Title: Heaven and Hell (Chapter25): Legal Advice

Author: Enigmatic Ellie (who promises to reveal her actual name when the series is over so that people will consider buying her novel(s) )

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Lyman House—6:30 a.m.

Donna had been awake since 5 a.m. sifting through Noah's as yet unworn clothes to find what she would put on him for his first journey out of the hospital to occur later that morning. Noah, the doctors told her and Josh the previous afternoon, could go home. Josh did not see why what his son wore was overly important. It was going to be in the high 60s outside with bright sunshine and no discernable breeze. He would be outside for a matter of moments on a mild, nearly perfect day. Donna, however, began at dawn doing what she had started the previous evening after dusting the already spotless nursery and changing the sheets on the never used crib that would be Noah's: She sifted through the wardrobe of his tiny garments, running possibilities through an intricate (and as far as Josh was concerned insane) decisional matrix. Josh had not returned home until after midnight and found her in the clothing quandary. A quick and pointless argument ensued after he suggested to her that it would be wiser to get sleep and worry about fashion later. Under her scathing gaze and chilly, silent expression, Josh went to bed alone.

She had apparently forgiven him, he presumed, for when he woke just before dawn she was standing beside their bed asking for his thoughts on him four outfits she was again mulling over for their son.

"Which ensemble do you like better?" she asked brightly holding out two small piles of neatly folded clothing.

"Okay, whatever you pick, let's make one thing clear," Josh said through a yawn as he propped himself up on an elbow. "Nothing he wears will constitute an ensemble."

"I think the green will bring out his eyes more, don't you?" she asked, ignoring his request. "But the sleeves are short. It might not be warm enough for him."

Through bleary eyes half sealed with sleep, Josh said d either option was fine, but Donna shook her head and rejected them. What her rationale was precisely, he did not know. After two more repeats of the same process, Josh gave up participating in the endeavor. As he made his way to the kitchen, he spied light in the window at his mother's place, the so-called carriage house in the backyard.

He walked in his pajamas out of the house and across the patio then up the short stone path to his mother's front door. Before he could knock, the door opened. His mother was dressed for the day but her expression was guarded.

"Good morning, darling," Anna said. "I didn't expect to see you so early. Is everything all right?"

"What, she hasn't called you for fashion advice yet?" Josh asked as walked past her into the dwelling. "Consider this fair warning: Your phone might ring in a moment. If she asks, I'm not here."

His mother followed him back to her kitchen area and took a seat at the table where she had been sipping coffee. Rather than wait for an offer, Josh helped himself to a cup and sat at the table.

"I will not lie for you to your wife, Joshua," Anna said resuming her seat at the table beside him.

"What about to others?" he wondered. "Federal prosecutors? Congressional committees?"

"Do I need to?" she asked with interest.

"No," he shook his head. "And your answer is supposed to be no to both of those as well. Here's some free legal advice…"

"I am not taking legal advice from you," she interrupted.

"I'm a lawyer," he argued. "I graduated from Yale with a law degree. You were there."

"I recall," she nodded. "You were testy with your father and me for making you attend the ceremony."

"You're thinking of my graduation from Harvard," Josh yawned. "And it wasn't that I didn't want to go precisely, it was that…"

"I do not need to hear excuses now, Joshua," his mother corrected. "We were proud of you and wanted to see the formal presentation of your degrees. I recall your graduation from law school clearly, dear. I remember especially the beautiful briefcase your father and I bought for you that you have never carried."

"What does that have to do with not taking legal advice from me?" Josh wondered.

"Nothing," his mother smiled.

"You think I'm not smart enough to give you legal advice?" he asked. There was a poorly hidden tone of hurt and fear in his voice. Professional political operative, presidential advisor, Ivy League graduate, Fulbright Scholar, husband and father though he might be, his mother was still one of the few people on the planet who could level him to bits with disappointment. "I could work at any law firm. I could be a litigator if I wanted to, you know."

"Of course, darling," she assured him and pet his hand in a patronizing manner.

"I could," he said. "I passed the bar exam without any trouble for Connecticut and for DC. There's reciprocity for…"

"I recall how very smart you are, Joshua," his mother smiled.

"But you won't take legal advice from me," he observed. "Why?"

"Your father instructed me to never do that," she said.

Josh felt the deep bite of insecurity and the sting of dismay in his chest.

"Dad didn't think I would be a bad lawyer," Josh said though it sounded more like a question.

"Of course he didn't," she soothed him. "Oh, darling, I didn't mean it like that. Your father knew you were brilliant, and he believed you could do anything. To him, you were perfect every day of your life."

"Okay, good, that's right," Josh nodded mollified. "Then why did you say…"

"Your father had a firm rule about never accepting free legal advice," she explained. "He said if you accept it that you get what you pay for; it's very sound advice."

"And a justification for his hourly billing rate," Josh nodded as he looked toward the photo of the man in question.

The late litigator looked down from a silver framed picture at his wife and son with an agreeable smile. His father had been in his thoughts greatly over the last few months. His father would have been excited and proud to be a grandfather; he would have been rendered speechless (something that had never happened in Josh's memory) by having his grandson named after him. Josh could picture the look on the man's face clearly; what he could not imagine, he thought looking around the room in that instant, was his father living in the compact quarters his mother currently called home. There was nothing wrong with the place, but it did not compare to the home near the coast in Connecticut where Josh had grown up.

"You know, I don't mind having you live here, but you might be more comfortable in a place that is more…," Josh began.

"This carriage house is lovely," she said. "I love the craftsman style. It's so bright with all these windows that face the pretty garden. I think my new home is completely charming. It perfectly suits my needs."

"It's not a carriage house," he sighed. "Mom, it's a remodeled studio where a marginally corrupt elected official stashed his mistresses while his wife drank herself blind to the situation in the house. It would be fine for a short visit, but you won't be comfortable here for very long. Don't feel obligated to stay here."

"Do you want me to leave?" Anna asked.

"No," he answered quickly. "I just meant… Your home in Florida had a lot more room than this."

"Less space that I have to clean," she countered.

"You can afford a fleet of maids," he responded.

"I have never had a maid," she said tartly. "Are you insinuating that I am too old to…"

"Never," he said quickly, cutting off that dire argument which he knew would not end well for him. "I would never say that. I do not even use the word old when speaking to you."

