Jagermonster posted:

Figmo
860 Words

You don’t need two legs to logroll in the Senate. Arthur Trant hadn't even chosen where to display his purple heart in his new office when his phone started ringing. Three years later allies and rivals within and across party lines still relentlessly sought his endorsement despite his past stances, or called in favors for projects they’d freely supported. The fatigue wrought by three long years of deal-making drained the strength from his flesh and prosthetic alike.

Exhausted and disillusioned, Senator Trant caved into the Majority Whip and confirmed his intention to vote with his party tomorrow. He hung up on the breathless prattling man and waited. Like shrapnel the news exploded from the Whip’s aides in all directions, bouncing and ricocheting between Senate offices, across party lines. No doubt it would reach Senator James Morse within minutes.

The power Arthur wielded unsettled him. With one phone call he had potentially undone from within what no enemy had succeeded in damaging from without. He braced himself for the expected confrontation as the footsteps echoing down the hall grew louder.

“I just got a call,” Senator Morse said, rushing past Arthur’s secretary. He grabbed the edges of Arthur’s desk as if he was going to fling it aside. “A call I couldn't loving believe.” He looked for a reaction in Arthur’s unblinking gaze. “Tell me it’s just a rumor. It’s hollow gossip from some partisan hack trying to ruffle some feathers. Tell me they got it wrong, Arthur.”

“I got my orders.”

“Bullshit.” Jim jabbed the space between them with a trembling finger. “Since when do you vote the party line?”

“Since when do you form exploratory committees? Since when do you have executive ambitions?”

Jim halfheartedly swatted the accusations away.

Arthur pushed himself out of his chair. “You told me you were ‘a man of the people.’ That you belonged in the legislature. You wanted nothing to do with the corruption and unconstitutional power-grabbing of the executive.”

“That’s nothing – absolutely nothing - to do with this vote tomorrow.” He took Arthur’s glass encased Purple Heart from its shelf. He clutched the medal as if it were Arthur’s true moral center, as if he could pump some good sense into Arthur if he just squeezed hard enough. “Whatever I've done,” Jim said. “If I've done something that doesn't sit right with you, I am sorry. But don’t do something repugnant as some sort of political tit for tat.”

Subdued and pleading, Jim betrayed his panic. The firebrand that had stormed into Arthur’s office was the warrior who’d wooed Arthur to abandon his party in order to fight for worthy causes. Arthur could see Jim slipping, down the polls, down the Senate hierarchy, without their partnership.

A handshake, a parting word of hope and this ugly business could be over. “The bill’s not so different than our Banking Initiative, Jim. And it can be improved upon. Just give it a chance.”

“Don’t you dare compare this monstrosity to our good work!” For a second Arthur thought Jim was going to fling his purple heart at him. Instead, he reverently placed it where it had rested.

“I’m tired of the wheeling and dealing. I’m sick of reaching across the aisle and getting a handful of new extorted obligations.”

“I put up with the same drat crap. And it’s worth it. We get results.”

“Now I know what you were after.”

Jim stormed towards the door, but stopped mid-retreat unwilling or unable to walk away and end it. He scanned the framed newspaper articles along the wall with headlines trumpeting the passing of bills they had championed and the defeat of ones they had opposed. “You’re a real sentimental son-of-bitch you know that?” Jim made an about face. “So you’re just going to follow orders now? Huh? gently caress it? Is that the new plan? How’d that work out for you before?” He buried the barb with a nod toward Arthur’s prosthetic leg.

Neither Arthur nor even Jim knew the purpose of attacking Arthur’s service and sacrifice. But they could both feel the effect.

Arthur lowered himself into his chair with practiced poise.

“I hope ya’ll have enough votes to overcome a filibuster,” Jim said, fleeing.

“Not my job to count the votes,” Arthur said to Jim’s back.

The next day during his first of many vengeful filibusters, Senator Morse spoke of duty and loyalty, often in a ranting aimless effort to kill time. He publicly called out Senator Trant for caving to partisan pressure and abandoning his convictions. Again and again he came back to the source of his orders, pounding on his chest, or pointing to his heart.

To Arthur it appeared that Jim was just indicating he did everything to further his own selfish interests or vendettas. Their accomplishments had always just been another feather in Jim’s cap for some future campaign or worse, payback for a broken promise. All the favor trading and political wrangling, the logrolling, had served Jim, because he alone knew the ultimate destination. Until Arthur found his footing the only prudent course of action was to keep to the solid group of partisanship.