Title: Does Heaven Have Enough Angels Yet?
Author: Jess (fauquita@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: I bow down before the greatness that is Aaron Sorkin, and admit that these are his characters, not mine.
Summary: I've gone hard and I've gone cold. I can't make the pieces of this cracked life fit. Please forgive me for wanting to know, does Heaven have enough angels yet ?
Thanks: To my partners in crime, Sidalicious and Lizisita.
Note: Yes, illness is involved, and again I'm attempting to portray it with the sensitivity it deserves. Be forewarned however that if these kinds of things upset you, you're gonna wanna skip this one. In addition, this is a sequel to 'Silence', so you might want to read that one first.
Rating: I'll just give the whole thing an R.
I noticed the difference in her right away and hated her for it. Hated him for it. Hated everyone, because they were happy and I was left with this darkness and bitterness, and no one realized it. And sometimes I still refuse to join them for drinks or dinner, because it is too painful to watch their intimacy. The way she places her hand on his knee, or the way he wipes the mayonnaise she missed with her napkin off her bottom lip with his index finger.
She and I have never been like that. Would never be like that. And it kills me sometimes when she smiles at him, because in it I see serenity and completeness: two things that have been missing from her life for many years. And she has found it in him. And I never saw it coming until it was too late, until I was powerless to stop it.
It was so easy to take her for granted, to take him for granted. Josh and Donna were inevitable, is what everyone said. CJ is too busy to pursue a serious relationship, is what I told myself. I was biding time, building up the courage to approach her with my feelings, waiting for the right moment. But I have learned that there is no right moment, no second chance.
And so I bite the inside of my cheek sometimes when she pulls him onto the crowded dance floor of some Georgetown bar because I think that could be me. But then I remember that I don't dance, and for us, it would be something different. Maybe something better, like poetry or songs. But I am not that man, either. And so maybe things have turned out for the best.
Leo is worried, that much I could tell from his reticence today in staff. No, he doesn't know what's going on; no he doesn't know whether it's serious or not; yes, he trusts Josh. And then he put an end to our questions by slamming a folder on his desk and asking about the oil tanker captured off the coast of Egypt.
My fingers itched to call her, but then I remembered our words the day before and thought that maybe she didn't want to hear from me. I will apologize in my 'own way', which is not an apology at all, but she will forgive me as if it was. This is what we do. Sometimes Sam looks at me reproachfully, and Leo rolls his eyes, but they don't understand the complexity of our relationship. And this gives me pleasure, somehow.
"Hey, Toby," Sam says as he falls into step beside me.
"Hey," I respond quietly as I take one of the plastic bags from his hand. He smiles his thanks, but says nothing further as I knock on CJ's door.
To our great surprise, Leo ushers us in with a quick wave of his hand as he continues arguing with someone over his cell phone. He walks down the darkened hallway for privacy, and Sam and I are left standing in the empty living room.
"Toby, Sam," CJ greets softly as she emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "We're not going to have much time to discuss things. I think there's some trouble back at the White House."
"When isn't there?" Sam quips.
She smiles affectionately at him, and I wish I would've said it instead. "Well, Josh made some coffee, so if you guys want to come in here, we could do some preliminary talking while Leo finishes his conversation."
Preliminary talking? I don't like the sound of it, don't like the way her eyes won't meet mine when she says it, but I follow Sam anyway, and nod at Josh when I sit down across from him at the table. CJ stands behind Josh, one hand nervously kneading his shoulder while she waits for Sam to join as at the table.
"I know you already had a meeting," she begins quietly. "And I know you think that silence is the best policy on this one." She takes a deep breath. "You're wrong."
She finally meets my gaze and stares back unflinchingly, almost challengingly as if she is waiting for me to disagree. When no one says anything, she leans back against the kitchen counter and sighs. Josh and Sam trade glances, but she doesn't notice because her eyes haven't left me. She is disappointed, I can tell.
"I need to deliver a statement. We need to work with Senator Shallick's staff. And I need to take a leave of absence."
"A leave of absence?" I ask quietly, hoping the shock remains undetectable in my voice.
