February, 2003
Abbey Bartlet had been standing in the doorway for close to two full minutes without being noticed. Josh Lyman continued to type on his computer and only when he glanced up to grab some papers did he finally spot her. He unsuccessfully attempted to conceal his surprise and laughed nervously.
"You're very stealthy, ma'am. I've always liked that about you."
"Yeah?"
"How are you this morning?" He asked, cordially.
She glared at him.
"You outwitted my chancellor. You bested my swordsman."
"I haven't mentioned this in awhile, ma'am, but I think you and the President are a perfect couple."
She sat down in front of his desk and Josh took that as a sign that he should have a seat as well.
"I wanted that twelve million," Abbey said.
"Me, too, but at the end of a prize fight, you look at the guy who's dancing around, and that's who won."
What the hell was that supposed to mean? A little like 'hold the fish loosely,' a saying she herself had never quite comprehended and yet used whenever it seemed pertinent.
"Why doesn't my agenda get anywhere in these negotiations?"
"Can I ask you, ma'am, why do you think?" Josh asked in return.
"Because you're a political snob who doesn't think the First Lady belongs on the starboard side of the building?"
Though Josh would fiercely deny it given the opportunity, he wasn't entirely sure that was untrue.
"Wrong."
"Wrong what?"
"Wrong, ma'am."
"Damn right."
Abbey Bartlet was the only person in the world who kept him on his toes quite like this, and he matched her punch for punch. First Lady or no First Lady, he was the Deputy Chief of Staff! He had a job to do, and nobody elected her. Her name wasn't on the ballot. But then, neither was his. Alas, instead of pondering that thought, he decided to push his point a little further.
"The President and Leo make their decisions by listening to and participating in vigorous debate. This isn't school. I work with people who can play."
"You're comfortable being this condescending with me?" She asked in genuine disbelief.
Honestly…?
"Yes, ma'am." He always had been.
"Why?"
"Because I won, I always do, and you came here for my advice."
Although he knew that First Lady was much too independent to involve her husband, Josh secretly wondered how the President would react had he been at all privy to their current conversation and the way he was speaking to her.
"Max…"
"Max is an idiot."
"Max is my nephew," Abbey said defensively.
"No kidding. He doesn't understand the budget process, he doesn't understand committee structure, he thinks decisions are made in meetings..."
"This is an extremely…"
"...and he can't play at this level. Mrs. Bartlet, you're the First Lady, you need a Chief of Staff, a real one. If you want your agenda taken seriously, put a professional face on it."
She glared at him for a moment, a devious smile playing upon her lips.
"Thank you."
"Thank you, ma'am."
She stood then, and as she sauntered confidently through the hallway as she always did, Josh found himself unable to look away.
February, 1988
In his three and a half years as a student at Harvard University, Joshua Lyman had skillfully managed, through manipulative charm, to avoid science classes whenever and wherever he possibly could. The subject, all forms of it, was simply not his forte. He didn't sweat it though. He had other fortes. After all, he assured himself, it's not often that one is confronted with having to dissect a pig in the political arena, unless you're speaking metaphorically, of course. He had taken a mild Chemistry course and a highly pointless semester of Astronomy. It got him the credits he needed, and that would suffice. A semester of Genetics, he figured, he would an absolute breeze. He had taken Honors Biology in high school, and Genetics was roughly the same thing…wasn't it?
On his first day of Genetics, he was late. This was predictable and, to Josh, acceptable. He took a seat among the other twenty-seven students in the class as the professor wordlessly handed out a syllabus that would take them through the end of the school year. Looking around, he saw that he hadn't a single companion in the class, nor did he see anyone he ever remembered seeing before in the last few years. In the next two hours, Josh found himself zoning out more than he ever had before. He couldn't understand how anyone could possibly enjoy something like that. By the end of class, he had learned nothing except for he did like the professor. He was an older man, a jovial personality with so much enthusiasm that it almost made Josh want to pay attention, but no dice. Fortunately, it looked as if this professor would easily fall prey to Josh's enigmatic manipulations and he could charm himself to at least a B. He was Josh Lyman. He always won.
