The sky was turning to a deep sapphire blue as the sun started to give way to the familiar dark chill of a late autumn afternoon. For the Vice President's detail it was far from ideal to be out jogging in, on a personal level the pair found it cold and on a security level it was risky with visibility becoming limited as the sun disappeared, plus there was the cliché of more dangers lurking in the dark. John, in true fashion, had listened to their concerns, nodded, given a tight smile and advised them that he was going out running and whether they came or not did not bother him.

John stared ahead as he ran, focused only on his breathing and avoiding any hazards. Normally he preferred to run in the morning, there were less people, there was better visibility and the day felt young and fresh but this afternoon he was pissed and he needed the distraction.

Running was an ironic escapism and the thought of that made the Vice President smile as his trainers pounded off the concrete. It was a deception, no matter how far he ran today he would eventually have to run back. Hell he was already running back. Suzanne would make a mockery of that, he thought bitterly, taunt him for running back to her.

Suzanne knew John couldn't leave her, the people liked a family man and John already had the stain of one divorce on him. If he added another he didn't believe there would be a re-election. Hell he might not even finish this term if he had a divorce, the family loving people might bay for his resignation. He was a Southern man after all, his voters were traditional value lovers.

Out of the corner of his eye John spied the White House. A grand building that made a mockery of him as he came to be within its shadow yet again. He wondered why he had even come this route and blamed his security detail for insisting he travelled up a private route instead of the public one.

John stiffened at the sight and looked ahead, determined to run by it as quickly as he could and put its taunting form behind him. He was rewarded with the sight of a familiar face escaping from its grounds.

John smiled again as he headed for the figure, putting extra effort into his steps as he hoped to surprise them before his security detail could give them warning. His trainers hit hard off the concrete once more as he accelerated. He'd been out for forty minutes but he still felt a sense of power as his limbs carried him forth with ease. He was proud of his body, he had always kept it in good shape, partly because of vanity and a knowledge that, shallow as it was, a good physical appearance was appealing to voters but also because it was an excuse to get out of the house or, in this case, out of the Eisenhower Executive Office Building.

"Cady!"

John's Deputy Assistant of Public Relations gave a colourful swear as she halted with a look of surprise.

John had almost run her down.

John halted with a grin, knowing it was childish to take pleasure from startling the young woman and yet unable to stop himself from it.

Cadence stared up at him and almost instantly dropped her stare to the ground as she felt her cheeks redden.

Realising she hadn't responded to him, Cadence made herself look up again. She knew she should do it quickly, head straight up, no lingering, just professional but it was too tempting not to stare. John's muscular legs were bare, his loose navy shorts stopped high above the knee but crept up to the waist giving the illusion of length meeting the coal grey t-shirt that was tucked into them. The t-shirt was tight at his chest, the font 'United States Naval Academy' drawing attention to the taut form of his pectoralis muscle which was loosely outlined by the thin grey cloth that had started to cling to him with sweat.

"Um...morning John, shoot, Vice President, Mr Vice President!" Cadence stammered awkwardly. She fidgeted with the strap of her satchel at her shoulder and awkwardly looked to the street on her right.

John raised his hands to his hips as he laughed and immediately welcomed the distraction she had unwittingly delivered to him.

"Afternoon Cady, it's good afternoon," he corrected her. "Unless you are one of those odd seasonal people who considers it proper to say evening because it's gotten darker earlier," he tacked on.

Cadence turned back to him but her eyes dropped again. "Hmm, I think for me the whole day just merges into...well into one day," she concluded lamely.

Internally Cadence cursed herself for her idiotic, schoolgirl stammering. She couldn't stop staring, her eyes drawn to his exposed legs as she thought of how they were powerful enough to support him and her raised up against a wall. Her throat turned dry at the recollection and she tried to dismiss it.

"Where are you going?" John pried gently. "Or should I ask where you were coming from?"

"That big, white building over there," she retorted sardonically as she gestured to it with one hand. "Not sure if you're familiar with it."

Cadence realised her rudeness almost immediately as her hand raised to her brow to pinch the top of her nose where a headache was beginning.

John's smile dimmed at her sarcasm. He saw the subdued anger in her gaze and knew from her attitude that, like him, she was in a bad mood.