Before she can answer, Leo storms into the room, pulling a chair out roughly and sitting down. "You got five minutes to state your case, and then we have to get back to the West Wing."
"What's going on?" Sam asks. "We've only been gone for thirty minutes."
"Shots were fired when inspectors tried to board The Rogue."
"The tanker?" Sam asks incredulously.
"Yeah...only they weren't carrying illegal oil. They were carrying arms to sell to Iraq."
"You've got to be kidding me!" Josh exclaims.
"No, I'm not. So, CJ, out with it."
"I want to deliver a statement tomorrow."
Leo sighs and leans back in his chair. "Until we figure out what's going on in the Persian Gulf, I don't want to put anything else out in the news cycle."
"It will come back to haunt you, Leo. Even if no one writes about it, even if only two people show up to the briefing, I need to deliver a statement. It will come up again later in the campaign, and we need to clean it up now."
He observes her silently for a moment and then shakes his head. "Talk to me about it tomorrow."
"Leo-"
"Tomorrow, CJ," he says abruptly as he stands. Both Sam and I follow his cue. "We don't know what's going on, we don't know how many casualties there are, and we don't know how it's going to end. Your past with Shallick is the least of my concerns right now." He waits for an argument, and when none comes, he turns to Josh. "We need you in the office now."
"Yeah," Josh says as he stands up. "But CJ still has some things to discuss with you."
"Can it wait until later?"
"No," he says simultaneously with her "Yes". They exchange glances and Josh shakes his head. "Tell them now."
"I think on the scale of things, this is probably the least important-"
"Somebody tell me something," Leo says angrily as he shrugs into his jacket.
"I'm going to take a leave of absence." She says this grudgingly while glaring at Josh.
"How long?"
"I don't know."
"I can't work with that, CJ."
"I can't give you a specific date because I don't know what course of treatment I'm going to receive," she says in frustration as she follows us to the door.
Better to look at the floor. Better to stare at the small stain on the Oriental carpet in the entrance way. Better to concentrate on the intricate patterns and designs. Better to close my eyes and shove my hands in my pocket. Better to avoid her eyes, because I would see the truth in them.
There is something startling in the sudden quietness of the room, and I can imagine that everyone hears the pounding of my heart, or maybe it's one of theirs. Someone is breathing harshly, almost raggedly, and it takes several moments before I realize that it is me.
"What are you talking about?" Leo asks quietly.
I don't have to look up to know that Josh is holding CJ's hand, or that Sam is gripping the edge of his coat. These are things I sense instinctively. And when I do look up, it is not to watch CJ, but our boss.
"I have been diagnosed with Leukemia," she begins quietly. "I won't get the results of the biopsy until tomorrow, but the doctors know that my case is acute. So needless to say, I'll be out of commission for a while."
I have never seen Leo speechless, never seen him look so lost and confused, almost vulnerable. His guard is down only for a moment however, before he regains his mask of professionalism. He inclines his head and clears his throat.
"We'll talk about the statement tomorrow." And then he is gone, and because I can't bear to look at CJ, I follow him.
I don't make it very far before the weight of the news hits me full force, and I have to lean on the wall outside of her apartment for support. Panic descends, and it becomes hard to breathe because this isn't supposed to be happening. Not to her. Her hands are cool against my cheek, and her mouth is moving, but I can't hear what she is saying. Can hear nothing but the blood pounding in my ears.
Josh is beside her now and they both take an arm and drag me back into her apartment. Sam brings me a glass of water, and I am vaguely aware of the smell of the forgotten Chinese in the kitchen. I am hungry, I realize. And I am ashamed that I am thinking of food when my best friend is dying. No, maybe not dying. People recover from cancer everyday, I remind myself.
"How long?" I ask when I finally regain the power of speech.
"How long, what?"
"How long have you known?"
"Since yesterday. Toby, are you ok? Do you want some more water?"
Her concern angers me and I push her hands away. "I have to get back to the office," I mutter.
Her eyes are unreadable, but I know she is hurt. She nods her head. "Of course. Why don't you wait for Josh? He can-"
"I need to go now," I cut her off.
"Are you ok to drive? You seem a little-" but I don't let her finish as I slam the door behind me.