"I should hope not, darling," Anna nodded. "Now, if we are finished with your efforts to get rid of me…"

"I'm not trying to get rid of you," Josh shook his head. "I meant that you don't have to do this. You can visit whenever you want. Mom, your job is to spoil them, and by that I mean do your level best to be liked better than Donna and I and tell us where we are making glaring errors in our attempts to raise them. You don't need to be on hand to take care of them every hour of the day. You don't need to…"

"I am here for my grandchildren to do whatever I am needed to do," she said firmly. "I will leave when I feel they no longer need me."

"Right," Josh agreed and fought the urge to smirk as he heard the finality in her voice.

"I also happen to like it here and my piano is being delivered next week," she said.

"You shipped your piano up from Florida?" Josh asked.

"Don't be silly, darling," she said. "I purchased a new one two days ago."

"Foolish me," Josh shook his head and looked at his father's photo again to roll his eyes. "You know, it's their choice if they want to learn to play piano."

"Certainly," his mother smiled brightly. "They can play violin if they prefer." She gestured to the stand where her violin rested silently across the room. "Now, why are you here?"

"No reason," he yawned. "I just thought I'd share that it is very possible that Donna is officially insane, but I put my foot down: Nothing Noah wears will be called an ensemble."

"Yes, darkling," Anna counseled. "Just be patient with Donna. She's excited and a bit nervous, darling. You are too, but you're too tired to realize it."

"I'm not tired," he said fighting another yawn.

"You got home late—much later than normal," she said. "I turned out the light at 11:30 and you still weren't home. Were you at the hospital all that time? Is little Jessica alright?"

"I was at the office," he assured her. "Jess is fine."

"Jessica is such a beautiful name; I wish you wouldn't shorten it," Anna remarked.

"She's too small to handle more than four letters right now," he offered.

"Joshua," she sighed.

"I'm too busy for more than four letters," he smirked. "You know, my life would have been considerably easier if you'd have proscribed to the basic rules of legal name versus nickname; I'd have had a better line on when you were slightly mad at me compared to when you were outright pissed off at me if you'd saved your usage of 'Joshua' for those moments when I was in really deep..."

"I am never angry with you, Joshua," she said crisply. "I do not always agree with you or appreciate your behavior."

"See, like right now, luckily my finely honed mother-meter tells me that you're probably not happy with my words," he said. "Of course, the only reason I know that is because I've got 40 years of experience helping me figure that out. I'm just saying, other people have parents who signal their anger or displeasure by using your full name, and it would have been nice for you to follow suit. Dad did. Whenever he called me Joshua, I knew I was in the danger zone."

"He only called you Joshua when he had lost patience and that never had anything to do with you," Anna explained. "That was his fickle temper more than anything. If your father was ever truly angry or vexed with you over anything more than a golf score, I'll change my name to Joshua."

Josh smiled and shrugged. His mother had been of the opinion all Josh's life that his father was incapable of finding fault with him. It was not true. They had had plenty of disagreements and locked horns quite often in his teenage years. Josh could recall many verbal skirmishes though most remained in his memory because he learned a great deal about arguing and winning from them, or more precisely, from losing them. By the time he was at Harvard, and getting into trouble with the Dean of Academics about getting a fish registered for classes, Josh was very good at winning most debates he ended up in (or muddying the issue sufficiently to get out of the battle mostly unscathed).

"That's beside the point," Josh said. "Look, you can call her Jessica if you like. I'll call her Jess until she asks me specifically not to."

Anna's face took on a softer expression. Her eyes were sad as she regarded her son with a great deal of compassion and sorrow. Josh saw this sudden change and knew what it meant: Donna had spoken with her the previous afternoon. The topic of discussion was what sent Josh retreating to White House in search of something he could fix as he was powerless to affect the circumstances plaguing his children. The same topic was truly the source of his argument with Donna the previous night. Their words were about Noah's clothing, but the anger and anxiety that fueled the emotion of the argument. Donna was upset by the doctor's latest assessment of their daughter and she was angered by Josh's adamant refusal to accept the man's words.

"Oh, darling," Anna sighed and pat his hand consolingly.

"No," Josh shook his head. "Don't you start, too. I heard it from Donna last night. You both can think whatever you want, but I am not being unreasonable. I am being completely reasonable. Look, I don't care what some doctor in California found in a research study; my daughter is not part of his study. He has never examined her so right now his report is not relevant."

Josh's mother fixed him with an understanding but stern gaze. Years of processing and surviving bad news had taught her patience and conditioned her to be strong. Her son was no different, but his emotional reactions to bad news was something that continually amazed her. She could never predict how he might react: anger, depression, denial.

"He's an expert," Anna said calmly but firm tone, not wishing to argue with him on this day. "The doctors who have examined Jessica happen to think he's the best man in the country on development problems with children born so premature."

"Well, they aren't recommending that she see any other specialists than those that are keeping tabs on her right now so whatever Doc Hollywood has to say doesn't seem relevant," Josh said. "Right now, the doctors who are treating her can't even say for certain that there is anything wrong, and that means…"

"I know she's perfect to you," Anna said in a solemn tone. "But she has not been dealt a perfect hand. You need to be prepared to hear that and to do whatever you can to see that she gets all the help that she needs. I know you would never deny her anything to make her well, but for your own sake, Joshua, you need to listen to what you are being told. There is a very good chance Jessica cannot hear. She may not ever learn to speak and she may have other learning difficulties."

Josh shook his head. It was the information he and Donna received the previous afternoon about their daughter's perceived development that sent Josh back to the White House in the evening looking to take his frustration and anger out on something governmental. It hadn't worked. He had found himself researching the studies of the expert the doctor's were quoting to him and Donna. Their daughter had experience more difficult than their son thus far, and considering his struggle in the first days, that was saying something. It was the periods of respiratory arrest and length of time it took for her kidneys and liver to function at accepted levels that were troublesome. With neither organ working fully for several weeks, the toxins the body produced were not cleansed from the blood well; that coupled with periods of her body not receiving enough oxygen had doctors concerned about brain development. Where her brother responded quickly to stimulus like voices, the little girl did not seem as aware. While it was too soon to determine if she would have hearing deficits or other deficits in cognitive function, the doctors wanted her parents to be aware of the possibilities and hurdles that lay in her future.

"She'll be fine," Josh said stubbornly though he had no reason to believe it was true.

"Joshua," his mother sighed.

