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.

Monday, 8:00 A.M.

The first day of the week dawned bright and clear at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, punctuated by the usual sounds of vacuums cruising over expensive carpet, phones ringing, computer keyboards clicking, printers churning out the day's first reports... and undercurrents of rebellion not seen since the Civil War.

In a nutshell, the negotiated Weekend of Grace was over, and the White House was bracing for what many people who worked there feared would amount to a hostile takeover.

What a minute - the WHITE HOUSE?

Yes, *that* White House. The one in Washington, the one that influenced national and *inter*national politics. The whole world inched towards the edge of its seat and held its collective breath, wondering worriedly just what was about to happen next and the repercussions that would transpire for all...

John Hoynes arrived with the air of a conquering hero (which he thought he was), rather than a temporary stand-in (which everyone else thought he was - among other things). Marching in step were his entire personal staff, second in number to the President's alone, looking far too much like an army backing up its general for any presidential employee's comfort... and a volume of Secret Service agents that no *Vice*-President *normally* deserved, eerily resembling hired mercenaries loyal only to whoever wielded the most power.

Only the President entered the West Wing from the outside terrace, since only he came from the Residence - which also meant, of course, that his staff never accompanied him there (with two exceptions: Leo and Charlie), and rarely more than one or two agents as well. To contrast as much as possible, Hoynes veritably paraded with his sizable entourage straight through the building's most public (and, incidentally, most populated) corridors, very much on display, drawing stares left and right, and loving every moment as a result. There was nothing the least bit subtle in this display of influence, and something only slightly less blatant in his projected attitude proclaiming that everyone had better not ignore him.

Mrs. Landingham looked up from her desk as he strode into her reception area. His proud smirk faded a bit here; she was, in actuality, the first line of opposition that he could expect to encounter. Even a Vice-President with executive control in a national emergency should not attempt to bully a veteran public servant of eighteen years and five presidential tenures, especially when said public servant was to be his new administrative assistant.

Said public servant would also be a useful barometer on the genuine feeling behind those polite nods in the halls outside.

"Good morning," she greeted him quite pleasantly, "Mr. Vice-President."

There was a slight pause between salutation and title, as though she had to resist the pull of old habit with her *real* boss's title. Hoynes noticed it, simply because he had anticipated something of the sort. He also noticed that she did not seem obviously impressed by the number of people crowding in after him. Sure, she'd seen a lot of diplomatic processions to a presidential audience before - but this was *him*.

"Good morning," he replied, "Mrs. Landingham." In the exact same tone and fashion, as if he'd almost forgotten *her* name, and as a clear indication that *her* pause had not been missed and would not soon be forgiven. And he stood there in front of her, hands on his hips. "I'd like some coffee, please." *This* tone advertised to all within earshot that in the future his coffee was to be ready for his arrival. Like it was the job of the President's personal secretary to wait hand and foot on the President's replacement.

She never blinked. Outnumbered perhaps twelve to one - but this was her office, not his. Not even the President's. "At once, sir. How do you take it?" The question was very courteously expressed... a pacifying effect promptly nullified by her return to her writing, as though his preference had no import at all.

Hoynes cleared his throat, once. If *that* wasn't a strong enough indication of his displeasure - "One cream, no sugar." Just itching to make an example of the first person to offer the slightest contention to the *new* President, veteran staffer notwithstanding. Some of his followers exchanged glances behind him that ranged from concern through anticipation.

Mrs. Landingham tore off the note she'd just finished and set it in a prominent place by her computer monitor. Not even glancing at the Vice-President, whose features were darkening by the second.

And read aloud from it: "One cream, no sugar."

And *then* turned back with a quiet smile. "I'll make sure we have your coffee ready for you in the future, sir."

Hoynes exhaled quickly, before he exposed his suspicions any more than he already had. Deciding with both reluctance and relief that she was too much of a professional to treat him other than properly. He wouldn't need to flaunt his status around *this* employee, at least; she knew her place.

Before he could come up with even a thank-you, Mrs. Landingham nodded to the closed door on her left. "Mr. McGarry and the senior staff are awaiting your convenience, sir."

That reference to *the* Office put the Vice-President back on track. Arrogance resettled into place at once. "Thanks." And strode that way.

She watched the parade go by, carefully expressionless.