She doesn't follow me this time, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I am disappointed.
They are all listening to me, now. Waiting for me to cue them, to remind them, to overwhelm them, to balance them with my unwavering intentness. I am not used to this role because we have always looked to Leo. Sometimes I think it is his general aloofness and exasperation at our mistakes, or his never being wholly satisfied with our best efforts that makes us want to please him. He is not an easy man to work under, but there is something about him that makes us feel we would not be complete unless we were here, with him, acting out his vision.
Toby is writing in a notebook with an air of disinterest, but the tilt of his head gives him away and I know he is almost desperate for information. Leo is flipping through files and folders on his desk, an avoidance technique we have all come to recognize. And Sam, well, Sam is staring at his hands, at the floor, at the wall, at anything but me. And I am suspicious.
"She hasn't been feeling well lately, just really tired all the time," I begin. "And the weight loss, well, we've all noticed that. So, she made an appointment with a friend sometime last week."
"And she was told on Thursday that she had leukemia?" Leo asks without looking at me. "This is why she was so late in coming back?"
"Yeah." I wait for more questions or comments, and when none comes, I continue. "The thing is, they couldn't tell her what type she had until they took a bone marrow sample, which they did yesterday."
"And the results of that come back sometime tomorrow?" He looks at his watch and sighs. "Actually, sometime later today?"
"Yes."
"She's going to have to tell the President," Leo informs me as he leans back in his chair. "We're going to need to decide who's taking over so we can start briefing on the Censure, and the illegal arms sales. Not to mention the fact that we're going to be digging into the campaign. We need to make the transition as soon as possible."
"I think you should tell him now," Sam opines from the couch.
"It's not really my place-"
"But it was your place to tell *her* about his MS?"
"Sam," I warn.
Leo stands suddenly and bangs his fist on the desk. "Is this how it's going to be now, Sam? I don't have to remind you that you're a professional, and using CJ's illness as a punishment for the President is incendiary."
"You're right. I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"Yeah," Leo interrupts warily. "Is there anything else?"
Toby clears his throat and finally looks up. "The cancer is going to make it hard for the opposition to attack her in regards to Shallick. We may even go up a few notches in the popularity polls- sympathy votes, really-but we need to take advantage of it while we can and build momentum."
I would have expected something like that from Bruno, and maybe even Leo, but never Toby. He knows more about her than anyone, and the two share a closeness that I am envious of most days. He's been withdrawn lately, and they don't spend much time together anymore, but their relationship has never been about words. Theirs is an unbreakable bond that doesn't need nurturing.
He doesn't mean it, I realize, because there is no conviction in his voice. He wants us to believe that he isn't shaken, but his hand trembles when he places it against his forehead and I know that he is in anguish. I let out a rush of air and collapse onto one end of the couch. I feel drained, weary, and it's not from lack of sleep. I look into my friends' faces and see the same thing. This may very well destroy us.
"Go back to your offices and wait for my call. I gotta get back to the Situation Room," Leo finally says after almost five minutes of silence.
Time crawls by slowly as I sit in my office. Sam and Toby are already discussing wording for the press release regarding The Rogue and I can do nothing more than arrange the pencils in my drawer according to length. I don't even realize the sky outside has begun to lighten with day until Donna comes barreling into my office with her coat in hand.
She widens her eyes because my presence is unexpected, and my absence the day before mysterious. She is incredibly intuitive about most things, and she wordlessly shuts the door behind her. Her movements are carefully orchestrated as she sits in the visitor's chair and crosses her legs.
"What's going on, Josh?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" she asks dubiously.
"Why are you here so early?"
"With all that went on yesterday, I just figured.... So what's going on?"
"An independent tanker was caught off the coast of Egypt yesterday. Everyone thought they were just carrying illegal oil, but when inspectors tried to board, they were fired upon. There were several military vessels in the area and a task force was sent to gain control."
"What's going on, Josh?" she asks again as if she hasn't heard my explanation.
"What the hell? I just told you. We're waiting to hear back from the commander."
"I don't mean what's going on in the Persian Gulf, I mean what's going on with you, and CJ?"
I sigh and lean back in my chair. "I don't want to talk about it."
