John Hoynes stepped out into the early evening sunshine, his detail scanning the street for would be threats as he walked to the car. The driver opened the rear door and he climbed in.

As the driver started the engine and pulled away from the curb, John stared out the window, watching as the Old Executive Office Building disappeared into the distance. His eyes briefly glanced to the imposing white structure across the street from it.

He chuckled sadly, as he had most nights for the last three years. That was supposed to be his home. Everything had meant to lead him there, so that every night he could walk along the portico to the White House residence.

Instead he had been beaten by a New England, liberal, academic governor. And he was now taking the thirty minute drive across town to the Observatory, where he would spend another night alone. His wife, Virginia, was at home in Texas, visiting her daddy, another rich oil man who thought his son-in-law was worthless. Worthless, because in Virginia’s father’s eyes, John was a former oil man who sold out the very people that had funded his political career.

His illustrious political career. By law he’d had to wait until he was thirty before he could run for Senate. The eight years from college until then had seemed pretty pointless. The oil business, was profitable, and developed the contacts he’d needed to run for office, but it was boring. Not nearly as much excitement as politics.

He had met Ginny at an oil producers dinner. Not exactly the belle of the ball, but from the right background. She had the right background and family connections to make the perfect political wife, so he had married her. Unfortunately daddy came too. A pompous pain in the ass, who thought no one was good enough for his little girl and John was a waste of space.

So he’d proved him wrong, and run for Senate and won. For eight years he’d bided his time, schmoozing the old boys network, hiring young go-getters who would form his campaign team when the time came. He had voted his conscience, which was a surprise for many, who thought he didn’t have one. He voted against the ethanol tax credit, put his name on social security reform legislation despite the fact he was one of only thirty, and generally followed his convictions.

Then his time had come, and the ethanol tax credit had come back to bite his ass. But he’d stuck to his guns and in so doing lost popularity.

When he had entered the 1998 primary season he had been the prohibitive favorite with a 48 point lead. Jed Bartlet had been third, barely polling in single digits. Somewhere along the lines the tide had turned and by Chicago, Bartlet was winning primaries and John’s dream was disappearing.

He had once asked Josh if he thought that he would be in the White House if he’d listened to Josh. Josh’s answer had been that he didn’t think it, he knew it. Looking back John had decided Josh was right. John had picked the wrong staff. They were all too eager to say yes and not so eager to really challenge him. Except Josh, and he had lost him early on to Leo McGarry. Leo McGarry, now that was one man who he should have hired, that man got the job done, and if he didn’t, it wasn’t for the want of trying.

Listening to his own staff, John had sat on his $58 million war chest until it was too late and he watched as the nomination slipped from his grasp.

The night before the Nominating Convention acceptance he had received a summons to the Bartlet suite. They’d kept him hovering outside for ages, but he had already known what they were about to offer. The rest of it had knocked him for six.

His eyes had been drawn to Abbey as she greeted him with a kiss. She was everything Ginny wasn’t and he envied Jed for that. When Jed had offered him Vice President, he hadn’t said a word. Then the staff had been dismissed from the room and a bombshell had been dropped. Jed had MS, had concealed it during the campaign and had chosen that moment to share the news. John had gone from shocked to angry in a matter of seconds. It was rubbing salt on old wounds for Bartlet to tell him he lied, and then to offer him the second spot on the ticket. If Jed had been honest, John would have won the nomination and Wiley would have been his running mate.

When he was told, hadn’t understood immediately, and he’d looked at Abbey for guidance. Her face told him all he needed to know. Things went down hill from then. Jed’s crap about needing to know he could trust him hadn’t carried any water with him, Jed had told him in order to trap him into the conspiracy. If John disclosed the MS, and he managed to take the nomination from Jed, the resulting scandal would cause the party to lose the election. If he didn't disclose it, he could be Vice President. Instead of giving Jed an answer, John had stormed out, not really sure in that moment if he would take the job.

Of course common sense and a heated debate with Jed on the steps of the hotel had convinced him. Jed had been unapologetic and surprised, surprised that John hadn’t jumped at the chance to be Vice President. If things hadn’t been so intense, John would have found it funny.

Josiah Bartlet had leaned against a pillar, smoking, telling him how much he had wanted him on the ticket, explaining that they needed him to deliver the south. There had been no explanation as to why he’d concealed his illness, no apology and he had indicated he wanted no discussion.

