Should I get some feedback... I promise I'll send the Epilogue along quickly
Part 12
Outside the Press Room
8:51 PM
"I'm not leaving," Toby informed the President, who had issued the order that all present in the West Wing should evacuate to the East Wing immediately. "I won't leave her, she's never deserted me, I'm not going to desert her."
Bartlet eyed him warily, nodding all the while. "I never expected you to," he informed him, then nodded to Abbey.
"I can't, Jed, someone may need medical attention," she argued.
"Abbey..."
"The bullpen," she suggested, "I could wait in the bullpen, it's far enough away... and nothing's going to explode, this is just a precautionary measure, Jed."
"Abbey..." he began again, but sighed, "Yeah, okay, bullpen. Ron, we'll be in the bullpen. Toby, are you...?"
"I'm staying," he left no room for argument, turning away from them and glowering at the door to the Press Room.
They stood there, staring at his back, hurting and tired and frightened, but knew that the comfort they offered wasn't enough anymore, that Toby would only be placated, only be solaced, when he had her in his arms.
"What do we do, Jed?" Abbey whispered moments later as they made their way across the Wing.
She'd aged in the course of two hours, Jed mused, but then, they all had, if not in physical features then in emotions. He was certain that he'd earned himself a few more grey hairs. "Wait," he responded, and slid his arm around her as Sam and Josh joined them.
They did not speak, did not nod or gesture, but stood close, seeking comfort they didn't know how to give or receive. The televisions above them now were among those with the rerouted live feed, and they seemed to collectively settle their gazes on the screens, trapped in the scene that was playing out in front of them.
---
8:55 PM
Press Room Corridor
"CJ..." Toby whispered to himself, sitting on the floor against a table leg. "Come back to me." He swallowed each sob as it rose within him, something CJ would hate. She was always encouraging him to explain how he felt, not bottle things up, and he had to admit that within the last three years, he'd done more talking, more showing than he had before. He was more content than he'd been in years.
She had this way about her that made him want to believe everything she said, made him want to give her the happy endings she'd loved as a child. This thing she possessed was more than an ease of spirit, it was a childlike innocence, a naivete he'd seen before he loved her, a beauty of mind, a kindness of heart.
This... thing, this passion, this personality, was what he hoped their daughter would be gifted enough to possess. Personally, Toby hoped she was a little CJ, beautiful and intelligent and kind, with her personality and her spirit, but a better appetite. It always had worried him, the way she ate, never enough, too picky - when she remembered to eat at all. He'd been after her especially for the last several months, encouraging her to eat everything that looked good, and in turn she would yell at him for attempting to make her gain more weight than the pregnancy necessitated. Of course, the yelling was good-natured and almost humorous, as she would always put her hands on her hips and growl at him. It never succeeded in warding him off, only making him laugh. And for him, that was enough.
He'd never loved her more, he knew, than he had of late. In the morning, before she'd wake up, he'd watch her, push strawberry-blond locks out of her face, touch her hand, her stomach, her heart. He loved to listen to her heartbeat, sleep with his head on her chest, hands caressing their child or memorizing her suddenly full breasts. It was strange what this had done to them, the prospect of having a child. Granted, she was a little more emotional, a little more worried than she'd been before, and he was always anxious, trying to make her eat more than she wanted, sleep more than she intended. They'd slowed down more than he'd have expected, their lives had become more lazy, their mornings later, the nights longer. He touched her more, especially in public, it was just some sort of attraction he couldn't quite explain. Abbey had warned CJ of it more than once, that he'd become more possessive, more loving than usual, that he'd hover too much and that all she'd want to do was
make love to him. The warnings had been fair, but not enough, and he threw his head back as he wondered momentarily if they'd have more days, mornings, evenings, like the ones he was missing.
It was moments similar to these that he just wanted to hold her, to sleep with his head over her heart, just listening to its beat.
Funny, he thought, what you think of when you're terrified.
---
8:59 PM
CJ's Apartment
The three men watched anxiously as CJ shook off Will's arm, then pushed against Danny's leg as she fought to rise from her chair, hand laying protectively over her stomach, comforting the child who was sleeping within.
"She loves that baby," William commented.
"Of course she does," Matthew responded, fidgeting in his seat. "I hope this works out for them."