"No," he shook his head and stood. "I don't want to hear it."

"I know you don't, but you need to hear it," she said.

"She can go to Harvard if she wants to," Josh said. "She doesn't have to and I won't love her any less if she doesn't, but I'm not counting her out because someone who has never met her wrote a report. I have met her. I know she's had a rough time so far, but that doesn't mean she's…"

"Donna doesn't want you to be disappointed," Anna argued. "She afraid you'll push Jessica and she won't be able to meet your expectations. Accept her for who she is, not for who you want her to become."

Josh said nothing. He clenched his jaw and stared at his hands. He wasn't angry with his mother or his wife, but he wasn't happy they were giving up so easily. He had argued with the doctors the previous day—telling them he rejected their offering and told them to come back with something better. Donna cut off the discussion and hauled Josh into the hallway to lecture him about the difference between a medical consultation and a legislative negotiation. Josh could understand why Donna was not arguing with the experts. She was simply pleased their daughter was out of the woods medically. The little girl had defied the odds and needed to do nothing more than gain a little more weight so she could come home in Donna's mind. Josh was not so easily assuaged. Yes, he wanted both his children to come home and start their lives, but he refused to accept that those things were the most they could hope for.

"Joshua?" his mother inquired as he fell silent.

Josh did not want to argue with her or anyone any further that day. He shook his head as he stood to leave.

We're bringing Noah home later," he said briskly as he made for the door. "That's what we're dealing with today."

He left his mother behind, angry with her for surrendering to medical opinions so easily and for raising the subject that morning. He was as mad at himself for snapping at her, but even more angered at the circumstances which made the conversation possible.

Josh returned to his house to find Donna beaming and proudly proclaiming that she had found the perfect ensemble. He bit back a comment about the word "ensemble" being used to describe anything his son was going to wear. The look of unadulterated joy and anxious anticipation on her face silenced him. As she was willing to put the disappointing report on their daughter the previous day behind her and the fight prompted by their mutual disappointment and anxiety, Josh was willing to follow suit. He did not like fighting with Donna. They did not do it often. There was plenty of debate on any number of issues, but that normally took the form of spirited banter. An actual argument was not normal and bothered him as much as he suspected it bothered her.

"I called Lorraine," Donna said, reporting her contact with the woman in charge of the nurses' station in the NICU on Saturday mornings (her knowledge of the nursing staff and doctors was as thorough as her knowledge of the House of Representatives had once been). "Noah is still sleeping. He had a good night—only one sock off the whole night. Dr. Melburn will be making rounds at 9 and Noah is his first patient of the day. Unless she has any reservations, we can take him home after that."

She smiled grandly and threw her arms around Josh then hugged him tightly. He held her tightly for a moment. Hearing genuine happiness in her voice and seeing the relief on her face was enough to sooth his taxed nerves and dull the lump of anxiety that had resided in his chest since his children's untimely and near-tragic arrival several months earlier.

"I'm going to pack his clothes," she said with delight in a tone that was one octave shy of a squeal. "I decided on the overalls with the red shirt. Oh, and his sneakers. I thought about the white booties my mother sent him, but I like the sneakers better. They'll be a little big, but it'll be fine."

"Worried about blisters?" Josh asked. "He doesn't walk yet."

"I'm worried about other injuries or mishaps," Donna said. "He can get his socks off and those fit snug on his feet. The shoes will be loose, but I'm certain could launch one of them and do who knows how much damage. We'll need to keep a close eye on him."

Josh nodded though he found it absurd. Donna smiled in return then hugged Josh one last time quickly and kissed his cheek before fluttering out of the room.

*******************

Whitehouse Situation Room

10:22 a.m.

The President leaned forward on the table and looked over the photos handed to him by the CIA director. They were satellite shots of a large and dense looking cloud floating over several concrete towers that maps indicated were outside Tbilisi. Bartlet sighed and dropped the pictures back on the table.

"There's no chance this is something other than what it looks like?" the president asked.

"No sir," Leo replied. "Tom, how old are these pictures?"

"Twenty-eight minutes," Tom Cavan, the chief spy said. "We're getting intel in that the core began to overheat and become unstable 11 hours ago. They thought they had it under control until there were multiple power failures—likely a cascade effect because of the pressure their mitigation measures."

"They didn't have redundancies for their redundancies?" Leo asked.

"Do we?" Bartlet asked.

"Yes," the Director replied.

"Alright," Bartlet nodded. "What about them?"

"They did," Cavan replied. "Those failed because of the cascading."

"Would ours?" Bartlet asked. A heavy pause filled the room. "Gentlemen, I'm asking because we don't know what started this. Before we go chastising or trying to send in the pros from Dover to fix this, I'd like to know why this happened and if it is likely to happen here."

Again, there was quiet.

"You're a smart bunch," Bartlet said. "I'm going to say the word that's on all of your minds now: terrorism. I'm asking, is this an act of terrorism and what is our preparedness for our own nuclear plants?"

The assurances flowed swiftly but not without some reservation for several moments while they waited for the next satellite pass. Bartlet also received briefings on the local and further reaching environmental fall-out from the meltdown half-way around the world. The health concerns for the near future and 10 years down the line were assessed. All the while the briefing continued, more information about the increasingly tense and dangerous situation. Plans were made for an emergency call to the UN as officials in Tbilisi were willing to accept international help as long as it was legitimately international and not just a group populated by Americans.

"You're talking to the Secretary General in 10 minutes," Leo informed Bartlet. "It's the lesser of the three plans we offered."

"No surprise there," the president shook his head. "We're set."

"Yeah," Leo said. "He's heading to New York now."

"This is the right choice," Bartlet sighed. "I don't like sending anyone into a situation like this."

"These guys are experts," Leo assured him. "It's the right thing to do."

"What about our plants?" the president asked again. "We're going to face a firestorm of questions. Congress is going to flay us on security if there is so much as a whiff of one inspection report showing a single plant not up to code or if a single report isn't sufficiently complete—and they'll be justified, but we won't get anything done on any other issue while they hold their war dance. Oil is about to have a banner week on the stock market and everything else is going to take a hit. I need my economic team in here and our best handlers for the Hill."

"Right," Leo nodded.

"Uh, minus one," Bartlet said. "Leave Josh out of this."

"You sure?" Leo asked.

