Washington, D.C.
"Hands off, Griffith."
Millie yanked her hand back and replaced it under the covers. She bit her lip anxiously before turning her head and shooting a glance at the man lying next to her. He returned the glance in kind and his eyes reinforced his previous words. She narrowed her own eyes with determination and steathily, her hand peaked out from the covers once more as her arm reached over to the nightstand.
"Don't do it."
Disregarding him, she curled her fingers around the phone before looking at him defiantly.
"You are just like my daughter," he complained. "You do things deliberately to make me mad."
She laughed and compliantly removed her hand from the phone. Then she turned over on her side and face him, and chuckled at his disgruntled expression.
"You're no fun, Leo."
"I'm just looking out for your best interest."
"Calling my best friend is in my best interest!"
"No, it's not," Leo insisted. "Not right now. Call her in the morning."
Leo McGarry pulled the covers up around his shoulders and twisted away from her. She frowned, puzzled, and took hold of the covers, pulling them, and him as a result, closer to him. He glanced at her over his shoulder.
"What do you want?"
"I want to know what the hell is up your ass, Oscar!" Millie exclaimed
Leo rotated back around to face her once more, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.
"Oscar?"
"The Grouch!"
He shook his head and laughed, despite his best efforts to remain stoic.
"Wow, Mil."
"Clearly you do not have grandchildren."
"Take it up with Mallory."
"I just might"
"Okay," Leo replied, rolling back over.
"Leo!"
"What the hell…"
"You're avoiding me," Millie accused him.
"I'm lying right beside you. If I was avoiding you, I wouldn't be here."
"You're emotionally distant."
"Oh, Jesus," Leo muttered under his breath. "Every day you remind me more and more of Jenny."
"Nothing wrong with that."
"Look, I'm not being emotionally distant, or whatever the hell it is you just said. I'm just tired. It's been a long day. Can we just go to sleep please?"
"Fine," Millie answered, turning away from him.
Leo sighed.
"You're pissed at me now."
"I'm trying to sleep here."
Stealing back his share of blankets, he rolled over so his back was to her once more.
"Fine."
Washington, D.C.
When Debbie Fiderer approached her desk the next morning, she found that the president's aide had beat her to her post. She observed him thoroughly as he shuffled through the papers on his desk, and then she waited for him to notice her prying eyes upon him. Charlie Young, however, was immuned to this tactic, having been a victim numerous times before. He kept his eyes glued to his desk, counting the seconds before she would snap.
"Charles."
Without glancing up at her, Charlie replied, "Deborah."
She frowned before closing the gap between him and standing on the opposite side of his cluttered desk.
"I want you to tell me everything you know about the First Lady's homecoming last night."
Charlie shrugged.
"I don't know any more than you do, Debbie."
"Oh, yes, you do. Don't hold out on me! I've always provided you with the information you've asked me for in times past."
"I've never asked you for information."
"I beg to differ. Why, just last night you asked me when the president was scheduled to meet with the Secretary of Labor, and, damnit, I told you!"
"Mmm, yeah, not so sure that counts," Charlie replied.
"Come on, Charlie!" Debbie implored him.
"No."
"Whatever happened to respecting your elders?"
"I do respect my elders. And in a battle between two elders such as yourself and the President, the President always wins."
"I'll remember that when I'm president."
"President of what?" Charlie questioned incredulously. "The United Association of Alpaca Farmers?"
Debbie narrowed her eyes in his direction and pursed her lips tightly.
"I'll remember that too."
"Okay, what's all this bickering about?"
Charlie and Debbie immediately spun around at the sound of the President's voice as he walked in from the portico.
"Mr. President!"
"Good morning, Debbie," Jed said, pleasantly.
"Good morning, sir."
"Charlie."
"Mr. President."
"How was your evening, sir?" Debbie questioned.
"Just fine," Jed answered. "Nothing to report."
Both Charlie and Debbie followed as Jed made his way into the Oval Office. He sat down behind his desk, and Charlie laid out a few files for him while Debbie stood quietly before them.
"Ms. Fiderer, is there something I can help you with?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well?" Jed glanced at her over the rim of his glasses.
"I was just wondering, out of pure curiosity…" Debbie said, hesitantly.
"Yes?"
"Nothing."
"Debbie?"
"Nothing, sir. Forget I said anything."
Jed regarded her suspiciously, then turned his attention to the papers that had been laid out before him.
"Okay."
"You have senior staff in five minutes, Mr. President," Charlie said.
"Yeah, thanks, Charlie."
Debbie and Charlie filed out of the office, closing the door behind them.
