Part 4
Toby returned from services deep in thought. He shed his coat haphazardly on
Bonnie's desk, almost daring it to stay there and not slither down to the floor.
With an exhausted sigh, he unlocked the door to his office, opened it, and
turned on the light.
Charlie was sitting on the sofa, hands folded, one ankle crossed over the other
knee. "Hey, Toby."
"How long have you been in here? For that matter, how did you get in here?"
"Come on, Toby," Charlie said reprovingly. Of course he would have a key to
pretty much everything in the building.
"Yeah." Toby took a seat on the edge of his desk, wishing he had something to
hold in his hands. Without looking away from Charlie, he reached down and back
until he found a pen. There.
"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm doing here?" Charlie inquired, lifting his
eyebrows.
"I'm still marveling that you're in here at all. Besides, I can probably guess:
Ritenour." Toby laid the pen across his palm and tapped it with each finger in
turn. "You and Deanna are going to meet with him tomorrow, right?"
Charlie hunched further into his suit coat. "Deanna's pretty determined."
"And you? Are you determined?"
The answer lacked any real fire. "He wants to meet with us."
Toby shook his head. "Given that someone's going to Fed-Ex him a prosthesis so
he can walk 'like a man' to a death chamber - a death chamber, I might add, that
I should feel more conflicted about - I say don't give him anything he wants."
"I figured you'd say that."
"So why did you come here?"
"The merry company," Charlie said dryly. "Hey, I hear Donna kicked you around a
little bit, earlier."
"Don't change the subject. And she didn't, really - I just felt it would be
unchivalrous to keep the argument going when she was in such a distressed
state." Toby spoke primly, staring at Charlie as if daring him to make a
comment.
Charlie grinned at him. "That was really gentlemanly of you. Josh made it sound
a lot more like an ass-kicking."
Before Toby had time to say anything in response, CJ stormed into the room and
stood in front of the desk like a coiled ball of fury, her hands on her hips as
she shifted her weight from foot to foot in a quick, anxious rhythm.
"Speaking of ass-kicking," Toby muttered under his breath.
"You guys are not going to believe this," CJ said, her voice dripping with
contempt, "but Jack Reese has decided to absent himself from next week's
festivities."
"You are kidding me," Charlie said, eyes widening. "No way. He seems like such a
good guy."
"Good for nothing," declared CJ. "Evidently he and Donna were pretty much on
their last legs, and he's decided that Donna would be better off with family at
'a time like this.' I could kill him, Toby, I could kill him with my bare hands,
then I could drop-kick him into next year and save him up for when I needed a
punching bag!"
When she came up for air, Toby said, "It's probably time to attach him to an
outpost in Upper Volta."
"Is Upper Volta a bad place to be?" Charlie growled.
"Know where it is?"
"Nope."
"Me, neither, but it sounds like it sucks." He turned back to CJ. "How is Donna
taking it?"
"Quietly. She said that she'd had a pretty good clue that they were done, but
she thought he'd stand up at a time like this. Brat bastard. Anyway, she's
sitting in the Mural Room until Josh gets out of his meeting with Haffley."
"Does Josh know?" Toby asked.
"Not yet. Anyone want to be standing near him when he finds out?"
"No way." Charlie shook his head. "So Bernard Ritenour gets a leg for free but
Donna has to pay for reconstructive surgery. That is completely messed up."
"Not so messed up that I can't make it worse," Toby said.
"What do you mean?" CJ and Charlie chorused.
Recalling his sotto voce conversation after services, Toby smiled. "Because I
asked the First Lady to step in."
***
The Revolutionary War scenes painted all around the Mural Room depressed Donna.
Men - of whom she was not fond in general, just at this moment - carried weapons
and stared each other down. Everywhere she looked, war. And probably some Navy
people here and there, just to rub salt in the wound. She turned toward the back
of the loveseat and rested her head on her arms.
She must have dozed off for a few minutes, because she didn't hear the door open
and was startled to feel a hand on her shoulder. She started, turning around to
face Abbey Bartlet.
"Oh! Ma'am! I didn't hear you come in." She got to her feet, her legs shaky and
undependable.