"The Hill is a distraction at most right now," the president said. "We'll worry about politics on Monday. He's waited 4 months to have a normal day; we can let him have 48 hours of the two weeks of paternity leave we owe him."

"If this wasn't such a bad day, I'd bet you 20 bucks he's in here by noon anyway," Leo nodded.

"He's not watching CNN and neither is anyone else in his house today," Bartlet said confidently. "Leo, you've been in politics too long."

*******************

George Washington Hospital

2:45 p.m.

The planned two-hour checkout process for Noah Josiah Lyman was entering its sixth hour. What should have been a quick exam by Dr. Melburn instead was a protracted wait for the physician to arrive. Other patients in the NICU were not fairing was well as Noah and required the doctor's attention. As Josh and Donna's boy was not in need of urgent care, he was not considered a priority for other physicians in the unit. The delay kept his parents stepping outside to call in periodic updates and assurances to Josh's mother that they hoped to be home shortly. It also afforded them the opportunity to spend time with their daughter. Leaving her each day was difficult for both of her parents, but Donna confessed to her husband that leaving this day would be harder. At least, previously, when they left, her brother remained behind. Donna felt it was difficult to reconcile the joy of bringing one of them home with the regret of leaving one of them behind on her own.

When the time came to say goodbye, Donna's brave front crumbled. The nursing staff was understanding and promised to keep a closer eye than normal on Jess. They promised to keep her company and assured Donna that the little girl would not grow depressed with the absence of her brother. Through a mixture of smiles and tears, Donna carried her son from the NICU and carefully secured him in his car seat. She kept up a steady stream of admonishment for Josh to drive slower or more carefully as he drove the short distance home. Josh said nothing as his mother's advice about Donna's excitement and anxiety was still fresh in his mind.

They arrived home without incident. Noah had fallen asleep despite his mother's persistent whispered complaint during the ride that the radio was too loud (which resulted in it being turned off). The little boy awoke only when he was lifted from his car seat, resulting in Donna profusely apologizing to the baby. Josh locked eyes with his mother, who met them at the door. She offered him an understanding expression as she ushered them into the house.

"Welcome home," Anna said as Noah shrieked his disapproval at no longer being asleep. "Oh, that's a fine, strong voice you have, my little man. Your Nanna will telling you all about how hard it was for your daddy to find his inside voice very soon, I suspect."

"The nurses said yelling like this is good," Donna replied as Josh helped her off with her coat as she was not showing signs of releasing the baby. "So long as he doesn't do it for too long. It means he has good lung capacity—the way he can yell loud, not the fact that he yells."

"Hey, buddy, we get it," Josh said as the child continued to cry. "You don't like having your nap interrupted."

"Josh, please," Donna chided. "Daddy's just not used to having anyone but him be loud, Noah."

Whether he was simply finished with his fit or somehow understood that he had been asked to quiet down, the little boy ceased his caterwauling. Donna beamed, as though she was the miraculous cure. Josh said nothing. He wasn't certain anything he said would matter.

"Noah, this is your home," Donna said as she began walking down the hall. "I'm going to show you around and you can let me know if you like it."

"If he likes it?" Josh repeated. "If he doesn't, do we have to move?"

"You'll learn pretty quickly that Mommy is in charge here in the house and Daddy just thinks he's funny," she said. "Now, this room up here is what we call the living room. That is a fireplace, and you should not go near it. Now, if you look out this window…"

The tour continued for half an hour longer. Josh hung back and let Donna have her fun. Crazy she might be, but it was that off-beat side of her that often was the keeper of his own sanity. He hung back and let her conduct the orientation of the house for the little boy. The afternoon was quiet over all. Noah refused another nap. His refusal to sleep was accompanied by a desire to be the center of attention. He quickly had two women fawning over his every wiggle and gurgle and coo. Josh enjoyed the show for a while then offered to man the kitchen and make lunch while his wife and mother continued their intense vigil over the little boy.

There had not been this much activity in the house since he and Donna moved it, Josh believed. The activity, hushed though it was, made the house seem warmer and fuller than it had previously. Josh much preferred this to the oppressive silence that filled the house while his wife and children were in the hospital struggling to survive. Eventually, after the afternoon meal was a memory, Josh was granted several moments of time alone with Noah. He had no tour for the boy, but there was a baseball game on TV and Josh was certain an appreciation for the national pastime was more important than whether or not the boy liked the curtains in the dining room anyway.

"Okay, neither of these teams are the Mets, but you can glean the basics," Josh explained as he sat on the couch in his office to watch the TV. "Don't worry if you don't get it all figured out this time. It's a long season. Your mother isn't a baseball fan, but she can be swayed. I'm still not sure why she got Major League Ticket on our cable, but if it was a mistake on her part, I see no reason to tell her."

The game was slow and the stress and late hour of the previous day caught up with Josh. He did not recall falling asleep; however, at some point a bit later, he flinched when his eyes registered a brief snap of light. He stirred to find Donna leaning over him, lifting the snoozing baby from his chest.

"Was there a flash a second ago?" Josh asked.

Donna smiled guiltily.

"It was a cute picture: The men of the house hard at work," she said. "I couldn't resist. It's also proof that both of you think baseball is boring to watch. I intend to use that picture as evidence in the future."

Josh shook his head as she left with the sleeping baby proclaiming that he needed to wake up soon to eat. Josh shook himself further awake and registered that it was nearly 6 pm. He changed the channel to CNN out of habit. He shook his head as he stared at the screen, heard the commentator and read the crawl. He was out of his chair and grabbing for his suspiciously-silent Blackberry and car keys within moments.

******************

Whitehouse—6:23 pm.

Josh sped through the northwest lobby. He had tried and failed to raise Toby or Leo on the phone. Marcie was also unavailable. He had finally given in and tried to call Sam. That, too, ended in voicemail rather than a live person. His own deputies were unreachable as well. The halls were hectic for a Saturday night, which wasn't surprising considering the news. He made for the Chief of Staff's Office but was accosted by CJ.

"Hey," she said. "Did Leo call you?"

"No," he shook his head. "Half of the Hill has and every other reporter in the pool, but no Leo. Why is that?"

"They're reporters," she shrugged. "When no one's talking, they'll speak to anyone."

"I meant…," he began. "Never mind."

"Did you give anyone a quote?" she asked quickly.