"Charlie, get Nancy to cover me while I go to the bathroom, would you?"
"If by the bathroom, you mean the First Lady's office, then no," Charlie replied.
"Is it so unreasonable that I should have to pee at this moment!"
"I think it is."
"Hey, I hired you, I can fire you too!" Debbie said.
"No, you can't."
"I'm going to the bathroom."
"Tell the First Lady I said hello."
Manchester, New Hampshire
"You have everything?"
Ellie Bartlet looked around at the suitcases that surrounded her and nodded at her older sister.
"I think so."
"You're sure?"
Ellie rolled her eyes.
"Liz."
"All right, all right," Liz conceded. "Just checking. I don't want you to get halfway to Baltimore and realize you forgot your toothbrush or something."
"Yes, because going to the store to pick up a new one is just a huge inconvenience."
"You know what I mean, smartass. Just for that, you can take a cab to the airport."
"Then you can lend me twenty bucks," Ellie replied.
"I think maybe you should stay here for a few more weeks," Liz said, apprehensively.
Ellie groaned and dropped her head onto her sister's shoulder.
"Liz! I'm fine! It's been over a month. I need to get back to work."
"Take a sabbatical."
"I did!"
"Take a longer one," Liz begged.
"You were the one who told me not to wallow in self-pity."
"I know, I know. I just don't want you in Baltimore all alone."
Leaning against the front door, Ellie folded her arms across her chest and gazed at her sister with irritation.
"I'm not alone. Mom and Dad are forty-five minutes away, and I do have friends in Baltimore you know. Mark wasn't my only human contact within a twenty mile radius."
"Yes, but he was your closest," Liz said, softly.
Ellie averted her eyes from her sister's and turned them to the floor. Suddenly, a force behind the door pushed it open, jostling Ellie out of place.
"Sorry I'm late!" Zoey announced upon her entrance to the house. "Ooh, sorry, El. Didn't you see there."
"Evidently."
"You got here just in time," Liz stated. "Just in time to help me convince Ellie to stay."
"Why? We need her to go back to Baltimore so she can spy on Mom and Dad. She has to go."
"Thanks, Zo," Ellie retorted.
"So what's the word on Oliver?" Liz questioned her youngest sister. "Is he going back to the motherland with Tony or what?"
"Well, as a matter of fact," Zoey began somberly, before her face broke out into a huge grin. "He's staying!"
Ellie's eyes widened in fear.
"Then it's a good thing I'm going."
Washington, D.C.
Sam Seaborn closed the door behind him as he exited Amy Gardner's office in the East Wing of the White House. He had dropped by using the excuse that he had an extra bagel, left over from the dozen Ginger had brought in earlier that morning. In truth, it was not an extra bagel, as Bonnie had expressed a keen interest in eating it herself before Sam stole it from her desk and scurried off to the East Wing. Upon realizing her bagel had gone missing, Bonnie had phoned Amy and warned her that she had it on good authority that she was about to get a visitor. By the time Sam reached Amy's office, Amy had thrown out the bagel she bought herself so that she could accept Sam's offering when he arrived. To her disappointment, he showed up with the only kind of bagel she disliked- poppyseed. But, knowing what Sam had gone through to present her with said bagel, Amy sucked it up and ate it anyway. This lead to her choking with disgust at the exact moment Sam asked her on a date. After taking a long sip from her mocha latte, Amy nodded fervently in reply and they made plans for that evening.
Sam leaned against the closed door for a moment, digesting recents events. He had a date with Amy Gardner. He had a date with the First Lady's Chief of Staff. He had a date…with Josh Lyman's ex-girlfriend.
"Hey, Sam."
Sam lifted his now widened eyes to the sight of the First Lady herself standing before him. His lips curved into a forced smile as he regarded her, unsure of how to compose himself.
"Morning, ma'am."
"Fancy seeing you in the East Wing."
"Uh…"
Sam looked around nervously.
"You look a little flustered there, Sam. Everything all right?" Abbey questioned, with cordial concern.
"Yeah. Fine, thank you."
"Good. Listen, I'd like to talk with you if you have a chance, sometime today."
"Anytime you like, ma'am," Sam replied.
"How's your lunch hour shaping up?"
"Free as a bird."
"All right, then, it's a date," Abbey confirmed.
"Speaking of dates," Sam blurted out, before his mind had a chance to catch up with his mouth. "I just made a date with Amy."
Abbey stared at him wordlessly for a moment, partly due to his announcement and partly due to the bluntness he had exhibited.
"Really."
"Yeah. And…I have absolutely no earthly idea why I just informed you of this."
Abbey chuckled.
