March 2005
Through sheer willpower, CJ got through the next week at work fairly well. She wasn't the wise-cracking Press Secretary, but she didn't make mistakes. She completed her tasks and seemed focused.
She figured she should win an Oscar for her performance.
The strain at home and at work was taking its toll. On Friday she left work early, her head throbbing. Simon looked up from sorting the mail as she came in. She supposed the fact he picked up the mail was progress, but she was too tired to get her hopes up.
"You're home early," he said mildly. He didn't move towards her, and there was no warmth in his voice. There was only weariness.
"I'm really not feeling well. I called it a day."
He nodded and continued to shuffle through the mail.
"Your concern is overwhelming, Simon."
He looked up. "I'm pretty sure you'll live."
Pain rose in her, mingled with fury. "Would it really matter one way or the other?"
"Don't start, CJ."
She laughed bitterly. "No, I wouldn't want to distract you from your own private hell, which surely I can't understand, because as you so kindly pointed out last week, I never raised a child."
"What do you want from me, CJ?"
"I want you to get help. I have a name of a grief counselor…"
"I don't need a shrink to tell me losing my only child hurts."
"I think you need someone to show you how to handle the hurt." CJ put her hand to her head. "I can't do this right now. I'm going to lie down."
"Suit yourself."
CJ lay in bed, crying softly. She gazed at the nightstand, where photos of happier times gazed back at her. There was a picture of Nikki, gorgeous and radiant in her dark blue Maid of Honor dress, standing between CJ and Simon, her arms around each of them. A picture of Simon and CJ at the Inaugural Ball – the one they went to before the staff had to so quickly go back to work. A smiling Simon caught in a candid shot by Nikki, who loved photography as much as Simon loved drawing portraits…The world around her blurred and CJ sank into a fitful sleep.
She woke up disoriented, her head still throbbing. She got out of bed and went to the living room, her mind registering the fact that it was past 10PM. Simon was sitting on the couch, looking through photo albums.
"Simon, we have to talk," she whispered.
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "Have you noticed that lately you keep telling me what to do? 'You have to talk to someone.' 'You have to take care of yourself.' 'We have to talk.'"
"I'm sorry," she was still whispering. "But I don't know how…how to reach you. And I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Of losing you. You…seem to be neglecting yourself to the point of danger. I keep thinking there is only so much your body can take…" She sighed. "And you haven't been yourself."
"Yeah, well, I lost the best part of me."
CJ remembered Leo's almost identical words about Mallory. She swallowed hard and went over to sit next to him. He stiffened and moved away.
"Simon…I'm not going to leave you. You can try as hard as you can to push me away, but I'm not going anywhere. And I'm really going to make you start taking care of yourself. I'm…"
"The hell you will," he hissed, and got up so abruptly she jumped back, half surprised, half frightened.
"Simon…"
"What makes you think I want you to stay?" he roared.
"WHAT?"
"I wish you…and everyone else…I wish you'd all LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!"
"Yeah, 'cause it's tough knowing life goes on around you when you're hurt, isn't it?" She yelled. "And it's even tougher knowing people you care about are also hurting, and you can't help. That scares the hell out of you, doesn't it? Because Nikki was hurting, and you couldn't help…"
"STOP IT, DAMN YOU!" He roared. "LEAVE.ME.ALONE!"
He turned around and went into Nikki's room, slamming the door behind him.
*****
It was midnight when CJ rang the bell at Toby's house. Her eyes were red and her face deathly white.
"Do you give asylum?" she tried to joke.
He moved out of the way so that she could come in. "On what grounds?"
She waved a hand in the air, and it worried him she couldn't come up with a comeback. "Friendship," she said tiredly.
He nodded and gave her a loving hug before taking her coat. "You want a drink?"
CJ snorted. "All too much. Which is probably why I shouldn't have one."
He disappeared into the kitchen and she heard the microwave going. He came back with a glass of warm milk. She looked at him with a mixture of laughter, tears, and gratitude.
"Being a dad sure did something to you."
"Please don't finish that thought."
She chuckled and sipped the milk. She usually hated warm milk. At the moment, she had to admit, it was comforting, and it really didn't taste so bad.
She poured it all out then, sitting on the couch and crying into her mug of warm milk. She wasn't sure how long they sat together and talked. It was Toby's solid, no-nonsense presence that got through her fears and pain. It was his friendship that kept her sane that night.
He ran a warm bath for her and when she was done, she felt she might finally be able to sleep. Toby made a bed for her in the guest room.
"I owe you," she said drowsily as she started to drift off. "Toby, I owe you so much."