Of course, the Vice-President didn't open his own doors. Even *this* door. One of his own staffers did the honors, stepping back to allow his boss full precedence.

His boss did, stalking into the Oval Office as though *he* owned it and no one else. From the sofas arranged around the presidential seal in the room's center six people silently rose, but Hoynes ignored them for the moment. He ran a critical hand over a nearby table in passing to check the dust level, and glanced across at the portrait of George Washington to make sure it hung straight. Then he moved to the desk, turned his back on everyone and gazed silently out the tall windows, admiring the view, as if he himself had personally won the right to rule this majestic capital city and its distant realms flung out before him.

His pronouncement was low; perhaps no one overheard. "All this is *mine*."

Then he revolved, looking at that desk for the first time from *behind* it. Frowned, and moved the pen-holder a few inches sideways from the position established by its rightful owner to better suit *his* liking. And then, savoring this virtual enthronement, lowered himself slowly into the leather chair reserved for the Commander-in-Chief of the United States of America.

And let out a long, satisfied sigh. *At last.* This was where he belonged.

And only then did he spare notice for anyone else in the room.

The senior staff, plus Mandy, had lined up with military precision. Silent, shoulders back, individual reports under the left arm. The men wore their blazers; the women wore suits with skirts rather than the slacks they often preferred. Leo stood at their head, Josh just behind his left shoulder, the others similarly positioned as smartly as chess pieces a few degrees off the desk's west corner, leaving plenty of room for Hoynes' staff to gather towards the east.

*Their* presence, glaringly casual by comparison, made them look like a gang of disorderly amateurs before real professionals.

They got the point, too. Several among them shuffled into a rough mirror stance, glaring angry daggers that they felt compelled to sharpen up around anyone else. The Secret Service agents fell discretely to the rear, beyond *anyone's* criticism.

None of the presidential staff spared their ostentatious opponents a glance. In fact, there was no obvious indication of resentment from any of them.

Why NOT?

For whatever reason, that seeming ambivalence did not erase the illusion of a veritable scrimmage line being drawn across the presidential carpet...

On the other hand, it also might have appeared to an uninformed observer that these two forces were prepared to do battle *for* the man behind the desk, not *because* of him.

Hoynes settled himself a little more deeply into the chair. This was where *the* real fight would be waged. And then he relaxed, supremely confident, and rocked back to a comfortable angle. A move plainly designed to rankle those people most used to seeing only one other person in that place of honor.

Curiously enough, he got no reaction at all. The six of them remained stiffly at attention, showing no overt emotion at all, like well-drilled soldiers for him to inspect.

He didn't actually get up and walk around them; that *would* be going too far. But the time had come at last to show that the U.S. Vice-President was firmly in charge.

"Good morning, everyone." In a deceptively warm voice; the undercurrent practically shouted *I'll be nice so long as you stay in line.*

"Good morning, Mr. Vice-President," Leo responded for his staff. There was no pause in the title here, and no hint anywhere between the words of less than perfect respect.

"Yes, it certainly is." Again the subtext was self-evident: *Now that I'm here, it's very good indeed.* No one could doubt that Hoynes was deliberately trying to provoke, being quite certain that no one would dare call him out on it.

Five mouths were thin lines, though not quite scowls. Leo managed a slight smile somehow. "On behalf of the presidential staff, sir, I would like to welcome you to the Oval Office. Your assistance at this time is very much appreciated."

He could not have sounded more deferential, yet Hoynes still found reason to take umbrage: his *assistance*, as if they could do very well without him. Of course, he knew they'd prefer to do precisely that rather than come to him, and only the United States Constitution made this possible. But to have it so brazenly worded -

Then he reined himself in, irritation or no; Leo hadn't really *said* anything that could be labeled insolent. It was all a matter of interpreting what you *wanted* to hear.

Considering the frustration that these six had to be feeling, however well they suppressed it around him, the Vice-President could afford to be magnanimous since *he* was in the position of power. He'd be merciful and grant Leo that one natural slip. Of course, the next one would not be dealt with so leniently. And there would be more...

A polite knock was followed by Mrs. Landingham with a steaming cup of coffee. "Here you are, Mr. Vice-President."

