Part 7 - One Step At A Time
~~~~~
"The sky isn't always blue.
The sun doesn't always shine.
It's all right to fall apart
Sometimes."
~~~~~
Mallory felt ridiculous sitting in the waiting room in her electric-blue evening gown.
She'd been trying it on in preparation for the date she was supposed to be having right now when Margaret had called. An old panic had arisen and she hadn't bothered to change.
Her father laughed when he saw her. She laughed too because she felt such a fool for getting herself so worked up when he was okay.
As the hours wore on she fussed around him like she'd come to do, pressing food on him, trying to get him to go home, even offering (or did they call that 'threatening' these days?) to call her mother.
Now she was sitting alone in the waiting room while he tried one more time to muster the courage to go in to see Toby and she was thinking that maybe he wasn't so okay after all.
She hadn't given him the credit he deserved. He had come further than she'd realised. He wasn't okay: he was taking his biggest emotional knocks since the assassination attempt and he was taking them badly. He was spreading himself too thinly and if she wasn't careful he was about to crack up.
But he was still in control.
He wasn't okay - but he was okay enough by Mallory's standards, the ones she reserved especially for him.
If his friends were okay he would be fine.
Until she knew that that was the case, Mal didn't plan on going anywhere.
* * * * *
I have to force myself to ease up on the gas.
The last thing we need right now is for a senior staffer to get a speeding ticket.
For the first few days after the crash I drove so cautiously but as usual serious concerns started topping other serious concerns and I felt the need to get to places as quickly as before.
To be honest I still get a bit of a chill driving at all. Everything you do in a car becomes so automatic, it feels so natural. You're not thinking 'maybe when I turn this corner I'll get thrown off the road'.
Every time I do something without really thinking about it, I get a bit of a shock and I wonder what CJ was thinking about when it happened.
Right now though I'm more worried about the call that precipitated my current journey across town.
'A change in Mr. Ziegler's condition'. What the hell does that mean? I couldn't get any more out of them.
I'm determined Jed isn't going to hear about this until I know what's going on. Margaret's been left with strict instructions not to breathe a word until I call her.
He hasn't been looking well since this happened.
I'm not going to tell him that the situation has changed with Toby until I know what the change is. I can't forget how shattered he was when he spoke to CJ on the phone after she woke up.
She was pretty much incoherent and didn't seem to be following what he said. I don't think it meant anything; the doctors said it was natural given the trauma her body had been through.
She's getting clearer, little by little, since she woke. I don't think anyone's spoken to her about the recovery process or how much mobility she can hope to regain.
She hasn't asked about it. She's only been asking about Toby, constantly wanting to know how he is.
I sit by her side working at my laptop – which today I've forgotten in my haste, damn – and half-listen to her when she's rambling. She goes through periods of clarity and then I put aside what I'm doing and give her my full attention.
When she sees me she'll ask how I'm doing; ask about the President; if Sam's holding up any better; whether Josh has brought down the administration yet.
She doesn't pay much attention to my answering that I'm fine; the President is being fussed to death by Abbey; Sam is getting more functional every day; Josh is being the world-class statesman I always knew he could be.
She only gets animated when she's talking about Toby. It breaks my heart because there's nothing I can tell her. Every few minutes she'll ask me to find a nurse to see if there's been any change. When I report back that there's none she wants me to chase down a doctor in case the nurses are missing something.
She didn't remember what happened at first. It's coming back to her ever so slowly, one detail at a time.
Two days ago she remembered she'd been the driver. She couldn't stop crying and calling Toby's name. They sedated her after a while.
She's been asking about Toby even more often since then.
I wonder what they told her when she asked this morning.
If this is bad news... I'll have to call Jed, Margaret, Josh, Sam. Then I'll have to go in and talk to CJ. I'd be willing to bet that if it's bad news they won't have told her yet.
I don't know if I can cope with this.
I hope Margaret's still as on the ball as she used to be.
I need her to tell me if I'm falling.
I have to pass Toby's room on the way to the desk. I'm determined to find the courage to look inside so that I don't need to wait for a doctor to tell me.
But I don't need to find any courage because to my surprise the door is open.
As I hover not knowing whether I should go in, I hear the too-familiar sound of CJ's crying.
I still don't know whether or not I should go in.
There's another noise, a kind of gagging sound.
It can't be, can it?
I finally look in. Well, he's not dead.
I send a prayer of thanks to a deity I'd forgotten I believed in.
But going by what I can see from here, he isn't Toby again either.
She's sitting in a wheelchair beside the bed, one hand pressed against her mouth trying to control herself.
His eyes are darting everywhere, in total contrast to her when she woke up. He looks feverish but whether it's just the panic or not I can't tell.
I can't make out what he's trying to say.
CJ tries to bend closer but she can't really manage it with the broken ribs.
I can't bring myself to move. I see these people every day. I don't know how to see them like this.
He tries again. I caught a snatch of it this time, it sounded something like, "I've not been here."
She touches his cheek with her other hand. He reacts slightly and she draws back at once. Then he lets his gaze rest on her. She can't bear to meet it.
