Title: 10 Summoners Tales: Love is Stronger than Justice

Author: xSaBx
Rating: PG-17, there's a rude word and a bit of suggestion, but that's about it.

Summary: Part Three of Three.

It's a BIG finish, be warned, and it throws open the door for a large part of my "Season Two" arc...but it does throw light on some potentially interesting alternative routes. Shouldn't be too tough to guess the ending if you're one of my regular readers...

Spoilers: Season One stuff, ITSOTG.

Disclaimers: The people who aren't a creation of my fevered imagination are either a part of the Real World or "Sorkin's World" (party time, excellent!)

Thanks: This one goes out to the 90 or so people who accessed my sited during the last 48 hours (13-15^th December) These are my literary Salad days and every visitor is appreciated.

Category: New Characters/General

==

Love is Stronger than Justice.

Bruno's Bar, 54^th Street, NY

"Wonder Woman?"

Josh is laughing so much now that tears are rolling down his face: my cheeks are actually beginning to hurt... I still can't pull myself together to say anything coherent. Sam, despite trying his best to remain indignant, is currently giggling uncontrollably. Max is holding the photo about an inch away from his nose, studying the face closely.

"Yup, it's definitely you, Sam. You know, even after all these years, I have no idea why..."

"I had a big thing for Lynda Carter" Sam tries to explain between frantic breaths.

"That explains the lump in the pantyhose, then..."

Max can no longer keep a straight face, and we all succumb to a fit of mass hysteria.

Three days after news of the Paternity hearing broke, I mentioned to Josh how Sam and I first met: it's taken me this long to dig out the pictures as proof. Max has snaps of his own and at my behest brought them with him tonight...it's curious, looking at the past like this. It makes everything that's happened seem all the more surreal, as if it really did happen to different people, somewhere else. Max went to the party that night as Indiana Jones and looked every bit the intrepid archaeologist. Sam's Wonder Woman was the highlight of the night for everyone including me, but in the end I only had eyes for John Steed. If I knew then what I know now...

This place is always dead on a Thursday: tomorrow you won't be able to breathe in here, and it'll be the same story across the weekend. Thursday was always the best night for social drinking: you could hear yourself think, you could indulge without pressure and you really got to learn stuff about your friends. Sam and I would always come here on Thursdays before we went dancing. Max was also a regular until he jumped on the wagon, but he still comes here: I think out of a combination of loyalty and guilt. He's known Bruno Martinelli since he was a kid, and insists he bring everyone else he knows here to try and make up for the poor guy's loss of earnings since he gave up the sauce. Bruno is watching us from the bar with amusement; his daughter Lilly is wiping up tables and stacking chairs a little way behind us.

Apart from two regulars at the bar, we are the only people left here drinking.

Josh, I think, has learnt a lot about Max tonight. Not so long ago you'd have been hard pressed to get these two in the same state, let alone across a table from each other. After a long bonding session over dinner they've done the Mets, movies and even discussed a couple of political issues without even the suggestion of a fight. There has also been a great deal of collective enjoyment to be had this evening from abusing Sam. He's having a ball: despite the fact we're under this protracted period of pressure, this is the most relaxed I can remember him since we renewed our friendship last September. I still can't believe I've been doing this job for six months: it honestly seems like six years.

Whatever tomorrow may throw at us, we're at least able to laugh at the world that was.

Curiosity has gotten the better of Lilly: she puts down her cloth and saunters over to the table.

"What's so funny, Maxwell?"

Max shakes his head and hands the photo to her.

"I was just commenting at how sexy my good heterosexual friend Sam here looked in his Wonder Woman outfit"

Sam tries to protest but he's still laughing too much. Lilly takes a hard look at the picture, then at Sam, and back to the photograph.

"When was this taken?"

"New Years Eve 1992" Max stands up and starts pointing out other people to her in the shot "That's Evie, and her late husband-"

She looks at me with what I think is admiration, but it's dark and I'm pretty tired so it could be anything.

"How long did it take you to get into that cat suit?"

"Hours, and I needed a lot of help"

Josh is staring at me and I know what he's thinking, so I shoot him a "don't even ask how long it took to get off" look: he suddenly stops laughing, and looks rather embarrassed.

Max meanwhile is trying to recall names and is failing.

"Madonna, who was Madonna that night?"

"As I recall there were three Madonna's" Sam has a sudden wistful look about him "I was particularly taken by the "True Blue" Madonna after you blew me out quite spectacularly" He shoots me a playful look and I unexpectedly blush.

Max looks at Sam and shakes his head "She blew everyone out that night, she was only interested in John Steed..."

Did they? Of course they did, I had to fend people off all night, and I secretly loved it. I'm actually rather embarrassed at how I used to be, all those years ago... Lilly is looking back at Sam now, with a gaze that I'm pretty certain indicates more than a casual interest.

"You look really good as a woman"

Josh decides he now needs to reappraise Sam's costume for a fourth time, and stands to take in the photo over Lilly's shoulder.

"You know, she's right: you do look pretty good in pantyhose..."

"Josh!" Sam is embarrassed enough now to try and regain control of the situation. Lilly obligingly hands the evidence to him with a smile. It's obvious she likes what she sees, with or without a costume...but tonight is not the night, certainly not with her father watching. He quickly slips the picture into his back pocket. Lilly shakes her head and returns to the business of cleaning.

"I think we can allow ourselves one more before we go back to the Hotel" Sam and I are staying at the New Yorker, Josh is staying with Max...I'm not sure quite why he's here at all. I know he has the Fundraiser meeting tomorrow afternoon but I'd expected him to be at the White House in the morning and to fly out after Staff...I suspect the possibility of scheming, but of what I am unsure. I'm beginning to be too tired to care, and wonder if I'll actually make it through a third beer without falling asleep where I sit.

Sam, galvanised by the sudden female attention, looks at Max "You want another Coke?"

"Hmm...can you get me a coffee?"

God, I must be getting old, because that sounds like a good idea...

"Under the circumstances you'd better make that two coffees, Sam"

"You won't sleep, you know" Sam looks down his nose at me in the way only Sam can.

"Trust me Samuel, with everything else that's happened this week I could drink coffee until midnight and I'd still sleep"

Josh isn't sitting back down either, and he catches my eye as he extracts his cell from his jeans pocket. He should have the opportunity to wear civvies more often, we all should.

"I'm gonna quickly 'phone the Office, you wanna know anything?"

