Author's Note: This chapter fills in gaps in State of the Unions. It begins with the DNC chairman's televised apology and then goes beyond Mac's delivery of her televised State of the Union Address from the Oval Office. As I pondered this episode while sitting on a plane, I decided this episode was missing a couple of important conversations—and a real (slightly over the top) make-up scene.

2. ROD'S CHOICE

A. Perspective

"An employee of the DNC without my knowledge is alleged to have encouraged a young intern to place an illegal substance in a drink of First Gentleman Rod Calloway. We are cooperating fully with the proper authorities. As Chairman, I apologize for the rogue actions of these individuals. And I wish to convey my most sincere regrets to the First Gentleman, the President and their family."

As the DNC chairman finished his weak televised apology, Rod–after three days of living in Hell–had just about reached his limit. He threw the pieces of candy that were in his hand down into the candy dish and left the Oval Office reception area. When he got to his office, he shut the door, sat down at his desk and momentarily buried his face in his hands. Perspective. He needed perspective. But he knew he wouldn't find it here. He needed some air... needed to clear his head.

He took off his suit jacket and his tie and rolled-up his shirt sleeves. He called Nora and Vince to tell them where he was going on the off-chance that Mac or one of the kids needed him. Then he grabbed the basketball from the closet and left the West Wing. When he got outside he asked the Secret Service to keep their distance and then he walked to the basketball court only pausing a moment to peak into the Oval where Mac was working on her State of the Union Address.

One of the first thing's he'd done after Mac had become President was to fix-up the outdoor basketball court which had fallen into disrepair. He shot free-throws for a few minutes. But very quickly gave up. Usually sports or other physical activity was a balm to his troubles. Not today. Today's difficulties were too big for that. So he took a seat on the bench and tried to come to grips with the events of the past three days.

First, he had to deal with his anger: over his stupidity, over Mac's reactions and overreactions, and over the politics of hatred and destruction that too frequently controlled this town. Rod knew that anger–like hate–was a personal choice. He had to let go or it would destroy him.

He also had to get past the hurt he felt from Mac's lack of trust and her spite. Their conversation last night after she had learned he really had been set up had partially healed both of their wounds. But there were deeper ones that would require closer attention. This, Rod realized, was what really ate at him.

He couldn't get past yesterday's argument with Mackenzie in the Oval Office. A portion of that conversation just kept playing relentlessly in his stream of consciousness. And he was powerless to stop it:

"That's right. You're my husband. That's the problem. It's always been the problem... This cannot continue to be seen as an extension of our marriage..."

Is this really, he wondered, what his wife thought of him. That he was a problem... and always had been. Did she really have so little faith in him, in his abilities, and what they had achieved together?

She didn't fully trust him–he'd always recognized that on some level. But Mac really didn't trust anybody–except for maybe Kate... no, he realized, not even Kate. But if she didn't believe in him... then what was he doing here? Except that he loved her. He had, almost from the moment they met, loved her. That was the one thing of which he was certain. He had tried diligently over the years to base every decision in his life with that love–with her–firmly in his sight. But what about now? Where did he go from here? And if Mac didn't trust him and didn't need him... then what was the point of his making any decision. Mackenzie would have made the decision for him.

Rod leaned forwards and put his elbows on his knees before rubbing his temples with his hands. He was stuck. And he had no idea what to do next.

Sometime later, Kate found him still sitting like this and her heart broke. She'd deliberately gone looking for him. Kate loved her daughter and she knew from personal experience what a challenge loving Mackenzie could at times be. Kate also loved her son-in-law dearly. She could not have asked for a better husband for Mac and father for her grandchildren. He had willingly sacrificed so much personal ambition for her daughter. And she could see just how much he was hurting. When her daughter felt really afraid, ganged up on or backed into a corner, she often would scratch and claw her way out of the situation in an act of self-preservation that was usually directed towards those who loved her the most. Kate had the scars to prove it... and so did Rod.

Rod heard her approach and looked up. Standing to greet her he asked, "Hey, is there a problem?"

"Sit down," she said. "I just thought you could use a cookie."

Rod smiled. He knew what "cookie" meant in Kate's vernacular. "What would we do without you, Kate?"

"The real question is what would the Allen-Calloway women—and Horace—do without you?" With genuine concern she asked him, "Are you okay?"

Rod looked at her for a moment. He did not want to put her in the awkward position of having potentially divided loyalties. But he needed some perspective and he just couldn't seem to locate it on his own. "Kate... if she doesn't trust me and she doesn't need me..."

"Stop, right there," Kate interrupted. She put her hand on his knee and turned to face him even more directly. "You're wrong. Mac does trust you. She just has an unorthodox way of showing it sometimes. But I'm fairly certain that you knew that already. And as for her need for you... that, my dear boy, has never been at issue."

Kate paused to let her words sink in. "Rod, I had a conversation with her two nights ago and I asked her how the two of you were doing. She said 'she didn't know.' But then she told me something very interesting—something I had never heard from her before. She told me that what she remembered most about my relationship with Michael were the kisses and that he was 'always coming in for a hug', and 'always holding my hand.'"

Kate stood and faced him while he remained seated. She placed her hands on his shoulders. Once she was sure she had his full-attention, she told him gently. "I love you. My daughter loves you. Most important she needs you. She may not always adequately convey that need but it doesn't make it any less real–any less true...

"Rod, she's got hundreds of advisors and millions of critics. She only has one husband: you.

"And you are what she really needs: your love, your devotion, your patience... your hugs and your kisses... you always reaching out to hold her hand."

Kate kissed him on the cheek and left him to his thoughts.