"You don't want to talk about it with me, or you just don't want to talk about it?"
"Both."
The phone rings shrilly, cutting off whatever she was about to say and I nearly dive for the receiver. "Yeah?" I ask tiredly, expecting the voice on the other end to be Leo calling for staff.
"What are you wearing?" a husky voice inquires.
I chuckle lightly and eye Donna pointedly. She looks confused for a moment, but I know it is only an act, and I wait until she closes the door behind her before answering. "An Armani ball gown of silk and lace."
Her laughter is rich and I bask in the sound. "Smart ass."
I glance quickly at my watch and frown. "What are you doing awake? It's barely even six-thirty."
"Couldn't sleep," she admits candidly. "How's the thing in Egypt?"
"We're waiting to hear back." I sigh and lower my forehead to the desk. "I hate waiting."
"Me, too." I know she's talking about more than news from the task force and my stomach tightens in dread.
There is a crisp knock at the door, and Sam jerks his head. "Leo wants us."
I nod, and wave him away. "Look, I gotta go now. Call me, ok?"
She knows what I am referring to and says simply, "Of course. I'll talk to you later."
"I love you," I say quietly, but she has already hung up the phone.
Adversity is like a strong wind, tearing you away from the truths in your life you hold most dear, and forcing you to cling to what is left. It is in these moments you are forced to see yourself as you really are, and not what you want to be. The startling clarity is disconcerting at first, but it soon becomes comforting because you learn to distinguish between reality and fantasy.
I realize belatedly that I have bent the frames of my glasses in my grip, and it is only when Leo's gaze travels to obviously to my hands that I release them. Charlie reminds me from the door that I have a budget meeting, but I am only idly aware of his words, as if he speaking from a great distance.
"Mister President?" Leo prompts, but I wave him away dispiritedly. "Give us ten minutes, would you, Charlie?"
I wait until the door is shut behind him before looking to Leo. "Have we been blind? Of course she was sick, of course she was. Why didn't we ever say anything to her?"
He has that look on his face now, the one I have come to dread because he is about to tell me some unpleasant truth. He sighs and clasps his hands in front of him. "You were too scared to ask her about media strategy, let alone ask her about her health."
"So this is my fault, then?" I ask angrily. "I didn't see you taking her aside and..." I trail off because I realize how petulant I sound. "Damn it, Leo!"
"I know how you feel, sir."
I nod my head. "Yeah, ok."
"She's going to call Josh with the results of her-"
I hold my hand up and shake my head. "I can't think about this right now, I have a country to run. But I want to speak with her before the day is over."
"On the phone, or-"
"Get her in the office."
"Yes sir."
"Thank you, Leo. Tell Charlie to send them in."
"Thank you, Mister President."
I greet my advisors mechanically, and they must sense the tension in the air because they keep their suggestions brief. After ten minutes have passed, I am left with a two-page memo outlining their economic strategy for the budget surplus and a lump of emotion that I must swallow because there is no room for it on my face.
"Sir?" Charlie stands just inside the office, his eyes unsure as he darts them around the room. "I wanted to remind you that you have lunch in twenty minutes with the Governor of California."
"I thought that was canceled," I say sourly.
"No sir, we told Governor Jackson the lunch was uncertain, pending the results of the-" My groan cuts off his explanation and he eyes me worriedly. "I can call and cancel if you want me to, Mister President."
"No, no. I'll be there. Give me a few minutes."
"Yes sir."
Only alone do I laugh at the irony, and wonder if she planned it this way. I never asked Leo how he told her about the MS, whether he offered her a chair, or informed her while she was still standing across the desk. Was she holding that ever-present briefing notebook, or did she fold her hands in her lap, and maybe later, in prayer?
I never asked how she reacted to the news, and Leo never volunteered the information, as if he were punishing me. Did she cry, or curse me, or maybe ask to speak to me? Did she storm out of the building and start composing her resignation letter in her head on the way home? My ignorance of these facts has never bothered me until now.
But I am President of the United States, and I have an appointment with the Governor of a state with 54 electoral votes. So instead of contemplating all of the ways I have failed her, I tie my shoelace and think, 'what's next'?