John was conscious of his pair of agents standing in the background, probably not listening but he could never be sure. He took a step closer to Cadence and stared down at her with a calm expression.

"Cadence I think you knew the meaning of my question," he chided her quietly.

She had her hair down, it was a little wavy from her fast trek and in need of a brush but it always flattered her better down that up and she was wearing brown, a colour John had always felt suited her.

Cadence dropped her hand and nodded agreeably.

"I apologise Mr Vice President," she said sincerely as she met his stare. "I shouldn't talk to you like that. I'm working, I promise, I was at the Eisenhower and I'm going back there now, I just had to see Mr McGarry and the President."

John's frown deepened but he didn't know what annoyed him more, Cadence's sudden summoning of an impersonal professional attitude or the mentioning of Leo and the President.

"Had to?" he echoed.

She nodded solemnly. "I was asked to."

John glanced to the White House and sighed before he turned a fresh smile back to Cadence. He had spied how she flustered at him in his running gear and he wanted that bashful, lusting gaze of hers back.

"Well, let me escort you back to the Eisenhower then," he offered. "I was going there anyway," he admitted.

"I can't run," she protested as she gestured to her brown heels.

John welcomed the excuse to gaze down at her legs without being obvious about it. She was wearing flesh coloured pantyhose, as much a tease as an obstacle, and small heeled, leather cut pumps with straps. John nodded seriously at them.

"Yes but your shoes have straps so they can't fall off," he pointed out.

Cadence smiled before she could help it. "So I have to risk humiliation because I made the mistake of wearing straps?" she queried.

"No, you have to make a valiant effort to keep up," John corrected. "It's only five minutes on foot, if even that," he added smugly.

Cadence tensed slightly as he puffed out his chest just a little. She knew he had to know what he was doing but that knowledge couldn't help her to resist.

"Can we get this over with then?" she queried, a little more good humouredly than she had been mere seconds ago.

"Sure."

John turned and started to jog. It was light and barely effective. He had given up his goal of exercise for the evening anyway, a forty-five minute run was hardly a great feat but he wasn't going to ignore the opportunity to spend time with Cadence. With her he was still solving his problem of needing a distraction.

He laughed and shook his head as he heard her heels clattering noisily behind him.

One of the agents glanced back, both curious and mystified. Their brown stare turned amused before they looked ahead once more.

John, unable to resist, glanced over his shoulder to see the young woman attempting some awkward sprint. Her skirt was too tight to allow for much leg extending and her pantyhose added limitations as well. Her blazer and shirt, both with full length sleeves, added a stiffness to her arms swinging back and forth and were ill designed for exercise.

John watched as she moved to his side and slowed to his jogging pace. He was aware of the attention the noise of her heels drew from the White House staffers who used this private route to journey to and from the grand white building with an element of discretion. John didn't care and Cadence's expression suggested she didn't either.

When John glanced at her she smiled and shrugged. "I don't do things half-assed," she said proudly.

The young woman did seem noticeably relieved however when the Eisenhower appeared in view.

The Eisenhower was another grand, white building that seemed to make up for its inferior purpose by multiplying everything- wings, floors, columns, chimneys windows. John had considered the building suitable enough for office until Cadence had jested that it looked like it was suffering a duplication virus. The White House was neoclassical- simple, divine and subtly powerful and beautiful. The Eisenhower Executive Office Building was Second Empire style and as pompous and self-important as its mouthful of a name. The implication that the Eisenhower was trying to compensate for something was not lost on John.

They entered together and John delayed to smile and greet the staff he passed by. He dismissed his security detail, assuring them that his run, brief as it had been, was over.

Cadence glanced over at John curiously. Her stare turned serious as she bit her lower lip slightly. "Do you have a moment Mr Vice President?" she pried quietly.

John rubbed at his neck and nodded. "Sure, let's go to my office," he suggested.

He tried to ignore the feeling he got as she sounded out his title, quiet and yet full of respect. His wife never respected the title or the office, it wasn't good enough, for her nothing ever was.

John led the way through several corridors and past familiar offices. The area was busy but nothing compared to the ever hiving West Wing.

John paused outside the door to his office, opened it and gestured for Cadence to enter first.

She stepped into the centre of the room and waited for John to follow.