He couldn't remember what his homework was. Two days later, before his next Genetics class, he stood outside the lecture room and tried to fabricate a good excuse for his lack of preparedness. Sufficiently armed with his false explanation, he entered the room, late as usual. Gone was the older man with the jovial personality. Standing the middle of the room, presumably addressing the rest of the class, was a tiny, dark-haired, thoroughly lovely woman of about forty-two. Damnit, Josh thought as he raced to take his seat in the front. The last time he'd had an attractive professor things hadn't gone so well for him. Please, he prayed, let her not be permanent.
"You must be Mr. Lyman. We've been waiting for you."
Josh smiled sheepishly, but said nothing.
"Mr. Lyman, this is Harvard University. As a Harvard student, you are expected to arrive in class on time, not whenever it suits you."
"Yes, ma'am," he answered, nervously.
"See that it doesn't happen again."
Josh nodded in full compliance. Now, he'd had some tough professors in the past, but none that had hung him out to dry on the first day! Appearances, Josh then decided, were too deceiving for his liking. He observed her thoughtfully as she walked the length of the room and realized that, despite her three-inch heels, she was much shorter than he had initially detected. She wore a dark blue cashmere sweater and a knee-length black skirt. Josh cringed. Short, stunning, and altogether intimidating. Please, he prayed again, let her not be permanent. This is bad on so many levels.
She began addressing the class then, speaking in a much more congenial manner than she had spoken to him a moment earlier.
"I know you all must be wondering what in the hell I'm doing here, so let's cut right to chase, shall we? Professor Moore has taken ill and will be on a leave of absence for the remainder of the year. You can call me a substitute if you like, but as this appears to be only your second class, it will, in reality, be rather the opposite. I'm going to take this time to tell you a little about myself, because I don't know about you, but when I was in college, I hated not knowing a damn thing about my professors. This is a relatively small class, so I will do my best to get to know you and hope that you will seize the opportunity to do the same."
Josh nodded, thoroughly, but not willingly, mesmerized.
"My name is Abbey Bartlet," she announced. "You will refer to me as Dr. Bartlet, something you would understand if you spent twelve years of your life in medical training. I am an adjunct professor here at Harvard, and an alumnai of Harvard Med School. I am a board-certified thoracic surgeon working primarily at Boston Mercy Hospital. My husband, a former Economics professor at Dartmouth and Nobel Prize winner, represents New Hampshire's first district in Congress. We have three daughters, the oldest being eighteen and the youngest being eight. My father is district attorney for the Eastern District of Massachusetts and my sister teaches Political Science at BC. And for the next three and a half months, I'll be teaching you the wonders of genetics. Does anybody have any questions?"
Josh, with his eyes widened and his jaw open slightly, found himself staring straight ahead. Although it could be argued that he had taken leave of his senses and had lost control over his actions, that did nothing to diminish the fact that his gaze was focused on a rather inappropriate section of his new professor's figure. She was quick to notice this, however, she was not quite as quick to spare his dignity. The class watched with anticipation as a devious smirk dominated her face and she approached her prey.
"I'm up here, Mr. Lyman."
She kneeled down until she was face to face with him. He snapped out of his dazed reverie and upon adjusting to the situation at hand, blushed while his classmates laughed uproariously. He observed the chuckling traitors and sunk back into his chair.
"My husband's a pretty powerful man, you know. If he ever got wind that…"
"Yeah," Josh interrupted crankily. "I got it."
"Good." She turned to the rest of the class. "Let that be a lesson to you all as you roam the earth in your daily lives. In fact, that is your very first lesson. Never get caught drooling over a Congressman's wife. That's one you can pass on to your grandchildren."