"CJ and Toby?" William questioned, turning again to his brother. Matthew nodded, and he continued, "It will. CJ never gives up, never. And that's why she's going to be okay, because she won't give up and she won't give in, and she loves that baby with all that she has. Just wait, she's going to be walking out of there any minute now."
Their father's red-rimmed eyes turned on them, and he sighed, "She's not my baby anymore, you know."
"Don't tell her that," Matthew commented, a smile crossing his face. "She plans to be your baby for a long time, or so she always said when we were little. Remember?" he chuckled, "She got so upset when we got that dog and you," he gestured to William, "wanted to name her 'Baby' for some ungodly reason. Dad," he chortled, "Dad picked her up and said something about her looking like a baby, and CJ started bawling, saying she was the baby... Daddy's only baby. Mom had a field day with that one."
"I remember," their father smiled, "I remember."
"Well, Dad, your baby's having her own baby, now," William sighed, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "Uncle William..." he added, "sounds pretty good."
"Not as good as Uncle Matthew," the other grinned, but was elbowed by his father.
"Neither one's as good as Grandpa," he smiled, lost in years gone by. He'd been doing that a lot lately, remembering the past and all that had been.
He sighed and looked at his boys, then turned back to the television.
---
9:02 PM
Press Room
"Do you really want to kill me?" her voice was hushed, eyes wide with the innocence Toby loved, hands resting open against her stomach, emphasizing her pregnancy.
Idly, Will thought she'd have made a wonderful actress. The two men stood behind her, several feet away from him. Danny whispered lowly, "Stay away from the windows, CJ." She thought nothing of it, but decided to listen anyway, knowing Danny usually had a reason for his argument.
"Do you really want to kill this baby?" she questioned, hands moving in circular motions to calm the obviously upset child.
Bowman watched her intently, looking for motive, for a plan, but saw nothing, only sincerity and an almost pleasing amount of fear. After a moment, he met her eyes, and whispered, "No."
"Then, why?" CJ replied, taking a deep breath, fighting to control her voice. "Why all of this? The... bomb, the gun? The Marine? Why?"
"So you'd see me, Claudia, just so you'd see me. You never... you never looked at me, not really, you saw someone that was convenient or some... some crazy idiot that just... didn't know when to stop or know what love was. But I do! I do love you, Tommy loves you too. Don't you see that?" he babbled.
"I know that," she assured him, wincing within. "But a man may have died here tonight, and we don't even know his name. And I've never intentionally tried to hurt you or... Tommy, none of us have. But you held us all here, against our will."
"I just had to get your attention, Claudia - I let them go, didn't I?"
"Yes, but why did you have to... take them in the first place? Why hold a gun on us if you don't want to hurt me? Us?" Her hands stilled over her abdomen, and she moved one to her lower back, rubbing at the knotted muscles.
"His name was Ian, the guard. He wanted to hurt you, all of you. He thought it would make you see what you were doing. Militant groups, or something. Of course, it helped that he was paid. Money makes men do many things," he muttered, mind never straying far from his subjects. "Now you know his name, and you know why I had to do it. I had to protect you, Claudia, you and the baby." His head jerked backward, and CJ lifted an eyebrow.
"Curiouser and curiouser," she thought. "This isn't protecting," she said firmly, "this is hurting." His brow furrowed at her words, "I'm in pain right now, my back and my legs and... just everything. Don't you know that stress like this is harmful to the baby you're supposedly trying to protect?" she questioned, keeping her tone even.
"You should sit, CJ," Will began, but she waved him off, her gaze never wavering from the man behind the lectern.
"How do I know that you're really trying to protect me... her?" She was fishing, she knew, but she had to do something, maintain some control, convince him to drop his weapons and let them be. Let them walk away.
Glancing at her with a somewhat hurt expression, CJ realized that she was no longer talking to the man but the child, and she knew she was doing the right thing. She allowed herself to smile slightly, "Please?" She saw his hands stray to his belt, and in moments the plastique was laying on the ground, and he got down on his knees and slid it carefully beneath a chair and from his reach.
"I don't want to hurt you," he replied, wide-eyed, unsure exactly what was happening. He squinted at the two men behind her, "Nobody."
"I know you don't..." CJ opted to take a chance on the names, "Tommy." A smile brightened his face, and she knew she'd succeeded. "Why don't you come down here, and put that gun away, okay? They're very dangerous, and I know you don't want to accidentally hurt us, do you?"
He shook his head vehemently.