"No, I just picked up my messages," he said. "Apparently, my mother strategically unplugged all the phones in the house before Donna and I got home. She turned off my cell as well. I haven't spoken to anyone; I'm playing catch up right now. Where's Leo?"

"He was just in with the President," she said turning toward her office. "I'm briefing the room in 20 minutes. Gotta go. Oh, how's everything at home?"

"Quiet," he said distantly as he headed toward the Chief of Staff's office.

Margaret met him in the doorway. She shook her head at Josh's inquiry about Leo's location. She believed he was heading to the mess for his long-overdue lunch some time ago. Josh took off in that direction. He was descending the stairs when a familiar voice ascending the stairs called to him.

"Josh," Leo said. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," Josh replied. "Or did I miss a memo?"

"You're supposed to be home feeling useless while your wife and mother take care of everything for the kid," Leo remarked as he met his Deputy on the stairs. Josh stopped his descent and followed his boss back toward the man's office. "So I'll ask again: Why are you here?"

"I was useless at home because Donna and my mother are taking care of everything," Josh replied. "What's happening in Tbilisi?"

"Go home," Leo said.

"Leo, you should have called me," Josh said. "Half of DC did."

"We're monitoring things," he said gruffly. "If we need you, we'll call, but as you're not a nuclear physicist or an intel officer, I don't think that we'll have that need. Go home, turn your Blackberry off, ignore the TV and read your son a bedtime story."

"We watched a ball game earlier," Josh said off-handedly.

"How'd he like it?" Leo asked.

"He fell asleep," Josh shrugged. "Donna is encouraged by it."

"Ah, it was his first time," Leo shook his head. "He had a big day; he'll get the hang of it soon enough. Your father told me you fell asleep during your first World Series. You turned out fine."

"Thanks," Josh shook his head. "About the nuclear meltdown…"

"It'll be here in the morning, Josh," Leo said. "Go home. Tuck the kid in and make your wife dinner."

"My mother's making Donna dinner and my Blackberry is going to explode with all the calls and messages I'm getting," Josh said. "The Hill is going freaky with calls for…"

"I know," Leo shook his head. "We're handling it. Larry is…"

"Not your guy for this," Josh cut in emphatically. "Toby should be dealing with Gillett to keep the senate from getting bogged down in a pointless debate on nuclear energy or inspiring the House to start hearings about the reactors in this country. I'm guessing we've offered our experts go over there to help?"

Leo nodded in agreement as he put on his glasses to read the message Margaret sidled up to him to deliver.

"Is CJ going to make a firm statement to the press that we are closely following the situation, but that the UN is stepping in to monitor and oversee things on the ground?" Josh asked. "Of course, before that, you have to get the UN to agree to step in and monitor things on the ground: inspectors, specialists, those guys with the radiation suits."

"That's a good idea," Leo said in a detached way as they entered his office.

"You already thought of that?" Josh wondered.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Did they agree?" Josh asked.

"We had that call this morning," Leo said sitting at his desk. "We suggested UN send their experts; they sweetened the offer and added in the newly tagged members of the environmental advisory council to help monitor."

"The UN is sending lawyers to deal with a nuclear meltdown?" Josh questioned. "That'll be helpful."

"The council will accompany the scientists," Leo said. "Tbilisi has four members on the council. They have signaled that they like the idea—to a point. They'll let the scientists and clean up crews in to assess the situation if their council members comprise three-fourths of the reporting body."

Josh gaped for a moment then shook his head.

"They want to skew the findings so they don't get in trouble with…," he began in an exasperated fashion.

"We agreed," Leo said cutting off his anticipated rant. "This is about getting the experts on the ground quickly. We'll know what's happening. Six council members: four from Tbilisi, one from France…"

"That's predictable," Josh sighed.

"And one from the US," Leo continued. "Our guy got on the plane to New York four hours ago. He's going to lead the reporting team. The President trusts him."

"Who is it?" Josh asked.

"Sam," Leo replied.

"Sam who?" Josh questioned then recalled Toby's recommendation for the UN environmental council. "Sam Seaborn?"

"Yeah," Leo nodded.

"Sam works for the White House," Josh said.

"Not any more," Leo said. "He resigned so he could be appointed to the council."

"He doesn't know anything about a nuclear plant meltdown," Josh said hotly. "He doesn't even know what to do when his car over heats."

"We didn't ask him to cool down the core," Leo growled. "The President was hesitant to put him on the council when it was just an administrative body that was going to spin its wheels and get snared in international red tape, but this happened and we needed someone whose good with environmental law, understands the international situation and who we can trust."

"But Sam?" Josh repeated. "It's dangerous over there right now, isn't it?"

"He'll be with security forces and the scientists," Leo said. "He'll be fine."

"Was he asked or ordered?" Josh inquired aggressively.

"He was asked," Leo said sternly. "Just like I asked you to go home. Now I'm ordering. Josh, we've got this covered. Go home. If we need you, we'll call."

Josh nodded and reluctantly began to leave.

"I recommended that we put him on the council," Josh said.

"I know," Leo nodded. "Toby did, too."

"Toby did it because he was pissed that Sam kept going on about that coffee place he likes," Josh replied.

"And you?"

"I don't know," Josh said with a weak shrug.

He met Leo's eyes for a moment then looked away. He knew he recommended Sam for the council, in part, because Sam did understand environmental law but Toby had questioned the Deputy Chief about whether his motives were so pure. Josh had not given the question much thought at the time. Now, those thoughts screamed at him. He sighed as his head filled with guilty doubts. He then hung his head as he began to leave; however, he halted his exit when he heard his name called by his boss.

"Josh?" Leo asked. "How is everything? You said you watched a game, so your little guy is home okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded and smiled unconsciously. "Donna let him decide if we can keep the house. Fortunately, he likes the place so we're staying."

"Lucky," Leo nodded. "And the girl?"

"Still up in the air," Josh reported. "Maybe a couple weeks if all goes well, but the doctors say…"

The heavy feeling in his chest returned and tugged the smile off his face. The other cold and harsh thoughts that were digging at his mind flooded silently into his expression.

"What is it?" Leo asked, sensing as much as seeing the trouble in his deputy. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Josh shook his head quickly recovering his composure.

"Josh?" Leo asked. "What do the doctors say?"

"The planet is having a nuclear meltdown, Leo," Josh said as he waved off the man's concern. "Now isn't the time for…"

"We've got people dealing with that other mess," Leo said. "What are you dealing with?"