"Just check with Leo that I still have a job to go back to on Monday...?"

He grins at me in response and then walks away.

==

It takes him longer than usual to pick up.

"Toby?"

"Josh."

We all got here okay..."

"I wouldn't be talking to you now if you hadn't... Where are you?"

"A place called Bruno's on 54^th Street"

"You still at work?"

"Yeah, but not for long. I'm going to the Residence to play chess with the President, then I'm going home."

"The Justice Department thing?"

"It's done. Tell Sam his speech to the Swiss Trade Delegation sucked, and I re-wrote it"

Sam is in the middle of ordering, I shout to him from my position by the jukebox.

"Sam!"

"Yeah?"

"Toby loved your Swiss speech"

Sam answers without turning around.

"Tell him the next time he re-writes something without me I'm getting Cathy to put ground glass in his coffee"

"He's grateful for your input"

I can actually hear Toby scoffing on the other end of the 'phone.

"Tomorrow is a done deal, correct??"

Having seen the evidence Evie and Max have collected and knowing just how little supporting evidence the opposition have managed to collect that's exactly what tomorrow is, but Sam's still refusing to be jubilant until they're out of the building...

"It's not even gonna make it to the hearing, Sam's saying he's expecting them to agree to settle without a gavel being lifted. After all, the evidence is pretty comprehensive..."

==

Macy's Department Store, NY

"Evelyn, they were screwing in the sand-dunes"

Christine Harris says it as if she's seen it happen only minutes before, whilst simultaneously taking a drag from her cigarillo, quickly followed by a swig of Macy's Exclusive Columbian Roast. She's still as hyperactive and ambidextrous as ever she was. The smoking area in the Au Bon Pain Restaurant is smaller than a postage stamp: it's packed, people desperate to fill their lungs in one of the few smoking areas in the entire store. I look at her closely, the answer to the next question is rather more important.

"Would you be prepared to testify to that fact in front of a jury?"

She doesn't even blink at the suggestion.

"Absolutely. You know how much I detest her, I'd be more than happy to besmirch a reputation like hers in public"

Christine has hated Eloise since the first time they met, an evening that I now recall ended in a fight (although completely unrelated to either of them) and some time at the local Precinct for both Richard and I. We were still "just friends" then, it was the middle of January 1993, and he was trying just about everything to wear down my resistance, to get me to sleep with him. I was doing my best to be a hard quarry to hunt.

"Did you actually see Richard that night?"

She narrows her eyes, and seems to look straight through me. She's a small woman, no more than five feet two, but has an amazing presence. She's well built but hardly fat, she runs twelve miles a day around Central Park without fail, smokes a cigarillo at lunch and one at her evening meal, drinks only mineral water, coffee or Jim Beam and has an IQ somewhere in the 180's. She's an Associate Professor for the School of Writing at Columbia and according to Max's paper is officially one of Upper Manhattan's "New Literati." I was therefore surprised when she asked me to meet her in Macy's, but it appears that she believes the coffee is better here than anywhere else in the Tri-State area. We used to all come here together in the early 90's...in those days she boasted that every item of clothing she owned was black. It appears that not much has changed in her wardrobe.

"I saw him, I think it's fair to say he was incapable of anything except being horizontal"

I know he took cocaine before we left that night, I insisted on driving as a result. I can remember being indignant but curious...if we hadn't decided to go I think I probably would have tried some myself. Thank God I didn't. The last time I saw him that night he'd been kissing Eloise...after that I'm reliant on people like Christine for the facts.

"He was drunk?"

"There was undoubtedly alcohol in his system, plus a couple of other things: at least one of which is not as yet legal to sniff in the state of New York. If you're asking me what I think you're asking me, then he wasn't capable of anything, least of all procreation"

When I 'phoned her last week, completely out of the blue, she wasn't the least bit surprised to hear from me. I asked her if she'd spoken to Will Sweitzer...it then quickly became apparent that Eloise had been working her way through her address book, trying to find people who would be prepared to testify in her favour. Christine had been polite to her "for at least fifteen seconds" before putting the 'phone down in disgust. Ironically she knows the Greaves family, and has nothing but self-confessed revulsion for my ex-employer, and indeed for just about any Republican in Manhattan.

"Explain to me again how you managed to get your job at the White House?"

I have to think for a minute, because I suppose in part I'm still not that sure how I pulled it off.

"I'm very good at what I do..."

"Shovelling shit and covering up crap?"

Democrats, it seems, come in for only slightly more civil treatment...

"Yes, I'm well-versed in the mechanics of public relations"

"That's what I said, wasn't it?"

She shakes her head, a thin smile on her face.

"You know, when I heard they'd appointed you I was really surprised: you never struck me as someone who was prepared to stand up and believe in anything. You really enjoy this job, don't you?"

I do, of course I do.

"Yes. I think it's the greatest opportunity I've ever had"

"Then you have my admiration: whatever I may say, I don't think I could do your job if my life depended on it"

"Well, for what it's worth, I know I couldn't teach"

She looks straight through me again and I think I know what she's about to say.

"We never really liked each other back then, did we?"

I was right.

"You thought I was naïve and vacuous, and a bit of a prick-tease"

"Did I use that phrase?"

"Not directly to my face, but...yes"

"You thought I was an obnoxious Gothic monstrosity"

"Now that I did use to your face"

I can't help but laugh: she smiles in acknowledgement and shakes her head.

"Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety"...at least now I can quote Shakespeare and claim it's a legitimate part of my job"

She used to quote Shakespeare in bed, apparently, or so Max tells me. I never established if he knew by reputation or by experience...I should try and remember to ask him.

"I think it's fair to state that you're a better person than you were. I wish I could say the same for Eloise, but it appears she is happy to be stuck in an age where she can still delude herself that people liked her for what she wasn't"

I'm beginning to enjoy being here: I thought I'd hate it but...she's really fun to be with, and doesn't seem to be taking herself half as seriously as she used to. Come to think of it, neither am I...

"I don't fly back to DC until four, would you like to go have lunch somewhere?"

Christine looks at me with suspicion for a moment

"You're not just doing this to secure the integrity of any potential testimony?"

"I thought it might be cool to compare notes after a seven year absence and work out just how pretentious we both were back then"

I get the first genuine smile of our renewed acquaintance.

