CJ dropped the phone to its cradle and banged her fist on the desk. It wasn’t good news, but then again it was after ten o’clock so what were the odds? She rose to her feet and strode purposefully across the Bullpen to knock on Toby’s open doorway.

The two male occupants of the room glanced up and acknowledged her with a small nod of their heads.

“You’re not gonna like this,” she started, waving the leather bound briefing book in the air. “We may have a situation.”

Toby leaned back against his chair and began to drum his fingers on his legal pad. “We may, CJ?”

She dropped onto the couch and sighed, “I’m not here to argue semantics, Toby. There was a small fracas in a bar in downtown Baltimore. The police were called and there were several arrests.”

“Since when do we. . .?” Sam started, furrowing his brow. It didn’t make sense for them to be concerned about a bar brawl, not unless it was a federal matter. . . His eyes widened as realization dawned.

“Yeah, Sam. A would-be journalist from the Baltimore Sun called me. Asked me how the President felt about his drunk daughter getting cautioned by the police.”

“She didn’t?”

“No, she didn’t,” CJ emphasized. “But that doesn’t seem to matter to some people.”

“What did you say?” Toby growled, tossing his pad onto the coffee table and starting to pace the room.

CJ rolled her eyes, “What do you think I told him? I asked him to give me some time while I confirmed his identity and I’d call him back.”

“Does the President know?” Sam asked, his voice dispassionate.

“Well considering the fact we haven’t heard a slamming door or a raised voice, I’m guessing, no,” CJ said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Of course, you could run up to the residence and check.”

He slunk back in his chair and glanced at Toby. No, he didn’t fancy being the one in the line of fire when the President did find out. “Someone needs to speak to Ellie, get her side of the story, and coach her on what to say if she gets the question.”

CJ and Toby exchanged a knowing look. “Yeah.”

“It’s a forty-five minute trip.”

“An hour, Sam. We don’t want you getting picked up for speeding,” Toby mumbled, sliding into his desk chair and picking up his pen.

“Well, yeah, an hour if the traffic’s. . . you said you. . .You want me to talk to her?” he asked incredulously, looking between the two of them. “Surely, CJ should?”

“I need to be here,” CJ offered, shrugging. “It’s going to take me an hour or two to see who else has the story, what they’re going to print and prevent the President from going off the deep end when he does find out.”

“And Miss Bartlet is scared of me. Why is that?” Toby smirked. “You should get going, Sam. Here’s her address and phone number in case you get lost.” He pushed a slip of paper across the desk.

“Can I just say. . .?”

“No.” Toby ran a hand across his face and groaned. “Look, she likes you, as much as she likes anyone. Talk to her, let her know we’re taking care of it. Sober her up before her father demands her presence in DC.”

“And what are you going to do?” Sam asked, slipping the paper into his shirt pocket and packing away his laptop.

“I’m going to tell Leo what’s going on, let Margaret know I won’t be home for a few hours and get some coffee, but not necessarily in that order.” He peered out through his fingers. “Call me when you get there.”

Sam nodded and headed through the doorway. He dropped his laptop on his desk and grabbed his keys. This definitely wasn’t going to be the evening he had envisioned.

*~*~*~*

The drive took him an hour and twenty minutes. The North star turned out to be a 747 taking off from Dulles and he missed the exit for Johns Hopkins. Eventually he found himself on Ellie’s street and pulled up outside her apartment building.

Pulling out his cell, he dialled Toby’s extension and waited to be connected. “I’m here.”

“Sam, she needs a friend,” Toby stated, his voice softer than Sam had ever heard and he knew in an instant he’d been on the phone to Margaret.

“I’ll let you know how we get on.” Sam dropped the cell into his pocket and climbed the steps to her apartment. His first knock went unanswered as the sound of music drowned out the noise. On the second knock, a window on the first floor opened and a blonde head appeared.

“Yo.”

Sam looked up and smiled, “I’m looking for Ellie.”

The head disappeared and a voice floated above the music. “Ellie, there’s a real spunk here looking for you.”

A second later, Ellie leaned over the window sill and gazed down at him, “Yeah. It’s Sam. Hello Sam.”