Josh met his eyes and considered making a vague comment to extract himself from the discussion, but there was something in his boss's expression that let him know such a response wouldn't be believed. Josh also felt it would be inappropriate.

"They think she's deaf," Josh said coldly, hating the possibility as he spoke it aloud for the first time. "It's either that or she has significant hearing deficiencies. That opens the door to a lot of other possible… issues. The kidney and breathing problems she's had might have, you know, caused damage."

"Damage?"

"To her brain," Josh said quietly and with difficulty then physically shook the dark thoughts from his mind. "She struggled a lot more than Noah did. It's still too soon to actually know anything or do any determinative tests. They're just basing it on the fact that she doesn't seem to react to sound the way they want or expect. I told them that…. I mean, I'm sure she listens when I talk to her. You, maybe she finds everyone at the hospital and what they have to say boring. I mean, she might just be thinking about other things in her head."

"Yeah," Leo nodded sagely. "Yeah, kids can be funny like that."

"That's what I said," Josh agreed feeling the ache in his chest ease off a bit.

"It's probably best if you just wait and see," Leo said. "Listen to what the doctors tell you. They can be wrong. Mallory is a prime example. They were completely wrong about her."

"They thought she was born deaf?" Josh asked.

"No, they thought she was a boy," Leo shrugged. "To their credit, that was up until she was born. After that, the question was cleared up pretty quickly."

Josh laughed briefly then bit his lip. Laughing about Mallory, even at her father's good natured instigation, was unwise.

"You keep talking to her," Leo said. "It can't hurt."

"Yes, sir," Josh nodded grateful for the man's counsel. "So, you'll call if…"

"We'll need you to deal with things on Monday," Leo said. "Stop worrying about Sam. Go home and enjoy the relative quiet. Tell Donna I said congratulations on the homecoming, and don't give up on that little lady. Girls have a way of surprising you."

Josh did as he was told and left the office. He drove home through the darkening streets in a muddle of thoughts both far and near to his home. Leo's calm assurances about Jess were calming, but his worry about Sam would not abate. He was torn between the comforting feeling about hope for his daughter's future and his upsetting worry about his friend's current assignment. That he still considered Sam a friend was a revelation. He was angry with himself for holding his grudge against the man for so long. Josh knew how fickle and fleeting life could be; things could change swiftly and without warning.

He entered the house to find the first floor dark. He peered out the back window. Lights were on at his mother's place and her new Mercedes was parked in the back where it had been when Josh left several hours earlier. After locking the door and setting the alarm, he climbed the stairs to find Donna watching TV in their room with the volume low.

"Where's Noah?" he asked.

"In his crib," she answered. "I didn't expect to see you until later. The news is reporting that the…"

"Yeah, the UN is putting people in to take care of things," Josh said. "They sent Sam."

"Sam?" she asked, sitting up straighter.

Josh nodded and looked at her with a gaze full of the guilt he felt. He hung his head and sunk his hands into his pockets.

"Last week the President was asking for a short list for the UN environmental council," Josh explained. "Toby had five names. Sam was one of them. I told Leo… I said to put him on the top of the list."

"Because he was the best choice or because…," she asked.

"I don't know," Josh shrugged as he felt his throat tighten. "He was certainly qualified for legal and policy guidance. I never…"

Donna sighed as she crossed the room and embraced him. She did not think he would have put Sam in any danger on purpose. His residual anger toward the man, she always assumed, was a venting of his anxiety over what had happened to her and the children. He felt betrayed by Sam's actions months ago and his disappointment had not had a chance to fade before the next personal crisis crashed into his world. Sam was, despite Josh's protracted silence toward the man, Josh's best friend. His trust in the man had been severely bruised but it had not been destroyed.

"He'll be fine," Donna assured him. "This is just another business trip. You'll see. He'll be back in a few weeks and bothering Toby about punctuation and coffee."

"No," Josh shook his head and sighed. "He had to resign to do this."

"You didn't send him to Tbilisi," she said firmly. "Look at me, Josh. You didn't send him anywhere. The President chose him because he was the one he trusted to do this job. You suggested he should be at the top of the short list. You are one of President Bartlet's closest and most trusted advisors. You would not tell him to put Sam on the council just because you were mad at him. You take your job too seriously and you respect the President too much to do something like that. You just said it: Sam was qualified. Leo and the President agreed with you. Toby is the one who put his name on the list to start with. Sam agreed. You did nothing wrong. You feel guilty because you are a good man who is worried about a dear friend. When Sam is back, and he will be, you can tell him that you forgive him and that whatever happened in the past doesn't matter."

She embraced him again to soothe pain she could see in his eyes. After several moments of silence, she released him and inspected his expression. The uncertainty was still there but not as bold as when he entered the room.

"Go say good night to Noah," she suggested. "He's still awake; I can hear him on the monitor."

"I'm surprised you didn't camp out on the floor in his room," Josh noted.

"Dr. Melburn said not to and not to bring him in here," she said. "He's already on a schedule and we shouldn't mess with it so that he has an easy adjustment."

"You've been peaking in to check on him every time you heard a noise on the monitor," Josh ventured.

Donna nodded guiltily though she smiled.

"He's settled down but not really asleep yet," she said. "Go in and say good night."

Josh agreed but grabbed the monitor's handset off the nightstand on Donna's side of the bed. She looked at him questioningly as he did so.

"Guy talk," Josh said. "No eavesdropping; don't worry, my mother assures me that soon enough you'll be able to hear clear through walls and closed doors just like she can."

HHhhhhH

*********************

Communication's Bullpen

Thursday afternoon

Charlie sat on the edge of Ginger's desk and waited while Toby leaved through the final pardon list submitted by the White House Counsel's office. Charlie had been asked to bring it, with any comments from the communication's director, to the President that afternoon. Toby, based on his expression, was not pleased with some part of the list. As the president's aide waited silently and patiently, Josh entered the bullpen.

"Hey Charlie," he said. "Does Toby have the…"

"He's looking at it now," Charlie replied. "He's been huffing for 10 minutes. I think one of the names displeases him."

"In what way?" Josh asked, surveying the speech write as he massaged his brow and scowled.

"Well, he hasn't yelled, but I'm not sure that means what I think it means," Charlie replied. "Since Sam left, Toby yells less. I think he lost half his voice; apparently it was the loud part."

