A Privilege, Hard Won
Author: Quin Firefrorefiddle
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. They serve at the pleasure of Aaron Sorkin. No money made.
Rating: G
Summary: Ramblings late at night. Any character you want it to be, as long as they have their own office and aren't POTUS.
The world outside my window is dark. Its night. I don't remember what time it is, and don't have time to look at my watch. This thing, I have to finish this thing. Because if I don't, I, well, something disastrous would happen, I'm sure.
I serve at the pleasure of the President. But that doesn't make this any easier.
And now we're going to do this for another four years. Another four years of sleepless nights, three crises in two days, and saving the world in the dark hour before the dawn. Another four years of battles and bad hair days and clothes horribly rumpled because they've been slept in. On a couch. In somebody's office, not always my own.
I serve at the pleasure of the President. But the pain I've gone through doesn't go away. The pain we've all gone through, at one point or another. At one point or another, we've all nearly shattered. For that man. To keep him in office. To keep one man's job, we've given years of our lives, and parts of our souls.
We've given so much. For this man. For this simple, faulty, man.
And before we can even give another four years of our lives, we have to fight for the privilege. If the first four years were this bad, how on earth will we make it through the next four years? Assuming we win.
The world outside my window is dark. I know because my lamp is the only source of light in my office. I haven't glanced at the window since this afternoon. I probably won't go home tonight.
We've survived bullets and call girls, Qumar and Republican lawyers, MS and fires in the Mural room, and who remembers what all else, but we're going to do this for another four years.
Probably it's a bad sign I can't remember why. Why did we start this? To get a good man into office. But is keeping him there worth all this? Is that really all we're doing? Is one man, one simple and faulty man, worth all this?
But if I wasn't here, where would I be? Not with these people, not doing this, not helping to save the world. Probably I'd still be having delusions of grandeur.
What else is there, but this? Why am I thinking about this? I have a thing to finish. This thing, I have to finish this thing.
I serve at the pleasure of the President. The pain is a privilege, hard won.
Light is starting to come in through my office windows. I need to finish this thing.
Author: Quin Firefrorefiddle
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. They serve at the pleasure of Aaron Sorkin. No money made.
Rating: G
Summary: Ramblings late at night. Any character you want it to be, as long as they have their own office and aren't POTUS.
The world outside my window is dark. Its night. I don't remember what time it is, and don't have time to look at my watch. This thing, I have to finish this thing. Because if I don't, I, well, something disastrous would happen, I'm sure.
I serve at the pleasure of the President. But that doesn't make this any easier.
And now we're going to do this for another four years. Another four years of sleepless nights, three crises in two days, and saving the world in the dark hour before the dawn. Another four years of battles and bad hair days and clothes horribly rumpled because they've been slept in. On a couch. In somebody's office, not always my own.
I serve at the pleasure of the President. But the pain I've gone through doesn't go away. The pain we've all gone through, at one point or another. At one point or another, we've all nearly shattered. For that man. To keep him in office. To keep one man's job, we've given years of our lives, and parts of our souls.
We've given so much. For this man. For this simple, faulty, man.
And before we can even give another four years of our lives, we have to fight for the privilege. If the first four years were this bad, how on earth will we make it through the next four years? Assuming we win.
The world outside my window is dark. I know because my lamp is the only source of light in my office. I haven't glanced at the window since this afternoon. I probably won't go home tonight.
We've survived bullets and call girls, Qumar and Republican lawyers, MS and fires in the Mural room, and who remembers what all else, but we're going to do this for another four years.
Probably it's a bad sign I can't remember why. Why did we start this? To get a good man into office. But is keeping him there worth all this? Is that really all we're doing? Is one man, one simple and faulty man, worth all this?
But if I wasn't here, where would I be? Not with these people, not doing this, not helping to save the world. Probably I'd still be having delusions of grandeur.
What else is there, but this? Why am I thinking about this? I have a thing to finish. This thing, I have to finish this thing.
I serve at the pleasure of the President. The pain is a privilege, hard won.
Light is starting to come in through my office windows. I need to finish this thing.