His first thought was that Toby owed him, sending him to babysit a drunk kid, the second was that she looked worse than Josh, if that was at all possible, after a night out. Donna was never around when you needed her, he decided. “Can I come up?”

Ellie disappeared back into the apartment and the main door opened shortly after, the young blonde woman standing before him in plaid sweats and a tank top. “Hi, I’m Georgia,” she drawled in an all too familiar twang.

“Sam. You’re from North Carolina, right?”

“Alabama.” She tossed her hair over her shoulders and motioned for him to come in.

Sam entered the lobby and followed Georgia up the narrow staircase and into the now silent apartment.

Georgia opened the fridge and pulled out a tub of ice cream. That in hand, she disappeared into her room with a swing of her hips.

Ellie waved at him from across the room and continued to drop large dollops of, what Sam hoped was, cookie mixture onto a baking tray. Finally, she dipped her finger into the remains of the mixture and sucked her fingers.

Sam’s eyes almost bugged out of his head as he watched her flick her tongue across the tip of her finger before sucking her whole finger into her mouth. His pants tightened and he had to look away, turning his thoughts to her father in the hope of dousing his arousal.

Ellie lowered the bowl to the counter and opened the oven door. “So how did you get here?”

“I drove,” he replied, a little confused by the question.

“Ah, My father didn’t send you by helicopter to bring me back, then?” she giggled.

He decided honesty was the best policy. “Your father doesn’t know I’m here. Okay, if I make a coffee?”

She waved her hand and jumped up on the counter, her legs dangling in the air. “Sure.”

Sam filled the kettle with water and began to open cupboards searching for a mug.

Finally, Ellie let out a sigh and pointed to a rack above his head. He gave her a small smile in return.

An awkward silence fell over the room as he continued to make coffee and she watched him move about his kitchen. He was one of the few people on her father’s staff she trusted. Toby frightened her half to death but then he had never been a father and she supposed dating women wasn’t foremost on his agenda. CJ was too pretty and too together. They were worlds apart. The assistants were all very kind to her but all they could see was the President’s daughter. Sam had always treated her like an adult, sitting with her on the campaign bus and inviting her to play poker. She watched as he placed two mugs and the coffee pot on a tray, and wandered into the other room. The only thing Sam didn’t seem to notice was that she was a woman.

Sam dropped onto the couch and leaned back against the cushions. There was nothing he could do, he had no chance of getting through to her until she either sobered up or slept it off. He sipped at his coffee and watched her over the rim of his mug as she pottered around the kitchen.

Minutes later, Ellie dropped the baking tray onto the floor with a crash and cursed.

“You okay in there.”

“Yeah,” she yelled, stepping over the cookies and walking into the main room of the apartment. “I dropped the fucking cookies.”

Sam nodded. He found it a little strange to hear her swear, the President’s daughter cursing and parading in front of him in her shorts and little more than a vest was more than a little surreal. And not unpleasant.

She slid onto the arm of the couch and stretched her arm out across the back of the couch. “So, if my father didn’t send you. . . Actually, I’m surprised he hasn’t phoned yet. . .why are you here?”

“To talk to you,” he offered candidly as her fingers brushed his neck.

“To tell me what a naughty little girl I’ve been. That it’s not good for the President’s daughter to be caught in a bar getting rat-assed.” She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Because you’re wasting your time.”

That much he’d worked out the minute he watched her cross the room, her hips swinging as she licked her lips seductively. “I just wanted to hear what happened.”

Ellie’s hair fell against his ear as she lowered her mouth to his ear. Her breath tickled his earlobe as she took a sharp intake of breath. “It’s very simple, I decided to get hammered,” she said slowly, her words punctuated by light laughter.

“You succeeded,” he declared flatly.

A sad laugh escaped her lips as she slid onto his lap. She knew she was drunk, knew that in the light of day this wouldn’t seem quite so right, but in that second she didn’t care. Sam was kind and sweet and she trusted him, and they were miles away from her father. “I had a really crappy day.”