==

Bruno's Bar, 54^th Street, NY

I come back from the ladies room to the sound of David Bowie on the jukebox: this is undoubtedly Max's doing. He is, by his own admission, a shameless Bowie obsessive. The first thing he did when Richard and I moved out of our house, and he moved in, was to get a heap of posters framed and hung on every free piece of wall space. I remember pointing out to him at the time that hanging these things would only depreciate their obvious true value, to which he responded by showing me the two trunks in his room still full of posters and other memorabilia. He has one other I think with his sister at their house in Brooklyn. He's met him now...

"...I've met him now four times, I actually interviewed him when he was recording here three years ago" Max is already in full flow as I arrive back at the table.

"Is he boring everyone senseless yet?" I slip back into my seat and continue to play with the remains of my second coffee. Josh actually looks genuinely interested at Max's ramblings; Sam however has heard it all before. He looks at me and mouths the words "time to go?" to which I heartily agree.

"You know, we'd love to sit here and listen to your stories, Maxwell, but we have rather an important day ahead of us tomorrow" Sam is already up, putting on his jacket, and I follow suit. Max turns and gives me a hand to find my remaining unfilled sleeve, then grabs me and pulls me close to him, hugging me in the process.

"You're gonna be fine tomorrow"

"We're gonna be fine tomorrow, Max. Sam's the one doing all the work, you should be hugging him"

Max releases me and turns, ready to give Sam the best hug he can muster, but Sam stops him with his index finger in front of his face.

"It's okay, I can see that you're behind us and we have your full support"

He smiles broadly and Max reciprocates. I know he'd trust Sam with his life now, they've proved a lot to each other over the last week or so.

Max decides to extend his hand, which Sam takes and happily shakes.

"Good luck"

"Thanks"

Josh stands a little awkwardly away from all this camaraderie, and I feel a sudden pang of guilt, so walk over to where he watches.

"You gonna be okay?"

He looks strangely troubled, and I realise that he's being nervous on my account.

"Whatever happens we're as prepared as we can be, that's all we can do now. Sam's confident, you know that..."

"No, I'm talking about you, are you gonna be okay?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

I expect a quick hug, but he holds me so tightly that while we embrace I can hear his heart, beating like a piston with a very heavy workload. I can also feel a sizable erection, which is a surprise. We've hugged before and it's always been pretty asexual...the last few days however have been different...in fact, since Sunday...

I have to gently persuade him to release me, and when he does and he looks down at me his pupils are abnormally wide: I feel decidedly peculiar, something is not right...the signals are all confused and jumbled. I can't analyse this, I'm too tired to be thinking, too close to tomorrow to be deflected by anything else... I just smile weakly at him and walk away, and slip outside to wait for Sam rather than stand in the bar as he says his goodbyes to Josh. Of course, I'm not okay... I wasn't really okay before, when he asked, but now I really do need to sleep and to focus and to be as far away from him and his pheromones as conceivably possible.

Sam takes a few moments but finally emerges into the cold March night: we've walked half a block before he decides to speak.

"Evie, about Josh..."

I stop suddenly: Sam has walked a few yards before he realises I'm not next to him, and turns.

I'm too tired to be thinking about this now, Sam...

"Can this wait until tomorrow?"

"He spent a long time hugging you in there, you know"

"Sam, I'm really tired-"

"It occurred to me that-"

"Could we PLEASE talk about this tomorrow?"

"Max thinks Josh may have a thing for you"

I may be tired, but that statement has me wide-awake. Of course I'm now not going to sleep until I know what Sam was going to say...

"What occurred to you?"

Sam walks back down the street until we are face to face.

"Max said-"

"No, I'm not interested in what Max said, however hugely deluded an observation it might be, I want to know what occurred to YOU"

"That Josh might be interested in something more than just a professional relationship"

I don't believe this...

"Since when?"

"Sunday would be as good a place to start as any. Just for the record, I don't have a problem with you and him-"

"I'd have a huge problem with it!"

Sam seems taken aback by this statement

"You would?"

"Sam, there is nothing going on, okay? Nothing. I'm not even sure what I feel now about the man whom I spent a large portion of my life married to, how can I possibly be expected to think about anyone else?"

"But you are, aren't you?"

Right, that's enough.

"SAM!"

The shout echoes around the empty streets, bouncing off the walls and around my brain. I put my head in my hands for a minute, trying really hard not to completely lose my temper. I do NOT want to talk about this now; I am tired and getting increasingly irritable and-

I feel Sam's hand on my right arm, and I take my hands away from my face. He looks at me with an expression that's part sympathy and part understanding.

"I'm sorry: of course I'm concerned about you and tomorrow, it's just...well...something is definitely up with Josh"

He's right of course. It's clear from the events of the last few days that Josh's is having a problem with something...it can't really be me, can it?

==

Josh Lyman's Apartment

"What's wrong with it?"

She looks at me, and then looks back at the schedule.

"Don't you think it's a bit..."

I can see her fighting for the word she wants and failing. The dark circles under her eyes are even more pronounced due to the lack of make-up. CJ normally won't be seen dead without concealer and foundation but Ev's not so bothered. She arrived in sweatpants and a cropped t-shirt after running from her place to mine, and then insisted on a shower when she got here. My apartment smells in part of her, which is a pleasant change from smelling just of me.

She's wearing a pale blue jersey dress, which just skims the middle of her calves, and clings in all the right places. I have to periodically remind myself to stop staring at her breasts, as she sits and focuses all her attention at the first day of the Presidents' upcoming New York itinerary.

"Vague is a word for it, but it's not the word I want"

"Formless?" I suggest helpfully

"Yeah, formless is a possibility"

"Unstructured, indistinct...?"

"Josh, you get my point, this is not an excuse to act like a thesaurus"

"I can't help it, words do such crazy things to me"

"I know... you have an insatiable urge to be descriptive wherever possible"

"It's another of my attractive and irresistible qualities"

"I'd substitute irritating and competitive"

She suddenly gets up, rubbing the back of her neck with her left hand. She looks in pain, and I'm gripped with the urge to offer help.

"You okay?"

"You mean apart from my life falling apart around my ears?"

I get up and come round to where she stands. She's playing for sympathy and I'm a sucker for this game when it comes to her...

"It's gonna be fine, we've had this discussion at least a thousand times now. You talk to this woman tomorrow, Max talks to Will Sweitzer, and it's done. You have nothing to worry about"

"You honestly believe that?"

