"What's going on?"
He hadn't noticed the commotion at first; entering the newsroom with his nose buried in the stack of papers he had to go through before Elliot's show. But then his dry throat and the smell of freshly brewed coffee had ordered his attention and he'd glanced up.. and there they were. Their little group – the usual suspects – huddled together, whispering to each other and glancing in the same general direction ever so often.
"Sloan's in the conference room with an extremely rich guy who turns out to be her ex - fiancé," Neal started. "He came in about thirty minutes ago."
Ever since the Tea Party show about three weeks ago, after which she'd vowed never to look him in the eye again, he'd desperately been trying to talk to Sloan. At first, he'd been nice about it. He would hold the elevator door for her (after which she stated she'd take the stairs, all 25 flights of them) and wait by the coffee machine around ten-o'-seven, when he knew she'd be craving her caffeine fix. But since that didn't work, he'd tried to cower her into conversation by standing beside her autocue and acted like an asshole to provoke her into a debate. But he hadn't even known she'd had a fiancé. He wondered what that said about him.
Don took in her appearance through the treacherous glass doors, wondering why on earth she didn't do this in her own office. He glanced at Neal. "You know this how?"
"I did some research. She was acting kind of strange when she saw him."
She looked exhausted. He could tell that even from this distance ánd with her back towards him. It was strange, Don thought, that he hadn't realized how much attention he'd been paying to her every move, even before her declaration that day. Sloan had mostly been terse after those precious few seconds, but he even remembered the way she'd looked on those rare occasions where she'd seemed more-or-less happy. Moments where she'd smiled at him, and the edge had dissapeared from her voice.
"Did it say what happened?"
He probably didn't have the right to that information. But while he had effectively shushed the voice inside of him that wondered why he cared so much (he was her co-worker; her friend) the insane spike in his heartbeat would not be pushed aside so easily. It had to know.
Neal shook his head. "Nothing."
The rest of his colleagues had the sense to duck and pretend to busy themselves when Sloan finally turned around. Don couldn't; and for an instant, it seemed like it was only the two of them, facing each other across the room. He tried to read her expression, but the moment passed. She shifted, a strand of hair falling across her face to hide what she was feeling. Then her companion straightened in his chair at something she said and Sloan took several steps backwards, her hand shooting out at thin air. Don suddenly had the urge to go in and protect her.
Mac appeared, seemingly out of thin air, asking the same question he had only a couple of minutes ago; followed by an incredulous "And not one of you has thought to go rescue her?" Then, an exasperated "Don!" tumbled from her lips, as if somehow he was responsible for this whole mess.
He felt himself forced to tear his gaze away from Sloan and onto his fellow EP. "What?"
She couldn't believe what a horrible day this was turning out to be. It had started with Don disrupting her show again, trying to bully her into conversation (which was not going to happen), followed by Charlie calling her out to the conference room to see Robert, of all people. When she realized what was happening, her eyes had scanned the newsroom for Will, or Kenzie. Or Don. Hell, she'd even make the time for that conversation he wanted so badly. But there was no one and she was left alone to deal with the man who'd ripped her heart to pieces.
Robert smiled at her in that charming way (she wanted to knock out most of his teeth), so completely at ease with himself in this place that had become her safe place. "Hello, Sloan."
She only half-listened to him trying to be pleasant. Her replies were slow on the upstart and they didn't seem to make sense even to her. Incoherent and fragmented strings of words heavy with the hurt that still raged inside of her body.
Then she noticed Don, his eyes trained on her. All she could do was stare back at him, while a familiar feeling caused her chest to clench. Damn. If she'd been embarrassed in front of him after her little confession, this was infinitely worse. She'd never felt more vulnerable, more broken.
Which was why she didn't quite know how to respond when he arrived mere minutes later, with some excuse about having to go over the notes for tonight's show. Which she was not going to be in. "I'm sorry, are you done here?" He looked over at Robert and gave him a slight nod. "Hi."
Robert rose from his chair to shake Don's hand and introduce himself - as if the day hadn't been weird enough – and gave him another one of those smarmy smiles. "Robert Huntington. I'm sorry for keeping her, I'll let you get back to it right away". He turned to her and leaned towards her to say goodbye. She took a step back.
The minute she got out of there, Sloan made a bee line for her office, secretly hoping Don would follow her, but not surprised in the least when it was Mackenzie instead. "So that was him?"
