SOMEWHERE ON THE WAY TO SPEAKING
(a post-ep for "Bartlet's Third State of The Union")
"So where are they?"
"Hmm?" Margaret finished her carrot stick and pushed
a piece of hair behind her ear.
"Where are they?" Carole repeated.
Margaret plucked another carrot stick from her purse
and cocked her head. "Where are who?"
Carole shrugged. "Everyone."
Margaret considered. "Well. Josh, Sam, CJ, Toby,
Leo, and the President are in the Oval Office. Donna,
Joey, and Kenny are sitting in the polling center in
the dark. Mrs. Bartlet is at the reception. Ainsley
Hayes is in the steam pipe trunk distribution venue.
Charlie is wandering the halls, and Mark Gottfried is
on television."
Carole nodded and sat back in CJ's chair. Margaret,
perched on the edge of the press secretary's desk,
offered her purse to Carole. "Carrot?"
"Did you plan on robbing the reception, or was it an
impulsive thing?"
"I did not steal these. I asked the caterer."
"He gave you permission to pack away the carrots?"
Margaret crunched her carrot. "He doesn't speak
English. But if he did, I'm sure he would have given
me permission to sustain myself with a healthy snack."
Carole shrugged and accepted a carrot. "Healthful,"
she corrected after a moment.
"Excuse me?"
"A healthy snack is a snack that exercises and takes
its vitamins. You want to use healthful in that
sentence."
"Am I about to speak on live television?"
"Tonight? Who can say?"
"No one can speak tonight," Margaret said.
"I thought the President did all right," Carole
reminded her.
"Yes, he did. But about an hour after the state of
the union, everyone suddenly lost the ability to
speak."
"Really."
Margaret nodded solemnly.
"Who lost the ability to speak?" Carole asked.
"Didn't you hear CJ with Mark Gottfried?"
"I thought she did fine," Carole protested.
"She did do fine."
"Then what are you --"
"They're all doing fine. They're speaking
beautifully. Except no one is quite sure--"
"Aah," Carole realized. "What the story is."
"Right."
"Except me. I'm having no trouble speaking."
Margaret stared her down for a moment and then hopped
off the desk. "I'm going back to the reception."
"Are you going to steal anything else?" Carole asked,
following her out of the office.
Margaret looked at Carole over her shoulder as she
walked. "I need celery," she admitted.
Carole stopped suddenly. "Wait," she said.
"Do you have celery?"
"No, but I'm missing a button."
"What kind of button?"
"From my jacket." Carole scanned the floor around her
desk and then ducked back into CJ's office. A moment
later she returned. "It isn't there."
"Are you sure?"
"I've have extraordinary vision. It isn't there."
"Where else have you been since the last time you
buttoned your jacket?"
Carole considered for a moment, then answered. "I've
been at the reception, at the polling center, in
Toby's office, in Leo's office, in Josh's office, in
Sam's office, at Mrs. Landingham's desk, in the
restroom, in the kitchen, in the residence briefly,
and out to my car."
"Well," Margaret said. "Would you like another carrot
stick?"
"Please."
"Let's start with Toby's office."
Ten minutes later they had worked their way to Leo's
office. "How long have the guys been in the Oval?"
Carole whispered, nodding toward the closed door to
the Oval Office.
"CJ's there, too," Margaret said.
"I know."
"You called them the guys."
"Yes."
"CJ's not a guy."
"I meant the gang."
"Aah."
"How long have they been in the Oval?"
"Twenty-seven minutes."
"Do you know what they're discussing?"
"Probably something more interesting than
button-hunting."
"Button-hunting?"
Margaret shrugged.
"Well," Carole said. "If they don't come out of there
soon, I'm going to have to reschedule CJ's briefing.
The press expects numbers."
"Any power yet at the polling center?"
"Beyond batteries and frayed nerves? None."
Margaret started to say something else; just then the
door to the Oval Office flew open and Josh came
barreling out. He tripped over Margaret and nearly
landed on Carole, caught his balance, grabbed a folder
off of Leo's desk, and careened out of the room.
"Sorry!" he shouted over his shoulder.
