Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The meeting was reaching a new level of mind numbing boredom, but I sat in my chair, always the faithful and diligent employee, and listened to the senior partners make jokes that weren’t within spitting distance of being remotely funny while our clients nodded and pretended to know and care about what they were hearing.

Sometimes I wondered why I had gone back to corporate law, why I hadn’t stayed in politics or gotten a job working for the District Attorney’s office after my Congressional campaign crashed and burned. I had lost my focus, my drive, somewhere along the way, and, in an attempt to find out what I wanted my life to be like, I had gone back to what I knew was the most stable option for me. I was back to paying seventeen times the average when tax season rolled around and I was, in the words of my mother, helping to make the world a little bit worse. Except that I wasn’t, because I had managed to turn the firm around on a lot of things that affected real people every day.

I was brought out of his moment of silent reflection when the attention of everyone in the room turned toward the door. Rumpled suit, pale skin, dark circles that would make a raccoon jealous under his eyes, and his backpack slung over one shoulder, Josh stood before them much the same way he had nine years earlier, only this time he was dry and my leaving was not a foregone conclusion. Because I knew that was why Josh Lyman had come to California when the Transition was going full steam ahead and any number of a billion things needed to be taken care of back in DC. He wanted to pull me back into politics. Again.

“I’m sorry, can we help you?” one of the partners asked.

Turning my chair away from the door, I took a moment to collect myself. “If you’ll all excuse me for a moment,” I said before getting up and going over to Josh. “I thought you’d never call,” I said before leading Josh to out of the conference room.

“Listen, you know why I’m here—”

“Not in here,” I said, cutting Josh off. I glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to them—my assistant had informed me that people were placing bets on how long I would stay with the firm before joining the Santos Administration, and ever since I had been a little paranoid. “Outside,” I decided when I noticed that several people were watching us.

We didn’t speak again until we were outside of the building. “You knew you’d hear from me,” Josh said once he felt it was safe to speak again.

“Gave me time to hone my turn down,” I replied.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Josh straightened his poster and hitched his backpack up a little higher on his shoulder. “That’s why I didn’t do it over the phone,” Josh tossed back.

“Your showing up does have a nice nostalgic symmetry,” I admitted. I had to at least give him that.

“Style points,” Josh nodded.

“If nothing else.”

“Substance, too,” Josh said. “This guy’s the real deal,” he continued, getting to the serious part of the conversation.

Flashes of a similar conversation on a New York street corner assaulted me. “You said that last time,” I pointed out.

“And look how right I was. Tell me you don’t miss it.”

“I don’t miss it,” I said, only half sure that what I was saying was the truth. Something was missing from my life, but I still wasn’t quite sure what it was.

Josh rolled his eyes. Even after so much time living on opposite sides of the country—not to mention the fact that Josh had spent the last year campaigning and not returning any of my attempts at communications—Josh could still read me the same way he could back when we were starting out in the White House. “Liar,” he said.

“Attorney,” I corrected as we headed for a table and sat down across from each other. “Amazing thing, what you did,” I said. I have always been one to give credit where credit was due, and Josh deserved to hear that what he had done was nothing short of a miracle.

“Well that’s the easy part. It’s what you do with it that counts,” Josh said as he crossed his legs. I was, quite honestly, awed by the lack of ego in that statement.

“You know how much I’m making now?”

Josh groaned. “It’s gonna make me want to puke.”

“Not make you want to. You’ll actually puke.”

“So you can afford to come back to Washington and work for a government wage,” Josh said. I’m sure it was a sound argument in his head, but it lacked something when he verbalized it. He wasn’t, however, wrong. It could easily go back to living on a government salary. That didn’t meant I wanted to, though.

“I can afford to do good work right here. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve gotten the firm to do—you should come work with me,” I said, disregarding the fact that Josh had never actually practised law, let alone the fact that I had been the first one to tell him that he wasn’t a real lawyer on more than one occasion. We both knew Josh would never leave politics, that he was destined to follow in Leo’s footsteps, but I wanted Josh to know that he had non-political options that would still allow him to help make the world a better place.

“Democratic House. We’ve never had that,” Josh said, once again perfectly serious.

“Republican Senate,” I shot back.

Josh wasn’t deterred, not that I had expected him to be. “Moveable.”

“Conceivably,” I admitted. I knew that there was very little that Josh Lyman couldn’t do when he set his mind to it and managed to stay focused.

“I almost lost, though. You know. You should appreciate the shot.”

“I can’t do it.”

“It can’t just be the money,” Josh said.

