Fic: It’s The Fall That Will Kill You 1/? (J2 AU) NC-17
Title: It's The Fall That Will Kill You - 1/?
Author: magikalrhiannon
Beta: jackiesjunkie
Pairing: J2, Jensen/Danneel (past), Christian Kane/Sandra McCoy - completely AU
Rating: NC-17 (language, sex scenes)
Summary: Widowed US President Jensen Ackles is coming to the end of his first term as the leader of the free world. He’s young, charismatic, stunningly handsome, extremely popular with the public and a single father to his twelve year old daughter, Eloise. His re-election seems a shoe-in until he meets political strategy specialist, Jared Padalecki, who is hired by the environmental lobby to get the elected government to take the changing climate seriously. His political rival, Republican Fred Lehne exploits Jensen’s budding friendship for his own political gain - but will it cost Jensen not only the Presidency but Jared as well?
Disclaimer: Based on the movie The American President with a dash of The West Wing. The first part follows the film closely but it will deviate after that. No infringement or offense intended, all ideas and quotes from both mentioned above are the property of the genius Aaron Sorkin and Co. Everything in this fic is so fake it makes the D&G knock offs look real. Only Eloise is not based on a real person, and none of this is representative of the real person or their preferences.
A/N: chash had an itch for a political drama like The American President, and I am a slave to her fic, therefore I offer this in penance. I also blame wendy's encouragement. So… this is for them. Thank you, thank you, thank you to jackiesjunkie and trueblue55 for the beta and the help - I couldn't have done this without you!
Part 1
It’s an early morning in November, and the dew is still wet on the green manicured lawns of the White House. And while the world is still waking up outside, inside the staff had been hard at work for hours.
Katie Cassidy, Special Assistant to the President, waited by the elevator door that went up to the private residence, clutching her large diary to her chest while juggling the grande cup of Starbucks coffee in her other hand. As the loud ding of the elevator rang out, and the doors opened, she straightened up and stepped inside. She had two minutes to get upstairs and meet the President as he came out of his bedroom.
She efficiently rapped on the door to the Presidential bedroom, and waited. The doors opened while Katie was staring at the rich blue carpet in the hallway, and as she looked up, she was met with her boss’s smiling face.
“Good morning, Katie,” Jensen Ackles smiled, closing the doors behind him.
“Good morning Mr President,” she replied dutifully, handing over the cup. “I apologise for my tardiness.”
“You’re forgiven!” Jensen waved her off as he inhaled the smell. It didn’t matter what coffee they used in the White House kitchens, it didn’t beat a grande cup of Starbuck’s finest. “So, what’s on the schedule today?”
Katie opened her diary and looked down at the crowded schedule as they walked to the elevator and waited for it to open again. “Uh, first thing is senior staff, then you have a security briefing at 8.15, followed by a conference call with the Prime Minister of Australia, and the 10.15 event has been moved to the Mural Room.”
“That’s the American Fisheries thing?” Jensen asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her.
“Yes Sir. They’re giving you a 200 pound Halibut.”
Jensen smirked, “That’s a fish, right?”
“I’m assuming so, Sir, yes.”
Jensen managed to reign in a sigh. “Katie, make a note. We need more events where people give me smelly fish.” As Katie went to write that down in her diary, Jensen chuckled, “It was a joke, Katie.”
“Oh. Yes. Sorry, Sir.”
The elevator doors opened and Jensen smiled at the Agent inside. “Hey JD,” he said brightly as he stepped inside.
“Morning Mr President,” Agent Morgan replied, before speaking into his wrist and pressing the required floor.
As the doors closed, Katie leaned over and said, “Ah, Sir? Mr Collins asked for a moment of your time this morning.”
“Is it about the speech?” Jensen asked, knowing what was coming.
Katie hesitated for a moment. “He seemed concerned.”
Jensen shook his head and sighed, “Well it wouldn’t be a Monday morning if Misha wasn’t concerned about something I did Sunday night.”
When the elevator doors opened, Misha Collins, Jensen’s Deputy Chief of Staff and domestic policy advisor, was standing there, arms wide open and still wearing his fawn coloured overcoat. Pages dangled from one hand, which Jensen assumed was a copy of the speech he’d delivered the night before.
“You skipped an entire paragraph!”
“And a good morning to you too, Misha,” Jensen drawled, stepping out of the elevator, his entourage on his heels.
“‘Americans can no longer afford to pretend they live in a great society…’ and then nothing. You dumped the whole handguns section!”
“Misha, it’s a time for prudence.”
“But Sir! That was the kickass section!” Misha protested as he followed Jensen down the covered walkway that ran from the East to the West Wing of the White House.
“You know, I thought my being the President and all, I could change the speech at my discretion…” Jensen stated, and he could see the moment Misha started to backpedal.
“Sir… Mr President, of course I didn’t mean to imply -”
“Sixty-three percent Misha! Where’s the cartwheels? The fanfare? Huh? Sixty-three percent, man!” They walked past a gardener working on the rose bushes near the rose garden.
“Morning Mr President!” the gardener called out.
Jensen smiled and waved as Katie whispered his name. “Morning Charlie!”
Misha wasn’t going to give up. “Sir, the press is going to want an explanation. I mean, you can’t leave them hanging like that.”
“I’m not leaving anyone hanging, Misha, I don’t randomly hang people. In fact, I don’t strategically hang people either, come to think of it. Can we do that?” Jensen asked as the Agent by the glass doors held it open for them. “Thanks Steve,” Jensen said as he walked through.
“No Sir, you can’t. And they’re hanging. You dropped the whole kickass section. Now there’s this thing… hanging. Out… there.”
Jensen turned and raised an eyebrow. “There’s a thing hanging?” Misha nodded. “Out there?” he pointed outside.
“Figuratively, yes.”
Jensen stopped in an open doorway and called out to a staffer, “Alona -”
“Good morning Sir,” she said smiling, her blonde hair flying over her shoulder.
“Morning. Did they tell you I’m going to need -”
“The overall consumer spending and not just first homes, yes Sir. We’ll have it for you in fifteen minutes.”
He grinned, “Thank you!”
Jensen moved on, with Katie and Misha on his heels once more.
“Mr President, I really think that we need to focus on-”
“Misha, however much coffee you’re on, cut it in half, would you? Or better yet, give it to me!”
“I… don’t drink coffee, Sir,” Misha replied, frowning.
“Then hit yourself over the head with a baseball bat and calm the hell down, would you please?”
Another staffer crossed their path.
“Happy birthday Tracie,” Katie called out.