The class burst into laughter once more and she laughed right along with them. Josh shook his head in disbelief and sunk even lower. He felt, for the first time in his excessively fortunate existence, like curling up in the fetal position and shrinking out of sight.
By the time class came to its inevitable conclusion, Josh had rebuilt his confidence and reconstructed his wall of imperviousness. He was Joshua Lyman, for God's sake! He was always popular in school, the favorite of all his teachers, and never received lower than a B on a report card in his life. He wasn't inclined to let some surrogate professor destroy his reputation. But, at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to dislike her. She had something few professors had- a sort of enlightened detachment. As a prominent thoracic surgeon and not a full-time professor, Dr. Bartlet was more in touch with the real world than most professors. She did not live to teach, and she did not live for her students. She came here to educate, inform, inspire, and then return to her admirable career of saving lives. She was obviously intelligent, having been educated at Harvard herself, and her pedigree appeared to be without blemish. She had an eighteen-year-old daughter so she knew exactly how to handle young adults, and she had an eight-year-old which led him to believe she could probably wrangle even the most unruly student into shape. Not only that, but she was the first person Josh had ever met who presented a serious challenge to him, and he had convinced himself he was up to the task.
As his fellow students summarily filed out of the room, Josh took his time. Abbey had returned to her desk in the corner and started fishing through a few unidentified documents. He stood in front of the desk until she noticed him. When she looked up, she chuckled and shook her head.
"What's up?"
She gathered the documents in her arms and started walking. He followed her.
"Do you enjoy routinely humiliating your students in front of their peers?" Josh questioned.
"If at all possible, yes."
"That's comforting."
Abbey laughed.
"Isn't it?"
"Dr. Bartlet."
Suddenly, her movements came to an abrupt stop and she turned to face him.
"Look, Josh, I don't fault you for anything that happened today. Nothing you did was out of the ordinary for a kid in college. Let's just not make a practice out of it, okay?"
"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, with only a hint of sarcasm.
"I know," Abbey said, raising an eyebrow. "You dream of other things."
"I don't know what you were implying with that, Dr. Bartlet, but the only thing I've dreamed about lately is graduation."
"Senior?"
He nodded.
"Congratulations," she offered. "Just don't lose focus like I did."
"Senioritis?"
"Not quite. When I was a senior in college, I was too busy planning my wedding to think about finals."
"Doesn't look like it hurt you any if you got into Harvard Med," Josh replied. "You're really married to a congressman?"
"I am really married to a congressman."
"He has a Nobel Prize?"
"He does."
"I'm a Poli Sci major," He told her at random.
She smirked.
"Why does that not surprise me?"
"Because politicians are sleazy and you just caught me gawking at your chest."
Abbey shifted her weight to her left leg and narrowed her eyes at him, thoroughly bewildered by his candid nature.
"One, I don't think you're sleazy, I think you're twenty-one. Two, I think it's unfair to generalize on the behalf of all politicians, don't you?"
"Not really, no."
"Jimmy Carter. You think he's sleazy?" She asked.
Josh nodded.
"A very mild form of a sleazy, but sleazy nonetheless."
"Reagan?"
"Sure."
"Bush?"
"Absolutely."
"Well, my husband's a politician and he's not sleazy," Abbey informed him haughtily.
"Sounds to me like your husband's more of an economist than a politician there, Dr. Bartlet."
"That may be true, but it's still an unwarranted assumption to make."
Josh shrugged dismissively.
"To each his own."
"You're a strange kid, Josh.""
"Thank you."
"I really do have to go though. I'm meeting a friend for lunch," Abbey said.
"Yeah."
She turned and started to walk away from where he stood watching.
"I'll see you Monday."
"Dr. Bartlet!" He called after her.
She whipped around.
"Just a word of advice. Never wear a blue sweater on the Harvard campus. You don't want people thinking you're a Yalie now, do you?"
Despite her best efforts not to, she grinned as she shook her head, then turned back around and continued on her way.