The look she gives me mentally throws me backwards; it's like staring into a tempest. She's showing nervous and uncertain on the surface but below it's all passion and longing and desire...or is she just reflecting me? After all, she maintains that one of her best qualities is the facility to help people recognise their own abilities... I'm confused by all this brazen emotion at one moment and my brain quietly shuts down, which is a big mistake. I watch myself take her hand and lead her over to the sofa, and I watch myself sit down behind her and begin to massage her shoulders. What are you doing, Josh? You've never massaged a woman's shoulders ever in your entire life, what are you trying to achieve here?

Whatever I'm doing is having a big effect on her; I can feel her body begin to relax even under my less-than-expert touch. I find I'm staring, obsessing about the point at the nape of her neck. If I kissed her there, what's the worst that could happen? I'm thinking quickly as if this action is like any other I take throughout the day: what are the political consequences of a delicate, tender kiss on that exact spot?

I only have one other experience to draw from, and that ended up with full disclosure...

"Josh?"

My brain snaps back into partial attentiveness.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot"

"What do you really think of Richard?"

"He's a two faced, arrogant fucker who got everything he deserved"

Did I just say that?

She tenses and stands suddenly, turning on me with anger and hurt in her eyes.

Maybe I should have been paying complete attention...

"What the hell did you just say?"

"Something I should obviously have thought about before I opened my mouth and said it"

Any emotional warmth we might have had has instantly vaporised: suddenly you could power Georgetown on the anger Ev's pumping out. I can't think straight, my body and mind are disconcertingly pulling in different directions, and I'm beginning to wonder what's actually happening to me. This isn't the way things work, not for a LONG time, not since I was back in High School and...

"You really think he deserved to die?"

"He'd have carried on doing what he did until he hurt you, or worse"

"You don't know that Josh, that's just supposition"

"I think I can form a pretty good theory from the facts I have available"

"No, what you've done is draw a vastly inaccurate conclusion from a distinct lack of facts...what about the truth?"

"The truth's long gone Ev, this isn't about what happened any more... it's about preventing what happened from ruining the life you now have"

"Actually, no it isn't. This is very much about my life now, as just about everything I've done and everything I am has been based on that past. I'm sorry to have to break this to you, but there were bits of my life back then that were actually quite good..."

"But it was all one huge lie!"

"No it wasn't!!"

The venomous nature with which she spits out the words takes me completely by surprise, and it occurs to me in a moment of terrible clarity what I've just said. She's shaking now, visibly livid, and it's entirely my fault.

God, this woman reminds me of Joanie sometimes...

I realise I'm crying only when I register that all of the anger has flooded from her face, to be replaced by a look of confusion and apprehension. The last time she looked at me like this we were sitting in semi-darkness in my office...

"What's the matter?" She says it in a whisper, so that I can hardly hear her.

I'm acutely embarrassed, and find I need to turn around to wipe away the tears. As I put my right hand to my face I feel her arms slip around my waist and her upper body make contact with my back. She hugs me noiselessly and I'm suddenly possessed with an immediate and overpowering urge to turn around and kiss her hard, and I honestly don't understand why. Where has this all come from? I'm completely phased and confused by the unstoppable rush of desire and aware that if I move now I'll make my rapidly growing ardour instantly apparent. How the hell do I get out of this without turning around?

Fortunately for me it is at this moment that the buzzer sounds. Thank God for Sam and his poor timing. She releases me and I bolt gratefully for the door. It's opened in a rush and I confront Sam with what I hope is a bland mixture of relief and cheer. Sam looks briefly bemused and then, rather disconcertedly, stares straight at what is now a huge bulge in my jeans.

"Am I disturbing something?"

"It's not what it looks like, I mean it is what it looks like it's just...it's not what it looks like. I need to do a little shifting about, that's all..."

Sam is smiling at me.

"Would you like me to come back later, if you had something in mind I can take a long walk around the block if you need me to..."

He knows me better than I realise: I grab him with a little more force than I mean to and pull him into the hallway. Evie's retreated to the kitchen; I can hear the sounds of cups and the drawing of water for fresh tea. I quickly push Sam into the lounge and then immediately attend to a suitable re-arrangement of my genitalia. This is NOT the time to be feeling like this...okay, I'm established I'm not actually sure what I feel anyway but, I'm pretty certain that five days before what could be a significant event in this woman's life, the last thing she needs is someone waving a bag of confused chemical and physical signals at her. She needs stability and familiarity; she doesn't need an arrogant friend with an obvious hard-on.

As I walk back into the lounge Sam continues to stare at me in amusement. I barely resist the urge to slap him.

==

Bruno's Bar, 54^th Street, NY

Lilly brings penne with an asparagus and ham sauce, plus a large jug of freshly squeezed orange juice. Josh had suggested we go get take out; Bruno had insisted he make us something quicker, easier and more Italian. This is probably just as unhealthy in it's own way, but it's considerably easier and doesn't involve me having to move. Despite the fact we both ate good meals earlier in the evening we sit now and gorge like men possessed.

I'm totally exhausted, it's all overtaken me during the last forty-eight hours: the worry, the workload...all of it. I've still been doing the column but from wherever I happened to be: DC, the plane, even on the can the night before last after I'd fallen asleep on my bed somewhere in the early afternoon and almost missed the deadline. Tomorrow's column was completed at three am this morning with what has been one of my rare attacks of foresight. They're gonna sail through it tomorrow, I know they are. Suddenly that's not the issue for me. This guy sitting opposite me is rapidly becoming my major issue.

I recognize I have to start liking Josh Lyman because it becomes clearer to me by the hour that he's heading for some kind of intimate relationship with the person I consider to be my most cherished confidant. The question is, what happens after that initial clash of bodies, when the dust settles? My professional instinct wonders just how acceptable a relationship would be between two senior White House staffers: will it affect their performances? Will it have a direct effect on how the country is governed? Will anyone other than me actually care? If he was screwing his secretary, well...that would be news. I should at some point start remembering that I'm a reporter... someone is going to expect me somewhere along the line to do something other than just state the facts as they're presented to me, I'm going to be expected to ask some questions... This guy sitting in front of me is, after all, a major news story just waiting to happen.

I have to decide how I feel about that, and sooner rather than later.

He's still not totally grasped it; he's stunned like a rabbit caught in headlights. He's gonna get run over and he'll be lying there squashed flat and maybe even then he won't realise...

"How does this work?"

Josh looks at me with his normal polished air of professionalism very much in place.