Josh nodded. There had been no direct word from Sam though reports received through the US Ambassador to the UN were positive. The situation in Tbilisi was no longer dire, but merely the absence of fear that the damaged tower would no longer explode wasn't a rectification of the environmental disaster.

"What's your timeframe?" Josh asked.

"The President has time this evening to go over the list with the comments," Charlie said. "He's having dinner with the First Lady tonight so they can discuss not going to Camp David for July 4th."

"And he wants something to do after he loses the… discussion," Josh wondered.

"I wouldn't put it that way," Charlie said though he nodded definitively.

"I'll shake the list loose," Josh said and dismissed Charlie as he entered the speech writer's office.

Toby scoffed and huffed again as he scrawled notes on the margin of the document.

"You're supposed to type up your notes," Josh said, sitting on the couch near the wall.

"This is a copy," Toby growled. "I'll do my write up when I'm finished. I can't believe this."

"The one for the California woman who got convicted of identity theft after she got a marriage license for herself and her partner?" Josh asked. It was among the top three asinine justice foul-ups on the list, he felt.

"No," Toby said tensely. "This is the list of ones we're rejecting. There's this one… I… I understand that it was New Jersey, but…"

He handed the list across to Josh. He had seen only the sifted list of those who were being recommended for pardons. Sam had been vetting the list this time. Josh had done it two times previous and was glad to have the bulk of the work passed off to someone else while he focused on the other 8,000 priorities in his job.

Josh skimmed the pages in front of him and Toby's maniacal scribbles. He reviewed the case details and the recommendation, along with the reason for rejection. Josh got through the first part and raised his eyebrows.

"Wait, he went into an IHOP and…," Josh began.

"Yeah, the robbery was in progress and to save his own life he…," Toby elaborated. "It was a case of an idiot exercising bad judgment."

"I'll say," Josh nodded. "According to his statement, he was going to IHOP to have a steak. I thought they only served, you know, pancakes."

"Apparently not, but if your point is that a criminal mastermind this guy is not, then I agree," Toby shook his head. "I'm putting him back on the list."

"You can't," Josh said. "He held off the cops with a weapon and the kid at the register nearly died because she almost didn't get help in time. This guy is the reason for that."

"His weapon wasn't loaded," Toby argued. "He didn't know that. He only knew that the two guys robbing the place took his car keys and pointed a gun at him and told him to stand at the door way to hold off anyone who tried to come in or they would shoot him."

"You just said the magic words: They handed him a gun," Josh said. "Toby, the guy participated."

"He didn't know what was happening," he argued. "Josh, the guy thought he was going to die. What should he have done different?"

"I don't know," Josh shrugged. "But a 16-year-old girl almost died because he was holding a gun and didn't have a better idea. He didn't make a choice but he wants us to get him off the hook? No. We can't. We're trying to push the Victim's Bill of Rights, Toby. We start pardoning guys who created a high profile victim, and I can't do anything with that on the Hill."

"I would think that not being able to push that would be a help," Toby offered. "To you, anyway."

"What does that mean?" Josh asked.

"It's election time again," Toby said.

"The mid-terms are months away," Josh replied.

"The General Election is two years away," Toby said in a low, calculated tone. "Now is the time for exploratory committees for those who don't know if they have a shot or the time to begin locking things up if you do."

"Yeah," Josh nodded. "So?"

"So you met with Hoynes," Toby said. "Are you making plans? Or would you tell me if you were?"

Josh said nothing. It had been a few weeks since his uncertain meeting with the Vice President. Hoynes had not contacted him since, but Josh was waiting for a second meeting. The man was playing a game, Josh knew. He was giving his former political director space and time to think and to be with his family; it was a ploy to convince Josh that he understood and cared about his current predicament with his family. As he had not spoken of it to anyone, Josh was not aware that Toby knew about the meeting.

"The Vice President is going to run," Toby said. "He should be culling the best political minds for his team and he is not. Or, that's how it looks. I know that you had dinner with him recently."

"I went with Donna to the Corbett's," Josh replied. "I didn't know Hoynes would be there. The dinner was for Leslie Corbett to get Donna to help her with something for the hospital."

"If you believe that, you should work for Hoynes," Toby said.

"I have a job right now," Josh said. "I don't have time to run all over the country trying to make people forget that John Hoynes is John Hoynes so they'll vote for him."

"Are you out entirely?" he asked. "I know that right now you're… busy at home, but in a year those calls you get every few months are going to start coming every week."

"You're getting calls, too?" Josh asked. He knew the answer was yes.

"Of course," Toby said. "But they're not the calls you get. They don't want me to run the show. Josh, as much as it pains me to admit it, the Democratic Party needs you. If you pack it in with this administration, we are lost. Don't get me wrong, I think you are only a fraction as smart as the leaders of the party do, and I personally fear about leaving you to your own devices; however, you are among the best we have right now which, while sad and worrisome for us, is also a fact."

"Gee, Toby, I feel so special," Josh quipped.

"Edgar Bailey has been talking a lot," Toby said.

Josh was startled by the shift conversation. How the head of the Democratic Party in Connecticut was connected to a discussion about John Hoynes was lost on Josh. The Vice President had mentioned the man as well, but he had never explained why.

"Edgar Bailey?" Josh repeated, surprised by the reference. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"He gave three interviews in the last month," Toby said and drew a folder out of his desk drawer. He briefly leafed through the clippings. "They appeared in Connecticut papers and he went on the news in Hartford; your name came up, a lot."

"Why do you have them?" Josh asked, pulling to articles across the desk to read.

"I'm the communications director," Toby said dully in a low voice. "It's my job."

"To read news in Connecticut that has nothing to do with the White House?" Josh asked. "We need to get you a hobby."

"These have to do with one of the President's closest advisors, you," Toby replied, dragging the clippings back.

"Me?" Josh questioned. "I talked with Bailey a year ago for five minutes when I was in Westport for that thing with Chris Dodd."

"Yeah," Toby nodded. "Your hometown."

"So?" Josh asked.

"Local boy," Toby said. "Big name in politics. Fancy degrees from Ivy League institutions."