"Thanks." He accepted it as no more than his due. And might have missed the fleeting look of horror on two or three faces that anyone would presume to ask this matronly lady to perform such a menial errand. But by a superhuman effort, no one commented aloud.

Everyone before the desk remained very still, waiting. President Bartlet did not revel in the respect people always showed him, always *had* to show him; the vast majority of the time he insisted that his staff stay in their seats rather than rise at his presence. And he certainly never *kept* them standing - save for those rare occasions when he was very peeved indeed.

His stand-in did not invite anyone to sit down. Not even his own followers.

"I believe you know everyone, sir." Leo maintained his formal responsibilities, prepared to handle any introductions required. Certainly Hoynes came and went often enough to know the President's leading people, Mandy being the only obvious exception.

The Vice-President waved him off impatiently. "Of course." A private media consultant did not rank among his greatest concerns at the moment.

Now he leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk in a clear gesture of taking possession. Did he hear a couple of jaws grind? That was more like he expected. "All right, let's have at it. We're going to see just what we can get done around here."

Like the President and his staff *didn't* get a lot done on a regular basis?

No one rose to the attack, again to his surprise. Even Leo didn't take the bait.

"Yes, sir. The entire staff is at your disposal. They're not accustomed to slacking off, so there should be little change in production."

Translation: don't push us just to throw your weight around.

The office of the Vice-President might see less public scrutiny and appear virtually powerless by overall comparison, but it was still a demanding position that required political skill and a certain ruthlessness. And all politicians had to be experts at reading between the lines. Hoynes heard the unvoiced commentary loud and clear.

"I *am* familiar with the Oval Office, Leo."

"With respect, sir," Leo persisted calmly, in fact gently, "you are not *as* familiar with that particular chair." The Chief of Staff, even more experienced in this delicate art form, was being very careful not to antagonize his temporary (and temperamental) boss. "The President's orders have come down: we are to assist you in any way possible during your tenure, however you may need us."

A-ha - obeying the chain of command under duress. That was what the Vice-President fully intended to exploit and even enjoy.

He leaned back again with a smug smile. "Oh, I think *my* people will be able to handle things on their own." In essence dismissing both the President's order to be helpful and the entire senior staff's *ability* to be helpful.

Leo didn't turn a hair, increasing the formality to an almost farcical level. "With even more respect, sir, may I take leave to point out the benefit of working together, at least until everyone is fully versed in their new duties. The entire country is depending upon us." He paused politely. "The final decision is, of course, yours."

*For now,* no one added but almost everyone thought.

Hoynes narrowed his eyes at this perceived objection. He did *not* like being accused of ignoring the nation's needs. "I'm hardly a novice in politics, *thank* you. I don't need to have my hand held just because I've changed desks."

Changed desks FOR HOW LONG?

"We all know that, sir." Which hinted at a general consensus on Hoynes' abilities as well as prevented the rest of the senior staff from being entirely left out of this discussion. "We do, however, want to provide all the assistance we can. This next little while may occasionally get a bit tricky for all of us in different ways." Note that no actual time limit was mentioned, and that it only *may* give rise to some problems now and then, and not just for the Vice-President, and not in any specified fashion. "The President's staff is available, capable and insightful, and here for the sole purpose of serving you." Meaning that Hoynes would be no less than a fool to reject such an obvious and valuable asset that otherwise would have nothing at all to do. "I would gladly convene any staff briefings you require, and I hope you will be free to attend as well, so that you know exactly what's happening at all times, and so that we can make certain we're all on your wavelength."

Leo should have been a diplomat! Not even the ambitious paranoia of a presidential stand-in could take exception at *that* speech.

Hoynes was looking unsure of himself for the first time since he walked in. Naturally he had envisioned hard opposition arrayed against him from the start, opposition which had no chance against *his* position and no hope in hell of changing his mind. And yet there was no sign of patronizing from any of them. This absolute lack of the anger he had so confidently predicted and prepared for left him somewhat off-balance.

All present waited in silence for the Vice-President's response. Several of the "visiting" staffers shifted in place, clearly no less bewildered by this twist to the standardized political infighting game plan. The Presidential Six did not dare make a move to tip the scales. From behind, the tension could be seen right across Leo's shoulders.

