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The fact that the calendar for the next day called for a meeting for the Vice President in the Oval Office did not come as a surprise. What had surprised her when Margaret had sent the reminder through was that she had been summoned into the meeting as well.
It wasn’t often that both Leo and his Chief of Staff were required by the President. One perk of the move to the OEOB was some separation from the madness of the White House. It was milder day-to-day. The hours were still long, but she found herself home in time to make a late-ish dinner more evenings than not. It certainly beat the cold Chinese dinners eaten at her desk, buried under neverending mountains of briefing books that seemed to always be replaced in the morning by twice the number that had been there the night before.
She had hit her stride near the end there, in spite of running a staff already booking it out the door in search of greener pastures. It had been those last months that had convinced Leo to pull her on as his Chief of Staff when he took on the Vice Presidency, and that had convinced her that she had what it took to dive headfirst into the catchall job all over again.
At fifteen minutes to eleven, her desk cleared for the morning and the staff playing nice in their respective offices, CJ packed her briefcase up and threw her jacket over her shoulders before sweeping past Margaret on her way to the White House.
She had intentionally given herself a couple more minutes than necessary, allowing herself the brief satisfaction of leaning silently against the doorframe of Josh’s office to watch him jump. When he finally realized her presence (and left his chair behind by a good six inches for good measure), she simply gave him a flippant smile and set off towards the meeting she had been called into.
The two offices ran quite separately, CJ pondered as she walked. She was, on occasion privy to Josh’s running of his own staff through necessary collaborations with her counterpart, but her visits to his office were infrequent and rarely unscheduled. She had known of the separation in both her capacities within the Bartlet senior staff, and had been relieved to find out from the other side of the coin that it had not simply been reflective of a strained relationship between the men inhabiting the offices or the unavoidable choice of a second-string quarterback the second time around. It had given her the freedom to run Leo’s staff as needed to accomplish his goals in what would likely be his final major role in national politics.
The President’s secretary waved her into the Oval once she walked up to her desk. Leo was already in his favored armchair. The President leaned against his desk, his jacket hung up and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She sat in the armchair across from Leo as Santos had gestured for her to, putting her briefcase down by her feet.
Both men were quiet.
Leo fidgeted in his seat.
She could not honestly say when she had last seen her boss genuinely uneasy. Perhaps the time she had coached him through making a public statement on his hard-earned sobriety.
Needless to say, it did not put her at ease.
She let the silence run its course, or at least she tried to. She could hear the scratching of earpiece wires against the suit jackets of the Secret Service agents outside the door of the Oval for how quiet it had been.
They stayed silent still.
“Respectfully, Mr. President, Mr. Vice President, one of you needs to start talking,” CJ finally broke the silence, “It’s beginning to feel like a bastardization of a Quaker meeting in here.”
Leo sighed, his apology already written on his brow, “I’m stepping down, CJ. I need time on my side if I’m going to get to see the Bartlings grow up.”
Bartlings. The collective word their previous staff had coined for the children a few of the staff had had during and after the administration. In this case, his way of keeping hers in the fold.
“I have lung cancer, Ceej. Early days, so the odds are better–”
“–But it’s lung cancer so the odds aren’t great to begin with. I understand. We’ll be right there for you while you fight it,” CJ finishes, before flipping efficiently back into being his Chief of Staff and speaking to Santos, “Do you need me to get things moving on a nominee to be confirmed to replace the Vice President, Sir?”
He shook his head.
“CJ, we already know who we’ll be nominating. Miss Schott has the press release prepared and ready to go to the wolves,” Santos said.
Leo smiled wryly, then spoke, “We’ll be nominating you.”
“Me?” CJ sat up in shock, decorum leaving her for a moment before she gathered herself, “Sir, I’m sure there are better qualified candidates out there.”
“You’re the best there is, Claudia Jean. Don’t sell yourself short,” Leo was unmoved, “You could run circles around most of the politicians on the Hill.
She looked down, trying to find a way to get through to one of her best friends in this town, “I’m not exactly what people think of when they imagine the office of the Vice President. The fact that the office has never had a woman in it aside–”
He knew why this would be hard. He knew her life would struggle to hold up to scrutiny and public opinion. She could not understand why he could not see the problem.