"Excuse me?"

"If I wanna talk to you about her, friend to friend...do I have your word it's just talk and not the start of a story?"

Of course he really is as smart and savvy as they say he is. I look at him and decide that as long as he doesn't hurt her and takes good care of her he's safe. Do anything dumb and you're toast, Lyman...

"Is my word good enough?"

"I might not have said it was a year ago, but now..."

He extends his hand and we shake, a Gentleman's Agreement. He still won't consciously leak me a story or anything important, I know he's too well trained for that. At least this way he feels he can talk to me without the sensation of being completely restricted.

"Have you ever slept with her?"

I almost choke on the last forkful of penne.

"Do you think if I had I'd be here now? Come on Josh, even Sam's had those thoughts over the years. She's very attractive, both physically and mentally. That's why Richard, despite all his deadbeat loser tendencies, stayed with her. What you have to understand is when he was alive, whatever he might have got up to, nobody else stood a chance. Evie still loves him now..."

"Don't I know that the hard way..."

He looks at me, I guess he's said what I know he thinks about Richard to her face and been stunned by the results.

"For what it's worth I think she needs someone who's all the things that Richard wasn't. In the end it was always a staunchly traditional relationship. She needs an equal in every respect"

He's trying so hard not to show she's got him hooked. Sam and I have spoken at length about this, and I really don't think she has any conception of what's about to hit her. She's still pretty naïve when it comes to the mechanics of intimacy. I hope for her sake he's more morally upstanding than Richard was...and for his too. If he were to hurt her...

"You're still pretty close, aren't you?"

"Not at this precise moment. Sam's closer, they've been almost in each other's pockets...I'm really not the guy to ask about the here and now."

"I know what he thinks."

"But what do you think...?"

"If I knew that, there wouldn't be a problem."

We sit in a long silence as the food is finished. Lilly comes with the bill and Josh insists on paying it, and it's close to midnight as we finally leave. We've walked half a block in silence before Josh disturbs the peace.

"He's here, isn't he?"

"Who's here?"

"Will Sweitzer. You said he'd come here for a few days?"

"Yeah, he's staying with some friends from the Old Days"

"What were the Old Days like?"

"They were great for a while, and then they weren't so great. Will's lucky to have made it from there to the here and now..."

==

Georgetown Diner and Grill, Washington DC

He eats like a condemned man.

I suppose that if I had been close to losing my life I might now attack life the same way Will does: we've spent the last hour discussing the Chemotherapy, the sickness, the family gathering around him. His family is huge: he's one of seven children, and all of his brothers and sisters came to visit him in hospital during the time of his stay. His mother, who's in her late seventies now, refused to leave him the entire time he was in for treatment...they set her up a bed next to his. I think he has to be alive today at least in part because of the love of these people.

He's lost about eighty pounds, I guess, and he's still bald. He got to like the lack of hair so much that he now shaves his head, which is apparently easier than it sounds...He was striking before, being at least three inches taller than me: I'm a good six feet, after all. As we sit in this student haunt we make a pretty odd looking couple: I wanted somewhere off the beaten track, where it was less likely there'd be anyone who'd overhear us.

In the end it took just over an hour and I have everything I need. Since I spoke to him last week a lot has happened, and there's been a fair number of 'phone calls between New York and Seattle. It appears he still speaks to Lauren and Heather, and to Christine Harris, who told him about Eloise's attempts to locate suitable witnesses for her end of the case. I now know that he contacted Eloise on Saturday and that a pretty heated argument ensued. As a result of this not only is he prepared to testify that he had sex with her that night, he's also willing to take a DNA test to prove that the little girl is his.

Will is now incapable of having kids, and to discover that he almost certainly had already fathered one, so unexpectedly and under such bizarre circumstances, would probably be enough to completely throw most people. Not him however, who's ability to cope with anything God might pitch at him over the past seven years is considerable. He was delighted...and Eloise was mortified. She staunchly denied the sex, even thought Will told her there were independent witnesses who could corroborate the event. The exchange that ensued was listened to and transcribed in shorthand by Will's eldest sister on another 'phone, and makes for pretty interesting reading...though I'd have to check with Sam whether it would be admissible as actual evidence of her complicity.

There was a second 'phone call that day to the Sweitzer household, but this time it came from Gage Witney. That's when Will decided to look at the possibility of initiating a custody suit...and that's where he starts as soon as he flies back tonight. He came all the way here and will fly all the way back, happy to do anything to prevent Eloise from getting a head start.

"I always liked Evelyn, she was different, she had something about her that made her instantly amenable"

He hardly breaks stride between mouthfuls. He's told me he'd had cancer and been given the all clear, it was only ten minutes ago that I learnt the exact version of disease he suffered from.

The meatballs I'd ordered five minutes previously swiftly lost their appeal. Will has almost finished his steak: he looks at my almost full plate with concern.

"You not hungry?"

"Under the circumstances I think maybe I should have ordered a salad"

He laughs, and I smile weakly. He hasn't lost his sense of humour.

"You never did have the balls, did you Max?"

I wonder if he expects me to make a cheap comment in return

"It's okay, I don't have half as much as I used to...and if you're not gonna eat those meatballs, can I have them?"

I'm more than happy to indulge him

==

Room 3912, New Yorker Hotel, NY

"It's open"

She's changed into PJ's with a sweatshirt, and looks about nine yeas old, with her hair piled up on top of her head. All she needs is to be holding a teddy bear in her hand and the picture would be complete.

"Dad, I can't sleep...can I have a drink please?"

This fact is obviously not lost on her.

I laugh, because it's the night before a huge day that could still hold the ability to upset us both and she has not yet lost the ability to laugh at herself. The body of evidence may now be grossly in our favour, but I know from bitter experience what can happen if you walk into a situation like this expecting it to be a breeze. Even with the wonders of disclosure and the realisation that they have little or no evidence at all to present, there is still the possibility of a wildcard. If, for instance, they've been able to track down anyone who knew Ruth Weitz...

"So, tell me again just how little evidence these people have...?"

"We'll not even make it into the courtroom, they'll meet and want to settle this beforehand. I've got a $50 bet with Josh that we'll also walk away with full costs..."

She comes and sits on the edge of my small and very uncomfortable single bed.

"I know it doesn't help, all this constant reassurance, but I can but try" I'm pretty sure she doesn't need the reassurance but she can have it anyway.

