Tilting my head forward, I rubbed the back of my neck with my hand. Usually stress can't affect me physically, but even *I* react to two nights without sleep. Running a hand over my forehead, I glanced back at the computer screen. The words blurred in front of my eyes and I knew I had to get some sleep. Standing up, I grabbed my coat and headed out, scanning the desks as I passed. Everyone was gone, even Toby had left an hour ago. I heard noise coming from Leo's office as I made my way to the entrance hall and shook my head slowly. That man would kill himself working.

As I slid behind the wheel of my car, I felt the exhaustion creeping into my very bones. Sitting in the shaft of light cast by the street lamp, I wondered if I was even safe to drive in this condition. I hadn't even turned the key in the ignition when a rap on my window scared the hell out of me. I jumped and hit the locks quickly, my heart racing. The pounding began to abate when I recognized the face half-smiling ruefully at me through the dewy glass. I pressed the button and when nothing happened, I realized the car wasn't on. Shaking my head in disgust at my own incompetence, I turned the key far enough for the battery to click on and buzzed the window down. "Eleanor Bartlet," I chided, forgetting sleep for the moment. "What are you doing in D.C.? And more importantly, what are you doing out here this time of night without your agents?"

"Hey, CJ. They're over there." She gestured to her left, vaguely, ignoring my first question entirely. Her voice is soft and high-pitched; it always has been. She sounds like a child most of the time, timid and quiet, but it covers up a will of steel.

I peered into the darkness, but the secret service were either disguised as squirrels or had been ditched. "I don't see anyone, Ellie."

A fleeting semblance of a smile darted across her lips as I used her nickname. "They're there, trust me," Ellie replied, her tone jaded.

"They're for your own good." I realized we were darting off into a conversational tangent, but as I was about to get us back on track, she did it for me.

Resting a hand on the roof of my car, Ellie leaned in a little. "I couldn't sleep, so I was taking a walk," she began answering my question belatedly. "I saw you come out and..." She shrugged, her eyes meeting mine. "I thought maybe we could talk?"

"Now?" I flinched, every cell in my body craving my soft bed and down comforter.

"Yeah...no," Ellie amended, shaking her head. "It's--it's not that important, you're probably tired. It's late, go home." Dropping her hand to her side, she backed away from my car but didn't turn toward the Residence.

"Ellie," I said, raising my voice slightly to cover the distance. "Come on, I'm your friend. If you need to talk, then I'll listen. It doesn't matter what time it is and you damn well know it." I slid the key out of the ignition and climbed out of the car. "Where can we go?"

"My room," she offered easily, leading me inside, though I knew the way quite well. How often, over the course of seven years, had we shared coffee and cheesecake in the Residence's kitchen? How many times had she convinced me to stay after work to trade stories of old disappointments in her Laura Ashley-bedecked bedroom? Truthfully, the friendship was a little odd. I was pushing thirty when we met, and Ellie could still see seventeen from where she was. If anything, I should've been closer to her older sister, Liz, but we'd talked and nothing had come of it; she was too much like Martha Stewart for my tastes. Then Ellie and I got to talking. Her mother's right, she's always been at least ten years older in mind than body. I guess that's what caught my attention at first and kept me interested. We just connected on so many levels and it was nice to have a friend, someone I could complain to when Toby was an insensitive shit and brag to on the rare ocassion when I was quoted accurately.

She closed the door behind us and I grabbed the bed. Kicking off my shoes, I stretched out, closing my eyes.

"Hey," Ellie objected, but I heard the smile.

"No," I replied without opening my eyes. "If you're gonna drag me up for a girly chat at two in the morning when I've worked for more than twenty-four hours straight, then I get the bed." I opened one eye. She was sitting in the beanbag chair, her back to me, and I saw Ellie fiddle with the CD player before a song started to play. "Do you ever get tired of hearing the same songs for weeks on end?" I asked, knowing the answer before she gave it.

"Nope." Ellie toyed with a chunk of hair that had fallen out of a loose braid and I couldn't help grinning. "What?" she demanded, her lips pursing in her attempt to look indignant.

I kept grinning and replied, "Ah, nothin'. You're just cute."

"Thanks." She giggled, and started to sing along with the CD.

Hating to interrupt her, I did anyway. "Eleanor," I said with a soft smile to contradict my tone, "why am I here?"

"Well, that's an interesting question, Claudia."