“Hey! Tracie! Happy birthday,” Jensen said brightly, causing the staffer to smile even brighter.
“Thank you Sir!” she gushed and moved on quickly, blushing.
Once she was out of earshot, Jensen leaned over to Katie and said softly, “I should send her some flowers.”
Katie smiled brightly, “You already did, Sir.”
“I really am made of awesome, then, aren’t I?” he joked, and winked at Katie.
They finally reached his outer office and Jensen once again said good morning to his official secretary, Samantha Ferris.
“Good morning, Mr President,” Samantha said, looking up from her work.
“How are you, Sam?” he asked, accepting the folder she handed to him.
“Fine, thank you Sir. Mr Buckley has the breakdown of the approval poll for you. He seemed to indicate it was very good news.”
Jensen grinned widely. “Sixty-three percent!”
“Eloise called just a moment ago. She said you forgot to sign her permission slip for her class field trip-” Samantha mentioned before Jensen headed into the Oval Office.
“I’ll go get it,” Katie said, making a note on her diary.
“Thank you Sam. Ah, what time does she get home today?” he asked, frowning.
“Three-twenty.”
“And how does my afternoon look?” he asked Katie, looking through the folder that Samantha had given him as he walked into his office.
“Very crowded.”
“Schedule some time at three-thirty, okay?” He looked up and gave Katie a smile as she nodded and headed out of the room to get the missing permission slip.
“Buenos dias, Senor Presidente,” a beautiful brunette said as she entered the room in her crisp navy suit and matching pumps.
“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie how was Mexico?” Jensen asked, coming around to lean against the front of his desk.
“I really didn’t appreciate it until I came back to discover that America isn’t a great society?” she teased, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
Misha raised his hands in mock surrender, “He dumped a whole section,” he said to Sophia.
“Now there’s apparently a thing hanging out there… somewhere,” Jensen added ruefully.
“Not a great society, Sir?” Sophia asked her boss.
Jensen smiled, “Well there was a while when you were out of the country, but now that you’re back, Soph, we’re great again!”
Sophia shook her head. “Great. Now I have a press room full of people saying, ‘What did he mean by that?’ You really shouldn’t be allowed to change speeches on the fly.”
Misha, vindicated, just said, “See?!”
Jensen shook his head, amused, and grabbed the folder off the desk behind him. Opening it again, he started to read as the door to the Oval Office opened and closed again.
“Chris, did you get a copy of this?” Jensen asked, not looking up.
Christian Kane, Chief of Staff and Jensen’s policy advisor for foreign affairs walked into the room further. Chris wasn’t Jensen’s most trusted advisor, he’d been his best friend since college.
“Is that the letter from Beaver at the GDC?”
“It would appear to be not just the GDC but the whole environmental community. Are they serious?” Jensen looked up, “These people are outta control!”
“It’s more like frustration, Sir.”
Sophia frowned. “Are they blaming the President for Global Warming again?”
Chris smiled, “Well they don’t think he caused it, if that’s what you mean. Mr President, I’m on the phone with these people two, three times a week. I honestly don’t know what they want. I don’t think they know what they want at this point.”
Misha suddenly looked serious. “They want twenty percent reduction in fossil fuel emissions, that’s what they want.”
“They won’t get it,” Chris assured him.
“To be fair, we haven’t tried either.”
“Misha, Hendrikson, Speight and Heyerdahl hold way too many markers. We try and push on this? They will hear the thud in Texas when we crash and you don’t want that in an election year.”
Jensen sighed. “Chris, talk to them again. You know the drill, don’t like the implication I’ve turned my back on the environment, blah blah blah. I’ll send 455 to the floor but with ten percent not twenty. If they want to pull their support, they can go right ahead. With sixty-three percent approval? I don’t need their help getting a pen passed let alone a bill.” He looked at his watch as Chris grinned and nodded. “Where the hell is AJ? We gotta get going.”
Outside the office, there was a loud crash.
“There’s AJ,” Chris muttered, as AJ bounced and bumbled his way into the Oval Office and started to apologise for being late, while tripping over the rug on the floor.
“You okay AJ?” Jensen asked, leaning forward to help AJ to his feet.
“Thank you, Sir. Yes, of course. Sorry I’m late. There was a potted palm. It moves.”
“We’re all here, let’s get this show on the road,” Chris announced. “We have a country to run here.”
“Thank you, Christian,” Jensen smirked. “Okay, well, good job team. We were elected to the White House three years ago by the narrowest of margins and yet here, miracle of miracles, today AJ tells me that sixty-three percent of registered voters think we’re doing an outstanding job.”
AJ put his hand up nervously. “Uh, wait. Did you say registered voters?” The rest of the room laughs. Jensen just cuffs him over the back of the head.
“Okay, okay. We already know we’re doing a kickass job. But we gotta get this crime bill of ours through Congress and if we don’t? We can kiss these ratings goodbye. So, that means we’re kicking that into gear, starting today.”
Sophia sat up straighter from where she was perched on the sofa. “Can I announce this to the gaggle? Gun Control-”
“Crime control, Soph. We’re not soft on crime and we’re not whimps. Let’s not sound it, yeah?” Chris piped up.
“Wait a sec. Are we not-?”
“Misha-”
“Chris, are we not putting back the handgun restrictions?” Misha asked, incredulous.
“We’re leaving them out, Misha.” Chris confimed. “Now is not the time to go after the whole enchilada.”
“But now is the perfect time to go after the handguns! We campaigned on this issue! We can’t take it out. Sir, we have a sixty-three percent approval rating. That’s like having a Ferrari Enzo in the garage when you’ve been stuck with a broken down ‘Stang for the last four years. Let’s take it for a spin and see what it can do!” Misha implored.
Jensen rounded the desk and flicked through some files that needed his attention. “We’re going to need the approval rating to win the re-election. Misha, I know this is your pet project, but we’ll get to it after re-elections, okay? We got eighteen votes to get in seventy-two days if we want to announce this in the State Of The Union.”
“Right,” Chris announced, “Sophia, start the ball rolling on the press. AJ, you’re running the war room on this one. None of this namby pamby crap either, okay? WWED, what would Eastwood do.”
“Eastwood… I can do that,” AJ said, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“And we want you,” Chris looked at Misha, “to be the legislative liaison on this one, Misha. You’re our guy on the Hill.”
“How are we going to be seen as strong on crime when we’re still arming the drug dealers?” Misha muttered.
Chris clapped him on the shoulder. “Fight the fights you can win, buddy. Right, you all know what you’re doing. Let’s meet up again for a debrief at say, six p.m. tonight in my office. Thank you, everyone.”