Leo shrugged, leaning back in the chair, “You’ve never been shy about breaking glass ceilings, CJ. Don’t start now.”
“I learned quickly that when my predecessor, my Vice President, and my Chief of Staff all agree on something, it is wise not to question it too much,” Santos offered, “Your work since your first day here has been commendable, even when you’ve had to recover from spills. You’ve always seemed to roll with whatever punches were thrown, as I’m sure you’ll do with this one. Frankly, CJ, we need you more than you need us.”
Her hands shook. She tried to change tack, turning back to the President.
“There would be no Second Gentleman, Mr. President,” CJ hesitated as she chose her next words, “The country will not look kindly on the first female Vice President being unmarried. It probably wouldn’t even pass the House. The last unmarried Vice President was Charles Curtis during the Hoover administration, Sir.”
“Technically, the last unmarried Vice President was Leo McGarry during the Santos administration,” Leo chuckled from his perch on the other armchair in the Oval Office, raising his hands in concession once on the receiving end of her withering glare while quipping quietly, “Leo’s house of useless knowledge.”
“You’ve been married, Leo. Washington saw your divorce. I–” CJ ran a hand through her hair, buying herself some time, “It is not that I won’t get married, Mr. President. I can’t .”
She prayed the President would pick up what she was putting down. Leo shifted in his seat. Her hand went for the ring on a chain around her neck; she caught it and flattened her hand against her sternum.
“Let us worry about getting the nomination through. How long?” Santos finally asked, a rare smile forming.
Exhaling, CJ put the rest of herself on the table, “Since ‘87, Sir.”
“That’s a long time.”
“Yes, Sir. Especially for Washington,” CJ allowed herself to grin, “Twenty six years, two children, and somehow it’s made it through more than a decade of White House hours. I’m a lucky woman.”
“Is that the only thing holding you back?” Leo asked.
She chuckled, “Aside from the fact that she might and could murder me in my sleep for agreeing to even more work than what’s already on my plate? I never saw myself taking public office, but I’ve been here long enough that it isn’t out of the imagination anymore to be on someone’s list, is it?”
“There isn’t a list, CJ. It’s just you,” Leo revealed, “If I can’t do this anymore – and I can’t – there is no one else I trust to do it more than you.”
Jump off a cliff.
“Leo–”
“He’s right, CJ,” Santos interjects, moving across the Office to sit across from her, “We’re a year and a half into our second term. It would be impossible to get someone on board who wouldn’t just be using this as a stepping stone. We were already struggling to see a new frontrunner in the party and I refuse to have this be what creates one out of someone undeserving. We need someone who will see the work of this administration to the end rather than use it as a means to his own run. There is work left to do.”
Jump off a cliff.
CJ could not deny the fact that the prospect excited her. She had spent so long running the cogs behind the machine. Putting others’ agendas into action. She would still be doing that, no doubt, but she would have a hand in the direct crafting of these agendas. She was a far cry from where she had been in her first years out of the private sector, her opinions on most issues partially formed and far from any semblance of conviction. She had seen enough, lived enough, to have strengthened those ideals in the intervening years. There was, she had to admit, no better time to make the move into having a bigger stake in the future of her country.
“I’m not from the world of politics,” CJ hedged.
She did not expect the bark of a laugh that came out of the President’s mouth.
“Perhaps when you were a freshman Press Secretary, I’d have bought that. Even then maybe not. You’ve more than earned your stripes, Claudia Jean,” Matt assured, “Besides, you’ll push us in the ways my wife has been harping on since the campaign, and we need that. That aside, who’s the lucky lady?”
CJ blushed.
“Her name is Kate,” CJ offered.
“Kate–”
“Your National Security Advisor, Sir,” Leo interjected.
His eyebrows shot up. He paused, his eyes glinting and mirthful as the revelation settled, “A Navy wife. No wonder Helen likes you so much. Well, it may be worth looking for a replacement. With our luck, and this bench, we may have a Second Lady by the end of the term.”
Jump off a cliff.
“Let me talk to Kate, Sir. I’ll have an answer for you by end of day," CJ finally acceded, "Fair warning, if this goes through, I may be putting a call in to your wife to poach her Chief of Staff."