He waited until he was sure she was sleeping before he left the house.
******
The pounding on the door woke Simon up from his usual nightmare. It was always the same nightmare, though it sometimes featured CJ, and other times it was Nikki. They were in mortal danger, they needed his help. He kept seeing their faces, pleading, terrified. He kept moving in their direction.
He never got to them on time.
He got up and his mouth went dry as he realized it was 3AM. A pounding on the door at 3AM was never a good thing. As a former police officer, Simon had a deep aversion to late-night pounding on doors. He looked through the peep hole. It was Toby. He flung open the door.
"What happened?"
Toby's eyes shot daggers at Simon. "It's 3AM. Do you know where your wife is?"
Simon blinked. Still reeling from his nightmare, he was slow to reach for the smoldering anger that was his constant companion since Nikki died. Toby walked in and closed the door. Simon found his voice.
"Stay out of my marriage, Toby."
"I'd love to, because frankly, I think you're too pathetic to warrant any concern." Toby's voice was dangerously calm, the way only Toby's voice could be right before he blew up.
"But you're married to my best friend, who just spent three hours crying on my couch, so I THINK I EARNED THE RIGHT TO BUTT IN!!" He finished with a roar.
If Simon were to be honest with himself, he would have acknowledged the fact that he felt immense relief at knowing that CJ went to Toby for emotional support, instead of going to Danny for…whatever she would go to Danny for if she were desperate and hurt enough.
He sighed and leaned against the door, his back to Toby.
"Does she plan on coming back?"
"Do you care?"
It seemed to be the question everyone was asking him lately. God, he was tired of fighting everything and everyone.
"I care about very little these days," he acknowledged dully.
"Least of all your daughter's memory, it seems."
Simon spun around with a look on his face that would have sent a grown man cowering under the nearest bed. Toby was too angry to care.
"How dare you," Simon hissed. Toby looked him in the eye.
"You've become a selfish bastard with your head so far up your ass you can't even see the pain you're causing those who love you. Is THIS Nikki's spirit? You're not the man who raised this phenomenal child."
"I'm the man who lost this phenomenal child!" Simon roared.
"Then maybe you should honor her memory by not becoming the antithesis of everything you RAISED HER TO BE!!" Toby roared back.
"Get out!" Simon said hoarsely. "Toby, I swear, I'll hurt you if you don't leave."
"CJ's staying at my place until you get the help you need." Toby left, slamming the door.
Toby hadn't actually discussed that last point with CJ, but the way she looked and sounded tonight frightened him. He loved them both, though of course he'd rather be shot than admit this to Simon. He wanted to help both of them. He and Andi were raising the twins on the "natural consequences" philosophy, and he thought some adults could benefit from it too.
He called Simon's brother and asked him to stay with Simon for the duration. Just in case the man was as desperate as he looked. He had to agree with CJ – it was a good thing Simon had to surrender his gun when he went on a leave of absence. He may not have been alive this long if he still had his service weapon.
*****
Back at the house, Simon stumbled to Nikki's room, trying not to feel the turmoil in his soul. He picked up her last diary, and opened it at a random page.
It was one of the last entries in the diary, written 2 weeks before she died. Simon read the page over and over again, his vision blurring, as the walls he constructed so well since her death began to crack and crumble.
The worse I get, the more it seems dad is retreating further into himself, which I guess is what I should have expected from my dad. He's as sweet and loving to me as always, but he hardly talks to anyone else, not even CJ. Knowing how irrationally pig-headed he is capable of being in the best of times, I can't imagine what he would be like once I'm gone. And it hurts me to think of CJ getting caught in his "web of despair." (Snicker. Hey, I'm dying. I can be melodramatic if I want!) I've seen dad retreat after grandpa died. They were so close, but I wasn't prepared for his grief. He scared me then. What will happen to CJ and him? He's gonna push her away, and then he'll be alone. I wish I could shake him sometimes! It seems the Secret Service persona takes over when he least needs it.
How odd is it to be listening to "An innocent Man" right now? Hey dad, listen to this:
"You know you only hurt yourself out of spite
I guess you'd rather be a martyr tonight
That's your decision
But I'm not below
Anybody I know
If there's a chance of resurrecting a love"
So if you're reading this, and I know you will at some point, go tell CJ how much you love her. 'Cause I really think I'm cool enough to fix things from the other side. And knowing you, things will need fixing.
I love you both so very very much. I just wish I could tell you again in person.
Simon slammed the diary shut, buried his head in her pillow, and cried for everything he lost, and everything that may be too broken to fix.