Summarily dismissed, everyone except for Chris left the room to the sound of Misha grumbling about handguns. Jensen looked up when the door to the Oval Office closed, leaving them alone.
“You’ll meet up with the GDC this week?” Jensen asked, sitting down in his chair. Chris nodded. “Tell me honestly, they going to be a problem?”
“Not if I play hardball,” Chris smiled confidently.
“Good. Go get ‘em,” Jensen dismissed Chris effectively, who nodded and saluted the Commander and Chief. As he left the room, Katie returned. Jensen looked up. “What’s next?”
“Security briefing,” she announced. Jensen nodded and waved his hand for her to send in the next lot of staffers. It was going to be a long day.
~*~
Jim Beaver hung up the phone and sighed. She’s done it again. “LAUREN!” he bellowed, pacing behind his desk, the glass walls of his enclosed cubical rattling.
It didn’t take long for the elegant brunette to appear in his doorway, opening the glass divider and leaning on the frame.
“You bellowed?” she asked innocently.
“Get your ass in here and shut the door,” Jim ordered gruffly. He waited until she did so before he started in. “I just got off the phone with Christian Kane.”
Lauren raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “The President read the letter then?” she asked.
“The President is pissed as hell, Lauren, and I gotta say so am I.”
Lauren scoffed. “It was aggressive, Jim, and we should stand by every word-”
“It was a stupid move.” Jim turned to face her. “The President doesn’t need us this time, Lauren! This isn’t four years ago when he was begging for help! He’s got an approval rating through the roof and he could give a damn if the Environmental lobby is on his coat-tails or not! No, this time we need some help. We need a big gun.”
“We don’t need any more experts, Jim! What more can another expert tell them that the experts haven’t already? I mean, really, Jim. This is just- ”
She was going to start on another rant if Jim didn’t shut her up effectively. “Not an environmental expert.”
Lauren narrowed her eyes. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m bringing in Jared Padalecki.”
Lauren stood up. “You’re what? Padalecki doesn’t know the first thing about the Environmental Lobby! He’s from Texas Jim!”
Jim shook his head. “Padalecki is a specialist political operative. He’s a heavy weight with a batting average that makes the Hill cry. And he’s a quick learner. He’ll get the job done, Lauren. He always does.”
“When are you going to call him?” Lauren asked, sounding defeated.
Jim smiled for the first time since she walked into his office. “I already have.”
~*~
Misha was in the Oval Office with Jensen again, going over another speech that he was scheduled to give.
“No, drop that and bring this in, that’ll work better,” Jensen said, marking the printed speech.
“Okay, okay. Yeah, you’re right. Alright, I’ll take this back to Toby and get him on it,” Misha said, re-reading what they had changed.
Sophia walked into the office, as the door was already open. “Gordon Walker from The Post asked me what the White House’s idea of a great society was. I told him I couldn’t speak for the White House but for my money, Bermuda.”
“That’s great, Soph,” Jensen said absently, scratching something else on the speech he’d snatched back from Misha’s hands. “Not saying that either. Tell Toby to change that and come up with something else. That’s bush league.”
Misha looked over Jensen’s shoulder. “Oh. Yeah. He mentioned that.”
Jensen handed the speech back to Misha. Katie entered the office and walked over with something for the President to sign.
“Mr President, your sister Mackenzie just called. She’s come down with the flu and won’t be able to attend the event with you on Thursday.”
Jensen looked up. “Oh. Is she okay?” he asked. Katie shrugged. “Okay. Remind me to call her later tonight.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Sophia clutched her folder to her chest. “You going stag, Sir?” she asked.
Jensen shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
Sophia smiled. “Well, it’s not like we’ve ever gone wrong parading you as the lonely widower before.” Silence descended upon the room as Sophia froze. “Oh. My. God. Mr President… I’m… I … I don’t know what to say. That was completely out of line, I can’t believe I just said that. I’m so, so sorry. I would never dream of insulting you or your wife. I just-”
Jensen offered her a small smile, and masterfully hid how much the dig had hurt behind his best ‘out in public’ face. “It’s quite alright, Soph. Don’t worry about it.” He looked at his watch. “It’s three-forty. I’m going to go say hi to Ellie.”
As Jensen left the room, Katie and Misha comforted Sophia, who was clearly distraught over her thoughtless comment.
~*~
Jensen quickly made his way up to the residence, carefully keeping his head down to avoid any conversations with people. He didn’t want to see anyone but Eloise. It wasn’t that Sophia’s comment had been wrong. It was right, in a way. They hadn’t gone wrong with playing up the fact that Danneel had died from cancer just before the nominations for the Presidential elections.
But it did make him miss her.
He heard Eloise well before he found her, in her room practicing her trombone. It could have been worse. She could have wanted to play the Tuba. He knew she was practicing her scales - he played a little trumpet himself in his school days, though that had given way to his guitar once he’d hit high school, but he didn’t miss an opportunity to bust her chops.
“Hi honey! Sounds great! Who were you playing then?” he asked, waltzing into her room.
She moved the trombone away from her mouth and frowned. “Uh, scales?”
Jensen smiled as he sat down on the bed beside her chair, “Of course.”
“You’re such a dork, Daddy.”
“Hey! I’m the President. That’s gotta be a little cool, right?”
Eloise thought for a moment and then grinned, her eyes that were the exact same shade as her mother’s twinkling with happiness. “A little.”
He grinned. “How was school today?”
Eloise shrugged. “It was okay. I aced my math test.”
“That’s great, honey. See? I knew you could do it!”
“Thanks for helping me study. I know you had some important things to do instead.”
Jensen moved over to crouch in front of his daughter. “Baby, nothing is more important to me, than you. Okay?” Eloise bit her lip and nodded. “Okay. Now give Daddy some sugar. I gotta go and invade another country or something.”
Eloise giggled as she kissed her father’s cheek and wrapped an arm around his neck for a hug. “Daddy, we’re not at war with anyone right now.”
As he pulled back, he tickled her sides. “You sure?”
“Go!” she yelled, pushing him away.
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He stood up and headed for the door. When he reached it, he turned to face her. “Oh, by the way, don’t think we’re not going to talk about what’s going on in Social Studies over dinner.”
Trombone poised at her mouth, Eloise lowered it to her lap and looked crushed. “Dad.”
“Honey, if you have any problems, you know you can come to me, yeah?” She nodded. “Good. Because if you need help, don’t be afraid to seek it out okay?”
“Okay Daddy.”
“Good. See you tonight, honey.”