TBC
Author: Jess (fauquita@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: I bow down before the greatness that is Aaron Sorkin, and admit that these are his characters, not mine.
Summary: I've gone hard and I've gone cold. I can't make the pieces of this cracked life fit. Please forgive me for wanting to know, does Heaven have enough angels yet ?
Thanks: To my partners in crime, Sidalicious and Lizisita.
Note: Yes, illness is involved, and again I'm attempting to portray it with the sensitivity it deserves. Be forewarned however that if these kinds of things upset you, you're gonna wanna skip this one. In addition, this is a sequel to 'Silence', so you might want to read that one first.
Rating: I'll just give the whole thing an R.
I noticed the difference in her right away and hated her for it. Hated him for it. Hated everyone, because they were happy and I was left with this darkness and bitterness, and no one realized it. And sometimes I still refuse to join them for drinks or dinner, because it is too painful to watch their intimacy. The way she places her hand on his knee, or the way he wipes the mayonnaise she missed with her napkin off her bottom lip with his index finger.
She and I have never been like that. Would never be like that. And it kills me sometimes when she smiles at him, because in it I see serenity and completeness: two things that have been missing from her life for many years. And she has found it in him. And I never saw it coming until it was too late, until I was powerless to stop it.
It was so easy to take her for granted, to take him for granted. Josh and Donna were inevitable, is what everyone said. CJ is too busy to pursue a serious relationship, is what I told myself. I was biding time, building up the courage to approach her with my feelings, waiting for the right moment. But I have learned that there is no right moment, no second chance.
And so I bite the inside of my cheek sometimes when she pulls him onto the crowded dance floor of some Georgetown bar because I think that could be me. But then I remember that I don't dance, and for us, it would be something different. Maybe something better, like poetry or songs. But I am not that man, either. And so maybe things have turned out for the best.
Leo is worried, that much I could tell from his reticence today in staff. No, he doesn't know what's going on; no he doesn't know whether it's serious or not; yes, he trusts Josh. And then he put an end to our questions by slamming a folder on his desk and asking about the oil tanker captured off the coast of Egypt.
My fingers itched to call her, but then I remembered our words the day before and thought that maybe she didn't want to hear from me. I will apologize in my 'own way', which is not an apology at all, but she will forgive me as if it was. This is what we do. Sometimes Sam looks at me reproachfully, and Leo rolls his eyes, but they don't understand the complexity of our relationship. And this gives me pleasure, somehow.
"Hey, Toby," Sam says as he falls into step beside me.
"Hey," I respond quietly as I take one of the plastic bags from his hand. He smiles his thanks, but says nothing further as I knock on CJ's door.
To our great surprise, Leo ushers us in with a quick wave of his hand as he continues arguing with someone over his cell phone. He walks down the darkened hallway for privacy, and Sam and I are left standing in the empty living room.
"Toby, Sam," CJ greets softly as she emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "We're not going to have much time to discuss things. I think there's some trouble back at the White House."
"When isn't there?" Sam quips.
She smiles affectionately at him, and I wish I would've said it instead. "Well, Josh made some coffee, so if you guys want to come in here, we could do some preliminary talking while Leo finishes his conversation."
Preliminary talking? I don't like the sound of it, don't like the way her eyes won't meet mine when she says it, but I follow Sam anyway, and nod at Josh when I sit down across from him at the table. CJ stands behind Josh, one hand nervously kneading his shoulder while she waits for Sam to join as at the table.
"I know you already had a meeting," she begins quietly. "And I know you think that silence is the best policy on this one." She takes a deep breath. "You're wrong."
She finally meets my gaze and stares back unflinchingly, almost challengingly as if she is waiting for me to disagree. When no one says anything, she leans back against the kitchen counter and sighs. Josh and Sam trade glances, but she doesn't notice because her eyes haven't left me. She is disappointed, I can tell.
"I need to deliver a statement. We need to work with Senator Shallick's staff. And I need to take a leave of absence."
"A leave of absence?" I ask quietly, hoping the shock remains undetectable in my voice.
Before she can answer, Leo storms into the room, pulling a chair out roughly and sitting down. "You got five minutes to state your case, and then we have to get back to the West Wing."
