Donna POV
xxx
"Donna."
I look up and see Toby standing behind me. "Hey, Toby," I say tiredly, standing up from my desk to pick up a couple of files. It's been a long couple of weeks. "How was New York?"
He shakes his head and I sigh. Par for the course around here lately. I pick up my coffee mug and scowl into the cup. Things are going badly in all four corners of the White House. Josh's personal life and his political life are both in upheaval because Amy Gardner has been giving him hell for something that isn't his fault. Sam and Toby are both preoccupied with the impending election. CJ's being stalked and threatened. To top it all off, both Leo and the President have been tense. You know when two of the most powerful men on the planet are worried about something, you're not just being paranoid to think that the sky might be falling down around your ears. "What happened?" I ask, taking a sip of coffee. Something tells me I'm going to need it.
He looks at me. "Donna, Simon Donovan is dead."
"Oh my God," I say, gripping his arm. "Is CJ all right?"
"She wasn't hurt," he answers. "The Secret Service caught the guy that's been threatening her earlier this evening. This was unrelated."
"What happened?" I ask.
He looks at me worriedly. "Agent Donovan went into a market and walked in on a robbery. He was shot, Donna."
The coffee mug slips from my fingers and lands on my desk with a thud. He was hit. We both watch as the dark liquid spills over the desk, insidiously spreading through the pristine pages. "I'm sorry," I say, staring at papers as the coffee seeps into them.
"It's okay," he says quietly.
"Is CJ at home?" I ask.
"Yeah. She wanted to be alone," he says simply.
I would have too. "Okay."
"It's late," he says. "You should go home."
"Yeah," I say, looking at the coffee stained papers covering my desk. "I have to clean this up first."
He shakes his head. "I'll do it. Go home."
I nod mutely and pick up my purse.
"Donna?" he says.
I pause on the way out of my cubicle. I shake my head to clear it. "Yeah?"
"Take a cab. I'll tell Josh."
"He's at Amy's," I say absentmindedly.
He cringes. "Yeah. Take care of yourself."
"Okay," I say, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "Thanks, Toby." And then I leave.
I leave my car and take the Metro home. I let myself into my darkened apartment and drop my keys and bag on the coffee table without turning the lights on. It's late. I can hear my roommate snoring softly down the hall. I sit down on the couch and scrub my face with my hand before letting my hand fall to my lap and leaning my head back on the couch. I stare at the ceiling and listen to the familiar sounds of the city. Voices rise and fall as two people deep in conversation walk past the building. Sirens echo in the distance. A car door slams. I stare into the darkness for twenty minutes, and then I get up and go into my bedroom. I crawl under my blankets and close my eyes tightly, silently willing oblivion to overtake me.
I wonder to myself what would happen to me if it happened again now. All I can think is that nothing has changed. If it happened again now, it would be just as bad as before. Except, possibly, it would be worse, because he's with her now. I'd have even less of a place than I did then.
I arrive at work early the next day. The corridors of the West Wing are darkened and quiet, but I am unsurprised to see a light spilling from underneath the closed door of CJ's office. I walk past it without stopping and turn on the light at my desk so I can get down to work. Toby did a terrible job of cleaning up last night, but at least he prevented the coffee from spreading all over my keyboard. I spend a few minutes cleaning up and then I sit down and get started.
It's not long before other people start to trickle in and the normal buzz of activity begins. Toby comes in first. He takes note of the light under CJ's door and he sees me, but neither of us says anything before he goes over to her office and knocks softly.
I turn my back and focus on my work. The lights go on and several people stop to talk to me on the way to the coffee maker. Josh rolls in a few minutes after eight, yawning widely. He stops when he sees me. "Hey," he says.
"Hey," I reply.
He looks at me for a minute. "Toby said he told you."
"Yes," I say.
"He called me last night."
"You okay?" I ask.
He nods. "Yeah. Have you talked to CJ yet?"
"No."
He pauses. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything. Just be there for her."
"I want her to know how sorry I am," he says. "I think I should talk to her."
"Do what you think is best," I say shortly. Even if it's all wrong. "You have senior staff in five."
"How's the rest of my schedule for today?"
"Busy. You have to meet with Senator Rawlins and Leo wants you to go to the Hill for a hearing on 804, and then you have to be back here to staff the President this afternoon."
"Oh, good. Maybe he can tell me again how he'd rather have my girlfriend working for him than me," he says.
"You'll be all right."
I see CJ going in and out of her office all day, smiling tensely and jumping at sudden noises, but I don't talk to her until a few minutes before her afternoon briefing. I wait until it's about to start and then I walk over to her office and rap on the door. "I'll be out in a minute, Carol!" CJ calls from inside. I go in. She's pacing and she stops every few seconds and scribbles something down on a clipboard. She looks up. She looks tired. "I just have to finish a couple of things, and then I'll be ready," she says with an edge to her voice.
