Ruth Hoynes belongs to us. Bayliss, Giardello, and Lewis belong to Baltimore Productions and NBC. All other characters belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions, Warner Bros., & NBC. The song lyrics are from "Sometimes" by James. Standard disclaimers apply. Please send feedback.

The Flood
Violet & Cinnamon
There's a storm outside
And the gap between the crack and thunder,
Crack and thunder is closing in, is closing in
The rain floods gutters, and makes a great sound on concrete
On a flat roof, there's a boy leaning against a wall of rain, aerial held high
Calling: "Come on, thunder, come on, thunder...."

The rain came up as a slow drizzle Saturday evening; by two in the morning it was a full-fledged downpour. The two men stumbling out of the hotel lobby didn't have raincoats, and didn't care. An hour before, they'd each wanted a drink -- just a shot of whiskey, to guard against the cold. One shot turned into many more, and before long they were laughing at each other's intoxication as they stepped out into the rain.

"I can't get over what you said about the Washington Monument," the taller man said.

"Father of our country," his companion slurred. They giggled drunkenly until they'd forgotten why they were laughing.

The shorter man reached out and tugged up the other man's collar. "You're getting soaked."

"Kiss me goodnight," the tall man said.

He chuckled again. "What?"

"Kiss me goodnight."

The shorter man looked like he was going to refuse, until their eyes locked through the mist. He said nothing, only took a step forward. They leaned toward each other, and their hands met at the same time as their lips brushed gently.

There was a soft, small sound: a camera shutter clicking.

The shorter man stepped back. "Did you hear something?"

He shook his head. "No, John..."

Across the street, a light suddenly went out in a window. An instant later, a car screeched around the corner.

"...I heard that," the tall man admitted.

"Shit," John said, anger and panic creeping into his voice. He looked at the other man and hissed, "Go inside, Tim. Go back inside."

"What...?"

"Just go!"

The tall man retreated into the lobby. John cursed again, no longer feeling drunk. He was starting to shiver, and not because of the pouring rain. He yanked a cellular phone out of his pocket and hit a number on his speed dial. Someone picked up. "Hoynes," he said into the phone. There must have been static. "Hoynes, damn it!" he repeated. "We have -- oh, God. We have a problem."


* * *


Josh had fallen asleep on the couch, watching reruns of "The Brady Bunch." He surfaced slowly from a dream about Jan Brady, and stared in confusion at the television until he realized the beeping noise wasn't coming from the screen. Drowsily, he picked up his pager and got to his feet. He read the message as he trudged into his bedroom to get dressed, then stopped in his tracks as it hit him. He yawned, distractedly grabbed some clothes from the closet, and started to struggle into them, wishing the Brady theme song wasn't stuck in his head.


* * *


The sound awoke C.J. automatically, and she rolled over reflexively to stop it, promptly going over the edge of the bed and taking most of the sheets with her.

"...The hell?" a muffled voice commented.

"I'm beeping," she said, extricating herself from the tangled blankets.

"Funny; I was sleeping too, until--"

"I'm beeping," C.J. repeated, and felt her way through the darkness to the dresser. "You really ought to get a night-stand."

Toby lifted his face out of the pillow. "To break your fall?"

"I wouldn't have...." She trailed off as the insistent noise doubled. "You're beeping too." C.J. found her pager and tossed his onto the foot of the bed, then fumbled for the light switch.

"This can't be good," Toby groaned, shielding his eyes against the brightness. C.J. was already moving ahead, gathering items of clothing up off the floor, as he read the message. "God. Does this say what I think it says?"

"Unless we're both going crazy," she called over her shoulder.

He stood up, squinting at the nylon stockings hanging from the doorknob. "That's entirely possible," he muttered, and followed her out of the bedroom.