"What's going on?" Sam asks. "We've only been gone for thirty minutes."
"Shots were fired when inspectors tried to board The Rogue."
"The tanker?" Sam asks incredulously.
"Yeah...only they weren't carrying illegal oil. They were carrying arms to sell to Iraq."
"You've got to be kidding me!" Josh exclaims.
"No, I'm not. So, CJ, out with it."
"I want to deliver a statement tomorrow."
Leo sighs and leans back in his chair. "Until we figure out what's going on in the Persian Gulf, I don't want to put anything else out in the news cycle."
"It will come back to haunt you, Leo. Even if no one writes about it, even if only two people show up to the briefing, I need to deliver a statement. It will come up again later in the campaign, and we need to clean it up now."
He observes her silently for a moment and then shakes his head. "Talk to me about it tomorrow."
"Leo-"
"Tomorrow, CJ," he says abruptly as he stands. Both Sam and I follow his cue. "We don't know what's going on, we don't know how many casualties there are, and we don't know how it's going to end. Your past with Shallick is the least of my concerns right now." He waits for an argument, and when none comes, he turns to Josh. "We need you in the office now."
"Yeah," Josh says as he stands up. "But CJ still has some things to discuss with you."
"Can it wait until later?"
"No," he says simultaneously with her "Yes". They exchange glances and Josh shakes his head. "Tell them now."
"I think on the scale of things, this is probably the least important-"
"Somebody tell me something," Leo says angrily as he shrugs into his jacket.
"I'm going to take a leave of absence." She says this grudgingly while glaring at Josh.
"How long?"
"I don't know."
"I can't work with that, CJ."
"I can't give you a specific date because I don't know what course of treatment I'm going to receive," she says in frustration as she follows us to the door.
Better to look at the floor. Better to stare at the small stain on the Oriental carpet in the entrance way. Better to concentrate on the intricate patterns and designs. Better to close my eyes and shove my hands in my pocket. Better to avoid her eyes, because I would see the truth in them.
There is something startling in the sudden quietness of the room, and I can imagine that everyone hears the pounding of my heart, or maybe it's one of theirs. Someone is breathing harshly, almost raggedly, and it takes several moments before I realize that it is me.
"What are you talking about?" Leo asks quietly.
I don't have to look up to know that Josh is holding CJ's hand, or that Sam is gripping the edge of his coat. These are things I sense instinctively. And when I do look up, it is not to watch CJ, but our boss.
"I have been diagnosed with Leukemia," she begins quietly. "I won't get the results of the biopsy until tomorrow, but the doctors know that my case is acute. So needless to say, I'll be out of commission for a while."
I have never seen Leo speechless, never seen him look so lost and confused, almost vulnerable. His guard is down only for a moment however, before he regains his mask of professionalism. He inclines his head and clears his throat.
"We'll talk about the statement tomorrow." And then he is gone, and because I can't bear to look at CJ, I follow him.
I don't make it very far before the weight of the news hits me full force, and I have to lean on the wall outside of her apartment for support. Panic descends, and it becomes hard to breathe because this isn't supposed to be happening. Not to her. Her hands are cool against my cheek, and her mouth is moving, but I can't hear what she is saying. Can hear nothing but the blood pounding in my ears.
Josh is beside her now and they both take an arm and drag me back into her apartment. Sam brings me a glass of water, and I am vaguely aware of the smell of the forgotten Chinese in the kitchen. I am hungry, I realize. And I am ashamed that I am thinking of food when my best friend is dying. No, maybe not dying. People recover from cancer everyday, I remind myself.
"How long?" I ask when I finally regain the power of speech.
"How long, what?"
"How long have you known?"
"Since yesterday. Toby, are you ok? Do you want some more water?"
Her concern angers me and I push her hands away. "I have to get back to the office," I mutter.
Her eyes are unreadable, but I know she is hurt. She nods her head. "Of course. Why don't you wait for Josh? He can-"
"I need to go now," I cut her off.
"Are you ok to drive? You seem a little-" but I don't let her finish as I slam the door behind me.
She doesn't follow me this time, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I am disappointed.