"Okay," I say.
She runs her hand through her hair. "Please tell me Josh didn't do anything stupid that I'm going to have to worry about," she says hollowly.
"He hasn't done anything," I tell her.
"Good," she says. She writes down something else, looks at it, and then violently scratches it out.
I close the distance between us and cover her hand with my own, closing my fingers around the pen and forcing her to stop writing. I take the pen and the clipboard away from her. She relinquishes them, but stands tense without them, fidgeting nervously. "What's going on?" she demands. "Is there any way you can make this quick? I have a briefing in five minutes."
"It's okay, it can wait," I say. I put the pen and clipboard down on the desk. "You have to get ready for your briefing now."
She starts pacing again. "Donna, I don't think I can do it. I thought I could, but I don't think I can. Toby offered to cover it for me, but I told him I could do it, and he went to the Hill, and now I can't do it."
"CJ," I say sternly, blocking her path and forcing her to stop pacing. "Take a deep breath." She inhales deeply. "Now do it again." She does, and that's when she starts shaking.
I take the small silver flask I borrowed from Toby this morning out of my suit pocket and put my hand behind her head, tilting it back. "Drink this," I order, touching the flask to her lips and tipping it towards her. She closes her eyes and drinks haltingly. She gets in two swallows before I stop her. "Easy does it," I say, taking it away from her. I put the flask back into my pocket and produce a stick of gum. I tear it in half and hand it to her. "Chew."
She pops the gum in her mouth and chews it dutifully. I unfold the wrapper and hold it out. "Spit," I command. She obeys. "Now lick your lips." She licks her lips nervously and I dispose of the gum. I give her a glass of water, which she drains.
I find her purse and root around for her lipstick. I take her chin in my hand and put on her lipstick for her. She blots her lips and I take out a bottle of eye drops. "Tip your head back." She complies and I lean over her and drip a couple of eye drops into each eye. She blinks rapidly and I grab a couple tissues from the box of Kleenex on her desk. I hand them to her and she dabs her eyes.
I nod in satisfaction. "Okay." I tug on the ends of her sleeves and straighten her collar. "CJ, I understand Special Agent Simon Donovan was shot and killed last night while on duty with the Secret Service at the play the President attended last night. Has the President been receiving death threats, and was his life in any danger last night?" I have to be the one to ask. If she is going to do this, she needs to be prepared. Leo, Josh, even Toby– no one else has the nerve.
"First of all, Agent Donovan was not assigned to the President last night, and his death was not related to his Secret Service duties. He had completed his assignment for the evening, and he stepped into a market on a personal errand when he interrupted a robbery involving two armed men. He had just apprehended the first robber when a second man approached him from behind and shot him, killing him instantly. The President was not present and he was in no danger at any time," she replies smoothly. She knows she needs to be prepared, too. She's been practicing.
"Was anyone else injured in the incident?" I ask.
"No. Thanks to the heroic actions of Agent Donovan, the robbers were apprehended before they could harm the owner of the store or any of the customers," she responds.
"Has the President been in contact with Agent Donovan's family?"
She takes a deep breath. "Yes. The President spoke to his family last night. He offered his deepest condolences and thanked them for Agent Donovan's commitment to protecting others."
Carol comes in, looking nervous. "It's time."
I steer CJ out into the hall. "Just remember, Josh offered to step in if you didn't think you could handle it," I say in a low voice.
Her spine straightens. "I can do it." Good. All is not lost if she can still recall the secret plan to fight inflation.
I head into Josh's office to give him a file a few minutes later and find him leaning on his desk, watching the briefing. I pause at his shoulder and watch with him.
"She's doing well, isn't she?" Josh muses.
He doesn't see her sharp intake of breath after the second question, or if he does, he doesn't see it as important. But to his credit, no one else seems to think it's important either, and that's what matters right now. "Yes, she is," I agree.
CJ approaches me later that night at my desk. "Is he in?" she asks, jerking her head towards Josh's office.
I shake my head. "No. He went home for the night."
She lets out a breath. "I was avoiding him today. He tried to talk to me a couple of times, but I brushed him off."
"He doesn't understand," I say simply.
She nods. "Yeah."
"He really is just trying to help," I tell her.
"I know," she murmurs. She's quiet for a moment and I turn back to my work while she leans against the edge of my desk.
"You haven't said anything," she says suddenly.
I look up, and she continues. "All day long, people have been telling me they're sorry, it's such a shame, what a tragedy. But you haven't said anything."
I shrug. "There's nothing to say."
She exhales. "You're right." I think she was hoping for something more. She looks miserable.
I touch her hand. "CJ." I meet her eyes. "It's going to be okay."