Jensen turned to leave, only stopping when he heard her play “Hail To The Chief”.
“You’re off tempo!” he retorted, grinning as he left, her laughter ringing in his ears.
~*~
The next day, Jensen was in the Oval Office when Katie came in to tell him that the marine assigned to be his official physician was there for his weekly check up. Jensen sighed but grudgingly beckoned him inside and suffered through the directions the examination.
“So what exactly are you checking for today?” Jensen asked as he put down the arm that was holding yet another report that he had to read while Captain Charles Malik Whitfield checked his blood pressure.
“Oh you know, blood pressure, heart rate, cell count, brains, the usual,” Captain Whitfield joked as he pressed the stethoscope against the inside of Jensen’s arm to hear the pulse.
“Lovely. Everyone’s sassing me this week. Have you all missed the part where I’m your boss?” Jensen asked, an amused smile tugging at his mouth.
“Technically Sir, I don’t work for you. I work for the United States Marine Corps,” Capt Whitfield replied, as he pulled out a needle from his medical bag and used it to drain fluid from a small container.
“And they work for me. What are you doing with that?” Jensen asked, his eyes widening on the needle.
“Relax, it’s just a flu shot,” Capt Whitfield replied, pulling the needle out and testing the flow.
“How do I know that’s just a flu shot? You could have anything in there. I think I should call in JD, just in case,” Jensen said as he unbuttoned his shirt and presented his bicep. “This could be a coup!”
Capt Whitfield chuckled as he swabbed Jensen’s arm. “Sir, in the event of a coup, what makes you think the Secret Service will be on your side?” he asked in a low voice and then jabbed the needle into Jensen’s arm.
Jensen winced. “Now there’s a thought that’s gonna fester.”
Captain Whitfield laughed. “Don’t worry Sir. You’ll be fine.” He waited until Jensen had re-buttoned his shirt before presenting him with a candy from his bag. “Every time you see the doctor, you get a lollypop.”
“Don’t they rot your teeth?” Jensen asked, plucking the candy from his hands.
“What do I care? I’m not a dentist. I am, however, concerned about your blood pressure. And no more Texas sized steaks. Maximum once a week for red meat, and you need more fish in your diet.”
Jensen opened his arms wide, “What do you know? I was just given a 200 pound Halibut this morning.”
“Halibut is great. Cod, flake, and hoki. White fish. And cut back on the caffine.”
“Okay, now you’re breaking my heart.”
Captain Whitfield smiled. “I’m leaving a list of food you’re allowed to eat with Ms Ferris to pass onto the Chef. Don’t bother trying to steal it, I’ve also emailed her a copy ahead of time.”
“Dammit.” Jensen knew when he was beaten. “Say, how’s that baby girl of yours?”
Capt Whitfield grinned. “She’s good. She’s growing big. Just like her Papa.”
“You got photos?” Jensen asked. Capt smiled shyly. “C’mon, hand ‘em over.” Jensen grinned when he looked at the photo of the baby and her proud parents that the Captain passed over. “Aw, isn’t she adorable. Good thing she looks like her mother.”
Capt Whitfield laughed and accepted the photo back. “Thank you, Sir.”
“What’s her name?”
“Charlotte.”
Jensen smiled again. “Beautiful. Okay, well I’ll see you next week, yeah?”
Capt Whitfield shook his head. “No Sir. Next week I’ll be in Jordan. There’s a military hospital there. We’re going to teach them how to do amputations.”
Jensen, suddenly concerned, frowned. “How long will you be away?”
“Just two weeks. You’ll be in good hands. Major Brocksen is a first class physician.”
“I’m sure.” Jensen offered his hand, and after a moment, Capt Whitfield shook it. Then Jensen saluted. “Godspeed Malik.”
Capt Whitfield smiled as he saluted the Commander and Chief. “God willing. Thank you, Sir.”
Jensen clapped him on the shoulder. “Go on, get outta here. Go teach that baby girl to read or vote or something.”
“Yes, Sir!”
As he watched his friend and doctor leave his office, he sighed. He just had a bad feeling about this trip. Pushing it aside, he looked at his watch as Katie bustled into the room.
“Sir? The President of France is on line 2.”
“Patch him through,” he said, rounding his desk and taking a seat. It was time to get back to running the country.
~*~
That night, after bidding everyone goodnight around midnight, Jensen and Chris sat on the sofas in the Oval Office with a tumbler of scotch each.
“Jim Beaver brought in a hired gun,” Chris mentioned, sipping his drink. Jensen looked over, an eyebrow raised in question. “At the GDC.”
“Oh. Really?” Chris just nodded. “Who?”
“Jared Padalecki.”
“Padalecki… never heard of him.”
“He’s a lawyer from Texas actually. He’s been very successful in getting Congressmen elected. I met him a couple of years ago. Aside from the dog-with-a-bone attitude, he’s a nice guy,” Chris said, smiling.
“Maybe we should steal him?” Jensen asked thoughtfully. Chris smiled and shook his head. “Ten percent, Chris. That’s all we can realistically expect.”
“I have a meeting with them set up for tomorrow. You know if you have a chance, maybe you could drop by, say hello.” Chris sighed as he finished his scotch. “It might smooth the way.”
“Mention it to Katie, put it on my schedule if I have time.” Jensen settled back in his chair and tried to relax. It had been a long couple of days. Then again, it was always a long couple of days. “We have to clear this off the table. If we don’t focus on the crime bill, we might drop the ball. I want a touchdown or two on this one, not just scoring on the buzzer.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Jensen looked over at his friend. “Chris… Sophia said something to me today and while I realise she wouldn’t have said it if… she wasn’t really saying it to me as The President but… ah, you know what? Nevermind.”
“You thinking about Danni?” Chris ventured. He looked over at his friend, who was now staring into his glass of scotch.
“She sure would have loved being the First Lady, you know?” Jensen asked, smiling softly. “The trims and trappings of this place. She would have loved it.”
“Yeah, but she would have hated the obligations.”
Jensen looked up and chuckled. “Yes, she would have.” He drained his glass and stood up. “Time for you to get outta here. Night Chris.”
Chris stood up. “Good night Mr President.”
Jensen stopped him from walking out of the room. “Chris. When we’re alone and out of ‘The Office’ you can call me Jensen, you know.”
“I’m sorry Sir?” Chris’ brow crinkled.
“You never call me Jensen anymore. I mean, you were best man at my wedding. Hell, we raised hell at Notre Dame! You can call me by my first name.”
“Sure thing, Mr President,” he smirked. He knew Chris never would, not while he was in office.