John had continued to say no, right up until the point where Jed had told him quietly that he was only going to serve one term. That come 2002, he would support John’s bid wholeheartedly and allow him to achieve his dream. That had been the point of wavering. To turn down the offer would have been foolish, throwing away his whole career, and the chance to ever be President. Then Jed had begged. And John had said yes. It had nothing to do with making Jed feel weak, but with making John feel strong.

So they had began a fragile cohesion, two men with nothing else in common except a common goal. They had fought constantly, their two teams at odds from the beginning. But somehow they had won. Texas had been too evenly split to be called for the Democrats and John had been ridiculed in the eyes of his father-in-law. But he now had an office across the street from the White House, and a chance to be President one day.

Of course it wasn’t plain sailing. The President’s senior staff continued to wage a silent war against the Vice President and his staff.

But he had wanted to be President long before he met Virginia. His whole life he had been dreaming about it. He had been five when he saw Kennedy shot and spent his childhood hearing what a loss that was. He had been ten when he first bragged to his friends that he was going to be a politician. They had all laughed and for the next five years his father had groomed him in the oil business, teaching him the ropes and fully expecting him to leave school and start work at the bottom.

He’d had other ideas. His grades had been good and he’d been accepted to five universities. Forgoing the Ivy Leaguers, he’d chosen the Southern Methodist University, minoring in French. Which is where he became his father. Too many nights in the student bar, when just one beer was never enough. At twenty-two he had sought the help his father never had and stopped drinking. He hadn’t had one since. SMU was also where he’d met Drew Harper, a good guy there on a sports scholarship and someone who didn’t think his dreams were crazy or stupid. Mainly because his own dream had been to play Volleyball at the Olympics. Drew had achieved his dream in 1972 in Munich at the age of sixteen. He had taught John never to give up.

Newly out of college, he’d planned to go to DC, become a clerk and learn the business of politics. Except his father had died. His liver had packed in and John had been forced to take over a business he hated. For eight years he had worked it, training other people to take over so he could leave. But that’s where he made his money.

He had fully expected to be running for President this year, right up until last summer. He had even started gathering his cohorts, giving speeches, but something told him that it wasn’t going to happen. The bread crumbs had been enough to lure Toby and push him to ask questions. What had John expected to happen? He didn’t really know - the President to tell his staff that it was time to walk away, or for Jed to call John over and say he’d changed his mind, to be honest with John again. None of that happened. The President had announced to the press that he had the illness and he was running again.

John had sat in his office, jaws a gape as he heard the news. It had taken days for him to go to the President and then he had been brushed aside. Still the whipping boy, who was shut in a broom cupboard and told what to do. But he hadn’t gone outside his small circle, hadn’t jeopardized his chances to run in four years. If anything he needed Jed to win if he was ever going to get his chance. So he’d supported the second campaign.

Now he had four years to get ready. John was going to help Jed Bartlet win, he had to, to preserve his career. To make it to the big White House that he’d craved all his life. But there were still hurdles to overcome. The President’s MS would hang over him for the duration. And then there were the negative polls, people concerned that he had too many close ties to Big Oil. Even his admonishment of the Petroleum Producers of America hadn’t dissuaded them otherwise. He also had the anti-gun lobbyists to contend with. To them he was a Southern who liked guns, because they all did. For him it was about protection, not crime. And he had fought the Bartlet administration on that one.

And of course there was the fact he was a recovering alcoholic. As long as it remained a secret John’s dream was in tact. But, in DC secrets had a habit of coming out and then he would be faced with a battle. His tracks had been covered well. Secret meetings in the basement with prominent Democrats with as much to lose. And Leo. John trusted them all, including the agents that stood guard every Thursday night. Tonight he’d told the President, he hadn’t before because he’d assumed the President already knew, that Leo had told him years before.

Tonight the President had gone against his advisors and told John unequivocally that he was staying on the ticket. His reason very simple, he might die. It had stunned John, but as it sank in he realized that it was a possibility, that he could become President without an election.

As the car drove into the Observatory , John came out of his reverie. It was quite simple, whatever the hurdles, he was going to become President. And if he had to wait until he was 48, or even 52, then so be it.

The End