He closed the door and stared at her calmly before looking pointedly to the seats in the room.

The room was bland, a fancier version of a generic office. It had a large desk and leather chair and a circle of seats before it with a table abandoned against the wall to carry tea, coffee, water or something stronger if one required it. There was a globe in one corner, a bookshelf against another wall and the usual décor of flags and portraits of Vices past, leering down at the current one like restless ghosts.

Cadence was staring at John with an uneasy expression. She knew she had to explain her day to him, sure her father had silenced the press for now but for now wasn't for ever. If the Vice President had been in a suit and looking a little less...what? Attractive? She knew John still looked good in a suit. That wasn't it. Cadence considered maybe it was the casualness of his attire. Hell maybe it was because anytime he had gone jogging during his campaign and she found him with his clothes clinging against him with sweat and his dark hair a messy tousle, she had found it impossible to resist the urge to tug his clothes off and have wild, sweaty sex with him.

"Cady?"

His voice pulled her back to reality.

"I have something to tell you," she admitted, "but I don't really know where to begin." She paced about the room and pushed back some of her hair. "Suffice to say I think I've brought trouble again, without meaning to."

Cadence glanced over at John apologetically. "There's a reporter sniffing around," she said bluntly, "or rather there was, dad bought him off." She paused and gave a bitter smile. "And that's not going to help with the daddy's girl crap I endure here," she murmured. She shook her head. "Anyway, they were looking into me, apparently someone suggested that maybe I wasn't mentally stable enough for this job."

John felt a hint of relief at her words and then guilt for that relief. He had been expecting revelations of another scandal. He watched her cross her arms so her hands could creep up to brush against the top half of her arms. He knew she was absent-mindedly reaching for scars unseen beneath her jacket and his guilt worsened.

"They learned I had self-harmed," she said bluntly. "The story is dead for now, shit," she cursed crossly. She looked away as grief mingled with the anger in her eyes. "It might resurface," she continued quietly, "and that's going to be embarrassing."

She knew she was being vague but she didn't see a need for details. She didn't know everything and John didn't need to know the reporter had known about her suicide attempt. If another reporter did come along then she would deal with it then. It was unfair, she deserved her privacy and even discussing this much was difficult.

"You're not quitting," John said bluntly, his Texan accent raw and thick as it slipped through.

"Huh?" Cadence glanced over at him in puzzlement.

John's hands were on his hips again as he gave her a firm stare. "If you're going to offer a resignation I'm going to reject it."

"Well you're chancing it then," she scolded him with a calm stare, "you all are. It's easy to say ignore it and it loses its power but it didn't work that way with dad."

John relaxed his stance slightly. "Cadence, don't take this the wrong way but your father is the Chief of Staff, that's a little bit more important than what you do."

A laugh escaped her before she could help it. "I know," she retorted. "I just, this is a theme with me whether I want it or not. Cadence McGarry, mistress of mysteries." She grinned. "Sounds better than source of scandals doesn't it?"

"Cady, do you want to talk about it?" John pried seriously. "Your harming yourself that is." It had been a time before him, some none too distant pain in her past before she had joined his campaign. John had asked about her scars during his campaign but she had described the memories as too raw to discuss.

Cadence's eyes widened slightly before she gave a small, sad smile. "You know, no one else asked that today," she murmured. "They want it to go away, ignore it and it loses power," she repeated quietly. She shook her head. "I think I'll follow that. It's better for the job and I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Are you sure?"

Cadence fixed a serious stare up at him. "Do you want to talk about your bad day?" she queried calmly.

John frowned, Cadence had always had a good read on him, to others he could wear the affable, friendly mask of charm but she usually had a knack for seeing through it when something was annoying him.

"No," he retorted quietly. He knew mentioning his wife would kill the conversation, it usually did.

John took a few steps towards Cadence, closing the gap between them. He raised his right hand and weaved it through her hair loosely. "Politics and scandal do go hand in hand," he said softly.

Cadence nodded briskly. She could feel the heat of his breath brushing against her as he spoke. He was too close but she didn't step back. "You can't want scandal John," she retorted in a low voice.

"No," he responded agreeably, "I don't."

His hand slipped down to her chin and he tilted it up and found her willing. He leaned down and kissed her. Her mouth was soft and still laced with the evening chill. John realised her body radiated with cold and that he had been a bit of a bastard to have her running out in it with no coat.