I had to give him that. I didn’t care about the money. I’ve never been that guy. I could retire happy right now if I wanted to, though I’m not sure I’m exactly the type who retires period, let alone at the age of thirty eight. “There’s my love life.”

“That’s a moveable feast,” Josh said, rolling his eyes.

It took a lot for me to refrain from comparing ‘feasts’ with him—even with all the grief it caused me my one-time thing with Laurie did far less damage to the Presidency than Josh’s ‘relationship’ with Amy Gardner. “Not entirely,” I said. “I’m getting married.” I had called him, or, rather, his apartment, after it became official—he’s still my best friend and I will, eventually, need a best man, once the actual planning of the wedding begins—but I am not entirely sure that Josh has even been back to his apartment since the campaign started.

“Well, I’ve heard it before.”

“Nice!”

“I mean… congratulations, is what I mean,” Josh fumbled.

It was time for a little misdirection. “What about your life?” I asked. There was a pause and I rolled my eyes. “What was I thinking?”

“I’ve been somewhat busy,” Josh said more than a little defensively. Obviously his lack of a personal life has become somewhat of a sore point for Josh. I filed that away for future reference.

“That explains the…”

Josh frowned. “The what?”

“Your general…” I trailed off, trying to be tactful in my phrasing.

“What? It’s the hairline, isn’t it?” Josh asked.

“It’s retreated,” I agreed.

Dragging his fingers through his hair Josh returned fire. “It’s routed. Like Napoleon out of Moscow.” The reference screamed ‘Donna’ but I didn’t want to get tangled up in the web that is the saga of ‘Josh and Donna’.

“There’s also a pallor issue,” I pointed out.

“You live in melanoma central. Healthy glow turns out to be oxymoronic.”

My little bit of misdirection had done it’s job so I changed the subject back to the matter at hand because it was clear that we weren’t going to get anywhere if I didn’t keep us on track. “Look, I’d be glad to help out with the Inaugural speech.”

“Great, but that’s not what I flew out here to ask,” Josh said, leaning forward the way he did before he offered up what he felt was the best deal out there. I’d seen it many times before, but I’d never had it aimed at me. “Deputy Chief of Staff. You’re me to my Leo. Think about it.”

“Josh…”

“At least give me that. I did—”

“Fly all the way out here?” I cut in, knowing what he was going to say. Like it was such a hard thing to do—frequent flyer miles are a part of the financial disclosure reports and, as much as I used to hate the time when the reports came out, the truth was that they were pretty entertaining when your name isn’t among those featured.

“That’s how much I want you. I’m willing to channel my mother.”

I sighed. “I’ll think about it,” I conceded.

“Great,” Josh said. He took a beat and then said, “You done?”

Typical. “Josh.”

“What’s to think about? Really?” Josh asked.

Of course, I knew that he’d ask that. Serving the President is what his life has been about since he was four. He has yet to grasp the concept that not everyone feels the same way that he does.

“For one thing, whether I want to end up looking like you,” I said, hoping to throw him off his game for at least a moment. Corporate law is about semantics more than anything else. My Socratic skills have diminished somewhat since departing the political arena. I willingly admit that. I’m rusty, out of practise when it comes to the lively debate and interplay that makes up the majority of conversations within the Beltway.

“Oh, you’re just full of funny,” Josh said, rolling his eyes at me once again. The eye-rolling thing was yet another thing about him that screamed ‘Donna’. “Think about it. You’ll play a major role in policy—both foreign and domestic, or if you want you can take your pick and focus on one. You always wanted to play a bigger role in policy discussions.”

This was true. I had always wished I had more of a hand in policy and that I spent less time speechwriting. I added the policy thing to the mental PRO/CON list I was formulating.

“You’ll still be able to craft speeches for the President—the person I have in mind for Communications Director is more of a PR consultant than a writer—but you won’t spend your life quibbling over the language in a two minute speech to a group on one has ever heard of before. Inaugural, State of the Union, maybe a few public addresses since Kazakhstan is heating up and Santos will have to address the nation at some point. You can pick and choose what you work on,” Josh continued.

Also good points. Picking what speeches to work on and crafting the message that the public and Congress received without the constant worry of essentially inconsequential addresses would almost be a dream come true.

“The Council’s office traditionally reports to the Chief of Staff, but, as you’ve pointed out a great many times before, I’m not a real lawyer, so I’ll need a Deputy who actually has a background in practising law.”

“Who do you have in the Council’s office?” I asked. This offer was sounding more and more appealing; not that I planned on letting Josh know that.