CJ started to follow Toby and Sam out the other door,
but she saw Carole and changed her course.
"Show time," Carole said, and moved to meet CJ.
Margaret headed for Leo.
"Margaret. I need to speak with Nancy McNally. She's
going to want to come down here tonight and be a part
of this. Oh, and CJ! Keep your people as far away
from this end of the building as is legally and/or
forcibly possible!"
"Yeah," CJ called over her shoulder, already past
Leo's office and practically running for her own.
"CJ. You have a briefing in fifteen minutes," Carole
said.
"Push it back. I don't have polling numbers and
that's all they think they're getting."
"You've also got Sloan to deal with."
CJ nodded. "Mm. Keep the briefing where it is. Keep
the press where they are, too, and if you so much as
catch the scent of Katie or Danny in this area, shoot
to kill."
"Got it." Carole stopped at her desk and CJ charged
into her office. The phone was already ringing.
"CJ Cregg," she answered it.
"Claudia Jean."
"Danny, seriously. My staff has orders to kill you on
sight, so wherever you are --"
"I'm in your press room."
"Stay there."
"I'm curious."
"Should I call you George?"
"That's funny.
"I'm hanging up now."
"CJ."
CJ rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Danny?"
"Is there something you're not telling us about one of
the officers honored during the speech?"
"I'm going to be in the briefing room in seven
minutes."
"What does that have to do with one of the officers
--"
"Good bye, Danny." CJ dropped the phone into its
cradle. It rang again instantly, and she jumped and
let out a little scream.
"CJ Cregg," she answered again.
"CJ. We're not going to have numbers for a while,"
Josh said in his most exasperated tone.
"No lights?" CJ asked.
"And no computers," he agreed. "You're gonna want to
postpone the briefing."
"I've got to tell them about Sloan," she said.
"Ah. Right. Keep it where it is, then, but if they
ask about the polling numbers, feel free to, you know,
send them to California to knock on people's doors."
"Yeah."
"And keep them off the DEA thing till we have
something solid to tell them."
"When will that be?" CJ asked.
She could practically hear Josh shrug. "Whenever the
President gets his voice back."
"What do you mean?"
"Weren't you listening in there? He doesn't know what
to say."
"It's a tough situation."
"No kidding."
"Yeah."
"You know what else is a tough situation?" Josh
asked.
"What?"
"Being trapped in a dark room with Donna Moss and Joey
Lucas."
"Yes, Josh," CJ said, "because I would imagine your
worst nightmare is to be stuck in a shadowy room with
two of the most beautiful women on the planet."
"They aren't exactly the best of friends, you know."
"I'm hanging up now."
"Okay." Josh dropped the phone.
"We're fine friends," Donna said, and Josh jumped and
let out a little shout.
"A warning wouldn't be out of line," he told Donna.
"I spoke, Josh. That should have been enough."
"She's going to talk about Sloan."
"Wouldn't it be nice if we could watch on television
while she did that?"
Josh frowned. "Do you see it as part of your job to
torture me?"
"It's called positive encouragement."
"And what exactly are you positively encouraging me to
do?"
Donna waved a pencil. "I had an interesting
conversation with Joey Lucas while you were away
discussing things you won't tell me about."
Josh's eyes widened. "No, you didn't," he hoped.
"She's a very sweet girl."
"Sure she is, considering she's put the weight of the
world front and center on my shoulders."
"You could use an electric blender and still mix that
metaphor less than you already have."
"Donna --"
"It's not like she made the lights go out, Josh."
"Donna."
"She's really quite charming."
"Okay, but --"
"She is sitting in the next room."
Josh sighed. "Really."
"Go and ask her."
"I already asked her. She said the numbers wouldn't
be ready as long as the power continues to fail us."
"As her *out*."
"No!"
"Joshua!"
"Donna, I am not going in there!"
"Is it 'cause you're chicken?"
"It's because I'm not psychotic. What is this?"
"It's a jar of rubber cement."
Josh frowned at the jar he'd been idly scooting around
the table. Abruptly he pulled his hands back to his
sides. "No, not that," he said, but already he'd lost
the nerve to finish the sentence.
