And The World Stood Still

by:SheilaVR

Character(s): Jed & Co.
Category(s): General
Rating: TEEN
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is actually intended, but no threat of same will stop me from fantasizing about "The West Wing" anyway...
Summary: The President demonstrates that alcohol and motorcades do not mix.
Author's Note:I wrote this shortly before we heard any details about the first season finale episode. So, for all intents and purposes, humor me and pretend that "What Kind of Day Has It Been" never took place.

The utter silence could almost be heard as a genuine sound in itself. Nancy and Rick sat side by side in their large, historic, half-lit chamber of isolation, as motionless as the statues around them that shared this vigil. Speaking no empty words, sharing no worried glances... just leaning into each other's solid presence, clinging to that small comfort against the demons of horror that wrapped them round.

When Rick finally moved, he did so rather stiffly from his long stillness.

"Nancy?" he whispered, as though afraid that the slightest unnecessary noise might tip the precarious scales of presidential survival.

She blinked. Rising from the coils of imagination's fanciful mists, back to reality's bitter substance. Looked at him.

"Something just occurred to me: no one else knows we're here. Think I'll stick my head outside... see if there's any news."

She did not reply verbally, but her eyes said it all: that there were only two possible kinds of news. And the odds were not in their favor.

"You'll be okay for a sec?"

Pause. "Sure." That one word barely carried the eighteen inches between them.

"I'll be right back," he promised. "Regardless."

These doors were virtually soundproof, considering the high levels of discussion that took place regularly within. No hint of external affairs had penetrated. Nancy silently watched Rick cross the Roosevelt Room, one slow step at a time, trying to prepare himself for what could all too easily be awaiting them just beyond...

The door swung open without a squeak. The silence rushed out.

And the cacophony of raised voices rushed in.

It took them both a couple of very painful seconds to realize that these were not cries of lamentation as they so feared - but of joy, such as they had not dared to hope.

Rick whirled. Nancy leaped up. Holding themselves still for one more long breath, just to be absolutely sure that their hearts were not deceiving them.

And then they ran from the room together.

*****

"Toby!"

He glanced up from his desk. Not with eagerness, as might be expected in this scenario - but with apparent disinterest.

Ginger was too overjoyed to notice. "He's going to be okay!"

No question of whom she meant. Around here, "he" referred to no one else. Especially now.

"I heard." Toby resumed writing.

"What a relief! Oh, I've never been so worried!"

"I know."

"And he's coming home already! It can't be *that* serious!"

"It can't."

Something in this lack of enthusiasm finally penetrated. Ginger actually *looked* at him.

"Are you all right?"

He didn't meet her eye. "Oh, sure. Considering that the earlier news almost caused a heart attack or two, I'm just fine. What a relief to get back to work, when people aren't interrupting left and right to ask me about the latest update." His pen moved somewhat violently across the page. "Instead they're interrupting left and right to *tell* me about it."

Ginger held still for several seconds, turning this curious speech over in her mind.

"I - just wanted to make sure you knew." She sounded rather hurt at such a cool reception to the best news any of them could ask for. "Everyone else is practically dancing in the aisles." Which implied that anyone who cared for the President would do no less. Toby's devotion to their Chief Executive was never in doubt, so why didn't he want to join in? "You looked so depressed, I was afraid no one had mentioned it to you yet."

Slowly, Toby raised his head and propped it up with one hand. His face was a mask.

"Consider this a personality quirk. Some people draw closer together in a crisis. They feel better talking about it. Helps them deal with the stress. In the same way, it's natural to vent relief in celebration." His pause was more expressive than any public proclamation of soul-deep concern. "I've just never been that type."

She got the message. "Uh - right. Um... sorry to bother you."

He sighed. "I suppose I should show a little appreciation."

"No, that's okay. We'll try to leave you alone." Ginger backed away, as though unnerved by the incredulous revelation that Toby Ziegler actually had personal feelings. His reputation for gruff reserve in the worst tempest was firmly grounded around here.

Well, if you *really* wanted to tap the depths of the White House Communications Director, it looked like all you had to do was threaten the President of the United States.

Just before Ginger could get out of earshot he called out, "Hey, do you know where Sam is? I need him here."

"I - think he went out to pick up some supper."

Toby exhaled and returned to his paperwork. "One-track mind, that guy."

