There's Somewhere I Gotta Go

[Om Kennedy Yajna]

((There was a lot to process yesterday, and this voice offered to make a cameo to help me out.))

The chaotic events of the past year were life’s way of hammering home that he'd picked a helluva time to accept his fate and follow in the family footsteps. A helluva time. The first Senator to openly campaign as a mutant and win, he was still in his first term when the tides turned and it was clear he'd signed up for the battle of a lifetime. Except he wasn’t the only “Other” who was getting their rights challenged. That list was long. He was fighting for them all. More than one of his speeches went viral. Hell, he was even a meme. The latest in a long line of quotable Kennedys. What a time to be alive?

Every day demanded his full attention. Keeping a close ear to the ground. Going over every piece of proposed legislation to read between the lines and find out who the target was. Or who it could be, if loopholes were found by the wrong hands. Even in a dry piece of paper-pushing like HR-3895. Even if it was sponsored by someone on his side of the aisle.

“You don’t think she’ll take exception - “

“To a meeting? All any of us do all damn day is have meetings. Fine. Make it over lunch. Even though I apparently pay you to be skeptical, Hatch,” A look given to his Chief Admin, “I have a point about Section IV. Set it up.”

“Right away. Does that mean you also want to meet with Cantwell about S.1 - “

“Mother F-----."

"Sir?"

"...god damn insult to injury today." The Kennedy triplet’s attention wasn’t on Hatch anymore, or S-1904. It was on his cell phone. First a push notification, then an article, then a browser search which provided a painful list reputable sites reporting the same headline. This day started with tragedy, his time spent on a long list of calls, mobilizing advocacy and shooting a terse reminder to his Twitter followers that as a mutant he wasn't allowed to give blood. He was already riding a raw nerve. Now this. Tobias stepped out from behind his desk, tugging at the knot in his tie.

"Nope."

"Nope? To the meeting, or - “

“No to the meeting, no to this goddamn headline, no to today. I need some time.” Tie was tossed on his chair, jacket quick to follow. He didn’t care that Hatch was staring at him like he’d just lost his mind, he flipped open the buttons of his dress shirt to shed that next. “Whatever’s on my calendar between now and this time tomorrow, reschedule it.”

“But you're meeting with Graham about the - wow, Sir, you have a lot of tattoos.”

"Ya don't say." A bit of Boston sarcasm for his staffer, since the white tank  was cut in a way that put all the ink on his arms clearly  on display. He pulled a hoodie out of his closet, emblazoned with the fire dancer. "If any new ways to support the families comes up, do it. I'll do any appearances after 7pm tomorrow. Call me with any emergencies. Otherwise, I need a minute."

“Yes, Sir. Are those...are those bongos?”

They sure were. Tucking them under his arm, Toby's fingers fired off a text to his sister on his way out. “Take it easy, Hatch. Don't forget to eat somethin'.”

You see the news, Slacker? It was his new name for Sammy ever since he was elected and she couldn't call him that anymore. I'm going to Camp Kennedy for the night.

The President had Camp David, Toby had Rhy'din - or as he jokingly called it, Camp Kennedy. He'd never been the type to need anything fancy, he just needed somewhere to get away where he knew the problems of this world wouldn't reach him for a little while. Now, he was headed there to smoke, drum, and add the passing of a man whose music had gotten him through his lost years to the list of things he needed to mourn today.

Turning his radio loud, he head on down the road.