"That's okay. Come with me," Abbey said gently, steadying Donna with both hands
and leading her into the hallway. "CJ said you were in here. Josh won't be back
for ages, and in the meantime there's someone I want you to meet."
"I don't look too presentable." She had barely put on any makeup that morning,
and she knew without looking that her face was pale and her hair unkempt.
"That's fine. Let's go to the Residence, shall we?"
Donna stopped walking. "I've never been--"
"The Residence is just a bunch of rooms, Donna. You've stood in the Oval Office
hundreds of times - a living room won't be such a big deal." Abbey smiled at her
retinue of Secret Service agents, who flanked them all the way to the other part
of the building. Abbey kept talking quietly to Donna, who heard something about
how good the preliminary signs are, and especially that the growth was caught
when it was so small that it was difficult to get a reading. "And you're young
and healthy," Abbey added as she went into the sitting room. "So the
reconstruction will be relatively simple."
"Wait, wait," Donna said, scarcely noticing the gray-haired man sitting quietly
in an armchair. "I've been turned down by three banks for a loan, just today,
because they say it's unnecessary surgery. I'm not sure there's--"
"This is where my brother comes in."
Donna's overwhelmed mind finally registered the man, recognizing the wide-set
eyes and strong cheekbones. He got to his feet and shook her hand. "Thomas
Barrington, Abbey's brother. We've met a few times - I just wish this one fell
under less strenuous circumstances."
"Thank you," Donna barely managed to whisper. She looked from the First Lady to
her brother. "I don't understand."
"I came in for one of the Christmas dinners. Great food, but I never did see all
of my nieces at the same time. Anyway, Abbey called to tell me that you're
having some problems that I could help with."
Thomas Barrington was one of the most renowned plastic surgeons in the nation.
Donna's mouth went completely dry. "I need...that is, there's no way I can..."
"Donna," Abbey interrupted, "don't worry about anything. I'm not going to let
stupidity get in the way of what's best for you. Oh, no, none of that," she said
with mock sternness as Donna's eyes filled with tears.
Dr. Barrington put his hands on Donna's shoulders. "I'll be there in the
operating room. If there's nothing to it but a benign growth, then I'll simply
be there to do the closure. If it's something more, then there's a procedure
called the Peg that I'll take care of right then and there." He brought her over
to the table and opened an album. "These are women six weeks post-op."
She didn't want to see what she might look like, but she forced herself to look
at the pictures, Donna was astonished at the results. "It's hard to tell which
breast is which!" she exclaimed. "You could do that for me?"
"I haven't had the chance to do an exam, but judging from your general physical
makeup, I don't see why not. This way, even if worst comes to worst, you won't
wake up to the trauma of missing a breast."
She shuddered. No matter how many times she had forced herself to think about
it, the fear always seemed as fresh, as cataclysmic, as the first shock of
discovery. "Would it affect any radiation or...or..." Even as she tried to
force the words out, her hands smoothed the soft blonde hair.
"It won't affect chemo or radiation, if you need to have them," Abbey said
reassuringly. "There's no foreign object in there, just your own tissues." Donna
began to cry softly and Abbey embraced her, rocking her gently as she kept
talking. "Tom's leaving on Sunday, so we need to get this done first thing
tomorrow morning. He's already made the arrangements with your doctor and the
surgical team. You should go home and get some rest - you'll need to be at G.W.
around 5:30 in the morning. Do you want me to call CJ and have her stay with
you?"
Unable to speak, Donna simply shook her head.
"Well, then," Dr. Barrington said evenly, "Don't eat anything, and don't drink
anything after midnight. Have someone get you to GW at 5:30 tomorrow and we'll
get you checked in quickly. I know you want this to be over with, one way or
another, as soon as possible."
"I don't know how to thank you," Donna whispered brokenly.
"Abbey will want to make you a poster child - she's ready to take on the
insurance lobby and gnaw them into a gelatinous mass," Dr. Barrington said,
smiling reassuringly at Donna. "You won't see me tomorrow morning - I'll get
there once the pathology lab has the growth - but I'll check in on you, either
way, once you're in a regular room. If you have any questions, call here and
they'll put you straight through to me."