“Oh?” Sam placed a hand carefully on her leg, applying just enough pressure to hold her in place but not too much as to be deemed unprofessional. Every time she moved she rubbed against his pants and her fingers were still playing with the tufts of hair on the back of his neck. It was obvious he should ask her to move, to put some distance between them, but something in her voice and in her posture told him that wasn’t what she needed right then.

“We lost a patient.”

That summed up why she’d gone to a bar and decided to make the day disappear.

“So you and Georgia went for a drink?”

Something flashed in her eyes and just as quickly disappeared. “She’s very attractive, isn’t she? It’s the blonde hair and needy expression,” Ellie stated. “Yeah, we went to the bar. Most of my class hang out there, and a few locals.”

“How’d the fight break out?”

Ellie ran her fingers along his cheek and cocked her head on one side. “Mallory was right, you are kinda cute in that brat pack kinda way.”

He really didn’t like how this looked, or maybe it was because he was sober. The President’s middle daughter was sat on his lap, wriggling ever so slightly and giving him the come on. She was attractive, the long red hair from her mother’s side of the family, the intense eyes from her father and in this outfit there was little left to the imagination. Anyone else and he might have been tempted, as it was he wasn’t sure whether it was her father, or her mother, he was most afraid of. No, it was definitely Mrs. Bartlet he was afraid of. “Ellie?”

Her lips pressed against his and she deepened the kiss, her fingers caressing his scalp, holding him against her.

Sam hesitated for a second before he pulled back. “Ellie.”

Her eyes widened and she slid off his lap. “Shit.”

“Here, have some coffee,” he poured her a mug and added a touch of cream before holding the mug out for her to take.

Ellie’s hand tightened around the drink and she lifted it to her lips.

“Did you see why the fight broke out?” he asked, putting distance between them and trying to ignore the reaction the kiss was having on him.

She shrugged, “Not really. I’ve been having a little problem focusing.”

“But it wasn’t in any way connected with you? I mean, they weren’t bothering you. The agents weren’t involved?”

“Nope. There was a scuffle, some shouting, then the detail were hustling us both out.”

“Okay,” he nodded imperceptibly and settled back against the couch. “Then that’s what CJ will say. That you were out for an evening with friends. . .”

“Pissed.”

“We’ll leave that bit out. . . .When the incident occurred but the agents were effective in extracting you from what was going down, okay?”

“Yeah. But I don’t think my father will accept it that easily,” she groaned, a small yawn escaping her lips.

“Probably not, but I’m sure you can handle yourself.”

“Thanks, Sam,” she murmured as she lowered her head into his lap and closed her eyes.

Sam glanced down at the sleeping woman before him and smiled. She looked peaceful as her body rose and fell gently and her hair fell in a curtain across her face. He tucked it behind her ear and leaned back in the chair. “Good night Ellie,” he whispered as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

*~*~*~*

Leo took a deep breath and mentally steeled himself for the President. Finally, he rose to his feet and entered the Oval Office via the connecting door, hovering in front of the desk while he waited for the rest of his staff to join him.

Toby and CJ wandered in a few seconds later and took up a position in front of the desk. “Good evening, Mr. President,” they said in chorus.

“What’s up, Leo?”

Leo cleared his throat. “There’s been an incident, Sir.”

Jed raised an eyebrow and looked at the other two people in the room. “Situation Room?”

“No, Sir. It’s Eleanor,” Leo lowered his voice and waited.

“Ellie, my daughter, Ellie?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What’s she done this time?” he asked wearily, walking around the desk to join his staff.

CJ tucked her hair behind her ears and braced herself. “There was a fight in a bar. Ellie was there with friends. Her detail got her out but the press got wind of it.”

“And?” CJ was holding out on him, that much he was sure of.

“She was, Mr. President, somewhat intoxicated,” Toby stated.

“What the hell was she thinking of? What the hell were her agents doing while she was getting hammered in a public bar?” His voice was raising in volume and the pulse in his neck was throbbing as he spoke.

“With all due respect, Sir…”

“Yeah?”

CJ looked at Leo in the veiled hope he would finish her sentence. He stared back at her.