*Oh, God, no.*

"If one accepts the philosophies of Jean Paul Sartre, one might tell you that you're not actually here at all, whereas if one were to examine that question from the--"

I couldn't help it; I started to giggle and couldn't stop. Turning on my side, I buried my face in one of Ellie's pillows and laughed until my sides ached. Through my own giggles and the pillow, I heard her giggling, too. When I looked up, Ellie was leaning back in the beanbag, her arms crossed over her chest and tears of laughter in her eyes. "What's so funny?" she gasped through a hiccuped laugh.

"You. You and your father," I managed. "Turkeys and stuffing and existentialist French writers."

"Huh?"

Shaking my head, I wiped my cheeks, even more exhausted now after my giggling fit. "Nothing," I answered her. "Seriously, Ellie," I continued, calmed down, "what'd you want to talk about?"

"I....I'm not sure where to start."

"Anywhere," I said quietly, still lying on my side, watching her out of the corner of my eye. She hated to be stared at when she spoke, it was one of her little idiosyncrasies.

"CJ." She paused for a long moment until I was ready to press her to continue. "I'm gay."

"Yeah," I nodded, waiting for her to speak again. When she didn't, I added, "Are you practicing on me again? Should I pretend to be...who was it last time...your roommate?" I tried not to sound like I was teasing, but I'd been unsupportive roommates and shocked best friends too many times to count. Every time Ellie thought about revealing herself to the people closest to her, I was her target practice. Every time, though, she backed out. The fear of her parents and the media finding out kept Ellie just-this-far from being truly comfortable with herself. She and her father had a tenuous relationship, at best, and we both knew he wouldn't take the news well. The President had never really understood Ellie, I think because she's less obviously passionate than he is about most things. But, God, get her talking about medicine or love, and she'll go ten rounds just like he will.

"No." She sighed. "It's just tough, you know? But I hate to whine."

"Okay." I checked my watch. "Five minutes, go."

Smiling a little, Ellie launched into a diatribe about the homophobic pseudo-Christian right-wing bigots and how they made it impossible for her to just *be*. Watching her, I heard myself at her age. *That wasn't so long ago,* I amended in my head. Just enough had happened in the interim to make it feel like ten lifetimes ago. When she had finished, I smiled understandingly. "If I could help you, I would," I offered. "But there's not much I can do."

"I know," Ellie nodded, her expression caught between sadness and resignation. "I just wish...you know what I wish most?"

"No?" I offered, although it seemed like a rhetorical question.

"I wish I had a girlfriend."

Supressing a teasing comment, I tried to be gentle as I replied, "Well you know, honey, it's much easier to get a girlfriend once you've come out of the closet and people actually know you're gay. It's kind of a cart's-ass-in-the-horse's-face thing." *You're one to talk.*

"Like you can talk."

I shouldn't have been surpised; Ellie had this knack for reading my mind. "I know, but I'm just saying." I shrugged. "That's why I'm single."

"No, *you're* single because you work for the President of the United States. Your normal workday is fifteen hours long and you drink so much coffee I think it's replaced blood in your veins." Ellie grinned, scooting closer and taking my hand, turning it palm up. She leaned forward and dropped her ear to the underside of my wrist. "Yeah," she nodded with a wry smile, pretending to listen to my pulse. "It's supposed to sound like bum-bum-bum and instead I hear 'Mr. Coffee! Mr. Coffee!'"

I started to laugh again and it felt really good. Much of my job is so serious and important that it's impossible to find the humor in it. Pulling my hand away slowly, I shrugged and grinned at Ellie again. "I like my job." Just a touch of defensiveness lingered in my tone. I knew why I was single and the demands of my career had little to do with it.

"I know. And you're great at it." Ellie smiled comfortingly, and it made me think what a great choice oncology was for her career. Cancer patients, terminal ones especially, require a light touch and Ellie had always had a gentle manner about her. In fact, she was so sweet that I'd worried at first that she'd be eaten alive in a competitive environment like medical school. But as we got closer to each other, it quickly became clear that she is also doggedly determined. Like both her parents, when Ellie wants something, nothing gets in her way.

I shrugged again and we sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the music. I knew something was still bothering Ellie. We hadn't yet hit on whatever it was she'd brought me up here to talk about. "What's this song?" I asked after a minute, my eyes closed again. I could hear my own voice becoming groggy as I fought sleep.

"Do you want to go home? You look exhausted," Ellie said softly.

"No," I murmured sleepily. "Can I just crash here? My place is like half an hour an' I don't think I can make it." I yawned, opening my eyes to look at her.

"On one condition." Her voice was so low I could barely hear it.

"What's that?" I asked, yawning again.

"I want to hold you."

To Be Continued in "Dizzy".