by aishuu
A Missing Scene from The Supremes
She is still waiting for him when he comes out of the president's office. Evelyn Baker-Lang isn't the type of woman to leave a colleague in a pinch, even if she disagreed with him on just about everything. She likes Christopher Mulready as a person, although he is amazingly pig-headed and myopic when it comes to civil rights.
The other judge doesn't appear shaken, walking into the room with calm, easy strides that eat up the little distance between them. The young black man who had escorted him, the president's aide Young if she remembers correctly, offers a shy smile she finds charming. "If you two will just wait here," Young says, "I think Josh Lyman wants to talk to you."
She raises an eyebrow, a bit surprised. She isn't still supposed to be in the building, but her own conscience forced her to remain. "That's fine, Mr. Young," she agrees. Mulready murmurs an acceptence as well as he sits in a vacant chair, clearly lost in thought. It's not going to be fun to pick a fight with him at this moment. Meeting the president for the first time, even one who is associated with the enemy party, can cause a sense of awe in even the most hardened of people. Mulready, despite his conservatism, isn't a jaded cynic. It's one of his redeeming qualities, Evelyn thinks. He is, like herself, an idealist. It's just a shame his core beliefs are wrong.
"Can I get you anything?" Young asks, hesitating at the doorway.
"Coffee," they say in unison, and she finds herself grinning at her colleague. This late at night, she needs the caffeine if she's to have any of her wits about her. Walking the West Wing is like tap-dancing in front of an audience on a hot-tin roof; it's thrilling, but painful. She studied ballet once upon a time, and upon earning her pointe shoes, she had learned about how beauty could hurt. Stubbornly she had continued, until her instructor pointed out that she was going to be too tall to ever be a prima ballerina. She had quit then, not content to be part of the auxiliary. Pain was fine, as long as it led to a suitable reward. That same ambition had led her to law school, determined to advance her principles.
Young says that he'll be right back, and then shuts the door, leaving them alone. Through the glass, she can see the occasional person pass by, but it's late and the traffic is much lighter than during the daylight hours. She gives Mulready another moment, before addressing at him. "So how did it go?" she asked.
"I liked him," Mulready sounds surprised. He is not a man prone to temporization, but there is an uncharacteristic hesitation in his words, like he can't believe he's saying them.
She smirks, understanding perfectly. "He's something else, isn't he?" She's fond of Bartlet on the personal level, although there's times when she thinks he's rather plodding. His passion, though, envelops her with hope, especially when he starts to speak to a crowd. Jed Bartlet has the ability to bring people to him, no matter what their party affiliation or personal allegiances are. It's a rare quality, that kind of charisma.
"That's one way of putting it," Mulready answers, and he's not being sarcastic. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like him before." There's a slight hesitation. "I asked if he could use you as a justice."
She's tired, she thinks, so she can blame the wetness starting to gather in her eyes as fatigue. She shouldn't be so touched that her rival spoke for her, but she can't help it. Of course she'd thought of become a Supreme Court Judge. Any Appellate court judge would, but it didn't take her long to realize that she would never make it through the Senate confirmation process. The last time had been like pulling teeth. "Thank you," she says softly, staring down at her hands. "I appreciate the thought."
"You deserve it, you liberal airhead," he replies.
"You would too, you conservative bigot," she shoots back. It's the best form of compliment, their playful jousting.
Young re-enters the room, and she looks over at him, hoping for some explanation. It's pushing past three, and she thinks longingly of her down comforter. If Josh Lyman doesn't show up in ten minutes, she's just going to leave. Young sets the plain white mugs in front of them. "Do you need cream or sugar?" he asks.
She shakes her head, no, and Mulready follows her lead, even though she knows he's got a sweet tooth. He leaves without another word, and she reminds herself that patience will have its rewards. The coffee is lukewarm, and tastes like it's been sitting in the pot for two days. As a law student, she'd consumed worse, but she'd gotten used to the better blends after becoming a judge. It was one of the perks of the job.