“I’m still shopping for Chief, but I’ve got two Deputy Chiefs lined up as well as a handful of Associate Councils. I think I might hire a Third Deputy Chief, but, again, you take this and you can make decisions like that.”

Something was starting to sound funny to me. “Why three DC’s?”

Josh smirked. “The two we’ve got now are Republicans,” he said. “Joe Quincy—the guy who outted Hoynes—and our old friend Ainsley Hayes.”

This got my attention. Ainsley and I had kept in touch after I left, but time, distance, and lifestyles did what they tend to do and, other than an e-mail did what they tend to do, and other than e-mail ever so often we didn’t speak anymore. “How’d you get her on board?” I asked. “Last I heard she couldn’t wait to start working at the Hoover Institute.”

“She went to CJ to see if she could smooth the way with me. Santos is really into bipartisanship and jumped at the chance,” Josh said. “She likes Santos a lot. His ideals—some of them, at least—are close to her own a lot closer than Bartlet’s ever were.” Josh frowned. “Her working for the White House isn’t going to be a negative on your mental list, is it?”

It’s creepy how well we know each other. “Why would it?” I asked.

“Because there was something there, between you two, and then you left and now you’re engaged,” Josh said. At least he had the decency not to say the ‘again’ that I knew he wanted to add to that statement.

“Ainsley knows I’m engaged. We e-mail each other when big things happen in our lives,” I said. It sounded vaguely pathetic when I said it out loud, but it was the most effective form of communication. “I don’t know, however, what Sara would think about me working with Ainsley again.”

“Sara being your fiancé,” Josh said.

I nodded.

“If it becomes a deal breaker I can work something out,” Josh said.

Groaning I sat back in my chair. “Please don’t tell me you just offered to fire Ainsley to get me back to DC.” Josh cringed and I shook my head. “If I were to do this, and keep in mind that this is entirely hypothetical, something like the fact that I might see someone who could possibly make my fiancé uncomfortable would not be a deal breaker, Josh. Firing someone who is incredibly qualified and did nothing to deserve it would, though. I can handle Sara. I can’t handle a friend of mine losing her job because the fact that I might see her from time to time might make Sara uncomfortable.”

“Duly noted,” Josh nodded.

It had been a while since I disappeared from the conference room and I knew I’d have to come up with a reason for my abrupt departure so I needed to end this, despite the fact that it was really good to see Josh again. “Look, I was actually in a meeting when you got here, so I should get back to that,” I said, “and I’m sure you’ve got a flight back to DC. You obviously know how to reach me, and I’m sure you have a card or something with your new contact information for me.”

Josh handed me a card with his new numbers. “I’ve had five phone numbers in the last year. This one will be in effect until the Transition is over when I get my White House phone. But we’ll talk again before that happens.”

“I’m sure we will,” I said as I tucked his card into my pocket. “It’s good to see you. We really suck at keeping in touch.”

“Yeah, we do,” Josh agreed. “Why didn’t I know you got engaged? I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone that was, you know, heading toward serious, let alone ring shopping.”

I smiled. “I called you a couple of times but none of your numbers were working—you should make sure you at least get a forwarding message put on after you change your number—and when I gave up trying to reach you personally I left a series of messages on your answering machine at your apartment.”

“Should’ve called CJ,” Josh said.

“She had Margaret promise to get back to me after stranding me on hold for forty minutes. It wasn’t until after I’d gotten the hold music out of my head that I thought to just ask Margaret.”

Josh nodded. “Kazakhstan is driving CJ up the wall. Plus everything with Toby…” he trailed off with a sigh. “Have you talked to him?”

“A few times,” I nodded. “His lawyer is good, but she won’t be able to save him. He’s going to have to do some time, though I’m pretty sure it will be argued down to minimum security.

“I still can’t believe he’s willing to go to prison when he’s all but guaranteed the judicial equivalent of a slap on the wrist if he just tells them it was David.”

“It’s Toby, Josh. He may hate his father and have less than pleasant contact with his sisters around the holidays but he and David were close. Toby would beg borrow ad steal—and, apparently, commit treason—for his baby brother. It’s just who he is,” I said. I couldn’t fight the clenching in my heart when I inadvertently reminded myself that I had once held a coveted place as Toby Zeigler’s little brother. “How did you get his help on the campaign without anyone finding out?” I asked, needing to change the subject. Josh sat up straighter, shocked. “Oh, please. You had Toby whispering plays in your ear since, when? San Andreo?”

