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This is a piece I began back in October and that I put on the back burner until we saw what AS was going to do with the psychological ramifications of the shooting. There will be several of these, each dealing with a separate member of the staff. ---------------------------------- Carpe Diem Jane Harper RATING: PG-14 SUMMARY: Sarah gets thrown into the politics and personalities of the President's staff in order to help them heal from the assassination attempt. Begins about a month after the Rosslyn shootout. ARCHIVE: Help yerself. HTML version supplied upon request. DISCLAIMER: We didn't start the fire ..
FROM PART ONE: "There's a more personal aspect, too," the First Lady continued. "There have been some … the person who seems to be showing the strain the worst is our daughter Zoey. Physically, she's fine; but her psyche and her spirit are showing signs of strain. The President and I felt a chaplain's help would be of great assistance to her." Abbey blinked rapidly, folded her hands in her lap, and continued. "Would you be willing to step in and help us? Zoey needs someone …" "Dr. Bartlet,"Sarah said, "I'd consider it an honor to do what I can for your daughter, and for any of the other survivors of the incident who might need me."
PART TWO: Sarah was supposed to go down to McGarry's West Wing office at six, but at a quarter till she was in the West Wing lobby arguing with a uniformed Secret Service guard. "I'm sorry, Ms. Cooper," he said, "but you're not on my list for West Wing access." "I work for the First Lady," she said. "Congratulations," he responded. "But you're still not on my list." "I have an appointment with Leo McGarry." "Why didn't you say so?" the officer asked. He picked up a phone and a moment later Margaret came out to get me. "I'm sorry," she said. "We need to get you the right bells and whistles so you can have the run of the building." "That's OK," Sarah responded. "It's going to take a little getting used to, being surrounded with all this... " she waved her arms. "I'm not sure anybody ever gets used to it," she replied, leading Sarah down the hallway into her office. "Can I get you anything while you're waiting? Leo will be done in a few minutes." "No, thanks, Margaret. You're very gracious." Sarah was, now that she was surrounded by the trappings of the White House instead of her own familiar turf, feeling more and more intimidated and in awe of her circumstances. Just as her mouth was going dry and she began to understand why Margaret offered everyone coffee or soda, she heard a familiar voice. "Sarah! I heard you were coming over this evening." Donna came in from the hallway to give her a hug. "Welcome to the madhouse!" "You going to come over to see me?" she asked the lithe blonde with a smile. "Once we get Josh back so I'm not doing two jobs at once, definitely. Gotta scoot, I just wanted to say hi." The huge wooden door to the inner office opened, and the gruff man Sarah recalled from the Presidential Suite at GWUH emerged, only with a broad smile on his features instead of the scowl she remembered, and with a much softer voice than before. "Sarah? Good to see you again, come on in." He waved toward the spacious interior. She rolled past him and came to a stop before the huge desk. He pulled one of the chairs that usually stood there away to make room for her, and sat down in the other, facing her. After a brief beat, they both started talking at once, then both stopped at once, and laughed. "After you, sir," she said. "'Sir' is the guy in the office next door. Call me Leo." "The office next door?" McGarry got up. "You haven't had the tour, I see." He walked over to the connecting door. "Wait here a second." A few moments later he re-emerged and beckoned to her. She propelled herself through the anteroom and into the Oval Office, stopping dead when she realized where she was. McGarry was standing in the middle of the room waving her toward the President's desk, as he came around from behind it with a hand extended toward her. "Sarah, I'm so glad to see you've joined us." "Nice to see you vertical, sir," she said with a nervous laugh, shaking his hand. "Nice to _be_ vertical," he responded. "I understand we'll be seeing you for dinner in the Residence this evening." "Yes, sir," she answered. "Well, Mr. President, we won't take up any more of your time then," the Chief of Staff interjected. Bartlet nodded. "Thank you, Leo. Thank you, Sarah." "Thank you, Mr. President," they both said in response, and returned the way they came. Once they were back in McGarry's office, she