Part Seven:



"Carol called last night, she's sick so I'm minus one assistant today," CJ sighed, walking between Josh and Toby, Sam at Josh's other side, as they headed for their respective offices.

"And the West Wing will head to hell in a hand basket," Sam quipped, and CJ shot him a look, allthewhile taking in his somewhat distant demeanor, but saying nothing as she stored it away for later discussion.

"Briefing's in ten," Toby added, as the four dispersed. CJ fought the urge to smile at him and wistfully wondered whether there would be time for a non-working lunch.

She could feel it when she walked into the room, and chuckled to herself as she dropped files in her chair and tapped the glass of Gail's goldfish bowl, watching flakes of fish food fall lazily through the water. "Good morning, Gail," CJ said, a smile lighting her lips, "Carol's not here, so I'm assuming either Ginger or Danny has been to feed you," she paused a moment, "God, I'm getting old, talking to a goldfish," this was muttered, as she sat behind her desk.

Only moments later, her head snapped up as her door latched and an eerily familiar voice near-growled, "Hello, Claudia."

Several thoughts passed through her foggy mind, among them were different variations of 'oh God', 'where's Toby when I need him?', and 'where in the hell are all the secret service agents', but she knew that they didn't know they needed to worry because she had kept too many things to herself, and settled on a calm, professional, "How did you get in here?"

He smiled, baring almost illuminate teeth, "You issued me press credentials, Claudia," his voice was amused.

For a moment, she sat, blinked, and then shook herself, "I most certainly did not." She stood, inching backward from her desk and closer to the door.

"You know that, and I know that." his voice again had the singing quality he used so often, "Looks authentic, doesn't it?" Neil held his pass up, displaying it proudly. "Amazing what people can do with computers these days, isn't it Claudia?"

She swallowed the rising emotions, panic among them, and turned toward the door. "I think you should go," CJ replied, her voice carrying with it all the confidence the rest of her body lacked as her hands shook.

The Press Secretary pulled the door partially open and realized that no one knew there was a madman in her office, he'd even drawn the blinds before she heard him, acknowledging the feeling that something was amiss. He slammed his arm against the door, causing her to start and jump backward, where he waited, leering, his mouth twisted into a smile that would have otherwise been charming. Roughly, he grabbed her arm, pulled her to face him, and forced her back against the door. "We haven't had brunch, yet."

She jerked backward, throwing her head into the door, as he leaned closer. "Let go," she slowed her words, "of me. Now." We are not having brunch or any other meal together, now or ever," she pulled her arm from his grasp as he loosened it in shock. Quickly, she moved across the room, putting the desk between them, laying a hand on the phone. "You're crazy."

His smile had dropped from charming to bewildered to enraged. Before she could scream at the White House operator to send the Secret Service, the cord was ripped from the phone and he was hissing in her ear, "I am not," he shook her by the shoulders, running her back into the corner of the desk sharply.

She swallowed her cry, ground her teeth, and hissed, "Let go of me."

"I. Am. Not. Crazy!" he yelled, and her eyes fell shut as he jerked her forward, forcing her mouth to his, his grip on her upper arms crushing.

With a vague sense of self preservation, she bit his lip as hard as she could, slammed her heel onto his instep, and felt an almost twisted satisfaction when he yelped quietly, stumbled, and cursed. It was short- lived, however, for in the second before she got an arm's length away, he grabbed the tail of her dress coat and she felt it rip as he pulled her back into his grip, then near-threw her into the couch like so many ragdolls. Shocked by the fall, CJ only gasped as her still-marked side collided with the end of a polished furniture arm, watching in silence as he swept Gail and her fishtank to the floor, glass splintering and shattering as water splashed onto the office floor. "Somebody is bound to have heard that," she thought to herself, as she knelt crookedly.