* * *


*My apartment is on fire,* Sam thought. *This is bad.*

Before he got out of bed or even opened his eyes, Sam mentally ran through his escape route. *I can't believe my apartment is on fire. Open the window, climb down the tree, go across the street, call 911. I really need to come up with a better escape plan.*

Thunder rumbled loudly as Sam jumped from the bed, turned on the bedroom light, and realized that the shrill noise he heard wasn't his smoke alarm at all. He reached for his beeper and sat down on the bed. Sam read the message twice, rubbed his eyes and read it again.

*I think I liked it better when my apartment was on fire.*


* * *


Leo looked at the clock. 3:07 am. How in the hell did it get so late? He stared at the wall for a full minute before he forced himself to stand. Leo grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, and didn't realize how tired he was until he put it on. With a heavy sigh, he placed three files under his arm and walked to the door. Leo turned off the lights in his office and barely made it out the door before his beeper began to vibrate. He read the message, cursed, and turned the lights back on.

Twenty minutes later, Josh staggered in, rain dripping from his tangled hair. "Hey, Leo. Can you believe I got this wet just coming from the car?" He rubbed his eyes and sank into a chair. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"I never went home."

"So is this for real?"

Leo shot him an odd look. "Yeah, Josh; you know, I thought it would be really funny to prank-call the senior staff in the middle of the night and say the Vice President-- "

"Okay. Sorry." Josh yawned loudly. "You have to admit it's pretty surreal."

"It's unquestionably surreal, but it's real."

"He actually kissed this guy?" Sam asked as he entered, leaving his umbrella by the door.

"Yes," Leo assured him.

"Where?"

"I'm under the impression that it was on the lips, but who cares, Sam?"

"No, I meant, where did it happen?"

"Outside the Madison. On the street."

"In an entirely public place," Josh contributed.

"Yeah."

Sam shook his head in disbelief and slumped on the couch.

Toby stalked in. "I'm going to kill him," he announced grimly. "I mean it. I'm literally going to kill him myself."

"Please don't let the Secret Service hear you say that," Leo answered wryly. Toby glowered at nothing in particular.

"Speaking of which," Josh interrupted, "how is it that Hoynes managed to lose his protection detail but he couldn't shake off... whoever took this picture?"

Leo frowned. "I don't know, Josh, but rest assured I'm going to have a long talk with him and I'm going to find that out; that, among many, many other things."

C.J. came in behind Toby, as Josh groaned miserably and tilted his head back against his chair. She glanced at him. "Get dressed in the dark there, Joshua?"

He looked down at himself for the first time, and realized his shirt was a shade of orange that could only be described as virulent. "I didn't know I still had this."

"People," Leo said in a warning tone. They looked up. "I don't need to tell you we have a crisis on our hands. Josh, I want you to come with me. We need to get the full story from Hoynes, and we need it fast. Toby, C.J., start making phone calls. I'd like to find out who's behind this before the rest of the English-speaking world does. C.J., you're going to be doing a lot of talking about this at the early briefing--"

"You think?" C.J. broke in, rubbing at her exhausted shoulders.

Leo ignored this. "I'd feel more comfortable if we had a formal statement ready. Sam, put something together. Right now, our position is we don't know anything."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"How about because we honestly don't know anything?"

"It's none of our business in the first place," Sam said quickly. "I mean, I understand it looks bad, but it's his life, right?"

Everyone in the room stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. "Sam," C.J. finally said, "You of all people should know...."

"I'm just saying this kind of makes my being friends with a call girl look like a pretty minor--"

"Sam!" Leo was exasperated. "Look, I know it's late. I know you're all tired. I think you all realize how incredibly bad this could, and probably will, get. It's time to get into your fighting stances, guys. Go to work."

They started to file out. "Oh, and Josh?" He stopped, and Leo looked him over. "At least try and get that thing buttoned straight, okay?"

Josh blinked at him and walked out. Leo sat back down at his desk, resting his face in his hands for a few seconds. As rare as they were, there were still times when he wished he was doing just about any other job. But they never lasted. He shrugged it off, and reached for the telephone.