If she had any questions. She had nothing but questions.
She also had hope.
Donna shook hands with Dr. Barrington and accepted Abbey's offer of company on
the way out of the White House. Abbey held her hand lightly as they walked to
the lobby, where they nearly collided with Josh.
He bounded up to Donna, ignoring Abbey. Breathlessly, he asked, "Are you having
surgery tomorrow? Do you need anything? Can I take you to the hospital?"
Donna gave him a wan smile as she caressed his cheek. His skin was warm and
flushed, with a prickly covering of stubble, and his eyes were grave as he
listened to her words. "I'd actually like to be alone, and I'll just take a cab.
If that's okay."
He seemed partially relieved and partially hurt. "I just found out that
Jack's--" He cut himself off and shook his head. "Never mind. I just wish I
could do something."
"What if I call you from the hospital tomorrow and let you know how she's
doing?" Abbey volunteered. Donna and Josh snapped back to attention as if they
had forgotten she had been standing with them. "Let her be, Josh, she needs
rest, not a recitation of the middle names of every Congressman from a state
starting with N."
That made Donna laugh, and she pulled Josh close for a hug. He felt thin and she
could feel the tension in his back. "It's going to be fine," she reassured him,
even though she wanted with all her heart to let him wrap himself around her and
protect her from everything.
Josh gazed at her for a long moment, then nodded, drawing himself up to his full
height as he walked away. Abbey squeezed Donna's hand. "He doesn't understand
why you won't let him in," she said softly.
Donna didn't completely understand, either. She inhaled sharply, already
imagining the antiseptic smell of the hospital. "He would just find a way to
feel guilty," she said, considering each word.
"He's going to do that anyway. One of the many traits he shares with Leo."
Donna had heard the rumors of what was transpiring between Dr. Bartlet and Leo
McGarry - it was impossible to work in the White House and miss them. She knew
how much Leo had agonized over Zoey's abduction and his own role in the
impossible turns of events that had led up to it, and she suspected that it was
that very guilt that had reconciled the two old friends to one another. She
looked into Abbey's compassionate eyes and nodded. "I'll ask the hospital to
list him as the contact person so they'll let him know as soon as I'm...done.
And I'll call him when I can."
"Thank you. He's going to be unbearable until he hears from you." Abbey and the
agents walked with Donna to the door, then she grabbed Donna again for another
hug. "I'll be praying for you," she whispered.
Donna managed to hold back the tears until she was past the main gate. At this
hour, there were very few people around to notice one young woman crying softly
as she made her way to her car, her apartment, and an uncertain future.
***
Saturday Morning
"I can't believe we haven't heard anything yet," Josh groused as he tapped the
side of Gail's bowl.
"I can't believe Charlie and Deanna left for the prison without saying
anything," was Toby's response as he shook the fish food canister.
"I can't believe the two of you have commandeered my office," CJ said sharply.
She took the food from Toby's hand. "If you overfeed her, Tobus, I will have to
hunt you down and hurt you."
He smirked even as he returned the food. "We work fifty feet from one another. I
think 'hunting' may not be necessary."
CJ looked at Josh. His face was drawn and there were deep circles under his
eyes. While CJ had also endured a restless night, at least she got to cover up
the telltale signs with makeup. Josh just looked like ten miles of bad road.
"Did you sleep at all?" she asked, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
Josh's yawn told her everything she needed to know. "I tried to call Sam but he
wasn't home. I couldn't fall asleep, so I just sort of read and, you know,
watched Fox News and made rude remarks."
CJ missed Sam so much at times like this. When nothing made sense and the vague
hurt clawed at her from within, Sam had a way of producing order from the chaos
that surrounded them. "At least you accomplished something useful," she quipped.
"Not as useful as hanging Jack Reese from a yardarm," Josh said with grim
determination.
"What is a yardarm, anyway?" CJ asked. She didn't wait for an answer. "The notes
I got from Debbie Fiderer said that the Youngs were one of six families Ritenour
wanted to meet today, ostensibly to apologize. Six families, on top of the two
we already knew about from the trial, had their lives turned inside out because
of one man."