Will and Danny inched forward, coming to stand just behind her on each side. "What the hell is this?" Will hissed into her ear.
"Multiple personalities," she whispered back, "I've met this one before, he's just a boy. A little child. Innocent. As long as we don't frighten him or push him, according to Leo, the least threatening of the personalities will remain in place."
"Do I really want to know how Leo knows this?" Danny whispered back, attempting to inject a sort of humor that he knew would make her smile.
Almost shyly, Tommy lifted the strap of the gun from around his neck, then looked up at her with his head cocked sideways, "It's big," his voice held a sort of frightened awe.
"I know, Tommy, but it's best if we don't play with things like that, at least not when we're inside or around people, you know what I mean?"
The man nodded his head, looking very much the child he must've once been. He turned the gun away from him, and clutched the handle, beginning to lower it to the floor.
In that instant, shots tore through the room, shattering windows and splintering the wooden lectern. The occupants of the room stared in awe at the scene before them. The Press Room door was flung open, and Toby stood there, wild-eyed and frightened.
"CJ..." his voice was strained as he watched her, unsure what to do. "CJ?"
The blood splattered across her dress, and it slid down Bowman's face. Somehow, it didn't seem quite as red, quite as human, as the blood at Rosslyn or the blood of the Marine. Danny and Will froze and Toby rushed to her side as CJ sank to her knees beside her now-lifeless tormentor.
"No..." she whispered, "Oh no."
"CJ..." Danny tried, "are you hurt? CJ?"
But she did not answer, eyes fixed before her as Toby reached her side, assessing her condition slowly. Her hands were spread before her, pressing into the floor, and anguished tears began to slide down her face.
"He was giving me the gun," she whispered, "he wasn't going to shoot, he was giving me the gun! It was over, Toby, it was over and he was giving up. No one else had to die."
A flood of Secret Service Agents stormed through the door, weapons drawn, and Will and Danny stood to their feet, moving back from CJ and the dead man before her, watching as Toby slid his arms around her.
She reached upward, clutching the lapel of his shirt, "Don't you see? It'll never be over..." she cried, "Oh God, oh God..." She banged her hands against his shoulders, "He was giving me the gun! He was giving me the gun."
9:12 PM.
Part 12
Outside the Press Room
8:51 PM
"I'm not leaving," Toby informed the President, who had issued the order that all present in the West Wing should evacuate to the East Wing immediately. "I won't leave her, she's never deserted me, I'm not going to desert her."
Bartlet eyed him warily, nodding all the while. "I never expected you to," he informed him, then nodded to Abbey.
"I can't, Jed, someone may need medical attention," she argued.
"Abbey..."
"The bullpen," she suggested, "I could wait in the bullpen, it's far enough away... and nothing's going to explode, this is just a precautionary measure, Jed."
"Abbey..." he began again, but sighed, "Yeah, okay, bullpen. Ron, we'll be in the bullpen. Toby, are you...?"
"I'm staying," he left no room for argument, turning away from them and glowering at the door to the Press Room.
They stood there, staring at his back, hurting and tired and frightened, but knew that the comfort they offered wasn't enough anymore, that Toby would only be placated, only be solaced, when he had her in his arms.
"What do we do, Jed?" Abbey whispered moments later as they made their way across the Wing.
She'd aged in the course of two hours, Jed mused, but then, they all had, if not in physical features then in emotions. He was certain that he'd earned himself a few more grey hairs. "Wait," he responded, and slid his arm around her as Sam and Josh joined them.
They did not speak, did not nod or gesture, but stood close, seeking comfort they didn't know how to give or receive. The televisions above them now were among those with the rerouted live feed, and they seemed to collectively settle their gazes on the screens, trapped in the scene that was playing out in front of them.
---
8:55 PM
Press Room Corridor
"CJ..." Toby whispered to himself, sitting on the floor against a table leg. "Come back to me." He swallowed each sob as it rose within him, something CJ would hate. She was always encouraging him to explain how he felt, not bottle things up, and he had to admit that within the last three years, he'd done more talking, more showing than he had before. He was more content than he'd been in years.
She had this way about her that made him want to believe everything she said, made him want to give her the happy endings she'd loved as a child. This thing she possessed was more than an ease of spirit, it was a childlike innocence, a naivete he'd seen before he loved her, a beauty of mind, a kindness of heart.