* * *


Hoynes sat shivering on the couch in his darkened living room, eyes closed, fingers pressed to his temples against a raging headache. He did not look up when Leo and Josh walked in.

"I know what you're going to say, Leo." John mumbled.

"Oh, I'm sure you do," he said in a carefully controlled tone. "Mr. Vice President, may I speak informally here?"

"I don't care."

"Good. What in God's name were you thinking?!"

"I wasn't. It just happened." The explanation sounded weak, even to himself.

Josh leveled his gaze at Hoynes. "You went to the trouble of dodging your Secret Service protection -- and by the way, the Secret Service is really not amused. You met this man secretly in an expensive hotel late at night. You kissed this man at two in the morning in a public street. Am I missing anything?"

"That's a hell of a lot to have just happened, John!" Leo said, annoyed. "Don't tell me you weren't thinking. Give me something I can use! You've got a pretty slim chance of getting out of this as it is, and you've got none if you're not going to work with us here."

Hoynes wished the floor would open and swallow him. "I really don't know what to tell you," he murmured.

"For starters, are you...." Leo couldn't believe he was asking this question. "Are you... sleeping with this guy?"

Hoynes raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot, but flashing. "I'm seeing him," he said, with difficulty. "Yes."

"Well, that's something the newspapers are going to love to hear," Josh remarked archly.

"If we're lucky, they're not going to hear it," Leo said.

"Yeah, but we're never lucky," Josh pointed out.

"John, we're going to have to talk to him. And it's going to have to be tonight, before this picture hits the cover of Weekly World News."

Hoynes seemed about to complain, but he stood up. He walked across the room, took a piece of note-paper and a pen, and scribbled an address. He folded the note and gave it to Leo. Outside, thunder rumbled. John hated the way Josh and Leo were watching him.

"Now what?" he asked, finally.

"The President's going to want to see you first thing in the morning," Leo told him. "He'll be expecting you, and he's going to be pretty damn furious. For the moment, there's nothing you can do except go talk to your family. Trust me, you'll be glad they heard this from you."

A stricken look crossed John's face. "Georgia's spending her spring semester at Choate. I'll have to call up there. Jesus, Andrew's only nine years old...."

Josh studied him for a moment. "You have a couple of hours to get yourself together," he said, not without sympathy. "At least, you have until the morning papers hit the street."

Hoynes nodded. Josh walked past him and out the door. Leo went to follow him.

"Leo?"

He stopped. They were face to face.

"I was drinking," Hoynes said, his voice trembling.

"I know," Leo said. "I gotta tell you, I'm not inclined to feel sorry for you right now. I'll see you in a little while."

"Yeah."

Leo crossed to the door. "We're all powerless over it, John," he said, and left.

Hoynes stood there, thoughtfully. His headache was maintaining a dull roar, matched by the unceasing patter of the rain. "Yeah," he said to no one in particular, and turned to go upstairs and talk to his wife.


* * *

Inside his room at the Madison, Tim Bayliss stood by a window and watched it rain. Brief flashes of lightning lit up the city, and Bayliss desperately wished he had left that morning as he had planned. He fingered the tie in his hand, the tie that John had left behind. Tim raised it to his face and inhaled, but he couldn't smell John's cologne on it anymore. He knew there would be so many questions. What he didn't know was how he was going to answer them.

The knock made Bayliss jump. He quickly stuffed the tie in his pocket, took a deep breath and opened the door. There were two men. The one on the left, the one with the square jaw, carried a briefcase. The man on the right was pale. They both looked very wet, very cold, and very annoyed.

The one with the square jaw spoke. "Are you...?"

Tim nodded and the men entered his room.

"Sam Seaborn, " said the square-jawed man. "This is Josh Lyman. We need you to tell us everything."

Bayliss watched Josh and Sam dripping and tracking mud all over his expensive hotel room, and couldn't suppress a chuckle.