turned to him and smiled. "That was a dirty trick, you know," she said. "You should have warned me." "I know," he answered with a twinkle and a smirk. "But if you're going to do what needs to be done, you'd better get over those starry eyes." He leaned up against his desk and unbuttoned his jacket. "These are real people, and they've been through a real tragedy." "I know that very well, Mr. McGarry." "Leo," he corrected her. "I've seen their real blood all over the floor and dried their real tears," she continued. "Just because I'm awestruck in the Oval Office doesn't mean I lose track of their humanity." "That's good," he responded, "because sometimes I do." She smiled. This man was an interesting mixture of arrogance and self-awareness. This late in the day, he was beginning to look a bit as if he'd been rode hard and put up wet, but the air of efficiency and total dedication was intact, as was the mischievous twinkle that occasionally popped up in his eyes. He returned to the big leather chair behind the desk. "I won't keep you any longer," he concluded, with a smile. "Don't hesitate to let Margaret know if you need anything, anything at all." This was clearly a dismissal. "Thank you, Mr. McGarry." She left to go back to the East Wing. * * * * * Sarah was escorted into the Residence at a little past seven o'clock and greeted by the First Lady. "My husband tells me that Leo brought you by to say hello this evening." "Yes ma'am, and I don't mind saying it was a dirty trick." Abbey laughed. "You're probably right. And I can empathize, I hate being handled, too. If you call him on it, he'll stop." "Which 'him', ma'am?" "Please call me Abbey." "OK Abbey, which 'him' were you referring to? The President or Mr. McGarry?" "Yes," Abbey answered. "And _nobody_ calls Leo 'Mr. McGarry'." "I sincerely doubt that." "OK, let me rephrase. Nobody who works here calls him Mr. McGarry." The sound of a door closing announced the arrival of the First Daughter. "Zoey," her mother said, "you remember Sarah, from the hospital?" The young woman nodded and extended a hand. "Nice to see you again." "Sarah's joining us for dinner, honey." "OK. What are we having? Tell me it's not chili." "It's not chili. We only let your father do that once a year, and he's booked up past 2010." Sarah tried to watch the First Family with something resembling clinical detachment, but found herself being charmed by these people who maintained so well while living in a fishbowl. The President was a bit preoccupied, as she would expect, but attentive when he was focused. Abbey was solicitous, maybe a little too solicitous, of her daughter, who seemed a bit subdued and withdrawn. After dinner, the President withdrew to his study and the First Lady to hers, and left Sarah and Zoey to have some time alone. "I figure you know what the agenda was for dinner," the older woman said. Zoey nodded. "I know you helped Josh and Toby and Sam and Donna after the shooting. Mom thinks I need somebody to talk to." "Everybody needs somebody to talk to sometimes. Who do you share stuff with?" "I have a couple of friends at school," she said, "but they don't really understand what it's like." "I'm not sure anybody who hasn't been the President's kid can understand," Sarah responded. "I know I sure couldn't, not really." "You know, I could handle it if people hated me for something I did - but instead it's for somebody I am," she said, sighing. "I can relate to that," Sarah replied. "You can?" "Of course. I'm Jewish." "Oh," Zoey said, embarrassed. "I forgot." "That's OK." They spent an hour and a half talking about men, and college, and men, and studying French, and men, and hospitals, and men. "Don't go by my experience," Sarah told her, "I've had two crappy marriages. If you want to look at a relationship that works, look at your folks. They're way over on the other side of the curve, staying together this long." "Yeah," Zoey responded, "but they have to, they're Catholic." "I think if somebody really wants out of a relationship," Sarah said, "being Catholic won't stop them. But your folks have worked real hard - I mean, keep working real hard - to stay together. They're really good models for you, even if they are your parents." She grinned. "Yeah, my folks are pretty great." At about nine-thirty, Sarah started to excuse herself to come home. She didn't want to disturb the President or Abbey, so Zoey walked her to the elevator and saw her off. "I can come see you sometimes?" the First Daughter asked. "I'd like that," Sarah answered. "I'd like that a lot." * * * * *
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