"It's just good to know that you're here, that's all"

"It's in situations like this I could do with Josh or Toby here: I need some male confidence boosting"

She laughs at me.

"Sam, confidence should be the last thing you worry about. I think Josh gets you too pumped up about things, I like you best like this...quiet and unassuming. Then it's a real shock to people when you suddenly go for their throat and rip out their vocal chords"

Now it's my turn to laugh. I close the box file and turn the chair around from the dresser so I fully face her. She didn't come here to talk about tomorrow; we're long past being all talked out about it. This is about my mistimed comment on the walk home.

"He has been acting pretty weird the last few days, hasn't he?"

"You really don't get from him the possibility he's hot for you?"

"That's an appalling expression, Sam. All he's done since Sunday is argue and apologise to me, that's hardly conducive behaviour for someone who's looking for a relationship. If anything he's gone out of his way to be professional, there's been an obviously conscious decision to move away from the touchy-feely stuff that Josh tends to do when we're in pressure situations. Even CJ made the point to me he's being deliberately unaffectionate."

She's right; of course...I've seen Josh like this before, when he lost his father. He withdraws into himself, and a lot of his cocky arrogance is swallowed. He concentrates solely on work and his personal life becomes almost non-existent...but there's still something that bothers me about this whole thing. Max is convinced they are both deluding themselves and it'll be just a matter of time, I really haven't had a chance to discuss it with Josh in any depth. The last time we tried to things got a little out of hand.

==

Sam Seaborn's Apartment, Washington DC

"Hey"

Josh is standing here, outside my apartment, when he should be on the Hill.

"You should be at the thing"

"They cancelled it until tomorrow morning. Congresswoman Allan's daughter broke her arm after she fell off a chair at Kindergarten"

" Big chair, then..."

"Can I come in, please?"

We've not spoken privately since I found him and his erection sweating at his front door on Sunday. By the look on his face I think I may be in for an explanation.

"Sorry..."

He takes off his mac and drops his backpack in the hallway, then follows me into the kitchen. The table and the counter are covered with neatly organised piles of papers: now I am finally getting somewhere.

"Max called me" Josh immediately begins pacing from the counter to the fridge, as I sit down at the kitchen table and continue my sorting. "He said after he spoke to this Will guy he thinks it's pretty much cut and dried"

"The evidence is undoubtedly pretty conclusive, but we still don't know what Eloise's legal team have managed to unearth...I've learned from experience it's pretty stupid to start claiming a victory before you've run the race"

"Yes, but you have to be confident, right?"

"I'm quietly confident, Josh, and that's all I intend to be until we've gotten to the Hearing"

He looks at me with a pained expression and stops in his tracks.

"It wasn't what it looked like, you know...!"

"When's the last time that happened with CJ?"

"Aw, come on! I find CJ very attractive..."

"We all find CJ very attractive, but only you at present seem to find Evie arousing"

Josh looks to the floor, avoiding my gaze for a moment. He was never like this on the Campaign with Mandy or Sarah, or indeed in the West Wing with Joey Lucas. Come to think of it he's never acted this irrationally with any woman in the whole time we've been friends. Perhaps I'm seeing something that simply isn't there...

"She hugged me"

Josh is waiting for me to pay attention.

"Why did she hug me?"

"Because she reminded me of my sister"

"Excuse me?"

"We had a fight, and I got her angry and when she stood there, she reminded me of my sister, and...it upset me. So, she hugged me"

"You weren't aroused before that point, then?"

He won't look at me again, won't directly return my gaze.

"Josh, how long has this been going on...?"

"Nothing is going on!"

"Then why is this so difficult to talk about?"

"I work with her!"

"You worked with Joey Lucas and that wasn't a problem"

"I didn't work with Joey Lucas every day..."

He still refuses to communicate face to face, and is getting increasingly agitated. I think I may actually be onto something here...

The door buzzer sounds and Josh nearly jumps out of his skin.

I think I may definitely be onto something here...

I make no effort to get up to answer it, because I know exactly who it is. Only now does Josh look at me expectantly.

"Are you...?"

"Would you mind...?"

"It's her, isn't it?"

"She said she'd come here when she got back from the airport"

I swallow a grin as he walks off to the front door.

==

I have to concentrate really hard on not bouncing up and down as I wait for him to open the door.... I just got off my cell to Max. It's the best news I could have hoped for, better than the best news, but of course Sam will advise caution, and restraint...but I'm going to hug him anyway, because I can, because if it wasn't for him...forget, for the moment all the stuff I still have to deal with, all the unanswered questions about Richard. Yes. Don't think about Richard, think about you will now hug Sam just like you used to when he opens the door...

Sam doesn't open the door.

"Josh"

"Ev"

"You're supposed to be on the Hill"

"Congresswoman Allan's daughter broke her arm."

"Is she okay?"

"We rescheduled"

"I meant her daughter!"

"Yeah, she's fine"

"Good"

He never actually apologised on Sunday for what he said, and when I left his place I was still steaming. This is the first time I've seen him since. He stands and looks at his feet, and then meets my gaze head on.

"I'm sorry"

It's as if he reads my mind, which is disconcerting enough: but then he reaches out and hugs me...I've forgotten entirely about my celebration as he temporarily sucks all the joy and elation from me. I'm instantly consumed with the need to comfort him, to reassure him that it's okay, I'm not mad anymore...it automatically and instantly stops being about me and is all about him. The embrace is intimate and warm and gradually thrilling and when we release I'm only a couple of inches away from his face. His breath smells of coffee.

I suppose I could forgive him now.

"It's okay, you're entitled to your opinion"

He is briefly mortified.

"Even though I said something unforgivable?"

I finally rediscover my elation, and as the enthusiasm bubbles up in me I hug him again, nuzzling my head into his neck and taking a clandestine second to inhale his scent. He smells good enough to eat, and I feel very aroused by the moment. Rampant success always does that to me...it's easy to see how pheromones can be so dangerous. I'm a lot warmer when I release him and only then realise he's lifted me off the ground. I look straight into him in a genuine attempt to convince him of my sincerity.

"I think I can find a way to forgive you..."

Then it's over, Josh suddenly takes his arms away and I hit Sam's hall floor with a bump. The swiftness of the action is slightly disconcerting, and as I steady myself I realise he's gone, he's disappeared into the apartment. Sam was right last night; this is definitely out of character behaviour from Joshua. Okay, I might have just come across a bit flushed over our mutual success, but that's hardly the first time we've gently flirted with each other. He dropped me like I was going to burn him...