No politician got to the Capitol, much less the White House, without learning how to land on his or her feet. Hoynes regrouped his thoughts and decided that at this point it would make more sense to accept the lack of resistance - at face value, anyway. He refused to believe any truce would continue indefinitely, but he'd just deal with the rebellion when it *did* break out. Meanwhile, he wanted some time to learn every nuance of this office that he possibly could. There would be no mistakes during *his* administration.

"All right. Let me familiarize myself with my new schedule, and then we'll have a little get-together and hear what you all have to say."

A "little get-together"? *That* broadcast wideband just how much import he attached to their input. And did he by any chance manage to slip in a *royal* "we"? (Now you don't accuse a republican citizen of THAT.)

"Yes, sir. At your convenience. I'd like to suggest that in the interim we pair up assignments to facilitate the indoctrination period." Leo left that one cautiously vague, and for good reason. He didn't wait for their new leader's approval this time, but forged onward as though there was just no other logical alternative. Which there really wasn't, from *either* perspective. "As I'm sure you all know," he addressed the *other* staff line, "CJ is our Press Secretary."

Either Hoynes had his first attack of common sense this morning, or else he was tired of trying so futilely to decipher Leo's motives for one day. He gave a curt nod to one of the men in his own ranks. "Robert."

The selected individual slowly stepped forward. CJ needed no such cue; Leo's instructions had been clear and to the point. Most of the senior staff from both offices knew each other at least by sight - which is not to say they got along. That detail, however, was to change today. Whether for all time or not had yet to be determined.

CJ was also the best actor among them by far. She advanced with a friendly smile and an extended hand. "Good to see you again, Rob. You can use my office for as long as necessary. I'll introduce you to the White House Press Corps later this morning." She invited him to accompany her out of the Oval Office, chatting pleasantly all the while. "One guy has a particularly strange sense of humor, and a few others never lose the chance to ask some really biting questions. I'll point them out. And I have a couple of suggestions about certain topics and how it might be best to present them - but anytime you want me to shut up, just say so."

And so the standard of cooperation had been set. Toby, Sam, and even Mandy left in turn with one of the Vice-President's staff, promising full hospitality and helpfulness. No one objected, and at least on the surface everyone was quite agreeable with the arrangements. Josh being the odd man out, as far as an established duty roster was concerned, he got stuck playing maitre d' to the rest of Hoynes' cheerleaders. There would be some scrambling to find office space for them all.

At long last only two men remained, excepting the silent black-suited agents almost invisible in the background.

If Hoynes believed there was an ulterior purpose to this totally unanticipated warm welcome, Leo would hear about it now. He stood stiffly and waited.

Perhaps the Vice-President had been humbled (a little) by such selflessness. Or perhaps he just decided to get to the bottom of it later, when guards were lower.

"Thanks for the smooth arrangements, Leo." And his nod was gracious enough.

"My job." Which was true enough. "And my pleasure." Which was also true, in fact. Lack of friction around here right now would be worth almost any price. "Is there anything else I can do for you, John?"

The sudden cold stare Hoynes leveled at him quashed that friendly overture flat. Normally, when alone, these two men were on a first-name basis. No longer, it seemed. All old debts had been swept aside. For the first time, he spoke as to a subordinate - harshly. "Don't dangle our party history in front of me, Leo. Not now, and certainly not here."

The silence that fell between them reverberated. The Chief of Staff looked more than a little taken aback. Watching his last hope at maintaining an atmosphere of anything other than open enmity dissipate like smoke. He needed several seconds to find speech again. "I wasn't trying to, Mr. Vice-President."

"Good." It didn't *sound* good, but it did cut off any further elaboration on Leo's part. "Right now I don't need anything that I haven't already got."

Hoynes's tone, indeed his whole posture, would give anyone chills. He meant, of course, full and personal control of the most powerful nation on earth. Which he had coveted for years, and which he fully intended to run his way.

"Oh - and if you speak to the President later, give him my best."

How he articulated those words without choking on them defied belief. Leo blinked several times before he recovered. "*Yes*, sir."

"Fine. I'll get back to you in a bit."

So cavalierly dismissed, Leo did not quite bow, but he mustered a nod. "Thank you, Mr. Vice-President." And, shoulders hunched, he headed for his own office, right next door. Leaving a man other than Jed Bartlet in that chair.

And successfully hid his snarl until he was safely out of sight.

*****

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

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