"Ritenour's not stupid," Toby said. "He knows that Charlie will attract
attention, and that the President is firmly against the death penalty, and
there'll be a lot of debate in the press. Maybe enough to buy him the time his
lawyers couldn't."
"That's pretty cynical," countered Josh. "What if this is legit, if he really
just wants to say he's sorry to the people he hurt?"
CJ could scarcely hide her amusement at the irritation in Toby's face as he
turned toward her and waved a hand at Josh. "CJ, would you please explain to
Josh, here, why Ritenour's definitely blowing smoke up our collective ass?"
"I actually don't care about his motive," Josh said, sticking his chin out and
balling his hands into fists. "What makes me angry is that he's got Charlie and
Deanna all tied up in knots."
The three of them agreed with that statement enough to render them silent. Josh
went back to annoying the fish, while Toby busied himself reading the
ingredients on the fish food label. If she hadn't been so worried, CJ might have
demanded that they both get the hell out of her office and accomplish something
important.
Not that she could manage to think of anything to do, either. She put her
reading glasses on, took them off, put them on again, then finally put them on
top of her head and paced back and forth between her desk and the door. Carol's
phone wasn't ringing. Was it better the longer Donna was in surgery, or the
other way around?
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she almost walked straight into Will,
who had entered Carol's office quietly and stood with his hands at his sides.
"Hey. Got any news?"
"Of whom?" Will asked with a sigh.
"Good question. Come on in and we'll all wait together." She touched his elbow
and nudged him forward.
Will stood at the threshold. "Am I really allowed to come in?"
"We're giving amnesty today," Josh called out, not taking his eyes off the
fishbowl. Gail hovered behind the miniature podium, unresponsive to the random
taps.
As he entered the room and stood near the television sets, Will looked over at
Josh. "I'm surprised you're here."
CJ saw Josh's back stiffen. "Where else would I be?" he asked.
Before CJ had time to give Will a signal, he replied, "The hospital. You look
like you haven't slept, and if tormenting a goldfish is your idea of a pastime,
then obviously you're just on this edge of going insane with worry. Get someone
to cover for you, go on over."
Toby raised an eyebrow. CJ could not be sure if he wanted Will to keep tripping
over his tongue, just for the pure entertainment value, or if he was going to
step in and derail the conversation.
"Donna gave pretty specific instructions," CJ said firmly. "She wouldn't even
let me go. The First Lady is over there now, and she'll call in when she knows
something."
"I'm just saying, that with what's-his-name not coming, and her family not being
able to get here in time, it might be a good idea for you to--"
"I don't like hospitals," Josh said quietly. He traced a fish shape on the glass
of Gail's bowl.
Will shrugged. "No one likes them, at least no one who likes the taste of, you
know, actual food. But if it's a close friend, then--"
Glaring at Will, Josh retorted, "I don't do hospitals. Period. Maybe you haven't
heard, but I spent a hell of a lot of time in one, a couple of years back."
CJ telegraphed to Toby that they should end this conversation now. Toby shook
his head. Let them play it out.
"I heard about that." Will's tone was conciliatory but firm. "I didn't know you
then. In fact, I'd forgotten that anyone got shot but the President until about
a month ago, and even then I had to look up who it was. I'm sorry that it
happened to you, Josh. I can only imagine the kind of fear and pain you went
through. All of you, for that matter," he added, turning to CJ and then to Toby.
"You've suffered. Anyone with two warm brain cells knows that. But, bottom line?
You're not the only person in the world who has. So I'm telling you this - suck
it up and get to G.W."
Toby broke the agonizing silence that followed. "It's good, but you could use
fewer words. Watch and learn." He faced Josh, staring him down. "Josh, be a
mensch." He turned back to Will. "See how easy it is?"
CJ watched Will relax for the first time since he had gone to work for the Vice
President. Only Toby could make an obtuse gesture of good will that also served
as the mild reproach Josh needed.
Sure enough, Josh squared his shoulders and cocked his head at the door. "Okay,
then. I'm going."