"Cady where's your coat?" he pried as he pulled back.

"I left it behind," she murmured. "I just wanted away."

John nodded in understanding. "You're cold," he said as his free hand brushed against her cheek. "We have to fix that."

He kissed the icy tip of her nose lightly and smiled as both his hands slipped slowly down to meet at the buttons of her blazer.

"By stripping me?" she queried mockingly.

"I had an idea that we might share body heat," he suggested. He was calm and confident, quite certain that she wouldn't resist or reject him this time.

"Hmm."

Cadence knew what she should do, what she had promised herself she would do but she was tired, tired of denying herself something that made her happy and tired of the long day she had had and the constant struggle she had as her personal troubles and past continuously tried to devour her present. She just wanted one moment of distraction and pleasure.

"Well for that you have to strip too," she retorted with a smile.

John nodded along as he finished unbuttoning her jacket. He reached his hands about her waist and deftly plucked her up and placed her on the desk behind.

Cadence blushed as his hands reached up under her skirt to fumble with her pantyhose. She glanced past him to the door and frowned. "John, did you lock that?"

"Can't," he retorted dismissively as he started to unroll the delicate gossamer fabric.

"John," her voice turned stern.

John frowned as she closed her legs against his hands. He glanced up at her with an amused stare. "Cady I'm the Vice President, it would be risky if someone could lock themselves with me in my office," he reasoned.

Cadence glanced to the right crossly as her hands dug into the edges of the desk. She shook her head and John frowned again as he knew what was coming.

"I shouldn't be doing this," she murmured. "God damn it, I come here to tell you the press is sniffing around my private affairs and we start this. No, it's far too risky and stupid and wrong."

"Cady I'm not stupid," he argued, "do you think I'd risk this kind of scandal."

"No, which is why you're going to let me off this desk and we'll act like nothing happened," she said firmly.

John sighed but he backed away from Cadence and the desk anyway. "Fine," he muttered angrily.

Cadence pushed herself off the desk and back to her feet. She fumbled to fix her pantyhose back upright against before buttoning up her blazer. "I want to Mr Vice President, I do but I can't."

John waved her off heatedly. It was hard to ignore the rush of passion that had been building in him, without an outlet the energy was turning to frustration.

"You can go," he murmured with a gesture to the door.

She nodded and headed for it hastily.

"Cady," he called after her.

She glanced over her shoulder curiously.

"I'm glad you told me," he said quietly, "we'll talk it over with our Communications team and come up with a plan if the press starts sniffing around again. It's nonsense anyway and you're not quitting over it."
Cadence gave him a grateful smile. "Alright Mr Vice President and thank you."

John felt a familiar stirring again as she sounded out his title and he grimaced slightly. He pushed his right hand through his hair before waving her off again. "Go, do whatever you planned on doing."

"Right sir."

Cadence left the room at last. She headed for her office, eager to wrap up some notes about a potential opportunity to promote technology in the more rural areas of the country. She glanced at her watch as she walked. She didn't have long before she was due to head home and start getting ready for dinner with Mal and Zoey. Truthfully she wasn't looking forward to it, she didn't want Zoey pulled into her life when it was still proving to be a complicated mess, she was the President's daughter after all but she knew Zoey would be crushed if she cancelled. She also feared that her father might tell her sister about the business with the press and knew Mal would get outraged and start probing over her sister's feelings on the matter.

Mal knew better than anyone why Cadence had self-harmed and, more importantly, she knew why Cadence had tried to commit suicide. A little detail she had omitted from John, was that the press knew about her attempt on her life. She wondered what details they knew about that and couldn't imagine how the public might devour her over it. Her family was Catholic, so was the President's, and good Catholics didn't do these things, people who treated the gift of life so callously were doomed to Hell according to some.

Cadence might hate the judgement of religious fanatics but she knew that the church and chapel goers made up a large proportion of the voters. It was why Jed kept most of blasphemies private and attended church with his wife even though he found fault with the preacher and why John stayed married despite his unhappiness with an unsatisfied wife who found his every success a failure. Cadence wondered and worried what these voters who knew nothing of her might say when the press publicised her darkest moments with no sense of personality.