"Go in there," Donna said.
Josh dropped his head onto his folded arms and sighed.
He stayed that way for a moment, and then he felt
something wet against the back of his neck. Wet, and
cold. A drop of rain? Yeah, 'cause storm clouds
oftentimes formed inside polling centers. But what
else –
"Yaaah!" Josh shouted as he leapt out of his chair.
Joey Lucas doubled over in laughter as Josh tried to
escape the ice cube she'd put down his back.
He peeled off his jacket, and the ice cube clattered
to the floor -- where he promptly stepped on it. His
feet slipped out from under him and he toppled
backward. The ice cube skittered away under the
table.
Joey, Kenny, and Donna were were cracking up. They
gasped for breath as Josh sat up, bewildered, and
surveyed them from beneath a mass of unruly hair.
"You could star in Swan Lake," Joey said and signed,
and Josh smiled back without humor.
"What's up?" he asked.
"It's dark," Kenny interpreted for Joey.
"Is it? I thought I'd just forgotten to take off my
sunglasses."
"You're going to be a smart-ass while lying in a
puddle of water on the floor?" Joey asked aloud.
Josh considered. "Yes."
"Okay."
Josh looked from Joey to Kenny, and then his gaze
rested briefly on Donna. The expression on her face
was baffling.
"You look like an idiot," she offered, deadpan. Josh
slowly got to his feet.
"I'm going to go track down some coffee," Joey
announced.
"Make sure she gets coffee, Kenny, and not anything
cold or small enough to go down my back," Josh said as
he settled back into the chair he'd so abruptly
departed. Joey smacked him lightly on the back of the
head, and passed him in favor of the door.
When they were alone again, Josh turned to face Donna.
"What is this?" he asked again.
"What is what, Josh?" She didn't meet his gaze, and
pretended to be interested in the jar of rubber
cement.
"Your, I don't know --" he started to say something
about her intense desire to see him ask Joey Lucas for
a date. Somewhere on the way to speaking, though, his
sentence changed. "The look on your face," he said.
Donna looked up abruptly, and their eyes met. He
frowned, and cocked his head a little as he studied
her. She stared back at him with an expression he'd
never seen before.
"It's because I always think --" she said ...
...and then the office was flooded with light.
A loud cheer erupted among the crowd of pollsters who
were now heading back to their phones. Joey Lucas
raised her voice, and then Kenny started speaking for
her. And after a long moment, in which they silently
agreed this conversation couldn't happen yet, Josh and
Donna broke their gaze and got back to work.
Josh's cell phone rang. "Josh Lyman," he answered.
"We need you back," Sam said.
"Again?"
"We've got a call. Plus Nancy McNally's on her way.
CJ's briefing went straight to hell, and there's no
way we can sidestep the press regarding re-election,
because somebody brought it up with Mark."
Josh sighed. "Is there any way we're going to get the
DEA agents back, safely and quietly, within the next
few hours?"
"No," Sam said.
"This won't help his campaign."
"That's the last thing we should be thinking about."
"I know." Josh sighed, and then added, "We've got
power here. I'm going to get what I can in the way of
numbers and I'll be back there."
"All right."
"Sam."
"Yeah?"
"Just --" Josh sighed. "Nothing. I'll be back
there."
"All right." Sam hung up.
Sam," CJ said, leaning around the door frame.
"Yeah."
"Arthur wants to know why Nancy McNally's here."
Sam looked up, alarmed. "How does Arthur know Nancy
McNally's here?"
"He rear-ended her in the parking area."
Sam's eyes widened. "You're kidding."
"Nancy's calling her insurance company. Meanwhile
Arthur wants to know why Nancy's here."
"I suppose it'll seem implausible if we tell him she's
visiting family?"
CJ rolled her eyes and left him alone. In her own
office, she found Carole pulling apart the sofa
cushions.
"Carole?"
"CJ!" Carole stood up and spun to face her.
"Are you ... looking for someone?" CJ waved her hands.
"I lost a button," Carole explained.