They are all listening to me, now. Waiting for me to cue them, to remind them, to overwhelm them, to balance them with my unwavering intentness. I am not used to this role because we have always looked to Leo. Sometimes I think it is his general aloofness and exasperation at our mistakes, or his never being wholly satisfied with our best efforts that makes us want to please him. He is not an easy man to work under, but there is something about him that makes us feel we would not be complete unless we were here, with him, acting out his vision.
Toby is writing in a notebook with an air of disinterest, but the tilt of his head gives him away and I know he is almost desperate for information. Leo is flipping through files and folders on his desk, an avoidance technique we have all come to recognize. And Sam, well, Sam is staring at his hands, at the floor, at the wall, at anything but me. And I am suspicious.
"She hasn't been feeling well lately, just really tired all the time," I begin. "And the weight loss, well, we've all noticed that. So, she made an appointment with a friend sometime last week."
"And she was told on Thursday that she had leukemia?" Leo asks without looking at me. "This is why she was so late in coming back?"
"Yeah." I wait for more questions or comments, and when none comes, I continue. "The thing is, they couldn't tell her what type she had until they took a bone marrow sample, which they did yesterday."
"And the results of that come back sometime tomorrow?" He looks at his watch and sighs. "Actually, sometime later today?"
"Yes."
"She's going to have to tell the President," Leo informs me as he leans back in his chair. "We're going to need to decide who's taking over so we can start briefing on the Censure, and the illegal arms sales. Not to mention the fact that we're going to be digging into the campaign. We need to make the transition as soon as possible."
"I think you should tell him now," Sam opines from the couch.
"It's not really my place-"
"But it was your place to tell *her* about his MS?"
"Sam," I warn.
Leo stands suddenly and bangs his fist on the desk. "Is this how it's going to be now, Sam? I don't have to remind you that you're a professional, and using CJ's illness as a punishment for the President is incendiary."
"You're right. I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"Yeah," Leo interrupts warily. "Is there anything else?"
Toby clears his throat and finally looks up. "The cancer is going to make it hard for the opposition to attack her in regards to Shallick. We may even go up a few notches in the popularity polls- sympathy votes, really-but we need to take advantage of it while we can and build momentum."
I would have expected something like that from Bruno, and maybe even Leo, but never Toby. He knows more about her than anyone, and the two share a closeness that I am envious of most days. He's been withdrawn lately, and they don't spend much time together anymore, but their relationship has never been about words. Theirs is an unbreakable bond that doesn't need nurturing.
He doesn't mean it, I realize, because there is no conviction in his voice. He wants us to believe that he isn't shaken, but his hand trembles when he places it against his forehead and I know that he is in anguish. I let out a rush of air and collapse onto one end of the couch. I feel drained, weary, and it's not from lack of sleep. I look into my friends' faces and see the same thing. This may very well destroy us.
"Go back to your offices and wait for my call. I gotta get back to the Situation Room," Leo finally says after almost five minutes of silence.
Time crawls by slowly as I sit in my office. Sam and Toby are already discussing wording for the press release regarding The Rogue and I can do nothing more than arrange the pencils in my drawer according to length. I don't even realize the sky outside has begun to lighten with day until Donna comes barreling into my office with her coat in hand.
She widens her eyes because my presence is unexpected, and my absence the day before mysterious. She is incredibly intuitive about most things, and she wordlessly shuts the door behind her. Her movements are carefully orchestrated as she sits in the visitor's chair and crosses her legs.
"What's going on, Josh?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" she asks dubiously.
"Why are you here so early?"
"With all that went on yesterday, I just figured.... So what's going on?"
"An independent tanker was caught off the coast of Egypt yesterday. Everyone thought they were just carrying illegal oil, but when inspectors tried to board, they were fired upon. There were several military vessels in the area and a task force was sent to gain control."
"What's going on, Josh?" she asks again as if she hasn't heard my explanation.
"What the hell? I just told you. We're waiting to hear back from the commander."
"I don't mean what's going on in the Persian Gulf, I mean what's going on with you, and CJ?"
I sigh and lean back in my chair. "I don't want to talk about it."