Jensen shook his head and laughed. “See you tomorrow.” And with that Jensen headed up to the Residence himself.
Next
Author: magikalrhiannon
Beta: jackiesjunkie
Pairing: J2, Jensen/Danneel (past), Christian Kane/Sandra McCoy - completely AU
Rating: NC-17 (language, sex scenes)
Summary: Widowed US President Jensen Ackles is coming to the end of his first term as the leader of the free world. He’s young, charismatic, stunningly handsome, extremely popular with the public and a single father to his twelve year old daughter, Eloise. His re-election seems a shoe-in until he meets political strategy specialist, Jared Padalecki, who is hired by the environmental lobby to get the elected government to take the changing climate seriously. His political rival, Republican Fred Lehne exploits Jensen’s budding friendship for his own political gain - but will it cost Jensen not only the Presidency but Jared as well?
Disclaimer: Based on the movie The American President with a dash of The West Wing. The first part follows the film closely but it will deviate after that. No infringement or offense intended, all ideas and quotes from both mentioned above are the property of the genius Aaron Sorkin and Co. Everything in this fic is so fake it makes the D&G knock offs look real. Only Eloise is not based on a real person, and none of this is representative of the real person or their preferences.
A/N: chash had an itch for a political drama like The American President, and I am a slave to her fic, therefore I offer this in penance. I also blame wendy's encouragement. So… this is for them. Thank you, thank you, thank you to jackiesjunkie and trueblue55 for the beta and the help - I couldn't have done this without you!
Part 1
It’s an early morning in November, and the dew is still wet on the green manicured lawns of the White House. And while the world is still waking up outside, inside the staff had been hard at work for hours.
Katie Cassidy, Special Assistant to the President, waited by the elevator door that went up to the private residence, clutching her large diary to her chest while juggling the grande cup of Starbucks coffee in her other hand. As the loud ding of the elevator rang out, and the doors opened, she straightened up and stepped inside. She had two minutes to get upstairs and meet the President as he came out of his bedroom.
She efficiently rapped on the door to the Presidential bedroom, and waited. The doors opened while Katie was staring at the rich blue carpet in the hallway, and as she looked up, she was met with her boss’s smiling face.
“Good morning, Katie,” Jensen Ackles smiled, closing the doors behind him.
“Good morning Mr President,” she replied dutifully, handing over the cup. “I apologise for my tardiness.”
“You’re forgiven!” Jensen waved her off as he inhaled the smell. It didn’t matter what coffee they used in the White House kitchens, it didn’t beat a grande cup of Starbuck’s finest. “So, what’s on the schedule today?”
Katie opened her diary and looked down at the crowded schedule as they walked to the elevator and waited for it to open again. “Uh, first thing is senior staff, then you have a security briefing at 8.15, followed by a conference call with the Prime Minister of Australia, and the 10.15 event has been moved to the Mural Room.”
“That’s the American Fisheries thing?” Jensen asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her.
“Yes Sir. They’re giving you a 200 pound Halibut.”
Jensen smirked, “That’s a fish, right?”
“I’m assuming so, Sir, yes.”
Jensen managed to reign in a sigh. “Katie, make a note. We need more events where people give me smelly fish.” As Katie went to write that down in her diary, Jensen chuckled, “It was a joke, Katie.”
“Oh. Yes. Sorry, Sir.”
The elevator doors opened and Jensen smiled at the Agent inside. “Hey JD,” he said brightly as he stepped inside.
“Morning Mr President,” Agent Morgan replied, before speaking into his wrist and pressing the required floor.
As the doors closed, Katie leaned over and said, “Ah, Sir? Mr Collins asked for a moment of your time this morning.”
“Is it about the speech?” Jensen asked, knowing what was coming.
Katie hesitated for a moment. “He seemed concerned.”
Jensen shook his head and sighed, “Well it wouldn’t be a Monday morning if Misha wasn’t concerned about something I did Sunday night.”
When the elevator doors opened, Misha Collins, Jensen’s Deputy Chief of Staff and domestic policy advisor, was standing there, arms wide open and still wearing his fawn coloured overcoat. Pages dangled from one hand, which Jensen assumed was a copy of the speech he’d delivered the night before.
“You skipped an entire paragraph!”
“And a good morning to you too, Misha,” Jensen drawled, stepping out of the elevator, his entourage on his heels.
“‘Americans can no longer afford to pretend they live in a great society…’ and then nothing. You dumped the whole handguns section!”
“Misha, it’s a time for prudence.”
“But Sir! That was the kickass section!” Misha protested as he followed Jensen down the covered walkway that ran from the East to the West Wing of the White House.
“You know, I thought my being the President and all, I could change the speech at my discretion…” Jensen stated, and he could see the moment Misha started to backpedal.
“Sir… Mr President, of course I didn’t mean to imply -”
“Sixty-three percent Misha! Where’s the cartwheels? The fanfare? Huh? Sixty-three percent, man!” They walked past a gardener working on the rose bushes near the rose garden.
“Morning Mr President!” the gardener called out.
Jensen smiled and waved as Katie whispered his name. “Morning Charlie!”
Misha wasn’t going to give up. “Sir, the press is going to want an explanation. I mean, you can’t leave them hanging like that.”
“I’m not leaving anyone hanging, Misha, I don’t randomly hang people. In fact, I don’t strategically hang people either, come to think of it. Can we do that?” Jensen asked as the Agent by the glass doors held it open for them. “Thanks Steve,” Jensen said as he walked through.
“No Sir, you can’t. And they’re hanging. You dropped the whole kickass section. Now there’s this thing… hanging. Out… there.”
Jensen turned and raised an eyebrow. “There’s a thing hanging?” Misha nodded. “Out there?” he pointed outside.
“Figuratively, yes.”
Jensen stopped in an open doorway and called out to a staffer, “Alona -”
“Good morning Sir,” she said smiling, her blonde hair flying over her shoulder.
“Morning. Did they tell you I’m going to need -”
“The overall consumer spending and not just first homes, yes Sir. We’ll have it for you in fifteen minutes.”
He grinned, “Thank you!”
Jensen moved on, with Katie and Misha on his heels once more.
“Mr President, I really think that we need to focus on-”
“Misha, however much coffee you’re on, cut it in half, would you? Or better yet, give it to me!”
“I… don’t drink coffee, Sir,” Misha replied, frowning.
“Then hit yourself over the head with a baseball bat and calm the hell down, would you please?”
Another staffer crossed their path.
“Happy birthday Tracie,” Katie called out.
“Hey! Tracie! Happy birthday,” Jensen said brightly, causing the staffer to smile even brighter.