"I've found in the past that people have a great deal of trouble keeping things off my radar. Unless, of course, you're my husband."
Sam shifted his weight awkwardly.
"I…don't quite know how to respond to that, ma'am."
She smiled warmly at him, almost apologetically, and touched his arm lightly.
"It's okay. I shouldn't have said anything. I'll see you at noon?"
Sam nodded.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good."
With that, she moved past him and knocked on the door to Amy's office. Sam began to walk away, glancing over his shoulder as Amy opened the door and invited the First Lady inside. Paying less attention than a person should while walking through a busy hallway, it was no surprise when he bumped right into CJ Cregg.
"Little preoccupied there, Seaborn?" CJ questioned with amusement.
"Yeah," Sam replied, still a little on the distracted side. "Sorry"
"What's going on?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, so much nothing that it's painfully boring"
CJ raised an eyebrow at him, trying to suppress her laughter.
"Sounds an awful lot like something."
"No, no," Sam said, quickly. "Because something…would not be quite as boring as nothing. Nothing in the sense that…this is. Something, such as it is, would be a degree or two more interesting than nothing. This particular nothing, actually. Maybe not other…nothings, but this one, certainly."
"Sam, what the hell are you talking about!"
"In addition to now having a lunch date with the First Lady, for which I am exceptionally unprepared, I just made a date with Amy."
"Well…that's a lot more interesting than most nothings I've come across."
"Yeah. So…I'm gonna go pop a couple of Xanax because this is gonna be one helluva long day."
CJ could only smile helplessly as Sam continued on his way, and then she continued on hers. When she entered Amy Gardner's office, she found the First Lady sitting on the couch opposite the desk, on top of which Amy herself sat.
"Good morning, Mrs. Bartlet. Amy."
"Hi, CJ," Abbey said, pleasantly. "Have a seat."
"Yes, ma'am," CJ answered, sitting down beside her on the couch.
"So, what's up, ladies? I presume the two of you devised a plan to improve my public image or some such nonsense. What's on the agenda?"
"Mrs. Bartlet…" CJ began.
"Hey," Abbey interrupted. "The three of us have campaigned together, lobbied together, shopped together, and gotten drunk together. I think you've both earned the right to call me Abbey."
"Abbey," CJ amended. "Instead of having you address the nation, which we believe at this point would be a very bad idea, we have come up with a few things to help you connect with the public once more."
"More public appearances? More trips to Afganistan? Should I pull a Rosalynn Carter head to South America for a couple weeks?"
"No," Amy answered. "I think it's best if we keep you on American soil for the time being. In Washington, if at all possible."
"Okay. What do you want me to do?" Abbey asked.
"We'd like for you to appear at a Presidential Classroom seminar."
"Uh huh," she replied skeptically. "And just what would that entail?"
"It's fairly uncomplicated. You show up, speak for twenty minute to half an hour, then spend the next half an hour doing Q and A."
"Answering the questions of high school students," Abbey assumed.
"Not just high school students. These are the best and the brightest from across the country. These are intelligent kids," CJ stated. "They'll be briefed beforehand and instructed not to get personal with their questions."
"I think they should if they want to."
"What?" Amy asked.
"I think they should get personal. I've got nothing to hide. If they've got a question, let 'em ask it."
"Are you sure you want to do that? I mean, they're intelligent kids but that doesn't mean they're gonna stay within the bounds of…"
"Screw the bounds of privacy. If we're gonna do this, let's do this.
"
"Okay," CJ replied. "I'll call John Croft in the morning and we'll set it up. We can get Sam to write you a speech if you like."
Abbey smiled and stood.
"That won't be neccesary. Is there anything else?"
"No," Amy answered. "Although I was asked if you'd be attending the DAR function next week."
"Absolutely," Abbey replied. "Wouldn't miss it."
"You…hate the DAR, Abbey."
"Yeah, well, it's time for me to start making some sacrifices and thinking about someone besides myself."
Manchester, New Hampshire
After seeing Ellie off at the airport, Elizabeth Bartlet Westin drove her youngest sister back to the family farm. Zoey Bartlet had been in an embarassingly good mood all day long, fueled by the announcement that her boyfriend would not be leaving her after all. She jogged up the porch steps and burst through the front door, shocked to find all of the lights in the house off and not a sound to be heard. She walked through the house, glancing in every room she passed to see if anyone was there. When she reached the kitchen, she found a note on the counter addressed to her. Her hands trembled as she unfolded the paper and saw the words written upon it.
Oliver hadn't had the nerve to tell her himself, but he had caught the 12:15 flight to Heathrow with his father. So, he had lied.
And he was gone.