"You don't want to talk about it with me, or you just don't want to talk about it?"
"Both."
The phone rings shrilly, cutting off whatever she was about to say and I nearly dive for the receiver. "Yeah?" I ask tiredly, expecting the voice on the other end to be Leo calling for staff.
"What are you wearing?" a husky voice inquires.
I chuckle lightly and eye Donna pointedly. She looks confused for a moment, but I know it is only an act, and I wait until she closes the door behind her before answering. "An Armani ball gown of silk and lace."
Her laughter is rich and I bask in the sound. "Smart ass."
I glance quickly at my watch and frown. "What are you doing awake? It's barely even six-thirty."
"Couldn't sleep," she admits candidly. "How's the thing in Egypt?"
"We're waiting to hear back." I sigh and lower my forehead to the desk. "I hate waiting."
"Me, too." I know she's talking about more than news from the task force and my stomach tightens in dread.
There is a crisp knock at the door, and Sam jerks his head. "Leo wants us."
I nod, and wave him away. "Look, I gotta go now. Call me, ok?"
She knows what I am referring to and says simply, "Of course. I'll talk to you later."
"I love you," I say quietly, but she has already hung up the phone.
Adversity is like a strong wind, tearing you away from the truths in your life you hold most dear, and forcing you to cling to what is left. It is in these moments you are forced to see yourself as you really are, and not what you want to be. The startling clarity is disconcerting at first, but it soon becomes comforting because you learn to distinguish between reality and fantasy.
I realize belatedly that I have bent the frames of my glasses in my grip, and it is only when Leo's gaze travels to obviously to my hands that I release them. Charlie reminds me from the door that I have a budget meeting, but I am only idly aware of his words, as if he speaking from a great distance.
"Mister President?" Leo prompts, but I wave him away dispiritedly. "Give us ten minutes, would you, Charlie?"
I wait until the door is shut behind him before looking to Leo. "Have we been blind? Of course she was sick, of course she was. Why didn't we ever say anything to her?"
He has that look on his face now, the one I have come to dread because he is about to tell me some unpleasant truth. He sighs and clasps his hands in front of him. "You were too scared to ask her about media strategy, let alone ask her about her health."
"So this is my fault, then?" I ask angrily. "I didn't see you taking her aside and..." I trail off because I realize how petulant I sound. "Damn it, Leo!"
"I know how you feel, sir."
I nod my head. "Yeah, ok."
"She's going to call Josh with the results of her-"
I hold my hand up and shake my head. "I can't think about this right now, I have a country to run. But I want to speak with her before the day is over."
"On the phone, or-"
"Get her in the office."
"Yes sir."
"Thank you, Leo. Tell Charlie to send them in."
"Thank you, Mister President."
I greet my advisors mechanically, and they must sense the tension in the air because they keep their suggestions brief. After ten minutes have passed, I am left with a two-page memo outlining their economic strategy for the budget surplus and a lump of emotion that I must swallow because there is no room for it on my face.
"Sir?" Charlie stands just inside the office, his eyes unsure as he darts them around the room. "I wanted to remind you that you have lunch in twenty minutes with the Governor of California."
"I thought that was canceled," I say sourly.
"No sir, we told Governor Jackson the lunch was uncertain, pending the results of the-" My groan cuts off his explanation and he eyes me worriedly. "I can call and cancel if you want me to, Mister President."
"No, no. I'll be there. Give me a few minutes."
"Yes sir."
Only alone do I laugh at the irony, and wonder if she planned it this way. I never asked Leo how he told her about the MS, whether he offered her a chair, or informed her while she was still standing across the desk. Was she holding that ever-present briefing notebook, or did she fold her hands in her lap, and maybe later, in prayer?
I never asked how she reacted to the news, and Leo never volunteered the information, as if he were punishing me. Did she cry, or curse me, or maybe ask to speak to me? Did she storm out of the building and start composing her resignation letter in her head on the way home? My ignorance of these facts has never bothered me until now.
But I am President of the United States, and I have an appointment with the Governor of a state with 54 electoral votes. So instead of contemplating all of the ways I have failed her, I tie my shoelace and think, 'what's next'?
TBC