Rating: PG-13 for concepts and violence and a bit of language.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Please don't sue; I have college loans to pay off and stuff.

Written: January 2006 through ?

Summary: You want a summary? You want a SUMMARY? It's long. There is angst within. It's bad on so many levels. It has the potential to bring the administration to its knees... but it doesn't. And so it goes on and forward, and we will do better.

Spoilers: This goes AU somewhere around the end of season 2. The MS announcement comes in late April 2001 (right before this; this is after the infamous press briefing and before the events of 'Manchester') and Manchester, alas, doesn't really happen. Basically, anything before 'Two Cathedrals' is fair game not mangled (ah, references to... this takes place after that), and anything from 'Manchester' up through somewhere around the middle of season 3 is fair game very much mangled, and anything after that is unrecognizable, which will make some people very happy and others, you know, not.

Pairings: I don't like to reveal all of my pairings in advance, actually, but I know it's expected, so... Josh/Donna, Charlie/Zoey, Sam/Mallory, perhaps Toby/Andi, a fair amount of friendship stuff. At least for the first 25 chapters or so. ;)

Author's Notes, etc: Check my profile for a link. The full author's notes are in my LJ behind a cut and in white so you have to highlight to read, since all of the notes for each chapter are together. General squick/trigger warning (I've never had to use one before but I understand it's proper to do so): this story deals with rape, descriptions of violence, discusses abortion, and I kill a character. (Just please don't label this as a 'rape story' or a 'character death story', but please read responsibly.) If you want to know who/when, get in touch, but it's not Leo, unless I do it way, way post-administration. Also, if you desire to archive, please ask first; in general, I also crosspost to my LJ and possibly a fanfic community as well.

AND LET THAT BE OUR LEGACY

The World is Coming Apart at the Seams

Sam leaned back. "He announced it. We're about to have the world come crashing down around our ears. What more, exactly, do you want?" There was a vague and atypical bitterness to his tone.

"It's the fall that's going to kill you," muttered CJ.

Toby shot a quick look at the Press Secretary, then resumed his full non-glower at Sam. "An apology. Perhaps some more lawyers. I don't know, Sam; perhaps some disguises so we can work somewhere besides Nowhere, Oregon after we've lost the best chance to have the real thing for eight years this country's had in fifty years. Does that cover it?"

"Don't diss Oregon... it's got, you know, stuff," put in Josh with his almost-smirk from another seat as he leaned back in it, dimples showing a little.

"Have you ever been there?" returned Toby, giving the other man a look that had nearly caused Greg Summer-Hayes to sink into his office couch a couple of days ago.

"Um, no, but I've heard good things about it."

"Then shut up." Toby turned back to Sam. "Did I cover it?"

Sam tapped two chopsticks against a bottle. "We are... so completely screwed."

"Thank you for reminding me; I hadn't noticed for the last ten minutes. Did I cover it, or are you going to make me pose the damn question in what I rightfully call bad writing?"

"Imagery! It's imagery, Toby, and it's beautiful and makes people stand up and the President can deliver it like..." Sam trailed off and stared into space. "If we lose, the last speech I ever write for the President will be a concession speech. Defeat. I don't know if he deserves that. No, I do know. He doesn't. Deserve that, I mean. MS and defeat." The bitterness was gone, replaced by a pained quaver no one at the table could really put a name to.

"Bad writing. And answer the question." Toby leaned across the table a little bit and picked up a chopstick, angling it. "And if you tap those things against the bottle again, Sam, I swear..."

"They can't possibly be as annoying as you bouncing those damn balls of yours against the wall."

CJ looked up and smiled that mischievious, slightly tilted smile of hers at the two writers, looking almost happy. A trace of impishness sparked in her eyes as she looked at Toby.

Josh choked in the middle of swallowing his drink, raising his eyebrows eloquently, looking as though he was close to saying something both stupid and funny.

"I hate you all."

"Thanks, Toby, I never would have guessed that." Sam lifted his idealistic eyes up at the ceiling. "You covered most of it."

"What part did I miss, Sam?" his boss responded in a low voice. It was the quiet, almost velvety voice that dared one to disagree with Toby... usually at the peril of self-esteem, at the very least.

"You didn't mention the apology enough."

Josh had been slouching a little bit. Now he came fully upright and stared at his best friend. "What?"

"He lied to us," came the simultaneous response from CJ and Sam. CJ winced and sat back in her chair, tearing up a napkin.

"I didn't mention the apology enough, Sam, because that's physically impossible. He hid it from us. That may seem nice when the subpeonas get handed down and the oversight committee finds out that none of us knew about it until about a week ago, but all it does right now is make us as mad as hell. That's a beautiful way to start a reelection campaign, because the people at campaign stops will be wondering where all the wrong kind of firebreathing is coming from in his speeches." Now it was the voice of piercing eloquence that practically forbade argument.

"Okay." Josh slumped forward and stared at the table. "This is a wood table, you know that?"

CJ lifted her eyes and looked at Josh. "Are you drunk? Because if you are, you're getting a cab just to keep you out of the press briefing-" she stopped abruptly and braced her hands against her forehead, leaning forward.

There was a long pause, while Toby and Sam stared at her, and Josh just blinked. "It's okay, CJ, I'm not drunk," he finally managed.

Toby rolled a napkin up and looked at it, then rolled up another one, very slowly.

"CJ..." Sam finally started.

She didn't look up. "I'm going home. See you guys in the morning." She gathered up a few files. "Who's taking the leftovers?"

"I am," Josh responded. "Breakfast tomorrow."

CJ smiled even as she rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, then."

"Night, CJ," Sam and Josh chorused. Toby lifted his eyes, which were just as eloquent as the speeches he wrote, and watched CJ go.

"She'll be okay in the morning," Josh said after a few minutes of the two writers scribbling on their pads.

"That's what you said last night," Sam reminded him.

"No, she won't," came Toby right on his heels. "No, she won't, Josh, and here's why: she all but said to the White House Press Corps that the President of the United States, who is very likely to be impeached and will certainly be investigated by Congress and who has been concealing a medical condition from almost everyone for years, is relieved--relieved, Josh--to be sending members of our Armed Forces into danger."

"I know that, Toby, I was there!"

"Then why do you need constant reminding of just why CJ isn't going to be okay the next morning?"

"Just... because. I'm hopeful." Josh rubbed his face with his hands.

"Then here is some help in becoming not hopeful, Josh: CJ is completely screwed. We may leave her out of the loop sometimes to protect her from having to lie to the press, but she is the Press Secretary to the President of the United States and she's gone into that briefing room and told the nation that the President was in perfect health. How well do you think that's going to play in the hearings?"

Josh stared at Toby. "But... she didn't know!" he squeaked. "They can't blame her for saying he was healthy when she had no reason to believe otherwise."

"Watch them. CJ is finished in politics and was before the Haiti screwup happened. And she knows it, too."

Josh thumped his head down on the table and stayed there. It should have been impossible for a thump to sound despairing, but this one did. Sam sat there, turning his pen over and over. "We're back at 7 am?" he finally asked. Receiving just a brief glance in acknowledgement from Toby, he picked everything up and left, patting Josh briefly on his way. Josh lifted his head and gathered his suit jacket, then snatched the cartons of leftover takeout and made his exit, eager to be away from Toby before any more unpleasant truths came his way.

He had no idea.