a mouth full of food. "What do you want to talk about?"
"I was thinking something along the lines of girl talk, you know small talk that won't leave this room," I sat back in the chair.
"Sure. Oh here's your sandwich. Thanks Mark," she turned to me. "So do you have anything in mind?"
"Yeah, I was thinking something along the lines of Secret Service."
"Mack, I don't want – "
"I know both sides of the issue, Zoey. I just had a heated discussion with your dad and now it's time for round two with you. I'm hoping that you'll be easier to talk to. Your father is a pretty tough opponent in the yelling ring.
"Now, just hear me out and then fill in whatever comments you feel are necessary. I was a first daughter one time, you know that. I have been in your exact shoes before. I was the youngest daughter of the president and he was always worried about me running off to some club or bar or just going for a casual run in the park. I resisted the Secret Service and the need for constant protection by shaking off the agents whenever I got a chance, running in disguise with my friends, but it caught up with me in the end. You know what happened, I don't need to go into further detail," I looked straight into Zoey's eyes. I had known the Bartlet family for many years, but I usually only spoke with the First Lady and Jed. "Zoey, I'm asking, no, I implore you to not resist the Secret Service and the attempts your father makes to protect you.
"I already spoke to him about how it feels to be trapped so I don't think he's going to tie you down to a chair and never let you see the light of day, but he is going to up the security. The same thing happened to me after I was kidnapped and I don't regret it. I never felt safer. And I made the agents fit my lifestyle, and it worked."
She looked on the brink of tears. Finally she sat up straight and drew a deep breath.
"How did you make it work?" she asked softly.
"I pretended they were my friends. We were all in college, studying law and they were just always with me. They were there to look after me. Whenever I would go to a bar they would order water in glasses to make it look like they were drinking alongside me. I made it work, Zoey, and you can too," I smiled at her. "You're too smart to not accept the Secret Service."
She got up and stared at me.
"Mack, how long have you known me?"
"Since you were born, why?"
"Do you trust me?"
"If you mean do I trust that you will take the proper measures to protect yourself in public left to your own devices and decisions, no," I said firmly. "But. No listen. But I trust that you will listen and heed the advice given by your elders and those who have walked in your shoes … literally."
"I see … " she looked down.
"Hey, chin up kiddo," I lifted it up so her eyes met mine. "You're a beautiful, smart girl, Zoey Bartlet, I do not doubt you will do amazingly well at Georgetown, but with Secret Service around ever corner. Now I have to go, but I'll take the sandwich with me. Thank you very much for the lunch. I will probably be in touch. Bye Zoey."
"Bye Mack," she replied absently as I kissed her cheek.
"Oh, and Zoey," I said as I turned.
"Yeah?"
"This is confidential. What I told you and whatever you told me won't leave this room. I promise not to tell your dad anything. You have my trust on that. Unless you tell me I can discuss a specific topic, I will not. Okay?"
"Sure," she smiled.