*****

Sam staggered into the bullpen area with both arms loaded. "Vegetarian chow call!"

People swirled around him at once, laying claim to their individual orders, stripping his hands clean in moments.

"Hey, will someone at least save me a croissant - oh, never mind." Not even pausing to remove his trench coat, he fell into the nearest vacant chair.

"Aren't you hungry, Sam?" Cathy asked, digging into her own meal.

"Nah, I'm too tired to be hungry." His head fell back in exhaustion, leaving him to stare at the ceiling. "I knew I should've gone home earlier. I offer to pick up supper *once*, and now it's my job for life. There were so many orders, I didn't have the chance to get anything for myself. Sandwiches, subs, salads... Doesn't anyone around here want to share a pizza or something equally *un*nutritious?"

She laughed none too sympathetically. "It's a small price to pay. You wouldn't miss this for the world and you know it."

Coming up from behind, Mandy shook her head in feigned wonder. "Don't you find anything wrong with this picture? First, at the end of a long and hard day, no one wants to leave in case they miss a tragic bulletin; and now, at the start of *another* long and hard day, no one wants to leave in case they miss a party."

Cathy smiled at her. "Obviously you don't know how good a party can get around here."

"I've heard my share of rumors."

"Which explains why you're still here too, right?" Sam suggested, too worn out to guard his tongue more closely.

Mandy rounded on him sharply. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Seaborn?"

He closed his eyes, as if that would make the issue go away. "I *definitely* should have gone home."

"That's becoming more apparent by the minute."

CJ arrived just in time to throw water on the flash point. "But it's a *doubly* good thing you didn't, Sam."

He looked at her, eyes narrowing. "I'm not so exhausted that I've forgotten to be wary of sudden surprises around here."

"Those are the best kind. The Press Corps will be back within half an hour, which means you have been granted the singular privilege of helping me prepare one of the most joyous releases I'll *ever* give. Toby's looking for you even as we speak."

"Just what the sandman ordered." With an effort, Sam heaved himself up. "Isn't it great that the crisis is over. We speechwriters had begun to feel decidedly useless."

"Okay; the next time you feel overworked, we'll arrange another national emergency that doesn't require your services." CJ was all grins, and her sarcasm had resumed its normal lighthearted note. Presidential good news can do that.

"Fine. Anyone placing bets that some dictator will try to get away with a bit of subterfuge while the U.S. scrambles its hierarchy?" Sam's weariness was affecting his repertoire.

"That's assuming the U.S. hierarchy doesn't do the job itself," Josh announced darkly as he clomped past, yanking off his blazer in passage.

Sam, CJ and Mandy instantly gave him their full attention. Cathy understood to make herself scarce.

"What happened?" Sam asked first, leading the way after him, weariness a thing of the past. "Clearly your meeting with Hoynes wasn't a total delight - I'd have been amazed if it was - but a little more detail *would* be welcome."

Josh strode into his own office, where he flung his jacket at the coat rack with no real interest in actually hanging it there. And missed.

The Deputy Chief of Staff whirled to face his colleagues with a worried frown. "Get ready for some fireworks to rival the Fourth of July. The Cabinet voted Hoynes in; they could hardly do otherwise. And the man's blowing all his jets. Leo read him his rights, but I don't know how long that'll keep his ambitions under wraps - he sees this as his God-given opportunity to take full control." Josh exhaled. "All I can say is, if the President *had* to get involved in a Smash-up Derby, at least it was on Friday. We have one weekend of grace, and we're going to need every minute of it. The fun and games start Monday morning."

Everyone traded concerned glances. President Bartlet's administration had been refined into a surprisingly efficient political machine, stacked with people who worked together and trusted each other to say what they honestly believed. People who tried to focus on doing what was right, not just what was popular or expedient or even pressured by the powerful and the outspoken. People not afraid to tell their Commander-in-Chief when he was wrong.

Vice-President Hoynes, however, was not on the Bartlet bandwagon... and he seemed altogether too eager to tackle the job of President *his* way.

"He's had his eye on that leather chair from the word go," CJ admitted. Angrily.

"We're sitting on a powder keg," Mandy summarized. Succinctly.

Josh nodded. Grimly. "And only one person in the world can diffuse it."

*****

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

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