This... thing, this passion, this personality, was what he hoped their daughter would be gifted enough to possess. Personally, Toby hoped she was a little CJ, beautiful and intelligent and kind, with her personality and her spirit, but a better appetite. It always had worried him, the way she ate, never enough, too picky - when she remembered to eat at all. He'd been after her especially for the last several months, encouraging her to eat everything that looked good, and in turn she would yell at him for attempting to make her gain more weight than the pregnancy necessitated. Of course, the yelling was good-natured and almost humorous, as she would always put her hands on her hips and growl at him. It never succeeded in warding him off, only making him laugh. And for him, that was enough.
He'd never loved her more, he knew, than he had of late. In the morning, before she'd wake up, he'd watch her, push strawberry-blond locks out of her face, touch her hand, her stomach, her heart. He loved to listen to her heartbeat, sleep with his head on her chest, hands caressing their child or memorizing her suddenly full breasts. It was strange what this had done to them, the prospect of having a child. Granted, she was a little more emotional, a little more worried than she'd been before, and he was always anxious, trying to make her eat more than she wanted, sleep more than she intended. They'd slowed down more than he'd have expected, their lives had become more lazy, their mornings later, the nights longer. He touched her more, especially in public, it was just some sort of attraction he couldn't quite explain. Abbey had warned CJ of it more than once, that he'd become more possessive, more loving than usual, that he'd hover too much and that all she'd want to do was
make love to him. The warnings had been fair, but not enough, and he threw his head back as he wondered momentarily if they'd have more days, mornings, evenings, like the ones he was missing.
It was moments similar to these that he just wanted to hold her, to sleep with his head over her heart, just listening to its beat.
Funny, he thought, what you think of when you're terrified.
---
8:59 PM
CJ's Apartment
The three men watched anxiously as CJ shook off Will's arm, then pushed against Danny's leg as she fought to rise from her chair, hand laying protectively over her stomach, comforting the child who was sleeping within.
"She loves that baby," William commented.
"Of course she does," Matthew responded, fidgeting in his seat. "I hope this works out for them."
"CJ and Toby?" William questioned, turning again to his brother. Matthew nodded, and he continued, "It will. CJ never gives up, never. And that's why she's going to be okay, because she won't give up and she won't give in, and she loves that baby with all that she has. Just wait, she's going to be walking out of there any minute now."
Their father's red-rimmed eyes turned on them, and he sighed, "She's not my baby anymore, you know."
"Don't tell her that," Matthew commented, a smile crossing his face. "She plans to be your baby for a long time, or so she always said when we were little. Remember?" he chuckled, "She got so upset when we got that dog and you," he gestured to William, "wanted to name her 'Baby' for some ungodly reason. Dad," he chortled, "Dad picked her up and said something about her looking like a baby, and CJ started bawling, saying she was the baby... Daddy's only baby. Mom had a field day with that one."
"I remember," their father smiled, "I remember."
"Well, Dad, your baby's having her own baby, now," William sighed, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "Uncle William..." he added, "sounds pretty good."
"Not as good as Uncle Matthew," the other grinned, but was elbowed by his father.
"Neither one's as good as Grandpa," he smiled, lost in years gone by. He'd been doing that a lot lately, remembering the past and all that had been.
He sighed and looked at his boys, then turned back to the television.
---
9:02 PM
Press Room
"Do you really want to kill me?" her voice was hushed, eyes wide with the innocence Toby loved, hands resting open against her stomach, emphasizing her pregnancy.
Idly, Will thought she'd have made a wonderful actress. The two men stood behind her, several feet away from him. Danny whispered lowly, "Stay away from the windows, CJ." She thought nothing of it, but decided to listen anyway, knowing Danny usually had a reason for his argument.
"Do you really want to kill this baby?" she questioned, hands moving in circular motions to calm the obviously upset child.
Bowman watched her intently, looking for motive, for a plan, but saw nothing, only sincerity and an almost pleasing amount of fear. After a moment, he met her eyes, and whispered, "No."
"Then, why?" CJ replied, taking a deep breath, fighting to control her voice. "Why all of this? The... bomb, the gun? The Marine? Why?"
"So you'd see me, Claudia, just so you'd see me. You never... you never looked at me, not really, you saw someone that was convenient or some... some crazy idiot that just... didn't know when to stop or know what love was. But I do! I do love you, Tommy loves you too. Don't you see that?" he babbled.