"Let us know how she is," CJ called after him. She made her way past the two men
and sat down at her desk. "If you don't have anything to do, I can find
something." It was a challenge, issued directly to Toby, who gave her a rueful
smile.
"Let's get some coffee before we end up writing this evening's press
conference."
"Me?" Will pointed to himself with both hands. "The pariah? You want to get
coffee."
Toby glanced at CJ, who tried to hide her smile, then started walking toward the
door. "Getting coffee is my way of telling you that we need to discuss your
recent bursts of verbosity."
Will raised his eyebrows at CJ, who nodded toward the door. "Go," she whispered,
watching as Will and Toby headed for the Mess and, more importantly, an
understanding.
It was about damn time.
***
Layers of smoke and gauze, thin as they were, held Donna just beneath the
surface. She wanted to swim to the top, but her limbs were far too heavy. Maybe
if she stopped struggling, she could float upwards and break free.
Donna felt cool air on her face, and a warm, soft hand holding hers. Guiding
her, pulling her gently back to shore. Mom? She wanted to ask, but she knew it
wasn't her mother. Besides, the clouds in her throat wouldn't let her speak.
Slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, Donna opened her eyes. She
couldn't see the clock because it was wobbly and swimmy, and she couldn't turn
her head because her stomach warned her that would be a very, very bad choice.
Instead, she closed her eyes again and took a deep breath.
Adrenaline surged through her when she recognized the sounds and smells of a
hospital room. She forced her eyes open a second time. Abbey Bartlet was looking
down at her, smiling gently. Donna took in a sharp, frightened breath. "I know,
sweetie," Abbey whispered. She helped Donna put her hand lightly over the
bandages. "It was benign. You've got everything you went in with. All Tom did
was close the incision."
The swirling sensation of relief almost pulled Donna back under again, but she
kept breathing evenly and made herself stay awake, made herself process the
wonderful news. She swallowed, wincing at the graininess in her throat, and
moved her parched lips.
Abbey leaned over. "Just whisper it," she admonished. "Don't try to talk just
yet."
Donna nodded, fighting back the sudden ocean-swell of lightheadedness. She moved
her hand to Abbey's and squeezed it with what little strength she could muster,
then she managed to get out the two words that meant more to her than she could
comprehend.
"Call Josh."
***
The stately grandfather clock ticked away the seconds, its insistent meter the
only sound in the Oval Office. Charlie sat on the loveseat, holding hands with
his sister. Their dark suits brought out the gravity in their expressions.
For all his intelligence, education, and experience, the president had no idea
what to say to the two young people who sat opposite him. Their responses to his
questions had been terse: yes, they had spent fifteen minutes with Bernard
Ritenour, who apologized for shooting their mother during a hold-up at an ATM
machine. He knew who she was, he had said, because she'd given him coffee and
blankets on cold nights. And he was sorry.
Bartlet couldn't imagine the grief the two of them held behind their studied
facades. Charlie had almost sounded snide when he described the artificial leg
Ritenour had been tapping as he talked to them.
He'd be walking to the death chamber in two days. Bartlet objected to the very
notion of such a thing, and he knew that Charlie had come to agree with him.
That said, he began to understand how Charlie had been able to say that he'd
want to perform the act himself.
Leo entered as quietly as a cat, CJ at his side. He had a note in his hand and
his expression was grave. Bartlet reached for the paper, but Leo and CJ walked
past him and handed it to Charlie.
Bartlet couldn't get Leo to look at him, so he watched Charlie's face. The young
man's eyes widened. Deanna peered at the paper, clenched her teeth, and nodded,
clutching her brother's hand tightly.
Only then did CJ and Leo walk back to the president and give him the folded
note.
Bernard Ritenour, killer of at least eight people, had suffered a heart attack
during an interview with the family of one of his victims. He was pronounced
dead at the scene.
***
"CJ! CJ! CJ!"
The din in the press room was deafening after the morbid silence of the Oval
Office. "Chris."
"Have Charles Young and his sister been notified of Ritenour's death?"
"Yes, they were made aware of the situation a few minutes ago. They are in the
company of Leo McGarry and will not be speaking to the press at any time." She
squinted into the crowd. "Barry."