"Well, you're doing better than I am. I lost an
entire pair of slacks. Do you know how difficult it
is to get paint out of quality material?"
"I've never tried."
"I have. This isn't the first time I've sat in
paint."
Carole hid her grin. "I know."
"You'd think by now I would start watching for those
signs. Or wearing different clothes."
"Yes."
"Of course, I suppose when I sit in paint I could
always wash it off by falling into a pool."
"Indeed."
"I look good in red."
"Are you ready?" Carole asked.
"Mrs. Bartlet and I differ somewhat in size, but I do
look good in red."
"You've got senior staff in five. Nancy McNally."
"A little encouragement wouldn't be out of line --"
"You look great in red, CJ."
"Thank you." CJ launched a button at Carole.
Carole raised her eyebrows. "Thank *you*."
"I have extraordinary eyesight," CJ said.
Carole left CJ's office and waved to Ginger. "Will
you let Toby know they're meeting?"
"Nancy McNally?" Ginger asked.
"Yeah."
"Sure." Ginger spun around and went back the way
she'd come. She found Toby sitting at desk staring
sourly at the television, where one of the MSNBC
reporters was having a party with speculation.
"Senior staff," Ginger said. "Nancy McNally's here."
"Yes, and I know that because she got into a
fender-bender in the parking garage. How does this
stuff happen to us?" Toby asked.
"We're Heaven's gift to the news cycle, Toby. You've
got three minutes."
Toby grunted in response and stared at the television
some more. Two minutes later, he stood and headed for
the Oval Office.
In the hall, he joined Donna and Josh, who were
arguing, for reasons unfathomable to Toby, about
whether ice cubes were a funny joke.
CJ, in Abbey Bartlet's ill-fitting, stunning red suit,
met them from one direction as Sam, straightening his
tie, came from the other.
At Mrs. Landingham's desk they found Leo, who managed
to meet all their gazes at once.
They fell silent one at a time, and then they entered
the Oval Office together. The door fell shut behind
them.
***********************************************
Three hours later, the door slammed shut behind the
President as he plunged into the rain. "Dammit!" he
shouted, clenching his fists, and all the while
noticing how clean and good the rain smelled.
Misleading, that good smell, when the sky was about to
fall.
Rain. It had rained three years ago, when he had made
his deal with Abbey. His promise, whatever. Not to
put politics before the things that were important to
the both of them. This was their life. It was his
Presidency, but it was their life, and tonight he had
let her down completely for the first time.
And he couldn't be thinking about this now. And there
was nothing else worth thinking about.
"Sir?"
Bartlet did not turn around. "Yeah," he said to Leo.
"Abbey called from the residence. She's waiting for
you."
"We've got to make a deal," Bartlet said.
"No, sir," Leo answered. "Toby's right."
Now the President turned, and met Leo's gaze, and
found the same distant horror he was feeling.
"Then we have to go the other way," he said.
"Yes," Leo answered. "We do."
Bartlet sighed, and turned around to stare into the
rain for just an instant. And it bothered him that
the clouds kept him from seeing Cassiopia.
"I don't know what to say," he muttered. Then,
louder, "Can you live without me for half an hour?"
"Go see Abbey," Leo agreed. "This thing is on hold
until we straighten out specifics."
"Call me the minute you think you should," Bartlet
said.
"I will."
"I'll be back in half an hour."
"Take your time."
Bartlet shook his head. "I'll be back in half an
hour," he repeated.
He walked away slowly. Each step took him closer to
the woman of his dreams.
Abbey Bartlet looked up suddenly as her husband
entered the room. She had planned things to say, and
she had memorized them while she sat there. But when
she saw him, none of that was anywhere close to her
mind.
"Jed," she said in something kind of like a whisper.
"I'm sorry," he answered, stepping close to her.
"I know."
"I'm really sorry," he repeated, and she put her arms
around him. His coat was damp from the rain.
"I really do know," she said again, and her husband
nodded. She held him at arms' length for a second and
then led him to the sofa.
"What's going on in the world?" she asked quietly, and
he met her gaze. It was nothing but encouragement, and
at last he was able to speak.
--Sary,
7 February 2000