“She’s twenty five years old, Sir. Over the legal age for drinking. And, it isn’t the job of her agents to stop her drinking,” CJ added in a rush of breath. “Sir.”

“She does this to embarrass me.”

“Mr. President.”

Jed turned to face his desk and dropped his head. “Charlie?“

“Sir,“ CJ started half-heartedly.

“CHARLIE!“

“He’s not here, Sir,“ Toby offered, running his tie between his thumb and forefinger and looking anywhere but at the President, least he should be the next in line for his anger.

“Okay, then I’ll call her myself.“ He picked up the phone and dropped it again. “Toby, would you arrange for my middle daughter to get her ass down here?“

Toby released his tie and glanced at CJ. “Sam’s with her now, Mr. President.”

“Sam is in Baltimore?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, Sir,” Toby mumbled, staring at his feet as though he was seeing them for the first time. “We, I, thought someone should find out what happened and brief her in case she comes in to contact with the Press.”

“So you sent Sam?”

“He seems to have a certain affinity with her.”

“What Toby means is that Sam’s young too,” Leo offered, watching his best friend’s face scrunch up in consternation.

Jed’s head shot up abruptly and he glared at Leo. “You sent Sam to talk to my daughter?”

“He’ll bring her back tomorrow morning, Sir.”

“Sam is spending the night with my daughter?”

Leo rolled his eyes. He was so looking forward to the conversation they were going to be having later.

“And why are we briefing my daughter on how to deal with reporters? I have set up monumental, unprecedented, unbreakable rules about my children and the press.”

CJ inwardly groaned, it was bad enough when he found out they’d polled on where he should spend Thanksgiving. If he found out just how involved his children were about to become in the campaign he was likely to fire them all on the spot. And probably kill Bruno for suggesting the idea in the first place. She glanced at Toby and smiled. He was still staring at his shoes, the only indication he knew that an eruption was imminent, his lips moving silently.

“Guys, why don’t you get back to chasing down the story. I need to talk to the President for a moment,” Leo said, his voice leaving them in no doubt as to what was coming.

Toby and CJ both looked towards the President and breathed as he nodded. They moved quickly towards the door, a collective mumble of “Thank you, Sir.”

Once outside they locked eyes.

“Well that went well,” Toby said dryly.

“Toby.”

“I’m going to dump that guy’s ass out of the emergency door on Air Force One, Leo. And Bruno won’t be wearing a parachute. I swear. . .” Jed’s voice echoed through the door.

“Josh has beers in his fridge.”

“Yeah, probably not a good idea to stick around here,” CJ agreed, taking a step towards the door. “So how’s Margaret?”

*~*~*~*

Sam awoke with a start and tried to move his legs. Something heavy was pressing down on his knees and he opened his eyes.

In her sleep, Ellie had rolled over and her face was nestled against his stomach, her hair fanned out around her face. She looked so peaceful and so adult. Not the young woman he had met for the first time five years ago, sitting on a swing in her father’s yard. The girl who had rose to her feet and stalked off into the house upon seeing them, the door slamming behind her.

Well, some things hadn’t changed.

Very gently he lifted her head and slid out from beneath her, placing her carefully back on the couch. He stretched and rolled his neck, wishing he’d managed to climb into his own bed as the crick refused to dislodge.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Sam said, turning around and coming face to face with the southern blonde from the night before.

“Ellie still asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell her I’ll catch her later. I’ve got Path class.” She grinned and slung her backpack over her shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, Sam.”

Sam watched her go before he entered the kitchen. The first thing he did was start the coffee, the second was to open the fridge and survey the contents.

The sound of feet on the floorboards and a door closing, caused him to jump and when he looked back into the main room the couch was empty.

He returned to searching the fridge, finally emerging with eggs and bread, and set about making French toast.

“Good morning,” came a timid voice from the door way.

“Hey.” He continued to clatter in the kitchen. “How do you feel?”

“Not good.”

Sam glanced back over his shoulder and nodded.

Ellie stood against the door frame, a well worn cotton robe pulled around her middle and her red hair tied back in a loose pony tail.

“You should clean your teeth, it’ll make things better.”