“Thank you Sir!” she gushed and moved on quickly, blushing.
Once she was out of earshot, Jensen leaned over to Katie and said softly, “I should send her some flowers.”
Katie smiled brightly, “You already did, Sir.”
“I really am made of awesome, then, aren’t I?” he joked, and winked at Katie.
They finally reached his outer office and Jensen once again said good morning to his official secretary, Samantha Ferris.
“Good morning, Mr President,” Samantha said, looking up from her work.
“How are you, Sam?” he asked, accepting the folder she handed to him.
“Fine, thank you Sir. Mr Buckley has the breakdown of the approval poll for you. He seemed to indicate it was very good news.”
Jensen grinned widely. “Sixty-three percent!”
“Eloise called just a moment ago. She said you forgot to sign her permission slip for her class field trip-” Samantha mentioned before Jensen headed into the Oval Office.
“I’ll go get it,” Katie said, making a note on her diary.
“Thank you Sam. Ah, what time does she get home today?” he asked, frowning.
“Three-twenty.”
“And how does my afternoon look?” he asked Katie, looking through the folder that Samantha had given him as he walked into his office.
“Very crowded.”
“Schedule some time at three-thirty, okay?” He looked up and gave Katie a smile as she nodded and headed out of the room to get the missing permission slip.
“Buenos dias, Senor Presidente,” a beautiful brunette said as she entered the room in her crisp navy suit and matching pumps.
“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie how was Mexico?” Jensen asked, coming around to lean against the front of his desk.
“I really didn’t appreciate it until I came back to discover that America isn’t a great society?” she teased, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
Misha raised his hands in mock surrender, “He dumped a whole section,” he said to Sophia.
“Now there’s apparently a thing hanging out there… somewhere,” Jensen added ruefully.
“Not a great society, Sir?” Sophia asked her boss.
Jensen smiled, “Well there was a while when you were out of the country, but now that you’re back, Soph, we’re great again!”
Sophia shook her head. “Great. Now I have a press room full of people saying, ‘What did he mean by that?’ You really shouldn’t be allowed to change speeches on the fly.”
Misha, vindicated, just said, “See?!”
Jensen shook his head, amused, and grabbed the folder off the desk behind him. Opening it again, he started to read as the door to the Oval Office opened and closed again.
“Chris, did you get a copy of this?” Jensen asked, not looking up.
Christian Kane, Chief of Staff and Jensen’s policy advisor for foreign affairs walked into the room further. Chris wasn’t Jensen’s most trusted advisor, he’d been his best friend since college.
“Is that the letter from Beaver at the GDC?”
“It would appear to be not just the GDC but the whole environmental community. Are they serious?” Jensen looked up, “These people are outta control!”
“It’s more like frustration, Sir.”
Sophia frowned. “Are they blaming the President for Global Warming again?”
Chris smiled, “Well they don’t think he caused it, if that’s what you mean. Mr President, I’m on the phone with these people two, three times a week. I honestly don’t know what they want. I don’t think they know what they want at this point.”
Misha suddenly looked serious. “They want twenty percent reduction in fossil fuel emissions, that’s what they want.”
“They won’t get it,” Chris assured him.
“To be fair, we haven’t tried either.”
“Misha, Hendrikson, Speight and Heyerdahl hold way too many markers. We try and push on this? They will hear the thud in Texas when we crash and you don’t want that in an election year.”
Jensen sighed. “Chris, talk to them again. You know the drill, don’t like the implication I’ve turned my back on the environment, blah blah blah. I’ll send 455 to the floor but with ten percent not twenty. If they want to pull their support, they can go right ahead. With sixty-three percent approval? I don’t need their help getting a pen passed let alone a bill.” He looked at his watch as Chris grinned and nodded. “Where the hell is AJ? We gotta get going.”
Outside the office, there was a loud crash.
“There’s AJ,” Chris muttered, as AJ bounced and bumbled his way into the Oval Office and started to apologise for being late, while tripping over the rug on the floor.
“You okay AJ?” Jensen asked, leaning forward to help AJ to his feet.
“Thank you, Sir. Yes, of course. Sorry I’m late. There was a potted palm. It moves.”
“We’re all here, let’s get this show on the road,” Chris announced. “We have a country to run here.”
“Thank you, Christian,” Jensen smirked. “Okay, well, good job team. We were elected to the White House three years ago by the narrowest of margins and yet here, miracle of miracles, today AJ tells me that sixty-three percent of registered voters think we’re doing an outstanding job.”
AJ put his hand up nervously. “Uh, wait. Did you say registered voters?” The rest of the room laughs. Jensen just cuffs him over the back of the head.
“Okay, okay. We already know we’re doing a kickass job. But we gotta get this crime bill of ours through Congress and if we don’t? We can kiss these ratings goodbye. So, that means we’re kicking that into gear, starting today.”
Sophia sat up straighter from where she was perched on the sofa. “Can I announce this to the gaggle? Gun Control-”
“Crime control, Soph. We’re not soft on crime and we’re not whimps. Let’s not sound it, yeah?” Chris piped up.
“Wait a sec. Are we not-?”
“Misha-”
“Chris, are we not putting back the handgun restrictions?” Misha asked, incredulous.
“We’re leaving them out, Misha.” Chris confimed. “Now is not the time to go after the whole enchilada.”
“But now is the perfect time to go after the handguns! We campaigned on this issue! We can’t take it out. Sir, we have a sixty-three percent approval rating. That’s like having a Ferrari Enzo in the garage when you’ve been stuck with a broken down ‘Stang for the last four years. Let’s take it for a spin and see what it can do!” Misha implored.
Jensen rounded the desk and flicked through some files that needed his attention. “We’re going to need the approval rating to win the re-election. Misha, I know this is your pet project, but we’ll get to it after re-elections, okay? We got eighteen votes to get in seventy-two days if we want to announce this in the State Of The Union.”
“Right,” Chris announced, “Sophia, start the ball rolling on the press. AJ, you’re running the war room on this one. None of this namby pamby crap either, okay? WWED, what would Eastwood do.”
“Eastwood… I can do that,” AJ said, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“And we want you,” Chris looked at Misha, “to be the legislative liaison on this one, Misha. You’re our guy on the Hill.”
“How are we going to be seen as strong on crime when we’re still arming the drug dealers?” Misha muttered.
Chris clapped him on the shoulder. “Fight the fights you can win, buddy. Right, you all know what you’re doing. Let’s meet up again for a debrief at say, six p.m. tonight in my office. Thank you, everyone.”