"What's funny?"

Tim tried not to smile. "They don't have umbrellas in the White House?"

"Do you know where my umbrella is?" Josh asked. "It's in my house, which is where I was, asleep, when I got a page that said the Vice President of the United States was seen tongue-kissing a man in the middle of the street!"

"That's not--" Tim slumped into a chair. "That's not how it was."

Sam turned to Josh and whispered, "Your page really said tongue-kissing?"

"I was trying to make a point."

"Oh. Well, that was a nice touch."

Josh nodded. "Thank you."

Sam sat down on the sofa and opened his briefcase. "Start with your name." He pulled out a legal pad and a pen.

"Tim Bayliss."

"Are you employed?"

A harsh, dry chuckle escaped Tim's lips. "I'm a homicide detective. Was. Am. A homicide detective."

Josh spoke. "Here in DC?"

"Baltimore."

"How can a cop afford to stay in a room like this?" Josh already knew the answer.

Bayliss knew it wouldn't sound good. "John is paying for it."

"What are you doing in Washington?" Josh sat on the couch beside Sam.

Tim rubbed his forehead. "I'm here to see John."

"How long have you been in town?"

"A few weeks." Bayliss cleared his throat. "I've taken some time off."

Sam looked up from his notes. "Vacation time?"

"Personal time."

"Why did you take several weeks of personal time?" Josh stood and began pacing around the room.

Tim shifted in his chair. "I see dead bodies every day. I've stood over men and women. I've stood over drug dealers and murderers and--" he stopped. When he spoke again, he spoke softly. "Innocent little girls in the rain." Tim's voice caught. "Last year, I was shot, almost didn't make it. I took this time off to figure out what I want to do."

There was no easy way to ask the next question, so Josh just took a breath and did it. "How long have you and the Vice President been lovers?"

"Josh!" Sam exclaimed.

"We have to know," Josh said. "And I sure as hell didn't want to ask Hoynes."

Bayliss couldn't believe they were discussing this. "Six months."

Sam shot Josh an angry glance before going back to his notes. "How did you meet?"

"We met at Jimmy's, in Fells Point. This was right before I started back to work after I got shot. He was in line ahead of me. I spoke to him and didn't realize who he was until he turned around."

"The men surrounding him in dark suits and sunglasses didn't tip you off, Detective?" Josh sat down again.

"I wasn't paying attention," Tim whispered feebly.

Sam looked at his watch. "We need to get back to the White House. This should be all the information we need now. It'll just take me a minute to write something for you to say to the press."

"He's not saying anything to the press." Josh turned to address Tim. "You're not talking to the press."

"Why the hell not?" demanded Sam.

"Leo's orders." Josh looked at Tim again. "You are to avoid members of the press at all costs. If you have to speak to them, do not lie. This is very important. Do not lie. Just say 'no comment.' Do you understand?"

Bayliss nodded.

"Why can't he talk to the press, Josh?" Sam still hadn't put away his legal pad.

Josh was stunned. "Leo's orders, Sam. What is wrong with you?"

Sam shook his head and closed his briefcase. As he put on his coat, he walked over to Tim. "Things are going to be really bad for a few days."

"Things are already really bad." Tim realized that his teeth were chattering.

Josh shook his head. "Wait until sunrise. They'll get worse."

Sam stood by the door. "Josh, this is...I think this is an invasion of privacy, and I think any citizen of this country they should have the right to tell the cameras and the newspapers to get the hell out of their face."

"Sam--" Josh began to speak, and then thought better of it.

"I should have seen this coming," Bayliss rested his head in his hands. "We should have seen this coming. How could we have been so stupid?"

"You might want to call your family, friends, your bosses in Baltimore, whatever," Josh said softly. He and Sam took a final look at the man on the couch. They both felt sorry for Tim, ashamed of Hoynes, and sick at the whole situation. Without a word, they walked out of the hotel room and closed the door behind them.


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