Arthur Fonzarelli, also known as Fonzie to his friends, had a new habit of falling asleep in odd places. Being an intern at the White House was surprisingly exhausting, and left little time for sleep. He had a habit of napping in conference rooms or catching a few z's on a sofa if no one was around. One time he had gotten desperate and snoozed sitting on an overturned bucket in a janitor's closet.
He had a perfectly good apartment in Crystal City, with a perfectly good bed. However, he worked such long hours that sometimes it was easier to nap at work, than to make the commute back and forth. The city was always busy. Politicians kept strange hours, so even at night Dupont Circle could be a nightmare. Loathe as he was to admit it, Fonzie had purchased a mid-size sedan to commute back and forth. He didn't feel like his bike was professional enough, not that he would ever tell the guys back in Milwaukee that. He still kept it in the garage, but only brought it out when he had a few days off and could drive it out of the city.
Days off were rare. Not that he expected anything less being an intern at the White House. He was grateful to have this opportunity. He felt like he was somewhere he could make a difference, and make everyone back home proud. So he didn't mind napping at work occasionally, if it made him more available to the staff, so he would stand out as a better intern.
The downside was being caught napping sometimes, which was embarrassing. Today had to be worst of all as Fonzie felt someone shaking his shoulder and he startled awake to see Leo McGarry, the President's Chief of Staff, looking at him with confusion evident in his face.
"Mr. McGarry," Fonzie startled, "I'm so sorry. I must have fallen asleep at my desk, but it will never happen again sir-"
"Are you alright? And since when do you call me 'Mr. McGarry'?" Leo asked.
"Sorry, but that is your name. And I'm fine, just tired. Been working long hours," Fonzie started to say.
"Well I won't argue with you being a workaholic, but that's always been the case Jed," said Leo.
"Jed?" Fonzie asked, now he was even more confused. He knew he had never formally been introduced to Mr. McGarry but Jed was an odd thing to call someone as a guess.
Leo huffed. "I believe when I have to wake you up at your desk, to stop you drooling on a pile of legislature you're supposed to sign, I can forgo calling you Mr. President."
Fonzie brought his hand to his face, to try and wipe the sleep out of his eyes, but the hand he saw in front of him was not his own. He turned it over, looking at the extra wrinkles and age spots. The hand of an older man, but not his. He didn't have the scar under his first knuckle from wrecking his bike. Fonzie pushed back from the desk, noticing his nice suit and tie. Expensive probably, but not the clothes he had been wearing earlier. He walked over to a mirror on the wall, and the face looking back at him was not his own. He was looking at President Josiah Bartlet.