Summarily dismissed, everyone except for Chris left the room to the sound of Misha grumbling about handguns. Jensen looked up when the door to the Oval Office closed, leaving them alone.
“You’ll meet up with the GDC this week?” Jensen asked, sitting down in his chair. Chris nodded. “Tell me honestly, they going to be a problem?”
“Not if I play hardball,” Chris smiled confidently.
“Good. Go get ‘em,” Jensen dismissed Chris effectively, who nodded and saluted the Commander and Chief. As he left the room, Katie returned. Jensen looked up. “What’s next?”
“Security briefing,” she announced. Jensen nodded and waved his hand for her to send in the next lot of staffers. It was going to be a long day.
~*~
Jim Beaver hung up the phone and sighed. She’s done it again. “LAUREN!” he bellowed, pacing behind his desk, the glass walls of his enclosed cubical rattling.
It didn’t take long for the elegant brunette to appear in his doorway, opening the glass divider and leaning on the frame.
“You bellowed?” she asked innocently.
“Get your ass in here and shut the door,” Jim ordered gruffly. He waited until she did so before he started in. “I just got off the phone with Christian Kane.”
Lauren raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “The President read the letter then?” she asked.
“The President is pissed as hell, Lauren, and I gotta say so am I.”
Lauren scoffed. “It was aggressive, Jim, and we should stand by every word-”
“It was a stupid move.” Jim turned to face her. “The President doesn’t need us this time, Lauren! This isn’t four years ago when he was begging for help! He’s got an approval rating through the roof and he could give a damn if the Environmental lobby is on his coat-tails or not! No, this time we need some help. We need a big gun.”
“We don’t need any more experts, Jim! What more can another expert tell them that the experts haven’t already? I mean, really, Jim. This is just- ”
She was going to start on another rant if Jim didn’t shut her up effectively. “Not an environmental expert.”
Lauren narrowed her eyes. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m bringing in Jared Padalecki.”
Lauren stood up. “You’re what? Padalecki doesn’t know the first thing about the Environmental Lobby! He’s from Texas Jim!”
Jim shook his head. “Padalecki is a specialist political operative. He’s a heavy weight with a batting average that makes the Hill cry. And he’s a quick learner. He’ll get the job done, Lauren. He always does.”
“When are you going to call him?” Lauren asked, sounding defeated.
Jim smiled for the first time since she walked into his office. “I already have.”
~*~
Misha was in the Oval Office with Jensen again, going over another speech that he was scheduled to give.
“No, drop that and bring this in, that’ll work better,” Jensen said, marking the printed speech.
“Okay, okay. Yeah, you’re right. Alright, I’ll take this back to Toby and get him on it,” Misha said, re-reading what they had changed.
Sophia walked into the office, as the door was already open. “Gordon Walker from The Post asked me what the White House’s idea of a great society was. I told him I couldn’t speak for the White House but for my money, Bermuda.”
“That’s great, Soph,” Jensen said absently, scratching something else on the speech he’d snatched back from Misha’s hands. “Not saying that either. Tell Toby to change that and come up with something else. That’s bush league.”
Misha looked over Jensen’s shoulder. “Oh. Yeah. He mentioned that.”
Jensen handed the speech back to Misha. Katie entered the office and walked over with something for the President to sign.
“Mr President, your sister Mackenzie just called. She’s come down with the flu and won’t be able to attend the event with you on Thursday.”
Jensen looked up. “Oh. Is she okay?” he asked. Katie shrugged. “Okay. Remind me to call her later tonight.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Sophia clutched her folder to her chest. “You going stag, Sir?” she asked.
Jensen shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
Sophia smiled. “Well, it’s not like we’ve ever gone wrong parading you as the lonely widower before.” Silence descended upon the room as Sophia froze. “Oh. My. God. Mr President… I’m… I … I don’t know what to say. That was completely out of line, I can’t believe I just said that. I’m so, so sorry. I would never dream of insulting you or your wife. I just-”
Jensen offered her a small smile, and masterfully hid how much the dig had hurt behind his best ‘out in public’ face. “It’s quite alright, Soph. Don’t worry about it.” He looked at his watch. “It’s three-forty. I’m going to go say hi to Ellie.”
As Jensen left the room, Katie and Misha comforted Sophia, who was clearly distraught over her thoughtless comment.
~*~
Jensen quickly made his way up to the residence, carefully keeping his head down to avoid any conversations with people. He didn’t want to see anyone but Eloise. It wasn’t that Sophia’s comment had been wrong. It was right, in a way. They hadn’t gone wrong with playing up the fact that Danneel had died from cancer just before the nominations for the Presidential elections.
But it did make him miss her.
He heard Eloise well before he found her, in her room practicing her trombone. It could have been worse. She could have wanted to play the Tuba. He knew she was practicing her scales - he played a little trumpet himself in his school days, though that had given way to his guitar once he’d hit high school, but he didn’t miss an opportunity to bust her chops.
“Hi honey! Sounds great! Who were you playing then?” he asked, waltzing into her room.
She moved the trombone away from her mouth and frowned. “Uh, scales?”
Jensen smiled as he sat down on the bed beside her chair, “Of course.”
“You’re such a dork, Daddy.”
“Hey! I’m the President. That’s gotta be a little cool, right?”
Eloise thought for a moment and then grinned, her eyes that were the exact same shade as her mother’s twinkling with happiness. “A little.”
He grinned. “How was school today?”
Eloise shrugged. “It was okay. I aced my math test.”
“That’s great, honey. See? I knew you could do it!”
“Thanks for helping me study. I know you had some important things to do instead.”
Jensen moved over to crouch in front of his daughter. “Baby, nothing is more important to me, than you. Okay?” Eloise bit her lip and nodded. “Okay. Now give Daddy some sugar. I gotta go and invade another country or something.”
Eloise giggled as she kissed her father’s cheek and wrapped an arm around his neck for a hug. “Daddy, we’re not at war with anyone right now.”
As he pulled back, he tickled her sides. “You sure?”
“Go!” she yelled, pushing him away.
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He stood up and headed for the door. When he reached it, he turned to face her. “Oh, by the way, don’t think we’re not going to talk about what’s going on in Social Studies over dinner.”
Trombone poised at her mouth, Eloise lowered it to her lap and looked crushed. “Dad.”
“Honey, if you have any problems, you know you can come to me, yeah?” She nodded. “Good. Because if you need help, don’t be afraid to seek it out okay?”
“Okay Daddy.”
“Good. See you tonight, honey.”
Jensen turned to leave, only stopping when he heard her play “Hail To The Chief”.