Ever since this happened I've been telling her it wasn't her fault. I don't give a damn about Butterfield; it wasn't her fault. It was an accident, could have happened to any one of us.
Even when she was still unconscious and they said she probably couldn't hear me, I was telling her it wasn't her fault.
She still thinks she did this to him.
I want to go in and tell her again but I can't bring myself to intrude upon the scene.
It finally occurs to me what some of his frantic movement is about. He's trying to reach out to her – with his left hand. He doesn't realise it's not there anymore.
Hospitals always make me feel ill.
He's speaking again and it's frustrating him that she can't understand.
"Toby, I can't- Try going slower, okay?"
I'm paraphrasing here because I didn't catch it all but he definitely said her name and the rest seems to fit with what he said next:
"CJ. What colour is your blouse?"
"I – I'm not wearing a blouse, Toby. It's a dressing gown..."
"What. Colour?"
"It's white, Toby."
Not the absence of colour, rather all of them at once. But that's just light, isn't it?
"CJ."
He swings his right arm over to catch her wrist, getting the lines in his veins in a terrible tangle that makes me cringe.
"Where I was. It was dark and light and red."
"I don't understand..."
"What colour is the sky, CJ?"
"The sky? The sky's-"
She hesitates and hangs her head.
"The sky's grey."
He settles down and looks happy about that, which puzzles me until I remember how good Toby is at dealing with shades of grey.
"I was worried," he explains. "I thought it might be blood-red."
It's too much for me. I don't want to be here.
I stumble down the corridor and yell at the nurses for letting CJ get up to see him, just because I'm used to exerting authority over people.
It's time to call Margaret, I suppose. Everyone's going to be thrilled.
They're both alive. I can breathe. I feel like shit.
"Hi, Leo, thanks for checking in. I want you to know everything is absolutely fine here."
Margaret always sounds a little strange but this is just suspicious.
"Margaret? Is something going on that I should know about?"
"No. Is there something going on that *I* should know about?"
"Uh, yeah, actually. Toby's awake."
I quickly hold the receiver away from my ear in anticipation of the squeal.
"Is he okay? I knew things would be fine!"
"He's... conscious. Talking. CJ's with him. Margaret, are you sure nothing else is going on?"
"Positive. In fact it's so quiet that you shouldn't bother coming back in at all today."
That does it.
"Okay, Margaret, I don't know what you're up to but I'm on my way right now."
"Leo, don't-"
I've hung up and am striding towards the exit. Any excuse to get out of this place will do.
As I leave I collide with a young woman coming through the door in the opposite direction.
"Oh, Mallory..."
TBC
~~~~~
"The sky isn't always blue.
The sun doesn't always shine.
It's all right to fall apart
Sometimes."
~~~~~
Mallory felt ridiculous sitting in the waiting room in her electric-blue evening gown.
She'd been trying it on in preparation for the date she was supposed to be having right now when Margaret had called. An old panic had arisen and she hadn't bothered to change.
Her father laughed when he saw her. She laughed too because she felt such a fool for getting herself so worked up when he was okay.
As the hours wore on she fussed around him like she'd come to do, pressing food on him, trying to get him to go home, even offering (or did they call that 'threatening' these days?) to call her mother.
Now she was sitting alone in the waiting room while he tried one more time to muster the courage to go in to see Toby and she was thinking that maybe he wasn't so okay after all.
She hadn't given him the credit he deserved. He had come further than she'd realised. He wasn't okay: he was taking his biggest emotional knocks since the assassination attempt and he was taking them badly. He was spreading himself too thinly and if she wasn't careful he was about to crack up.
But he was still in control.
He wasn't okay - but he was okay enough by Mallory's standards, the ones she reserved especially for him.
If his friends were okay he would be fine.
Until she knew that that was the case, Mal didn't plan on going anywhere.
* * * * *
I have to force myself to ease up on the gas.
The last thing we need right now is for a senior staffer to get a speeding ticket.
For the first few days after the crash I drove so cautiously but as usual serious concerns started topping other serious concerns and I felt the need to get to places as quickly as before.
To be honest I still get a bit of a chill driving at all. Everything you do in a car becomes so automatic, it feels so natural. You're not thinking 'maybe when I turn this corner I'll get thrown off the road'.
Every time I do something without really thinking about it, I get a bit of a shock and I wonder what CJ was thinking about when it happened.
Right now though I'm more worried about the call that precipitated my current journey across town.
'A change in Mr. Ziegler's condition'. What the hell does that mean? I couldn't get any more out of them.
I'm determined Jed isn't going to hear about this until I know what's going on. Margaret's been left with strict instructions not to breathe a word until I call her.
He hasn't been looking well since this happened.
I'm not going to tell him that the situation has changed with Toby until I know what the change is. I can't forget how shattered he was when he spoke to CJ on the phone after she woke up.
She was pretty much incoherent and didn't seem to be following what he said. I don't think it meant anything; the doctors said it was natural given the trauma her body had been through.
She's getting clearer, little by little, since she woke. I don't think anyone's spoken to her about the recovery process or how much mobility she can hope to regain.