"The word elite becomes a curse during election cycles," Josh said. "Whatever Bailey wants, I'm not going to help him. He's a hairdo; there's no muscle in Connecticut politics. Lieberman is a joke—he's a Democrat the way that I'm a Republican. Whatever Bailey is looking for help with…"

"Candidates," Toby told him though from Josh's reaction, he suspected the man knew. "He's looking for a candidate to take a seat in the House or, as you just stated, to take the joke out of the Senate. You poll well."

"I what?" Josh asked as Toby handed him a report. "Who did this?"

"I did, before the last election," Toby replied. "I told Leo that I wasn't sure I could fix a nation that held you in any positive regard. There are updated numbers, but the data isn't as scientific. The bottom line is that they like you in Connecticut, which makes me worry about them, but that's not my point. Bailey is thinking small; Mich Holbrook is vulnerable in your hometown."

"I know," Josh said. "So?"

"So he represents the district where you grew up," Toby replied. "You grew up in a Republican District that is now leaning in the other direction."

"Does Bailey want the seat?" Josh asked. "If I'm not leaving the White House to help John Hoynes, I'm certainly not giving it up to get a congressman elected in Connecticut. Besides, Bailey can't win. They don't like him."

"No," Toby said. "They like you. Bailey is starting chatter because he wants you to go back and run."

"Me?" Josh scoffed. "Work in Congress? Is he smoking crack? I can't be elected."

"The polling data says otherwise," Toby explained.

"I'm not running," Josh said. "I don't live in Westport anymore. I live in Georgetown."

"The schools in Westport are better than the schools in DC," Toby replied. "Crime rate is better, the stores are…"

"Stores?" Josh questioned. "What do I care about… Toby, I'm not moving back to Connecticut so that I can live in DC while my family stays in New England. My kids don't even speak yet so schools aren't an issue right now."

"Donna isn't researching that yet?" Toby asked. "I find it hard to believe she isn't."

"There's a Friends' school she likes," Josh admitted.

"Quakers," Toby nodded. "Private school."

"If we fix public schools before they get to first grade, we'll reconsider," Josh said.

"Private school is a better bet," Toby sighed. "It'll look better on their applications to Harvard."

"Yeah," Josh nodded. "I mean, wherever they go to college."

"I heard that guy from State that you know, Mark Reed, sent you and Donna gifts for your kids," Toby replied. "Harvard Class of 20-something or other."

"Yeah, well, he gets married a lot so I don't pay too much attention to him," Josh said. "Donna doesn't want me talking about college. She's afraid it will put pressure on him."

"Him?" Toby inquired. "Donna's afraid your son isn't up to Harvard but your daughter is?"

"Something like that," Josh said, looking away. "I'm not interesting in being part of the freak show on the Hill we call the House of Representatives."

"No, you're not because you're smart," Toby agreed. "Bailey is a moron."

"Agreed," Josh nodded.

"He's thinking too small," Toby continued. "If you're going to do this, you should take on Lieberman. You debate better than he does; your most liberal views are reserved to education and gun control—two topics that are more that are more than acceptable to the moderate and conservative voters in Connecticut. You're a native of the state and you have something of a rock star status…"

"A what?" Josh scoffed.

"It's Connecticut, don't let it go to your head," Toby said gruffly. "My point is, you have a shot. You have name recognition, the right education, the right resume and helpful pedigree. Your father was a high-priced New York City lawyer; your mother was a beloved music teacher."

"Did she tell you that?" Josh asked. "I had friends who took lessons from her who had other names."

Toby plowed onward as though he did not hear the interruption.

"People with money who have a social conscience or desire to appear to have one, feel that Lieberman is actually a Republican but hasn't been outted yet," communication's director continued. "You have high level security experience; your face is the one in the Oval with the President and his national security team for the last few weeks. Add to that a pretty wife and two small children and this makes for a very attractive picture on the campaign trail."

"Until the story about me being a head case comes up again or anyone one of 530 members of congress start reminiscing about the various words I have used in expressing my displeasure with them on various occasions," Josh nodded.

"You were shot by would-be assassins," Toby explained. "A campaign to attack you as unstable because of your recovery would die swiftly. That story broke before the last election; this polling data I have was taken after that. As for your often heard opinions of Congress, that is probably more in-line with what the rest of the nation thinks. Your colorful way of expressing it will probably cinch the 18-29 demographic for you."

Josh shook his head. The discussion wasn't even funny it was so insane.

"Are you bringing this up to make a point or have you lost your mind for real?" Josh asked. "I know Sam's gone for the moment, but if you're getting lonely and need human contact you can come down to my area and talk to Marcie. She does a good impression of human if you catch her after her second cup of coffee or just after lunch usually."

Toby raised his eyebrows and stashed the news clippings and polling data back into his drawer. He fixed Josh with an appraising stare.

"I live in Georgetown and I like it there," Josh said to the unspoken question. "I'm no one's candidate for anything, unless its Commissioner of Baseball and I'm pretty sure that's just a weekend job when you really get down to it. I'm also not interested in being Hoynes' guy again. I've got work to do here right now. If something better than what we've discussed today comes up, then…"

"You heard the field so far?" Toby asked. "Hoynes, Dodd…"

"Dodd won't go anywhere," Josh shook his head. "What about Daschel?"

"Possible, but he doesn't have the money, or rather he does, but he owes it to the government," Toby shook his head.

"The taxes thing?" Josh asked. "I thought Davison said he fixed that."

"He did by ignoring it apparently," Toby shook his head. "Landrieu has a shot."

"No she doesn't," Josh said. "She'll create some excitement in the primaries, but Hoynes will smoke her on energy policy."

"He does have name recognition and the appearance of foreign policy experience," Toby suggested.

"Hoynes is a rotten administrator and his foreign policy credentials are little more than photo ops," Josh said.

"There's Kyle," Toby offered and watched Josh carefully.

"The governor of North Carolina?" he asked. "Randy 'that's an adjective for my sex life as well as my first name' Kyle? No."

"He's never been in a scandal," Toby said.

"I've heard enough stories about him to make you think he's been in several," Josh commented.

"His wife is the academic dean at a prestigious university," Toby continued.

"His son Steven hates him," Josh said. "Any man whose son hates him with that much of a passion has got issues."

"Yeah," Toby nodded. "But if you're not packing up and going to Connecticut, then one of these folks is going to call you. One of them needs to win or we'll be stuck with the governor of Florida as the next president. If you want your kids to grow up in the dark ages, then by all means stand on the sidelines."

Up next: Chapter 26-- Post-Partisan Depression