She nodded. Sloan had broken down about a month ago over drinks; when Kenzie had asked her why she was trying so hard to buid walls around her heart to keep people out. Naturally, she'd denied it at first, but in the end she couldn't not tell her best (and only) friend. So she explained all about the rich ex-fiancé who'd been more worried about his reputation than he'd ever cared about her. About her hopes of finally belonging somewhere other than the geek squad and about how her reality had come crashing down a week before the wedding. Her husband-to-be and his wealthy, influencial family had decided that in the end, it was less of a scandal to call off a wedding on account of differences than to have a divorce later on the grounds of him cheating on her with her sister.
"Oh God.." Kenzie had paused for a minute, before "Does Don know?"
"I don't see what this has to do with him." Sloan had told her, before receiving a pointed look from her drinking companion. "Really, I don't."
"He looks like a twat." Kenzie said now, standing in front of her desk while Sloan distracted herself with one of her framed diploma's, which she thought looked crooked. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." She lied. "I just hate that everyone saw that."
"So you're human!" Kenzie shouted, throwing her hands up. "Honestly; you're my best friend and I love you to pieces, but I think people would do well to be reminded."
"People don't think I'm human?"
"Of course they do. It's just that you can be..."
"Socially inept?" She supplied. Kenzie clapped her hands with a smile, as if to say That's the one! So okay, that was nothing she hadn't heard before... but "I'm no rude, am I?"
"Oh no, you're nice! A bit rude to Don, however." Kenzie said, at which point Sloan felt the need to interject a "For legitimate reasons!". Then she smiled. "I think he was actually worried about you."
That she hadn't expected. "He was?"
"Hm." She hummed affirmatively. "I saw his face."
Sloan felt the shock registering on her face; and there was that clenching feeling again.. before her self-protection mechanism kicked in. She didn't need his help, like some damsel in distress. She'd spent years trying to make herself into the strong, independent woman she was today and she didn't need anything from Don Keefer.
But there was no denying that she wanted it. Wanted him. Her hands, that had been fluttering from bookshelf to bookshelf trying to arrange everything in a neat line, stopped what they were doing to grip the hardwood for support.
"I'm so tired."
He hadn't been able to think about anything else ever since the whole thing had started. After he'd gotten her out of the conference room, he wanted to follow her to her office, before Mac's hand came to rest on his arm and she shook her head with a whispered "Let me do it.". He still didn't know why she'd pointed to him as the one responsible for getting her out, but he trusted Mac more than almost anyone else. He just nodded and let her go, though every bone in his body was screaming against it.
Maggie hadn't even noticed any of it. She and Sloan were mere co-workers and he supposed that to her, it hadn't been more of an intrigue than an actual concern. She probably hadn't noticed the exchanges between Mac and himself. Just as she hadn't noticed the way Sloan had been ignoring him, and the way it was driving him crazy. It was like a subdermal itch that would not go away, whatever he did. He would literally spend hours trying to figure out a way for her to talk to him, but Maggie… He supposed that meant something, too. It meant something that he was going crazy over the possibility of her having feelings for Jim, but that she didn't care if he showed the least interest in another woman. Even if it was strictly in a friend capacity. Which it was.
Don groaned and leaned back in his chair, pressing the backs of his hands to closed eyelids. Women were driving him crazy.
Mac poked her head around the door about two hours later. "Don? Could you do me a favour?"
The favour, it turned out, was giving Sloan a ride home at the end of the day, which Mac had promised to do, but couldn't anymore because something important and News Night related came up.
"You may have noticed she's not talking to me." He told her. Mac damn well knew this, seeing how close she and Sloan were.
"I've been wondering about that…" Mac was trying to play him, so he shot her a look that told her exactly what he thought of her little ploy to subtract information. "Fine." She huffed. "But you're taking her."
Which was how he came to find himself at her office door, both looking forward to and dreading the next couple of minutes. He braced himself for the fall-out when he told her about being the one to take her home, because "Mac had a last-minute thing." but all he got was a resigned sigh.
"Of course she did." Sloan said, her mouth a thin, straight line.
They were silent on the ride back to her appartement, apart from her occassionally giving him directions. To be honest, it didn't bother him at all; he was perfectly content to sit in silence – he got to be near her without any resistance and that in itself was a huge step forward.
