TITLE: Disrespect
AUTHOR: Kansas J. Miller
GENRE: CJ-centric angst, third person
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: Post-"The Fall's Gonna Kill You"
DISCLAMER: The characters of The West Wing belong to me only in a dreamlike state that occurs every time that I sit down at my computer. It's just coincidental that you see them on television each week G
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this last summer while we were waiting to see if Bartlet would run. I'm buying a new computer and today, a little file searching and cleaning up yielded this short little piece. So I'm posting. Hope you'll review if you read :)
~*~
There was no way out of this; she had lied hundreds of times, blatantly, obviously, yet unknowingly. They would make that a crime, they would twist it so badly that there would be no doubt in the public's mind-they were ruined. Everything that the group had worked for would be reduced to a memory.
They had shed their sweat and their tears for that man, only to be deceived in the most horrific way. He was stamping on a year of campaign work and another three years of grueling hours in the White House; all they had done for him meant nothing in the face of two hidden words: multiple sclerosis.
She wanted to strangle him, to spit violently in his face before ripping away his skin. She had given up so much for this man who had lied to her, who had lied to all of them. She would have been his Press Secretary knowing the truth; from the beginning, it would not have changed a thing. They could have won with this on the table-she knew it. Now it was hardly worth trying.
Why had he kept this hidden? Embarrassment? Fear of rejection? Or maybe the President was just self-centered. Because now they were expected to stay and support him through the storm, but for what real reasons? Her opinion of Jed Bartlet had been drastically turned around and she no longer saw him as the President of the United States of America. She saw him as a simple liar and a coward.
There was no denying that he was the smartest man she'd ever known, and she had worshipped the building he had allowed her to work in, the position he had given her. But at this moment, this hour, she cursed her self for leaving California. She had given up too much to be a part of this disrespect. And it was disrespect, she knew. He hadn't the decency to be honest with the people nearest and dearest to him. He was the reason they all got up each morning, and he was the reason that they toiled. It was all for him, and in the end, it was only grief.
Would she spit in his face, or tell him how she felt? As her temper cooled and a calmer head prevailed, she knew that this was all a privilege. The President of the United States needed her more than ever, now. It was a challenge that only someone of strong character could take on. There was a need inside of her to prove that she had the strength and the drive to defend this man who had deceived them all. She wouldn't spit in his face tonight, nor would she be able to put her anger into words for him. In the coming months, she would be his voice as they tried to right the wrong. She would ignore the President's disrespect, and wait for the day when she could give it back to him in ways he so deserved.
AUTHOR: Kansas J. Miller
GENRE: CJ-centric angst, third person
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: Post-"The Fall's Gonna Kill You"
DISCLAMER: The characters of The West Wing belong to me only in a dreamlike state that occurs every time that I sit down at my computer. It's just coincidental that you see them on television each week G
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this last summer while we were waiting to see if Bartlet would run. I'm buying a new computer and today, a little file searching and cleaning up yielded this short little piece. So I'm posting. Hope you'll review if you read :)
~*~
There was no way out of this; she had lied hundreds of times, blatantly, obviously, yet unknowingly. They would make that a crime, they would twist it so badly that there would be no doubt in the public's mind-they were ruined. Everything that the group had worked for would be reduced to a memory.
They had shed their sweat and their tears for that man, only to be deceived in the most horrific way. He was stamping on a year of campaign work and another three years of grueling hours in the White House; all they had done for him meant nothing in the face of two hidden words: multiple sclerosis.
She wanted to strangle him, to spit violently in his face before ripping away his skin. She had given up so much for this man who had lied to her, who had lied to all of them. She would have been his Press Secretary knowing the truth; from the beginning, it would not have changed a thing. They could have won with this on the table-she knew it. Now it was hardly worth trying.
Why had he kept this hidden? Embarrassment? Fear of rejection? Or maybe the President was just self-centered. Because now they were expected to stay and support him through the storm, but for what real reasons? Her opinion of Jed Bartlet had been drastically turned around and she no longer saw him as the President of the United States of America. She saw him as a simple liar and a coward.
There was no denying that he was the smartest man she'd ever known, and she had worshipped the building he had allowed her to work in, the position he had given her. But at this moment, this hour, she cursed her self for leaving California. She had given up too much to be a part of this disrespect. And it was disrespect, she knew. He hadn't the decency to be honest with the people nearest and dearest to him. He was the reason they all got up each morning, and he was the reason that they toiled. It was all for him, and in the end, it was only grief.
Would she spit in his face, or tell him how she felt? As her temper cooled and a calmer head prevailed, she knew that this was all a privilege. The President of the United States needed her more than ever, now. It was a challenge that only someone of strong character could take on. There was a need inside of her to prove that she had the strength and the drive to defend this man who had deceived them all. She wouldn't spit in his face tonight, nor would she be able to put her anger into words for him. In the coming months, she would be his voice as they tried to right the wrong. She would ignore the President's disrespect, and wait for the day when she could give it back to him in ways he so deserved.