"I know that," she assured him, wincing within. "But a man may have died here tonight, and we don't even know his name. And I've never intentionally tried to hurt you or... Tommy, none of us have. But you held us all here, against our will."
"I just had to get your attention, Claudia - I let them go, didn't I?"
"Yes, but why did you have to... take them in the first place? Why hold a gun on us if you don't want to hurt me? Us?" Her hands stilled over her abdomen, and she moved one to her lower back, rubbing at the knotted muscles.
"His name was Ian, the guard. He wanted to hurt you, all of you. He thought it would make you see what you were doing. Militant groups, or something. Of course, it helped that he was paid. Money makes men do many things," he muttered, mind never straying far from his subjects. "Now you know his name, and you know why I had to do it. I had to protect you, Claudia, you and the baby." His head jerked backward, and CJ lifted an eyebrow.
"Curiouser and curiouser," she thought. "This isn't protecting," she said firmly, "this is hurting." His brow furrowed at her words, "I'm in pain right now, my back and my legs and... just everything. Don't you know that stress like this is harmful to the baby you're supposedly trying to protect?" she questioned, keeping her tone even.
"You should sit, CJ," Will began, but she waved him off, her gaze never wavering from the man behind the lectern.
"How do I know that you're really trying to protect me... her?" She was fishing, she knew, but she had to do something, maintain some control, convince him to drop his weapons and let them be. Let them walk away.
Glancing at her with a somewhat hurt expression, CJ realized that she was no longer talking to the man but the child, and she knew she was doing the right thing. She allowed herself to smile slightly, "Please?" She saw his hands stray to his belt, and in moments the plastique was laying on the ground, and he got down on his knees and slid it carefully beneath a chair and from his reach.
"I don't want to hurt you," he replied, wide-eyed, unsure exactly what was happening. He squinted at the two men behind her, "Nobody."
"I know you don't..." CJ opted to take a chance on the names, "Tommy." A smile brightened his face, and she knew she'd succeeded. "Why don't you come down here, and put that gun away, okay? They're very dangerous, and I know you don't want to accidentally hurt us, do you?"
He shook his head vehemently.
Will and Danny inched forward, coming to stand just behind her on each side. "What the hell is this?" Will hissed into her ear.
"Multiple personalities," she whispered back, "I've met this one before, he's just a boy. A little child. Innocent. As long as we don't frighten him or push him, according to Leo, the least threatening of the personalities will remain in place."
"Do I really want to know how Leo knows this?" Danny whispered back, attempting to inject a sort of humor that he knew would make her smile.
Almost shyly, Tommy lifted the strap of the gun from around his neck, then looked up at her with his head cocked sideways, "It's big," his voice held a sort of frightened awe.
"I know, Tommy, but it's best if we don't play with things like that, at least not when we're inside or around people, you know what I mean?"
The man nodded his head, looking very much the child he must've once been. He turned the gun away from him, and clutched the handle, beginning to lower it to the floor.
In that instant, shots tore through the room, shattering windows and splintering the wooden lectern. The occupants of the room stared in awe at the scene before them. The Press Room door was flung open, and Toby stood there, wild-eyed and frightened.
"CJ..." his voice was strained as he watched her, unsure what to do. "CJ?"
The blood splattered across her dress, and it slid down Bowman's face. Somehow, it didn't seem quite as red, quite as human, as the blood at Rosslyn or the blood of the Marine. Danny and Will froze and Toby rushed to her side as CJ sank to her knees beside her now-lifeless tormentor.
"No..." she whispered, "Oh no."
"CJ..." Danny tried, "are you hurt? CJ?"
But she did not answer, eyes fixed before her as Toby reached her side, assessing her condition slowly. Her hands were spread before her, pressing into the floor, and anguished tears began to slide down her face.
"He was giving me the gun," she whispered, "he wasn't going to shoot, he was giving me the gun! It was over, Toby, it was over and he was giving up. No one else had to die."
A flood of Secret Service Agents stormed through the door, weapons drawn, and Will and Danny stood to their feet, moving back from CJ and the dead man before her, watching as Toby slid his arms around her.
She reached upward, clutching the lapel of his shirt, "Don't you see? It'll never be over..." she cried, "Oh God, oh God..." She banged her hands against his shoulders, "He was giving me the gun! He was giving me the gun."
9:12 PM.