“You’re off tempo!” he retorted, grinning as he left, her laughter ringing in his ears.
~*~
The next day, Jensen was in the Oval Office when Katie came in to tell him that the marine assigned to be his official physician was there for his weekly check up. Jensen sighed but grudgingly beckoned him inside and suffered through the directions the examination.
“So what exactly are you checking for today?” Jensen asked as he put down the arm that was holding yet another report that he had to read while Captain Charles Malik Whitfield checked his blood pressure.
“Oh you know, blood pressure, heart rate, cell count, brains, the usual,” Captain Whitfield joked as he pressed the stethoscope against the inside of Jensen’s arm to hear the pulse.
“Lovely. Everyone’s sassing me this week. Have you all missed the part where I’m your boss?” Jensen asked, an amused smile tugging at his mouth.
“Technically Sir, I don’t work for you. I work for the United States Marine Corps,” Capt Whitfield replied, as he pulled out a needle from his medical bag and used it to drain fluid from a small container.
“And they work for me. What are you doing with that?” Jensen asked, his eyes widening on the needle.
“Relax, it’s just a flu shot,” Capt Whitfield replied, pulling the needle out and testing the flow.
“How do I know that’s just a flu shot? You could have anything in there. I think I should call in JD, just in case,” Jensen said as he unbuttoned his shirt and presented his bicep. “This could be a coup!”
Capt Whitfield chuckled as he swabbed Jensen’s arm. “Sir, in the event of a coup, what makes you think the Secret Service will be on your side?” he asked in a low voice and then jabbed the needle into Jensen’s arm.
Jensen winced. “Now there’s a thought that’s gonna fester.”
Captain Whitfield laughed. “Don’t worry Sir. You’ll be fine.” He waited until Jensen had re-buttoned his shirt before presenting him with a candy from his bag. “Every time you see the doctor, you get a lollypop.”
“Don’t they rot your teeth?” Jensen asked, plucking the candy from his hands.
“What do I care? I’m not a dentist. I am, however, concerned about your blood pressure. And no more Texas sized steaks. Maximum once a week for red meat, and you need more fish in your diet.”
Jensen opened his arms wide, “What do you know? I was just given a 200 pound Halibut this morning.”
“Halibut is great. Cod, flake, and hoki. White fish. And cut back on the caffine.”
“Okay, now you’re breaking my heart.”
Captain Whitfield smiled. “I’m leaving a list of food you’re allowed to eat with Ms Ferris to pass onto the Chef. Don’t bother trying to steal it, I’ve also emailed her a copy ahead of time.”
“Dammit.” Jensen knew when he was beaten. “Say, how’s that baby girl of yours?”
Capt Whitfield grinned. “She’s good. She’s growing big. Just like her Papa.”
“You got photos?” Jensen asked. Capt smiled shyly. “C’mon, hand ‘em over.” Jensen grinned when he looked at the photo of the baby and her proud parents that the Captain passed over. “Aw, isn’t she adorable. Good thing she looks like her mother.”
Capt Whitfield laughed and accepted the photo back. “Thank you, Sir.”
“What’s her name?”
“Charlotte.”
Jensen smiled again. “Beautiful. Okay, well I’ll see you next week, yeah?”
Capt Whitfield shook his head. “No Sir. Next week I’ll be in Jordan. There’s a military hospital there. We’re going to teach them how to do amputations.”
Jensen, suddenly concerned, frowned. “How long will you be away?”
“Just two weeks. You’ll be in good hands. Major Brocksen is a first class physician.”
“I’m sure.” Jensen offered his hand, and after a moment, Capt Whitfield shook it. Then Jensen saluted. “Godspeed Malik.”
Capt Whitfield smiled as he saluted the Commander and Chief. “God willing. Thank you, Sir.”
Jensen clapped him on the shoulder. “Go on, get outta here. Go teach that baby girl to read or vote or something.”
“Yes, Sir!”
As he watched his friend and doctor leave his office, he sighed. He just had a bad feeling about this trip. Pushing it aside, he looked at his watch as Katie bustled into the room.
“Sir? The President of France is on line 2.”
“Patch him through,” he said, rounding his desk and taking a seat. It was time to get back to running the country.
~*~
That night, after bidding everyone goodnight around midnight, Jensen and Chris sat on the sofas in the Oval Office with a tumbler of scotch each.
“Jim Beaver brought in a hired gun,” Chris mentioned, sipping his drink. Jensen looked over, an eyebrow raised in question. “At the GDC.”
“Oh. Really?” Chris just nodded. “Who?”
“Jared Padalecki.”
“Padalecki… never heard of him.”
“He’s a lawyer from Texas actually. He’s been very successful in getting Congressmen elected. I met him a couple of years ago. Aside from the dog-with-a-bone attitude, he’s a nice guy,” Chris said, smiling.
“Maybe we should steal him?” Jensen asked thoughtfully. Chris smiled and shook his head. “Ten percent, Chris. That’s all we can realistically expect.”
“I have a meeting with them set up for tomorrow. You know if you have a chance, maybe you could drop by, say hello.” Chris sighed as he finished his scotch. “It might smooth the way.”
“Mention it to Katie, put it on my schedule if I have time.” Jensen settled back in his chair and tried to relax. It had been a long couple of days. Then again, it was always a long couple of days. “We have to clear this off the table. If we don’t focus on the crime bill, we might drop the ball. I want a touchdown or two on this one, not just scoring on the buzzer.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Jensen looked over at his friend. “Chris… Sophia said something to me today and while I realise she wouldn’t have said it if… she wasn’t really saying it to me as The President but… ah, you know what? Nevermind.”
“You thinking about Danni?” Chris ventured. He looked over at his friend, who was now staring into his glass of scotch.
“She sure would have loved being the First Lady, you know?” Jensen asked, smiling softly. “The trims and trappings of this place. She would have loved it.”
“Yeah, but she would have hated the obligations.”
Jensen looked up and chuckled. “Yes, she would have.” He drained his glass and stood up. “Time for you to get outta here. Night Chris.”
Chris stood up. “Good night Mr President.”
Jensen stopped him from walking out of the room. “Chris. When we’re alone and out of ‘The Office’ you can call me Jensen, you know.”
“I’m sorry Sir?” Chris’ brow crinkled.
“You never call me Jensen anymore. I mean, you were best man at my wedding. Hell, we raised hell at Notre Dame! You can call me by my first name.”
“Sure thing, Mr President,” he smirked. He knew Chris never would, not while he was in office.
Jensen shook his head and laughed. “See you tomorrow.” And with that Jensen headed up to the Residence himself.
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