She squeezes my hand. "I know." She sounds sure, and I envy her. If it were me, I wouldn't be sure. Not so soon. If I ever made it to sure, it would have been a much longer time in coming. Then she takes a shaky breath and I snap myself out of my reverie. It's not me, it's CJ, and what she has to deal with is real. All I have to deal with are old ghosts.
"I'm going home," she says.
"I'll see you in the morning," I tell her.
She pauses. "Do you think Josh is still up?"
I glance at my watch. "Yeah. He'll probably be up for a while."
"I think I'll give him a call when I get home," she announces.
"He'd like that," I say. "He wants to be a good brother to you."
"He is a good brother," she says softly.
My throat tightens. "Good night," I say.
"Good night, Donna," she returns.
CJ looks exhausted. Of course, it's possible that I'm just projecting my own exhaustion onto others at this point, I'm so tired, but I'm pretty sure she's as worn-out as she looks.
It's been a week since Simon died. Things have been even crazier around here than usual. Disaster after disaster occurs, and everyone is tense. And CJ has to clean up all the mess. Just like always, only now she's got this giant burden to carry and she's feeling the strain, not like always. I've been trying to imagine what she's going through and what she needs to get through it, but the effort has placed a strain on me I never thought I would have to endure again. I haven't been sleeping well. I keep waking up from nightmares about Josh being shot, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. Twice I've found my fingers dialing his phone number before I've fully entered into consciousness, but both times I catch myself and quietly replace the receiver in the cradle.
Today was bad because we lost a vote and there was a shooting at a school in Montana. No one was hurt, but everyone here keenly felt the pain of those four bullets embedded in the cafeteria wall.
I'm sick of it. For the first time since I drove to New Hampshire four years ago, I seriously wonder if it's all worth it. If what we've achieved is worth all this pain and disillusionment. If duty, once settled on our shoulders like a mantle of glory, will no longer seem like an oppressive burden, and once again seem like a sacred honor. I think... it will. Someday. But not today.
And so, I go into the ladies room determined to have a quick cry before going back out to my desk to prepare a counter-strategy for the next vote and stoically listen to Josh bitch about Amy and how the President doesn't trust him and how he doesn't blame him because he doesn't feel like he can trust people anymore, either.
CJ, it appears, has beaten me. I find her sitting on the floor, against the wall, idly playing with the necklace around her neck, and I spare a thought to wonder why she's in the bathroom when she has her own private office to cry in. I have to come in here. My only alternative is the bullpen. She gives me a rueful smile when she sees me. "Steve and Katie are staking out my office," she says in response to my unspoken question. I nod and sit down on the floor next to her and we both stare at the wall opposite us.
"He was thirteen," CJ says. "Do you believe that? Thirteen. I can't get over it. How someone can manage to have enough hate and fear inside him by the age of thirteen to bring a gun to school and think that things will be better for him if he threatens the lives of his teachers and classmates?"
"Yeah," I say dully. He was hit.
She turns to me slightly. "So how are you doing?" she asks.
I smile tiredly. "Great," I say lightly.
She nods. "Yeah. Me, too."
We sit in silence for several long minutes and after a while I become aware that tears are streaming down my face while CJ sits beside me, dry-eyed. She hands me a couple of tissues and I wipe my face. We both lean our heads against the wall. "CJ," I say wearily. "Let's go get drunk."
She squeezes my hand. "I thought you'd never ask."
We go to the seediest bar we can find. We don't talk, just nurse our drinks and brood in silence. By one am, we're both pretty smashed.
"So," the bartender asks us after we knock back about six shots of Jack Daniels each. "Which is it? Grief? Or man trouble?"
"Excuse me?" CJ asks, adding her empty glass to the collection on the counter.
"The reason you two are trying to drown yourselves in whiskey. Grief or man trouble."
We stare at him, perplexed. "What do you mean?" I ask.
"I've worked as a bar tender for twenty-seven years, and I've only ever seen women get drunk like you two for two reasons- either grief, or man trouble," the bartender explains.
CJ and I look at each other for a long moment. "We're lesbians," I finally announce, turning back to the bartender.
"Really?" the bartender asks.
I nod. "Yup." Impulsively, I lean forward and give CJ a peck on the cheek. She grins back at me.
"How long have you been together?" he asks.
"Four years," CJ replies. "Four wonderful years."
"How did you meet?" he wants to know.
"At the grocery store," I say. "The produce department."
"Well, you seem very happy together. Why are you so gloomy tonight?"
I glance at CJ. "We got fired tonight," she says.
He looks taken aback. "Fired? Both of you?"
"We work together," CJ says. "The day after we met, she was hired by my boss as a consultant."
"Complete coincidence," I add.
She covers my hand with her own and looks deep into my eyes. "Or maybe... it was fate."
"Maybe," I allow shyly, batting my eyes at her.
"So what happened?"