I need to celebrate with someone, so if Josh doesn't want to play I'll go find someone who I know is an expert at the art of Celebratory Hugging. I know where he'll be: his front room simply got too small for the paperwork and I walk past it and head for the kitchen. I put on my most sensual tone and stand in the kitchen doorway: one arm above my head, leaning suggestively on the frame.

"Oh, Samuel...?"

He looks up from his papers and he's smiling from ear to ear. He plays along and swaggers over to where I stand and replies in kind.

"Oh...Evelyn...!"

When we hug it's glorious: no confusing signals, just bodies and frisson and mutual appreciation. He kisses me dramatically and then we press our bodies to each other before finally separating to just arms around waists. Once upon a time we used to greet each other like this at Bruno's, before embarking on our weekly seventy-two hours of non-stop drinking, dancing and theorising on the nature of the Universe and the mechanics of Madonna's underwear...

"It could all still go wrong," he says through his smile

"The world could end tomorrow" I chuckle back

"Whatever happens this is still a fantastic day"

"...and you are a fantastic hugger, Mr Seaborn"

"You taught me everything I know, Mrs Parker"

We both register his absence simultaneously.

"Where's Josh?" I look at Sam

"He opened the door, didn't he?"

"Yes, and then he disappeared"

"Something is most definitely amiss here"

"I think you should talk to him"

"Why me?"

"Because he doesn't seem too keen to have me around at the moment. I think I'm making him nervous"

"Okay, I'll go and find him"

"I'll make tea, that's what girls do in situations like these"

"Good idea"

We separate and Sam goes off to find Josh

==

I come across him in the lounge, slumped in my easy chair, looking glum.

"Was it something we said?"

"No, you were...you looked like you were having a good time. I thought I'd leave you to it"

"We were celebrating..."

"That's how you celebrate?" Josh stands, and seems totally confused, as if someone has picked him up and shaken him hard, jumbling up all his normal cocky bravado in the process. He's actually nervous for the first time in a long while...

"I think we have good reason to"

"It seemed a particularly intimate celebration"

"That was our traditional Celebratory Hug"

The first time we did that she'd gotten the internal promotion at Blue Gin Media and almost doubled her salary overnight. That was a particularly good three days...she taught me how to Vogue. Josh hasn't even known her for a year yet; it's a little over six months. He stands and I'm suddenly struck with a thought...I know what this is.

"Josh, are you jealous?"

The use of the word makes him flinch, as if I've hit a sore spot.

"Why would you possibly think I could be jealous?"

"Because I just kissed her in my kitchen?"

"You've known her a lot longer than me"

"Yes, I have"

"You used to kiss her a lot?"

"It was all strictly platonic kissing..."

"You never got the urge to do non-platonic kissing?"

"She was married, Josh"

"Well, she isn't now..."

The light goes on above us and we're both temporarily blinded. Ev stands in the hallway with a smile.

"In times of trouble, girls make tea...so here we are, two teas"

Josh looks at me and then to Ev...I'm pretty certain my theory is correct, as I see him moving in a way that I know means he's attempting to rearrange himself surreptitiously. I was right, she just walks in the room and however hard he might protest his dick is happy to give the game away. He stands for a moment and stares at her: she's taken off her coat and she's wearing a pretty tight grey skirt and pale grey blouse with a distinctly revealing neckline. She looks at him and I can't tell what she's thinking, I guess she's trying to read the expression on his face and failing.

"Are you okay?" she finally speaks, and she isn't looking at me.

"It's been a hard...I mean long...It's been a difficult day" I have to try hard not to laugh at Josh's inability to cope with his hormones. I still have the same problem with Laurie...

"I'm sorry, all this additional pressure can't be much help." Now she's concerned, and it's as if I suddenly ceased to exist. "I'm really sorry for what happened yesterday, and I know I probably over-reacted. You are of course entitled to your opinion. I'm not really in the best frame of mind to deal with other people's problems...please believe me when I say I care, and when this is all over-"

"I'm looking forward to when this is all over"

"You and me both..."

Josh suddenly moves, and I think that he's going over to take a tea from Ev's hand: instead he walks right past her and is gone. We look at each other in confusion for a minute and then he's back, mac on and backpack in place.

"I've got another thing I should do now, it's really important. I'll see you guys later"

With that he's gone before Ev or I can protest.

We just stand in my lounge: Ev smiles weakly and shrugs.

"Maybe I should have made him coffee...?"

==

Pick up the 'phone, Josh...

"Hey"

"About bloody time"

"I was in the shower"

"Yeah, of course you were"

I've tried him five times since I got back. Of course I'm worried about him, but I'm more concerned about the box with the hand-written label that was delivered here whilst I was at Sam's. The label, in his impossibly neat, almost feminine handwriting states "Do Not Open until Friday Morning"...this was what he was in such a hurry to leave and attend to?

"You haven't opened it, have you?"

"The instructions say I can't"

"You always follow instructions?"

"I do when the third most important person in the White House writes them"

I can hear the smile, but I know he's having to make an effort.

"If you could just consider this an apology for the last couple of days, that would be great"

"No problems, and I promise I won't open it. Whatever it is, I'll thank you now and again when I see you on Friday"

"Okay. I have to go, I have an early thing tomorrow"

"Congressman Allan"

"Yeah"

"Phone me when you get the chance, okay?"

"I will"

"Sleep well, Josh"

"And you"

He's gone, to leave me with my thoughts and a six by twelve parcel.

==

Room 3912, New Yorker Hotel, NY

I can't sleep with it sitting there in my luggage unopened.

I was true to my word, I didn't unwrap it and now as it's officially Friday morning...I go and get it from my suit carrier and sit on the bed, looking at it for a moment, almost expecting it to suddenly explode and sprinkle confetti all over the room. I then go and retrieve my nail file from my wash bag and carefully slit the tape that holds it together, as I want to preserve the box. It's pale blue with a dark blue lid and I'd hate to ruin it by diving in and breaking the top.

With my eyes closed I open it: there's a layer of tissue inside, but on top of that is a small white envelope with "Read Me" written on it, so I comply.

Josh.