"This is where I live," she said after he'd killed the engine. "Thank you for the ride." Her voice was utterly monotone and the way she spoke to him was as if they'd just finished a business transaction and it wouldn't do. Whereas he'd been content with silence up until a minute ago, this was the metaphorical drop.
"Your top button is done up." He remarked. "A gentleman walks a lady to her door."
She seemed startled that he'd remembered the comment from on the plane, but quickly recovered to her stoney indifference. "You're a gentleman?"
"I'm a 'nice guy'. It's close enough." Don gave her a smile, wanting either a smile or a shouting match in return. Anything but this numb version of Sloan, who was freaking him out by the second. He realized that that was what he missed most about her. That spark, that strength that made her scream at Charlie in the news room, that made her argue with him in her office. Her brutal honesty that called him on all of his bullshit and bad attitude. She could dish out as well as she could take; and he admired her for that.
She unbuckled her seat belt and nodded. "Okay."
He brought her even further than was required, even by gentleman standards. He found himself standing in her apartment before long, taking everything in. He rifled through her books and browsed her old, worn vinyl collection while she fetched him something to drink. He was surprised to find that she listened to jazz, and the old classics. "You've got good taste in music," he shouted in the general direction of the kitchen.
She turned out to be much closer than he'd thought. "Thanks."
For the first time, he got to really look at her. He could see all the lines in her face, the shadows playing there caused by the dim light. He saw how tired she was, how pained.
"Are you alright?"
Her eyes flicked up to meet his – and in that second he needed to touch her; so he did the first thing he could think of and drew her close, the glass she'd given him resting awkwardly against the small of her back. She folded into his embrace almost tentatively, but after a while he could feel her go absolutely still.
He thought about Maggie. About what she'd say if she could see them now; about the fact that he didn't really care how she'd react. He was torn but content to be here.
"You want me to punch him in the face?" He felt her chuckle, then shake her head, the rhythm slow against his chest and her hair brushing back and forth beneath his chin. "Thought about that myself." She murmured. Of course she had.
After a minute or so, Sloan drew back. He knew she would've been crying if only she'd allow herself that luxury, but she was strong. And stubborn. "Thanks." She reached up, letting her fingertips briefly brush the side of his face, then breathed in sharply, a frown on her face. "I've been mean to you."
He didn't know why, but that comment made him smile. He could've given her shit about that, about how ridiculous she was behaving, but then he figured what's the point. Either she'd realize it herself and stop, or he'd say or do something idiotic and push her even further. Glancing over her shoulder, he noticed the clock inching closer to midnight. He gave her a concerned look. "You going to be okay?"
Sloan gave him a slight smile. It was the first he'd seen all evening – and he reciprocated it with a strang sort of happiness blooming in his chest. "Sure. Thank you."
Don shook his head and took another step towards her, planting a kiss on the top of her head. "You know where to find me."
She watched him walk to his car from her bedroom window, replaying the entire evening in her mind. She hated the idea of him going back to Maggie; even though she'd picked up around the office that the big move-in hadn't happened yet. She meant what she'd said before – she knew she'd been mean to him, but he had to know that that was the only way she could protect herself against the heart ache that was sure to come her way.
"Why don't you let your walls down?" Kenzie had asked her after their fifth drink of the evening. "Better yet, why don't you let Don tear them down for you?"
Sloan had looked at her. "You seem to forget Maggie. I won't be that girl, Kenzie. Especially not after…" Robert. Especially not after Robert. It had occurred to her more than once that Maggie wasn't good for Don; that she hurt him nearly every day because of the way she acted around Jim. That they just didn't…fit. But she wouldn't let herself do that all too often, because afterwards she would inevitably hear those words again. "You're wrong." He'd said. "I do want to commit to Maggie."
She needed her walls. They kept her safe. They prevented her from embarrassing herself the way she'd done that day in Don's office.
So when at 2 a.m. she received a text from Don repeating his earlier statement, she only stared at it for twenty minutes, watching her screen flicker from losing power and obscuring the letters every few seconds. At 2.21 she placed her cell on her nightstand, on top of her pile of books.
She would love him if she let herself. And one of them – or both – would tear down those damn walls. But not now.
Not yet.
Please let me know what you think? It's my first time writing The Newsroom and definitely my first time writing Sorkin. I don't know why I wrote this, really - and it's either incredibly awful or incredibly boring. But I just held a marathon of this show and am in love with these two, so there.
XO, as always