“The VP debate,” Josh said reluctantly. “How’d you know?”

“I know you, I know the average age and level of experience of your staff, and I know Toby. You had help, CJ and Will are too busy working their asses off for a lame duck administration that wants to go out with a bang, and Leo had enough going on as the bottom half of the ticket. I’m sure everyone pitched in when they could, but Toby’s been doing nothing but have the same meeting over and over again since he left the White House. He was flexing his political muscles by helping you out and as your attorney I want you to realize how huge a risk you were taking. The AG finds out you two were talking and you’re looking at a Supreme Court subpoena. You had code-word clearance, you probably knew about the shuttle…” I trailed off. “You weren’t the one who told Toby about the military shuttle, were you?”

“No. I didn’t even really know what it was until Brock published. I had clearance to know about it but I wasn’t in the loop on the project. All my clearance gave me was permission to know what was going on. It didn’t mean I knew what was going on, you know?” Josh said.

Understanding what he was saying, I nodded. There were a lot of things that I was cleared to know about that I wasn’t in the loop for. There’s so much stuff to know and deal with that anything that’s not a priority is just not worth your time and energy.

Josh furrowed his brow. “You think it’s possible that the Attorney General could thing I was Toby’s source?”

I had to be blunt with him. We weren’t two friends talking about current events. We were attorney and client and it was my job to make sure that Josh understood the possible outcome of his actions. “I think that it is a possibility.”

“Well, crap,” Josh said. That about summed it up, really. “Good thing I’ve got a six-hundred-dollar an hour lawyer on retainer,” he smirked.

“You’ll be getting a bill for this meeting when you get home,” I said dryly. “Just be careful, Josh. I’m willing to pull your ass out of the fire but that in no way means that I’m in any way eager to do so.” I stood up and smoothed down my jacket. “I’ll think your offer over. Just give me some time.”

“I don’t exactly have an overabundance to give,” Josh reminded me.

“I know,” I replied. “You should get some sleep. You look like crap and I want you to be alive when I get married.”

Josh groaned the groan of an exhausted and somewhat discouraged man. “No promises,” he said wearily.

“You’d better promise. I don’t want to have to find a new best man.”

It took Josh a minute to catch on to what I was saying. “Really?” he asked, obviously touched.

“Of course. We may suck at staying in touch but you’ve been my best friend for twenty-nine years. There’s no one else I’d want standing up there with me,” I said honestly.

Josh beamed. “Thank you, Sam,” he said as he stood up. “I should let you get back to your meeting.” We hugged briefly then Josh bent to pick up his backpack. “Donna said to say ‘hi’, by the way.”

“How is she?” I asked as we headed back to my building. I would never forget how supportive Donna had been of me when I told her I had promised to run for Congress. Her unwavering faith in her friends was one of the reasons that I told her before telling anyone else.

“She’s good. She held me together, as always, since Lou hired her. Especially the last week or so… she’s amazing.”

“That she is,” I agreed, steering clear of the topic of the last week or so. I was still overwhelmed with guilt over not being able to make it to Leo’s funeral. “Are you ever going to make a move?” I asked. I couldn’t help it. I had to know.

Josh blushed. “We’re… working things out,” he confessed. “Right now nothing is defined… but I want to change that sooner rather than later.”

“You finally made a move! That’s great,” I smiled.

“Technically all moves this far have been made by Donna,” Josh admitted.

I rolled my eyes. Typical Josh. “If you’re half as smart as you think you are you won’t let Donna get away. You don’t deserve her, but if she wants to be with you do not let her slip away.

“I don’t intend to,” Josh said solemnly.

“Good. Give Donna a kiss for me and check your messages—there is a much more eloquent request for a best man somewhere in there,” I said.

“You did pretty well just then,” Josh said. He tilted his head to one side. “You do plan on actually going through with this one, right? ‘Cause I was just getting into the whole ‘best man’ groove the last time when Lisa cut and ran. I don’t want to end up collecting half finished toasts.”

“You sure you want to choose this moment right here to do that?” I inquired.

Josh thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think I do. Can we write that one off as exhaustion and move on?”

“As long as you swear not to make any jokes like that in your toast,” I bargained. “And so help me god if the words ‘call girl’ are anywhere in the vicinity of your thoughts you are a dead man.”

“Deal,” Josh said. His phone started to ring in his pocket and my pager started to beep at my hip. “Just like old times,” he smiled ruefully while digging his phone out of his pocket. I frowned, somehow less than content with the knowledge that my call wouldn’t relate to national security.