There's a lot in here, under the layer of tissue. There's a bar of Galaxy (he obviously lied to me at Christmas about there only being three large bars in his possession), a copy of "Law for Dummies", a floor plan of the Courthouse (with a note that says simply "In case you need a quick exit") and the phone number for the Justice Department ("In case Sam and you get separated") The DVDs of "Twelve Angry Men" plus "A Time to Kill" are in here too ...which I can only assume are provided so I can watch them and realise just how compelling courtroom dramas can be. There's one item that eludes me however, and that's the battered bottle opener, wrapped in a blue handkerchief. I check my watch, he won't be asleep yet, I'll guarantee it...

He answers his cell in two rings.

"Are you impressed?"

"I'm impressed you got the floor plans, and I'll assume you worked out the quickest way out from where we'll be...?"

"You want me to tell you?"

"Frankly no. You can tell me about the bottle opener"

"It was my dad's: he always had it in his pocket the day of a trial, said it was lucky. I think he just wanted to make sure he could open a beer when he was done"

Sam, for your information there is something definitely up with Josh. For your information I probably lied to you this evening because I didn't want to think about it myself...I wouldn't have a problem with it, not now while I'm tired and I'm not concentrating. Tomorrow, I might feel differently, but right now...

"Is there anything you'd like to say at this precise moment?"

He goes silent, and I wonder for a moment whether I've lost the connection.

"Josh?"

"I'm still here"

"Well?"

"Meet me after the hearing: please?"

"Okay, I'll 'phone you when we're done"

Central Park, New York City

Perhaps I need to ask for divine intervention.

I sit and watch the worst game of softball in my memory with a giant pretzel in one hand and a soda in the other. I'm still none the wiser. I've spent the last week bouncing off the walls at my apartment, trying to bury myself in work and Government and I couldn't get away from it. I couldn't escape her, the thought of her, the smell of her; it's all conspiring against me. I wished last night I could talk to her, as I knew I had to before I could sleep and the cell rang at me. She appears like a genie, a djinn in my dreams and in every waking thought. I've not felt like this since High School...that was the first time I was in love, and the last time.

I need a sign.

I refuse to believe every answer I find for myself, I refuse to believe this is it. I've known her for about ten minutes and...no, I refuse to believe it.

If she really is my soul mate I'm sure I'd have had a sign by now, an irrefutable, inescapable sign...and I'm sure as hell that hasn't happened.

I definitely need some kind of sign, in the city that she loves, that I am again becoming addicted to...so, if you're listening...

Outside the City Hall Subway, New York City

In the end, we didn't need the bottle opener.

We arrived and they capitulated, and that's how it was. No dirt, no accusations...nothing. It boiled down to Sam, the Judge and a guy from Gage Witney called Alex Merchant, who spent twenty minutes in the Judges Office and came out with a settlement of full costs for us and no hearing...I never even got to see the inside of the courtroom, I spent the whole time sitting on a cold, hard bench in the lobby. When Sam told me I felt nothing, and I still feel nothing. It's like someone's come along and just wiped all my feelings away with a wet cloth.

This was the whole point of course, it wasn't so much the hearing, it was the stuff it unearthed, the secrets that it dislodged... the inconvenience to the Administration. In that respect it was a great success for Eloise and the Republican Party. I can only hope that Will's custody case can help redress the balance. I don't get my time back, and I don't go back to things as normal because, let's face it, there is no normal now. I'm working from scratch on a lot of things... and it's a little scary. Scary in a good way, mind. There's lots of potential to be explored, but I can't forget what went before. I've got one thing I must do as a result of all this, and that's take a long look at my past with some professional guidance.

I'm waiting for him outside the Lafayette Subway entrance, as I arranged, and my mind is wandering. After everything we've just been through, after all the dirt and the lies and the subterfuge I seem to be more jaded than I was before, my soul even less willing to lend itself to anyone. Where have all the Princes gone? What happened to the guys who slayed dragons to win the hearts of pure and chaste maidens, who fought their way through bushes of thorn to kiss princesses and awaken them from one hundred year slumbers? My father obviously lied to me again as a child...is there ever really a chance of a truly happy ending?

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I turn to see who's there.

==

As she turns something strange happens. Everything around me starts to slow down, until the moment that my gaze meets hers. Then everything stops dead.

The people don't move, there's no sounds, no smells: nothing. It's just her, looking at me.

Her eyes are full of stars.

"Josh?"

The city goes on unabated; it's only me that stands in momentary shock. Didn't anyone else notice that everything just stopped then? Can nobody else see really just how desperately desirable this woman is, because I think I only just worked out why...?

==

"Joshua, are you alright?"

He's lost for words, and then his entire body language changes.

"I...you look stunning."

"Thank you."

"So, what happened?"

"You want the long version or the short version?"

"I'll take the highlights..."

"We won"

His face breaks into a huge, unabashed grin, and the next thing I know he's hugging me with an enthusiasm I find momentarily both confusing and unbelievably erotic. I reciprocate, but I'm not sure what's just happened. All the signals have suddenly changed from him, as he releases me and looks at me it's like I'm seeing a completely different person. I think I like this new Josh Lyman. I think I like him a lot.

"We should celebrate"

"Josh, you have a Fundraiser meeting in an hour"

"We're here until eight, right?"

"That's when the flight back is, yes"

"I'll 'phone her and tell her I had something I had to do and I'll be with her in ninety minutes. I want to buy you double chocolate chip ice cream and I want to eat it with you in Central Park. It's a beautiful day and I think we've earned the opportunity to enjoy it"

Something has definitely changed; I wish I had some idea of what it was. I'm desperately trying to work out what transpired in the previous thirty seconds that I obviously missed whilst Josh is almost dragging me past the Municipal Building

"Hang on!"

My tone has the desired effect. He stops and looks straight at me and it's now suddenly deadly serious. My head swims: I didn't eat breakfast, I should know better by now. He slips an arm around my waist and draws me to him, but this time he kisses me, full on the mouth and there's sparks. Big, fat, juicy sparks: I feel wanton and desirous and breathless and...desperate to reciprocate, but I'm incapable, completely confused as to where to begin. I just let myself be overwhelmed, and when we finally release it's suddenly gotten a lot brighter. He lets me pull back but he doesn't let go completely.

"That," he gasps "was my Celebratory Hug..."

I'm at a complete loss for words. I'm sure he's conspiring with the City; I'm convinced the pavement is singing to me again like it did once upon a time, one night in July...

"Let me buy you ice cream. Let me buy you something"

His voice is a trickle inside my head; the final drip of water that I realise is only microns away from eroding the floor of my resistance.