Like blood, it fell in slow motion, like Josh's blood, as it fell droplet by droplet onto the cold Newseum steps, like it rained down her arm as she held his hand in hers. And she was back there, in Rosslyn, where she dared only to watch as if it were a movie. But his hands fell over a chair, and she was shaken back to the present, still wondering how on earth she'd gotten there. With Neil hellbent on destruction, she fought to stand, nearly fell as a stabbing sort of pain coursed through her side, and dropped to her knees for the short journey to the door. The six seconds it took for her to scurry her way across the office felt like hours falling around her, and she dared not breathe as she wondered what gods had condemned her to this fate. Six blocks to where he'd lain in wait, six seconds to the portal to freedom, there was some sort of sick correlation there, she supposed, but pushed away her thoughts, fell back on her knees and looked over her shoulder, watching him kick pieces of glass beneath his feet as he prepared to throw a chair, still not noticing her movements.

CJ forced herself to her feet, swiftly settled aside the door and prepared to turn the door knob, and heard the words she'd been waiting for, or rather, the voice. "I'll get her, she's probably lost in a memo," and he was pushing open the door. Seeing him, she fell to her knees from her near- standing position, only to be pulled up again, sat in a chair, and handed his handkerchief.

Toby's blood boiled with rage, and he marched over to where the man stood, contemplating a chair as though he'd forgotten her. Clenching his hands into fists, the words left him as though they were never said - "Get the hell out!"

And he watched in bewilderment as Neil turned, left a lingering look at CJ, smiled politely, and left, latching the door behind him. "If you ever so much as think of touching her again." but the words died on his lips as he heard the click of the door, then muttered, "Crazy bastard," and fell to his knees beside CJ, taking her hands in his before she could gather the glass, potentially hurting herself. "It's going to be fine, CJ. We'll have someone clean this up, you don't need to do this, and then we'll call the police."

"No, no police," she mumbled, professionally speaking, "no press, Toby. No press."

He paused for a moment, "I'm going to talk to the President about getting you a detail then," Toby decided, prepared for an argument that did not come.

"He killed Gail," she whispered, her eyes glued on the goldfish, "this is all my fault."

"No, it's not, and don't you dare think that, CJ. This was not your fault and it's over now, he's gone. We're going to get you an agent."

"I don't want." she began, but stopped when she looked away from Gail to him, noting the determination in his gaze and the pleading that lay beneath it, "okay," CJ paused, "He's crazy, Toby. One minute he was throwing me into the arm of the couch, and then he's just staring at a chair while I'm crawling across the room, like I wasn't even there."

"Right now, though," Toby paused, unsure what to say, "I'm going to take Bonnie your notes from the briefing and have her tell them something came up," he held up a hand to halt her half-hearted arguments, "And you and I are going to see Abbey. You're holding your side for dear life, and she's worried about you, as am I," he paused, "I want to know that you're okay."

"I'm okay," she told him, plastering a small smile on her face as he shook his head.

"He." Toby paused, taking in her glassy eyes, slightly ripped jacket, and almost-confused expression.

She shook her head, taking his hand as they turned to leave the office, "My side hurts, I think I bruised a rib." And though her words were true, they were almost mechanical, for she was trying to think of a way to reassure Toby while still reassuring herself. Coming up with nothing, she sighed, and they headed for Abbey's office, and she frowned when she saw a single red rose in the trash bin, the petals fallen in an array of colors and states, the stem standing nearly straight upward, withered, and thorny.

CJ'd never known much about stalkers, obsessives, threats to society and people in general, but that morning she'd done her research, and found that he was an accelerated obsessive, one that became infatuated, claimed, and went after at a speed most couldn't fathom. Any day now, she thought, he was going to come for her, and she wasn't so sure she'd be able to get away. But, she pondered, he'd forgotten her for a moment in her office, maybe he'd forget her for good.

And at her apartment, the phone ceased ringing as the answering machine kicked on, CJ's voice stating, "You've reached 555-8625. leave a message."

The voice that replied was the voice she'd heard earlier in the day, crazed and pathetic, longing for something he'd never have, "Claudia, my apologies if I hurt your feelings today. I promise we'll continue our conversation at a later date," he lowered his voice, "It'll be our time soon, Claudia. You'll see.you'll see."