Evan could not think of another way to deny the allegations against him.  When their spokesman denied it one way, it’d be re-phrased and asked another.  The media could simply not believe in his veracity.  Susan was far from believing in it and his President—his lover and his confidante—hadn’t so much as given him a handshake since this whole debacle began.  He was adrift within his own campaign and the idea was beginning to scare him.

                People only got left out of the loop when the whole operation had become one big CYA.  The staff was covering its ass and he was starting to think that his President was, too. That meant that there was only one possible outcome: he’d be saved or he’d be damned.

                After all this time he wasn’t sure which he’d prefer.

~!~

                Hillary had what felt like the third panic attack of her life when someone handed her the newspaper this afternoon.  The picture felt like damnation. Of course he’s cheating. He was kissing her temple as he held her. By the set of her shoulders, he was probably all that had been holding her up that night.

                She traced his smile in the photograph as he’d traced the planes of her back.

                It’s just a hug, she reasoned. Politicians hugged everyone from newborns to the dying. Intellectually, she knew that.

Deep down, though, she knew that hug had been more than a soothing embrace.

                Evan had lied.

He’d fallen in love with Hillary long before either of them had been alone.

~!~

                When he’d called the house, she’d answered on the first ring.  Apparently, she’d been awaiting his call for a while.  The days had ticked by and she’d lost a bet for when he’d call to grovel or concede, but she’d known that eventually he’d call.

                He would have sooner if anyone had thought it was a good idea.  They were playing offense for the day, but bringing out Susan and the twins was defense.  The last thing this dying effort at a campaign could afford was to get on the defensive.

                “It’s been a trying couple of days, hasn’t it?” he asked when the pleasantries had been exchanged and all he had left were clichés.

                “It’s been a trying lifetime, Evan. Let’s not sugarcoat it now.”  He sat down because that was exactly what he needed.

                “How bad is it on the ground?” Susan was where he couldn’t be right now, on the ground with the People.  They spoke freely out there until they realized who she was.  If Indiana was bad, the rest of the country would be worse.

                “It’s not good. You’re going to have to get your hands dirty in your own backyard.  It will be expensive and it will not be easy. They love you here, but they don’t trust what you’ve been up to up there.”

                He closed his eyes.  It had all gone so very wrong. “I didn’t do anything. Really.”

                “You know, honey, the worst thing is how easy it is to believe you.” She exhaled noisily.  “That’s probably why nobody does.” She sounded as enamored as she had the last time they’d had a phone call like this, though the circumstances vastly differed.  It had been a forbidding night in D.C., with him in his office and her in their bedroom.  He’d been thinking of another woman while Susan had been thinking of him. He’d been punished, in spades, for that lack of truth.

                His tongue burned with a bitter taste as he fought not to throw up.  He knew this game.  This wasn’t about truth anymore. Truth had gone out the window in the name of good copy. This sold and it was selling him right down the river.

                “What can I do?”

                “The only thing that no man in your position ever does.”

                He ignored his nausea to ask, “What’s that?”

                “You have to pay.”

                On the list of things he’d failed at Evan soon had to include, Not getting sick.       

~!~

                The President chuckled amiably and said, “While Vice President Bayh is a very attractive man, he and I did not have a romantic relationship during my campaign in 2008. He was a family friend who happened to be just the man I needed to run on the ticket with me. We were close then and our friendship hasn’t changed.” She spoke as precisely as she could. She had to, she could already imagine her words being dissected for hidden meaning.  For once, it’d be with fair cause.

                Their friendship hadn’t changed, but it wasn’t the only thing they shared anymore.  She still felt sparks where he’d kissed her, even if he hadn’t in weeks—even if she hadn’t let him.  She’d come out tonight to pay tribute to that friendship and to his skill. He was this good and this worthy. He’d always stood by her and the least she could do, as his President if nothing more, was stand by him.

                “Evan Bayh is an amazing public servant. He loves his family, whatever you may believe.  He loves his country,” she emphasized necessarily. “But he loves his fellow Americans most of all.  I know him and I know this: If you support him, you may not always love him, but you’ll always know he’s got your back. He’s always had mine.”

                Campbell Brown shifted in her seat and nodded as though she could possibly understand. She couldn’t.

                “Madame President, does this mean that you’re denying reports that say the DNC has encouraged you to drop Vice President Bayh from the ticket?”

                Hillary smiled—patented poker face and a smile with cement glue.  “Categorically. There’s no truth to that. I have not been asked to drop Vice President Bayh from my ticket and I have no intention of doing so. We came together and that’s how we’ll leave, one way or another.”

~!~

                Evan didn’t buy her flowers when he came to her with his hat in his hand. He couldn’t be seen with flowers that far from home.  He didn’t have any business romancing the very woman he’d vowed to serve. He didn’t have any business crossing the line.

                But, he still crossed the line.  He crawled across the line in the sand and it felt like glass in his knees every step of the way.  Her trust was a fragile thing and he’d bleed to restore it.  He hadn’t been wrong, but he was still willing to bleed.

                When he got to the other side, she was already waiting for him.  In an uncomfortable chair, in a comfortable sweatshirt, she was waiting for him.  She didn’t offer him a drink and he didn’t ask to sit. This was their holding pattern.

                “It’s over,” he began, as ready as he’d ever be for the confrontation they had to have.

                “Just for now. It will never be over, Evan.”  She ran her hands along the smooth finish of the armrests. He frowned.  She’s showing her nerves. Another thing she hadn’t done before she lost the ability to look him in the eye.

                “We should probably take now and run, then.”

                “You think that’ll work?” She crossed one leg over the other and looked up at him with patented curiosity. 

                “Yes, ma’am,” he nodded. If the latest was to be believed, he was still her guy. Might as well act like it. He put his hands in his pocket and waited for his orders.

“Then, we’re on.” With a half-smile, her gaze swept fleetingly to his before sweeping away. It was the first touch of blue he’d seen in a while; the first time he’d gotten a reprieve from his executive-exile. He’d be lying if he said it’d be easy to give this up again. Her private space and his place within it were precious to him.

                Other than his innocence, this was why he hadn’t resigned. That touch of blue and that tinny click he heard in the back of his mind as everything slid into place. This was where he was supposed to be and with whom he was supposed to be.

                Anything else was just white noise.

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