Small Measure of Comfortby Allison K. East
He and Mandy were over, had been for a long time. They had broken up well before President Bartlet was elected and he began working at the White House. The fact that she was now working at the White House too caused him even more headaches than usual. But through all that their working relationship had not changed. Sometimes it was even like old times when they started arguing over some point or other. He wasn't the only one who thought that either—he had caught Sam, Toby, Donna, even Leo rolling their eyes at them when they had gotten into it. Occasionally he would get nostalgic thinking about how things had been between them (not that he wished things could go back to the way things were—Mandy as a co-worker was enough of a headache, Mandy as a girlfriend...) Maybe that nostalgia was the reason he stepped forward and put his arms around her. It was hard, listening to that kid in the radio room of the Hickory, knowing that he was likely going to die out there and there was nothing they could do about it. It was heartbreaking. Embracing Mandy was as much about comforting himself as it was about comforting her, even though he knew she needed it. He knew better than anyone that there was more to Mandy than the tough, bitchy, politically-savvy persona she put forth. The plight of people like Harold Lewis could and did get to her as much as it did anyone. And this was on top of the already bad night she was having, what with the FBI negotiator she suggested the President use getting shot and all. Her tough exterior was beginning to crack, even if it was only visible to him. So he wrapped his arms around her, offering his ex the small measure of comfort that he could. And she leaned back against him, accepting it, showing him how close to the edge she really was. Long after they lost radio contact with the Hickory and the President and the others filed out they just stood there. He knew she was blinking back tears over the fate of Harold Lewis and the Hickory, as was he. At some point she turned in his arms and returned his embrace, burying her face in his shoulder; not sobbing, but letting her tears fall. He just tightened his arms around her slightly and rested his cheek on her head, lending her the strength and support she obviously needed. Finally she pulled back out of his arms and wiped her cheeks, obliterating the traces of tears there. She looked at him for a long moment, as if daring him to comment. He chose not to. Finally she warned, "Not a word of this to anyone," before turning on her heel and striding out. "Wouldn't dream ot it," he replied as he followed her.
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