The Masterplan: Words Upon The Waves
Spoilers: Teeny for "Hartsfield's Landing."
Disclaimers: Not mine, don't sue. Property of Aaron Sorkin et al. and Oasis.
Summary: "Cast your words away upon the waves..."
Timeline: The week following "Make Some Sense." Late in the year 2006.
With a slightly uncomfortable air about him, Sam stared up at the concrete building in front of him. Jesus. When was the last time he'd gone to Gage Whitney Pace? Probably the day he'd cleaned out his desk; the day after he'd gotten back from Nashua. It felt like forever had passed. Had he really known himself inside this building?
But this wasn't a pleasure visit; it was necessary. He had to dig up some information, one way or another, for C.J. It was important. So he screwed up his courage and pushed open the marble-plated door.
A coldly efficient secretary greeted him. "May I help you?"
"Yes, I have an appointment with Mr. Irwin, please."
"I'll tell him you're here, Mr...?"
Sam flushed; this would be the hard part. The woman looked somewhat familiar. And his name wasn't exactly unknown around Washington. "Seaborn. Sam Seaborn."
"Ah." The secretary said no more, but the expression on her face showed Sam he'd been caught out.
Fortunately a light on the woman's desk saved him. "You may go in now," she said primly. "First door on your right."
"Thank you." Sam strode quickly down the corridor, rapped once, and walked into the office of his friend James Irwin, who'd been a partner with Gage Whitney when Sam had been an associate.
Irwin was seated, but jumped to his feet when he saw his appointment. "Sam!" he exclaimed. "How are you? It's been too long."
"Yes, it has." Sam smiled politely. "C.J. and I have a daughter now, and I'm teaching law at Georgetown."
"That's great." Irwin was all hale and hearty as he beckoned Sam to sit down. "So, Mr. Seaborn Professor Seaborn, I should say " He laughed once at his attempt at humor. "What can I do for you?"
"Actually, Jim, I have a rather odd question for you." Sam got down to business now; this was where he shined the most. "I'm here on a... well, call it a fact-finding mission." He paused to gather his nerves; the first few moments would be the most critical. "What would you say about a woman running for President?"
Irwin's reaction was rather anticlimactic. "Republican, Democrat or Independent?"
Sam understood, though: Irwin was a Democrat. If a woman ran on the Republican ticket, it wasn't his concern; if she ran on the Independent ticket she wouldn't be much of a threat to begin with. "Democratic ticket, Jim."
Irwin's eyebrows rose. "Who would the candidate be, Sam? Because frankly, it depends on the woman."
Better just to spit it out. "My wife. C.J. Seaborn."
Irwin's earlier reaction was nothing to Sam. But this one hurt. Instead of verbally responding, the lawyer threw back his head and laughed. "Sam, that's a really good one," he gasped. "C.J.? Please."
Sam felt himself getting vaguely insulted. "What's wrong with it?"
Irwin got himself under control. "She's never done anything like this before!" He elaborated. "Look, Sam, she's a smart lady. But she's never been in Congress or anything like that. She's very liberal. She's a Catholic, for God's sake do you realize the time Kennedy had getting elected? I just don't think it would work. But then again," he added with a wry smile, "you always did like the lost causes."
Sam kept his demeanor calm; there were bigger fish to fry. "Well, thank you, Jim. I guess I'll try other people."
"Now wait just one moment, Sam." Irwin caught him by the wrist. "You're serious? C.J. might actually run for the nomination?"
Sam kept himself noncommittal. "She just might. I don't know."
Irwin smiled sourly and opened his door. "Well, Sam, you tell her to forget it. There are people who might act if they saw a Catholic woman run for President."
He felt like an actor in a bad drama play, but he had to say it. "Are you threatening her?"
"Just letting you know."
He had his answer. Sam nodded once, through his increasing fog of anger, and stalked out
of Irwin's office without appearing to do so.