"Well, our boss isn't the most politically correct kind of guy..." I say.
"So we've been discreet," CJ says.
"And we've worked really well together all this time. We sealed a three million dollar deal together just last week, but well..."
"He found out about... us. You see, we've been looking into adoption," CJ explains.
"And the agency called me at the office today," I add.
"He overheard some things he shouldn't have," CJ concludes.
The bartender looks aghast. "And he fired you because you're together?"
I nod sadly. "Yes. He made quite a scene."
"Isn't that completely illegal?" he wants to know.
"Yes, it is," I say.
"We're going to sue the bastard for all he's worth," CJ says.
"But that's not the reason we're sad. We're well shot of that prick. We should get enough out of the settlement to start our own business," I say. "No, the reason we're sad is the adoption."
CJ nods. "You see, it's pretty tough for people like us to adopt in the first place. But we were just moving through the final stages of adoption when this happened. And now..."
"It's back to square one," I sigh. "With both of us out of work, we'll never get approval to bring little Sarah home. The best we can hope for is to start all over again once we've gotten the new business up and running. And that means another couple of years before we'd actually get to bring another child home if we have to start the process over again. But..."
"She won't be Sarah," CJ finishes. "Sweet, little Sarah."
I raise my glass. "To Sarah," I say solemnly.
CJ clinks her glass against mine. "To Sarah," she repeats.
I throw down some money on the counter and grab CJ by the hand, pulling her off the barstool. "Come on, honey, we've got to get to the lawyer's by ten tomorrow morning."
"Good luck. I hope your boss rots. And I think you two would make fabulous mothers," the bartender calls as CJ and I walk out of the bar. CJ waggles her fingers at him. "Thanks!" she calls.
We go out into the cool night air actually smiling. CJ wraps her arm around my waist. "Wouldn't things be easier if we were lesbians?" she asks. "You and I would be great together."
I shake my head. "Nah. You're too independent for me. I'm co-dependent. I need to be needed."
She sighs. "You're right. You'd probably get frustrated and leave me because I wouldn't be emotionally available to you."
"Besides, I've seen you squeeze a tube of toothpaste," I add. "I could never live with someone who could mangle a tube of Crest like that."
"Yeah. And you're too skinny for me. I like my women with a little meat on their bones," she says.
"But maybe if you dyed your hair red," I offer, and it's at this point that I realize exactly how drunk we are. "I've always wanted to date a red-head."
"Is that so? Well, hey baby, let's go. I think I've got some L'Oreal back at my place," she says.
I slow down. "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" I ask seriously.
She looks at me. "I..."
"Your apartment's way closer than mine and your bathroom is a good five steps closer to your couch than my bathroom is to my bed, so it would really be good for me if I could be there about two hours from now when all this Jack Daniels catches up to me," I say.
She looks away. "Yeah, okay," she mutters. We get a cab and head back to her place, where she grabs me a blanket for the couch. "CJ, listen," I begin. She looks up at me. "I just want you to know... if you ever need someone, to you know... be here, you can call me. In the middle of the night, whenever."
She nods slightly. "Yeah, I know."
"And if..." I trail off. "If you don't want to ask... I don't know, just let the phone ring twice and I'll come over and I won't expect you to talk or anything. I know you're going through something much different and more awful than my experience, but if you ever want to... ask me anything..." I take a deep breath. "You can."
She looks surprised by my offer. "Thanks. Um... I think I'll go to bed now."
"Good night," I say.
She hesitates on the threshold of her bedroom and turns around to face me. "Do you think he has any idea what you're going through?" she asks.
I shake my head with a rueful smile. "No."
"Why not? Anyone can see you look terrible," she says, but I'm not offended.
"He can tell I'm tired," I say. "But he's pretty wrapped up in his own problems right now."
She knows this is code for saying that he's too self-absorbed to notice anything about me that doesn't have an immediate impact on his life. "He's not that bad," she protests. I simply raise my eyebrows at her. "Okay, yes, he is," she concedes. She's quiet for a moment. "He doesn't deserve you, you know."
I nod. "I know."
"He takes you for granted," she presses.
"I know," I sigh.
"Then why..."
I look at her sadly. "Because he wants to be the guy the guy counts on. Because he had a sister who died. Because he put his hand through a window. Because he wants Mike Piazza to call him dude. Because he left Hoynes for the real thing. Because he loves his mom. Because he pushes himself harder than anyone I've ever met. Because he'd do anything to protect his friends. Because he got shot and he's still 'da man.'"
"Do you..." she hesitates. "Do you ever think about telling him?"
"Sure."
"So why haven't you?"
I look at the ceiling. "I guess... for a long time I was scared. And then by the time I stopped being scared, he had been ensorcelled by someone else."
CJ looks sad. "It should be you."
I keep my eyes on the ceiling. "Good-night, CJ."