March 2005

"I'm pretty sure I'm handling things as well as anyone can expect."

CJ looked up at Simon in disbelief mixed with panic. Could he really be that far in denial?

"Simon, you sleep all day and haunt the place at night, usually ending up in Nikki's room at some ungodly hour like 3 AM. You won't talk to anyone, you spend all your free time reading her diaries and crying, you don't eat…" She ran out of air and had to stop. He looked at her coldly.

 "I don't talk to anyone because no one would understand."

"Try me. I loved her too. I miss her so much!"

"You haven't raised a child, Claudia."

CJ sucked in her breath. The cruelty of his words felt like a physical blow. She turned away, hoping he wouldn't see the tears that sprang to her eyes. Who was this stranger masquerading as her husband?

At work she was falling apart. Unable to express her grief at home, and having been pushed aside so cruelly by Simon, she found herself unable to concentrate. She made stupid mistakes in the briefings, and found the media less forgiving than she expected. In a tearful heart-to-heart with Danny, she found out the press corps, while sympathetic, was of the same opinion as Simon, basically.

"They would have cut you more slack if you'd known her longer, or if she were your daughter."

"SHE WAS!"

"You know what I mean."
"No, Danny, I really don't. Because I can't believe that anyone, even the White House Press Corps, would be cold-hearted enough to prorate grief on the basis of how long you've known a person! She was a child – my child – even if I didn't give birth to her or raised her."

She looked down for a moment and said quietly, "And it's not just Nikki that I lost…"

"Simon?" asked Danny softly.

"Yeah," CJ stood up abruptly and fled.

In her office, she leaned against her closed door, her breaths coming in harsh gasps. Being so close to Danny when she felt so alone and hurt brought back memories she didn't need right now. If she threw herself at Danny for all the wrong reasons, he *probably* wouldn't take advantage of her. But if she did go to him with the intent of seeking physical comfort, she would be betraying Simon – the REAL Simon – in the most fundamental way possible. CJ had no doubt her husband was somewhere inside that mad-with-grief stranger that lived with her now; he was hiding from his pain, hiding from the aching void where his daughter once was.

"Maybe you should take a leave of absence," Leo was saying, not unkindly.

CJ looked up at him, a mixture of humiliation, terror, and abject embarrassment written all over her face. When he asked her to come in for a talk that day, she knew what was in store.

"Leo, I can…I'll…"

"You're not being punished, kid." Leo looked at her steadily, his expression soft and understanding. It only made CJ feel worse.

"You've been through so much, especially as Nikki was getting sicker. You only took a week off after the funeral, and I suspect it was mostly for Simon's benefit, not yours. You need to take care of yourself."

CJ wanted to tell him that the only way she could stay sane right now was to come to work, because home was a nightmare with no waking up in sight. She wanted to beg Leo to let her stay because she needed the shelter the West Wing provided her right now. Yet she knew, as these thoughts raced through her mind, that of course this was proof she did need to step away. The White House wasn't a charity organization, nor was it a shelter for "the walking wounded." If she couldn't do her job, too much was at stake.

Something Leo said struck her and she laughed bitterly. "'Simon's benefit,' Leo? How can you benefit someone who…" She stopped, horrified. She couldn't talk about it. She couldn't expose his weakness and her inadequacy. Not even Toby, her oldest and closest friend, knew the entire story. Although knowing him, he probably guessed.

Leo sighed, sat back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

"When Mallory was 16, she ran away from home. I guess she got tired of hearing Jenny scream at me every night when I came home from the bar. At any rate, she ran away. And I was convinced she was dead." He was quiet for a moment, and CJ looked down, waiting for him to go on. After a minute, he continued.

"What stays with me to this day, when I think of those days when she was gone, is not the increased sense of worthlessness I experienced, knowing it was me who drove her away. It's not the shame, or the humiliation of having to tell the police why I think she took off. No, what stays with me to this day is the aching emptiness where the best part of my soul used to be."

He looked up and smiled tiredly at CJ. "She is everything that's good about me, you know? Even if her choice of dates sometimes drives me crazy. And I think there's something extra special about being a father to a daughter." He sighed. "I ran away from that emptiness. Instead of coming home late from the bar, I stayed until closing and passed out in the parking lot."

"He's running away too," she whispered.  "Leo, he's gone so far into himself that I don't think I can find him anymore."

"You're both running, CJ. But you're running in opposite directions. Right now, he needs you. You have to be the one to stop running and pull him back out. I don't think you can do it alone, but you have to be the one to start."

"Why me, Leo? What about my needs?"

"Because he spent seventeen years fighting a battle doomed to failure, and the same personality that makes him a top-notch Secret Service agent makes fighting a losing battle an unbearable situation for him. He's willing to take a bullet for a stranger, but there was no bullet he could take for his daughter. He couldn't fix it. And your needs have to come second for now, if you want him back."

She nodded, and got up to leave. "I'll get back to you about the leave, Leo." She hesitated. "I appreciate…your honesty. And…you know…everything else."

He waved a dismissive hand. As she opened the door, he called her back.

"Think about it, CJ – he's lost Nikki's mother because she couldn't handle the situation. There is a very good possibility he's pushing you away to prevent a repeat performance."

CJ looked at him, speechless and horrified. Suddenly, she had so much more to think about.