Rod sat in stunned silence for a moment. Could the answer to everything really be that simple? But in his heart, he knew it was so.

B. Execution

Rod returned to his office in the West Wing to write a letter and to again review tonight's speech. These would be two of his last official acts as Director of Strategic Planning for the Allen Administration.

When he finished making a few notes in the margins, he went to Jim's office. As the only thing on the President's agenda was tonight's speech, Rod knew that Jim was likely doing what he had just done. They all wanted this speech to be perfect–for her.

The two talked about the language and content of the speech for a few minutes. Then they discussed the DNC's folly and Templeton's latest stunt and ways in which they could combat each of those without stooping to that level. Both they and the President hated for her to stand before a joint session of Congress tonight in silent recognition that politics as usual–the politics of self-destruction–was acceptable.

Jim pulled a copy of the United States Constitution from his shelf. Together they read Article II, Section 3: "He shall from time to time give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient..."

In the plain language of the document, Rod and Jim found a response to Templeton and the DNC. The President would make a Report to the Congress but she would not do it hat in hand. She would not give them that satisfaction or respect they had not earned. She would throw an elbow to the soft underbelly of the "inside the beltway" political establishment. An elbow that said, "Don't mess with me. You will lose. I am smarter than you. And I am right."

Mac would fulfill her constitutional obligation. But she would take her message directly to the American people and use their collective will to keep their elected representatives accountable. Finally, solution in hand, the two men most important to President Mackenzie Allen, relaxed.

Rod told Jim of his decision and handed him a letter of resignation that was more symbolic than anything else. Jim agreed to remain silent until he could tell Mackenzie.

A few months ago, when Rod assumed his official position, it would have been unthinkable to leave his wife's political success–her legacy–in the hands of this man who was so closely tied to Teddy Bridges. Jim, however, had earned his respect and had proven his loyalty. Rod knew that he would also have her back. And that had always been his first priority: To ensure that there was always present someone Mac could rely on to protect her from those who sought to take her down.

The two of them had previously reached a mutual understanding. Now they would take it a step further. There would be no more turf wars. No battles over who would reign supreme in having the ear of the President. Each of them would take control of a different sphere: Rod, personally as Mackenzie's husband; and Jim, professionally, as President Mac Allen's Chief of Staff.

Together the two men left the office. Jim went to recommend to the President a new kind of State of the Union Address; and Rod to talk with Nora about his office change.

Later Rod would propose to Mackenzie a new state of their union. As he thought of this next conversation with her, he smiled for the first time in three days. He knew his wife's week was about to get a lot better... and that meant everything to him. But first, he had some personal plans to finalize—plans he would execute later that evening when all was quiet in both the West Wing and the Residence.

C. East meets West

Twelve minutes before Mac's first State of the Union Address, Rod stood in the doorway of her personal study that was adjacent to the Oval Office. Mac was sitting on the couch apparently reviewing the contents of her speech. "Hey, you should let that rest. It's a good speech."

"What's a five letter word for highway?"

"I should have known."

"It's better than biting my nails."

"You're going to be great." Rod joined his wife on the couch. "So… I am moving my things out of the West Wing and back into the First Gentleman's office."

"Rod, we can talk about it. You don't have to…"

"Mac." Rod placed his hand on her knee. "Mac, you're the first female president… And you need to stand taller and be stronger than any man who has come before you. And with me by your side you can't do that.. It's not fair. It's not right. But it's the truth…. It will be better that way… for us, too."

Mac acknowledged his decision with a nod.

"And you only have eight minutes left… and that's your husband talking."

D. State of their Union

As the cameras went cold, Mac took in her surroundings. She had just finished her first State of the Union Address. She was pleased with the contents of the speech and had felt good about its delivery. But she was more pleased to have her entire family—and especially her husband—there to support her. With her eyes, she first acknowledged Rod. Then she did the same with her kids and her mom. After a moment, however, she was engulfed by others in the room.

Much later, she found herself alone at her desk. She had no idea when her family had left for home. It had been a terrible week but a great day. She felt tired but exhilarated. She also felt at peace.

"Mrs. Calloway?"

Mac looked up in puzzlement as Vince came into the Oval. She hadn't been called by that name for many years. Nonetheless, she acknowledged his salutation. "Yes?"

"You have an appointment at eleven o'clock."

Mac looked at the clock on her desk. "Vince, who in their right mind schedules an appointment for this hour."

"Mr. Calloway. He's waiting for you in the Residence… he asked that you not be late."

Mac looked at the clock again. It read 10:57 p.m. As she had sorely tried her husband's good nature the past few days, Mackenzie decided she'd better hurry…. She made it just in time.

When she entered their bedroom, Rod was waiting for her in his pajama bottoms. Hundreds of mostly yellow and red roses filled the dimly lit room.

Mackenzie closed—and locked—the bedroom door behind her. And walking towards him said sedately, "I heard we have an appointment, Mr. Calloway."

"You heard right." Rod quickly closed the gap remaining between them and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She still fit—perfectly. "We have a lifetime of appointments ahead of us, wife. Appointments for hugging, and kissing… and for lots of hand-holding." He paused a moment before adding mischievously, "And when we're lucky, Mrs. Calloway, appointments for lots of other pleasurable activities…."

That night they started with the hugging and the kissing. Then they moved on to the other things. Finally, much later when they lay in bed safe in each other's arms, they concentrated on the hand-holding.

Mac again surveyed the room before turning to look at her husband. "How, Mr. Calloway, were you able to find so many roses?"

He met her question with a smile that made her melt. "You forget… I'm the First Gentleman of the United States. I have my own greenhouse and full-time florists… and you, President Allen, have your own rose garden."