“It’ll make me toss my cookies.”

“Then you’ll feel better.”

“Sadist,” she grumbled, brushing past him and grabbing a cup of coffee.

“You’re the one polluting your body,” he retorted, placing the toast on a plate and pushing it towards her.

“Excuse me?”

“Left over pizza, two day old Chinese take out - where are the vegetables? Your fridge contains the nutritional goodness of chipboard.”

Ellie picked up the plate and walked around to the breakfast bar, climbing up on a stool. “And like you don’t do the same.”

He shrugged as he sat beside her. “Can I give you a lift back to DC?”

“I’ve been summoned? Hey, this is good,” she mumbled around a fork full of breakfast.

“Not yet, but the chances are your father wants to see you. I thought we could pre-empt the situation.”

“Can we take the scenic route?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence as they ate, each thinking about Washington and the day ahead.

*~*~*~*

Sam watched as Ellie entered the anteroom to her father’s office, her shoulders slumped, her feet shuffling. He could only imagine how bad it was going to be for her.

He turned and headed in the opposite direction to his own office. Everything was how he had left it. His laptop closed on top of the desk, his policy briefings spread out. The only addition to the clutter was a pile of messages stacked neatly.

Groaning he sat at his desk and flicked through the messages.

An image of Ellie in the car kept dragging his thoughts away from the pile of papers on his desk. She had been quite talkative as they climbed in the car, two agents in the rear and another three in the following car. She had told him stories about her days at Johns Hopkins and he had found himself laughing heartily. It was only as they reached the outskirts of the District that she had fallen silent, toying with the hem of her sweater and gazing out of the window.

She had looked so lost and so alone that he had wanted to reach out and hold her. It was only the presence of the agents in the back seat and the fact he was driving that had prevented him.

Sam shook his head and picked up the phone. There was no use going down that road, it would only bring him trouble, and he had enough of that already without bringing more upon himself.

*~*~*~*

“Eleanor.”

“Hi, Dad,” she greeted, as he kissed her on the cheek.

“Glad you could make it?”

“Dad,” she sighed.

He waved his hand in surrender. “So have you decided on a specialty yet?”

“Still wavering towards oncology or neurology, I think.”

He nodded and settled himself in an armchair. “So can you tell me what happened last night?”

Ellie dropped onto the couch and folded her hands in her lap. “I lost a patient and got drunk.”

“Aren’t you going to lose patients in Oncology?”

Her head shot up, “Dad!”

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Yeah, it was,” she mumbled, lowering her head and fixating on the carpet in front of her. “Georgia and I went to the bar to chill.”

“Chill?”

“Unwind, Dad.” There was something about conversations with her father that made her feel as though she was being interrogated and the police had nothing on her father. “The next thing I remember is shouting and the agents carrying me away.”

“We’ll get to that in a minute, but you were lucky last night. The police were called, there was a lot of damage and two men ended up in the ER. You need to be more careful.”

“I thought that was what the agents were for. . .”

“Eleanor, when you put your head down, your hair falls in your face, and then I can't see your face, and I can't hear what you're saying. Now look at me, and talk to me.”

She lifted her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. “What’s the point of me having a detail, Dad, if they aren’t there to protect me? The deal was I could go to school, live my life. Or do you just want them there to watch me?”

“Eleanor!” he groaned.

“Nothing happened, Dad. I was on the other side of the room. You chose to do this, not me, not Mom, not Zoey, you. All we’re trying to do is grab a piece of normality.”

“By getting drunk?” he yelled, then just as quickly dropping his voice. “Oh Ellie, why do you make everything so difficult?”

There was a soft knocking at the door and Jed called out for them to come in.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but you have an appointment,” Charlie said, stepping inside the room a fraction.

“Yeah. Okay.” He waved Charlie out. “Give me a second.” He turned his attention back to Ellie. “Hang around. I’d like to talk some more.”

Ellie sighed. It was predictable that he wasn’t going to let it drop. “Sure thing, Dad.” She rose to her feet and headed towards the door Charlie had just left by.

*~*~*~*

Ellie walked across the Bullpen, her head down, hair tumbling forwards, avoiding the stares she was getting from anyone in the vicinity.