She hasn't asked about it. She's only been asking about Toby, constantly wanting to know how he is.
I sit by her side working at my laptop – which today I've forgotten in my haste, damn – and half-listen to her when she's rambling. She goes through periods of clarity and then I put aside what I'm doing and give her my full attention.
When she sees me she'll ask how I'm doing; ask about the President; if Sam's holding up any better; whether Josh has brought down the administration yet.
She doesn't pay much attention to my answering that I'm fine; the President is being fussed to death by Abbey; Sam is getting more functional every day; Josh is being the world-class statesman I always knew he could be.
She only gets animated when she's talking about Toby. It breaks my heart because there's nothing I can tell her. Every few minutes she'll ask me to find a nurse to see if there's been any change. When I report back that there's none she wants me to chase down a doctor in case the nurses are missing something.
She didn't remember what happened at first. It's coming back to her ever so slowly, one detail at a time.
Two days ago she remembered she'd been the driver. She couldn't stop crying and calling Toby's name. They sedated her after a while.
She's been asking about Toby even more often since then.
I wonder what they told her when she asked this morning.
If this is bad news... I'll have to call Jed, Margaret, Josh, Sam. Then I'll have to go in and talk to CJ. I'd be willing to bet that if it's bad news they won't have told her yet.
I don't know if I can cope with this.
I hope Margaret's still as on the ball as she used to be.
I need her to tell me if I'm falling.
I have to pass Toby's room on the way to the desk. I'm determined to find the courage to look inside so that I don't need to wait for a doctor to tell me.
But I don't need to find any courage because to my surprise the door is open.
As I hover not knowing whether I should go in, I hear the too-familiar sound of CJ's crying.
I still don't know whether or not I should go in.
There's another noise, a kind of gagging sound.
It can't be, can it?
I finally look in. Well, he's not dead.
I send a prayer of thanks to a deity I'd forgotten I believed in.
But going by what I can see from here, he isn't Toby again either.
She's sitting in a wheelchair beside the bed, one hand pressed against her mouth trying to control herself.
His eyes are darting everywhere, in total contrast to her when she woke up. He looks feverish but whether it's just the panic or not I can't tell.
I can't make out what he's trying to say.
CJ tries to bend closer but she can't really manage it with the broken ribs.
I can't bring myself to move. I see these people every day. I don't know how to see them like this.
He tries again. I caught a snatch of it this time, it sounded something like, "I've not been here."
She touches his cheek with her other hand. He reacts slightly and she draws back at once. Then he lets his gaze rest on her. She can't bear to meet it.
Ever since this happened I've been telling her it wasn't her fault. I don't give a damn about Butterfield; it wasn't her fault. It was an accident, could have happened to any one of us.
Even when she was still unconscious and they said she probably couldn't hear me, I was telling her it wasn't her fault.
She still thinks she did this to him.
I want to go in and tell her again but I can't bring myself to intrude upon the scene.
It finally occurs to me what some of his frantic movement is about. He's trying to reach out to her – with his left hand. He doesn't realise it's not there anymore.
Hospitals always make me feel ill.
He's speaking again and it's frustrating him that she can't understand.
"Toby, I can't- Try going slower, okay?"
I'm paraphrasing here because I didn't catch it all but he definitely said her name and the rest seems to fit with what he said next:
"CJ. What colour is your blouse?"
"I – I'm not wearing a blouse, Toby. It's a dressing gown..."
"What. Colour?"
"It's white, Toby."
Not the absence of colour, rather all of them at once. But that's just light, isn't it?
"CJ."
He swings his right arm over to catch her wrist, getting the lines in his veins in a terrible tangle that makes me cringe.
"Where I was. It was dark and light and red."
"I don't understand..."
"What colour is the sky, CJ?"
"The sky? The sky's-"
She hesitates and hangs her head.
"The sky's grey."
He settles down and looks happy about that, which puzzles me until I remember how good Toby is at dealing with shades of grey.
"I was worried," he explains. "I thought it might be blood-red."
It's too much for me. I don't want to be here.
I stumble down the corridor and yell at the nurses for letting CJ get up to see him, just because I'm used to exerting authority over people.
It's time to call Margaret, I suppose. Everyone's going to be thrilled.
They're both alive. I can breathe. I feel like shit.
"Hi, Leo, thanks for checking in. I want you to know everything is absolutely fine here."
Margaret always sounds a little strange but this is just suspicious.
"Margaret? Is something going on that I should know about?"
"No. Is there something going on that *I* should know about?"
"Uh, yeah, actually. Toby's awake."
I quickly hold the receiver away from my ear in anticipation of the squeal.
"Is he okay? I knew things would be fine!"
"He's... conscious. Talking. CJ's with him. Margaret, are you sure nothing else is going on?"
"Positive. In fact it's so quiet that you shouldn't bother coming back in at all today."
That does it.
"Okay, Margaret, I don't know what you're up to but I'm on my way right now."
"Leo, don't-"
I've hung up and am striding towards the exit. Any excuse to get out of this place will do.
As I leave I collide with a young woman coming through the door in the opposite direction.
"Oh, Mallory..."
TBC