He made a face too, but kept drinking the coffee. Caffeine was caffeine, after all. "It's government issue, what do you expect?" he asks, showing that surprisingly dry sense of humor. "Any idea why he wants us to stay?"
"It's probably to thank us for our services," Evelyn answers as she pushes her cup aside. "I think we managed to scare the right people so he won't have a problem with his appointment."
"I don't think they would have in the first place."
"Shelton," she mutters resentfully. She finds him completely lacking in passion, despite his respect for the law. He doesn't dare think outside the box, determined to be completely impartial. She believes in the spirit of the law, instead of just the letter, which is why it's so galling that man will be appointed. Law without compassion is meaningless. Every case is different, just as every person is unique. Laws aren't always designed for every situation, and sometimes, precedents need to be set. A Justice shouldn't be afraid of being seen as opinionated.
"The nation moves more toward the middle, towards compromise," Mulready says in a placid voice, although she knows him well enough to understand his discontent. He is no more fond than she of the tendency of the major parties to mouth platitudes about how they can unite the people. A people that speak with only one voice don't allow any opposition to be heard.
"Does it? I see the country as fragmenting, with the extremes speaking for the parties as the majorities stay silent," she tells him. "There's too much being done to placate those who speak, and not enough being done for those who have no power."
She knows Mulready understands better than most of their colleagues the threat that the Constitution is under. He may look at it a different way, but he values the foundation of the country just as much as she does.
He takes a sip of the coffee to give himself a moment to think before he speaks. "It's a pendulum," Mulready answers. "The country will say back in forth, but most of the time it will spend somewhere in the middle."
"Complacent, until the next big circus comes through town," she says. Sometimes she thinks she hates apathy more than she hates the right.
He shrugs, but then a snicker escapes. His laughter is contagious, and she finds herself giggling as well. It's late, she's been up for nearly twenty-two hours, and the caffeine isn't helping. She can blame it on fatigue.
Their laughter stops abruptly as the door swings open again. Josh Lyman enters, his steps full of enough vigor to make her want to shoot him with a sedative. It's three, and he's acting like a sugared child. Maybe he'd been popping coffee beans. His eyes are brilliant, shining with manic energy as he sees her. "I'm sorry to keep you both waiting," he says, including Mulready in his greetings. "Can you come with me?"
Something is up, she recognizes with a bit of confusion, but she rises to her feet. Mulready holds the door open and they once again walk through the West Wing. She's not surprised that they're heading toward the Oval Office, but she wonders about Lyman's uncharacteristic silence. She knows the deputy chief of staff well enough to recognize this is out of character.
Scattered here and there are a few employees, but for the most part the area is dark. The White House never really shuts completely, but this hour is closer to it than any other time of day. The government needs to run around the clock because the world won't stop just because it hits five p.m. in Washington.
They breeze through the halls with no interruptions, and no one marks their passage. It's a quick trip to Debbie Fiderer's office, and Josh leaves them cooling their heels after he signs them in. "Just – don't go anywhere," he says, holding his hands up in front of him in a pleading fashion. "Just wait right here."
As if they would leave. She and Mulready glance at each other, their lips pulling up slightly in almost-smiles. She feels nervous and off-balance, and wishes she hadn't had that cup of coffee. The caffeine is making her jittery.
Lyman is gone for a little over a minute before he returns. His eyes are bright, and the grin he's wearing threatens to take in his ears. "Go on in," Lyman says, waiting until they enter before shutting the door behind them.
She always feels a thrill whenever she enters this office. This is the most important room in the world, the heart of democracy. Behind the desk sits the leader of the free world, and it's a selfish pleasure to recognize that he is about to pay attention to her. Even though most people would have been in bed for ages at this point, Bartlet looks as wide-awake as Lyman, although he seems less manic. He sets down his pen and motions to a chair. "Please, sit, both of you," the president says, and they obediently sink, side by side in unison, onto the couch. "I have something I need to tell you." He moves from behind his desk and stakes claim on the chair across from them. "Justice Ashland is retiring," Bartlet announces.