His door was open, and Sam was sitting at his desk, his fingers flying across his keyboard.

She took the opportunity to study him. He was cute, intelligent and had that special something about him that all her friends raved on about. She’d had a crush on him for as long as she’d known him, but there couldn’t be anything between them. And now he probably thought she was a child, making a pass at him last night and then falling asleep on the sofa.

Ellie sighed, knocking lightly on the open door and waited for him to look up or acknowledge her presence.

“Yeah, Ginger.”

“It’s not Ginger, it’s me, Ellie,” she mumbled hesitantly, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Ellie,” he smiled up at her and rose quickly to his feet. “What can I do for you?”

She ducked her head and nibbled her bottom lip, “I’m sorry, you’re obviously busy.” Ellie took a step back and prepared to flee.

“I’m really not that busy. Your father has to give an address to the United Nations. I was just trying to come up with something that wouldn’t piss off the developing, the Islamic or the European nations.”

“Having any luck?”

“No. So, what do you need?” She really was quite endearing when she looked nervous.

She shuffled into the room and leaned on the arm of the visitor’s chair. “I spoke to my father. He wants me to stick around.” Her eyes drifted to his desk. “And I was wondering if your offer still stands.”

Sam stared at her blankly.

“To talk. Oh, you were just being nice,” her voice betrayed her disappointment.

He glanced at the pile of paperwork and back at the woman before him. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“The Tidal Basin?” He gazed past her shoulder and noted the agents. “Do you think they’ll mind?”

Ellie followed his gaze and shook her head. “We can lose them.”

“Ellie!”

“Okay. Dan,” she called, arranging her hair over one shoulder.

“Miss Bartlet?”

“Sam and I are going for a walk to the Tidal Basin.”

He nodded and spoke into his wrist.

A few minutes later the cortege was walking out of the South West entrance and heading towards the Washington monument.

“Did you know that the Washington Monument was built at intervals between 1848 and 1885 with funds from public subscriptions and Federal appropriations, and memorializes George Washington's achievements and unselfish devotion to principle and to country?” Sam asked, his eyes towards the top of the stone structure.

“Oh my God, you memorized the guide book,” Ellie groaned. “I came to get away from my father.”

“I was trying to impress you with my arcane knowledge.”

“I prefer my men to impress me with their wit and sense of humor,” she smiled and tossed her hair.

“Your men?” Sam squeaked, stopping mid stride to look at her.

Ellie came to a halt and looked back. “Shit, sorry.”

“I have the reputation for being a little naïve and not very astute. So if this seems like a silly question I apologize, but are you coming on to me?”

“No, of course I’m not. That would be stupid. You work for my father and I’m just a kid,” Ellie sighed, starting to walk again.

Sam stared after her.

The agents increased their pace to keep up with her, one eye on the man standing in the middle of the lawn, until he started walking again.

“Are you still hung up on Mallory?” Ellie finally asked, when he caught up with her.

“No.”

“Did you two ever sleep together?”

“Ellie!”

She shrugged. “I was told being direct was more effective than fudging.”

“Does it work with your father?”

“I’m trying. And you’re avoiding the question.”

“No, Mallory and I never quite got around to that,” he said, pursing his lips. “And besides I work for her father, it didn’t make things easy.”

“Why’d you tell Leo?”

“I wanted to make sure it was okay. Honesty seemed the best policy.”

“You won’t be making that mistake again, then?”

Sam shook his head. “No, I won’t. Fathers don’t seem to like me.”

“Yeah, but the daughters do,” she grinned, nudging his arm.

“You are incorrigible.”

“I’ve never been called that before,” she commented dryly. “My father uses words like fractious and convoluted and my mother calls me stubborn.”

Sam gave her a small smirk. He was well aware what her father called her but he had a few names of his own, all of them complimentary. As he watched her twirl her hair around her fingers and grin sheepishly at him, he was certain that he wanted to be a friend to the Ellie he met the night before.

He lightly held her arm as he looked both ways and guided her across the road. And if nothing else someone had to make sure she ate right.