Her breathing halts for an instant; she feels as though Bartlet just landed a sucker punch. There's no justice she respects more, no man who has come to epitomize her ideals better. Without him serving as the lead, there will be no one to stop the archconservatives on the court. She knows the man is in poor health, but she had hoped he would hang on for a while longer.
"Is he okay?" she asks.
"He's fine," Bartlet reassured her. "He's agreed to retired, providing you're his replacement, Evelyn."
"What?" She can't have heard him right. "There's no way you'd ever get me confirmed."
"Two seats, two choices," Bartlet says, glancing at Mulready.
Her hands shake in disbelief as she starts to process the implications of what he just said. This crazy, wonderful man is willing to sacrifice a seat on the court to the Republican bastards so he can have her as his chief justice. If she were wise, she would respectfully decline and save him from himself. He shouldn't pay this price, not for her.
But she can't refuse. She hears Mulready's breathing quicken, like he's about to go into shock. She can't blame him; she'd probably keel over in a dead faint if a Republican president made her the same offer.
She never dared hope that she would be named to the Supreme Court, being entirely too practical. Now she isn't going to just be on it, she's going to lead it.
Suddenly she is fiercely proud that she voted for this man. If he were not a president, he would make a fine judge. He knows how to balance the needs of the law with practicality. She would disagree with more than half of the rulings he made, but at least she could respect him. He may be conservative, but he doesn't act along partisan lines without thinking things through first. Mulready deserves it, and she doesn't believe in false humility. She's earned it, too.
"A president may make his mark on the country for four years, eight if he's lucky, but the justices of the Supreme Court will shape an entire generation," Bartlett says. "I want people who I can count on using their consciences, as well as their wits. I want people who aren't afraid to fight about the issues, and take stands about what is right." He smiled slowly. "I want people to write the extraordinary dissent."
That brings a smile to Mulready's face, and she makes a note to ask him about it later. Just... as soon as she can speak without having her voice crack. "Yes, Mr. President," he says.
"Will you accept?" he asked.
They don't need to talk, and she speaks for both of them. "It'd be an honor," she said in a firm voice. Mulready smiles, really smiles, and he whispered his acceptance as well.
Bartlet gives them both a satisfied nod. "I'd tell you both to go home and get some rest, but I don't think we're going to have time. I want to make the announcement tomorrow morning, first thing, and you're going to need to be briefed. Josh Lyman is going to work with Toby Zeigler on preparing you. It's going to be a bumpy ride, but I think you'll find it well worth it."
He extends his hand first to her, then to Mulready and offers them a firm handshake. Then Josh takes them back out of the room, murmuring he'll be just a second – he needs to get Toby.
They wait together in the secretary's office, and she's nearly dizzy with adrenalin. There is so much to be done, and she's exhausted, but she wants to savor this moment. She is going to be the first female chief justice of the Supreme Court. She's sure ugly things about her background are going to come to light, and she'll be under more stress than ever before, but it will be worth it. She has the chance of her lifetime in front of her, and she's wise enough to seize it with both hands.
Mulready is grinning, and she likes his expression. "Are you excited?" she asks. It's rhetorical, but she needs to say something to acknowledge him.
"No more than you," he parries neatly. They are quiet together for a long moment before he speaks again. "You do realize we're going to be fighting every day for the rest of our lives," he says finally.
She grins. At this moment, she couldn't think of a better fate. "Just as long as you remember who's chief."
One of the most important decisions President Josiah Bartlet made was in regards to the shaping of the Supreme Court. After appointing Roberto Mendoza, the first Hispanic Justice in his first term, he took the then-radical step in appointing both an extreme conservative, Christopher Mulready, as an associate justice, and noted liberal advocate Evelyn Baker-Lang for the chief justice's seat. While they were seldom in agreement, the two held a healthy professional respect for the other, and would often engage in fiery debates that illuminated the issue. The Baker Lang- Mulready court is considered one of the most successful configurations of American's judicial system, setting precedents in a wide range of fields while tempering the opinions of both the conservative and liberal wings of America. The two remained close friends until their deaths. Ironically, they both died on September 17, 2037, the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Constitution.
-excerpted from The Supreme Court: 300 years of Justice