"Do you think that a death from natural causes will be enough closure for the
Youngs and the other families?"
"Can there be enough closure?" CJ shot him an annoyed look over the rims of her
glasses and hoped Katie would get back from vacation soon. "Mike."
"Will the White House make a statement about whether Ritenour was being
considered for pardon?"
"There will be no statements whatsoever coming from this building."
She wanted to say that Bernard Ritenour had been treated with more compassion
than he had shown any of his victims. She looked out into the crowd and saw Toby
standing next to Will. Both men were watching her, their expressions serious,
but only Toby knew what was in CJ's heart as she deflected the issue.
"On to good news - as many of you know, Special Assistant Donnatella Moss
underwent surgery this morning. I'm happy to report that the tumor was benign,
and that she'll be back and running the West Wing in about a week. In lieu of
flowers, we're asking that people donate stiff drinks to those of us who will be
dealing with Josh in the meantime."
***
Donna's hospital room was of the standard variety - except for the profusion of
flowers. Vases and bowls covered every flat surface, and the combined aromas
made Toby's eyes water as he entered. He started to say something, but Josh
turned around and put his finger over his lips.
God only knew how long Josh had been in that chair. He'd left the White House
before noon. Around one-thirty the call had come, saying that Donna was out of
recovery and being moved to a regular room and that the tumor had been benign.
Now it was growing dark outside, and Josh showed no signs of being ready to
leave.
"She's asleep," Josh whispered. "Dr. Barrington came in and said they'll release
her tomorrow."
"I'm glad," Toby said, looking down at Donna's pale, relaxed face.
"Everything's going to be all right," Josh said, probably as much to himself as
to Toby.
As he walked to the chair on the other side of the room, Toby noticed that Josh
held Donna's hand very gently, his fingers absently stroking her skin. He wasn't
sure who would derive more comfort from the gesture, but anything that calmed
Josh was fine with him.
"I'm glad," Toby said after a while. "She told me some things I didn't want to
hear."
"She does that to me every day," Josh replied.
"I'm sure. I'm also sure that she'll end up being the biggest thorn in the
insurance lobby's side - and an effective one." He sighed. "I used to think that
not having a child would be the most unimaginable thing that could happen to
Andi." He shook his head. "Not even close."
"I know."
Toby motioned toward Donna. "She really is quite something."
Josh looked at him for the first time. "I know that, too," he said before
turning his gaze back to the bed.
He was watching Donna's every breath with an intensity Toby understood all too
well. Little by little, Josh's eyelids drooped and his breathing slowed as he
fell asleep in the chair.
Toby got up and unfolded the little blanket at the foot of Donna's bed. He
draped it over Josh's shoulders, careful not to wake him, then reached over and
stroked Donna's hair. "You really are quite something," he murmured in a gentle
voice he would never have used while she was awake.
Satisfied that both his friends were asleep, he returned to his chair, pulled it
closer to the bed, and began to keep watch.
***
END "Quality of Mercy" Feedback is adored at marguerite@swbell.net or
Marguerite@operamail.com
Toby returned from services deep in thought. He shed his coat haphazardly on
Bonnie's desk, almost daring it to stay there and not slither down to the floor.
With an exhausted sigh, he unlocked the door to his office, opened it, and
turned on the light.
Charlie was sitting on the sofa, hands folded, one ankle crossed over the other
knee. "Hey, Toby."
"How long have you been in here? For that matter, how did you get in here?"
"Come on, Toby," Charlie said reprovingly. Of course he would have a key to
pretty much everything in the building.
"Yeah." Toby took a seat on the edge of his desk, wishing he had something to
hold in his hands. Without looking away from Charlie, he reached down and back
until he found a pen. There.
"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm doing here?" Charlie inquired, lifting his
eyebrows.
"I'm still marveling that you're in here at all. Besides, I can probably guess:
Ritenour." Toby laid the pen across his palm and tapped it with each finger in
turn. "You and Deanna are going to meet with him tomorrow, right?"
Charlie hunched further into his suit coat. "Deanna's pretty determined."
"And you? Are you determined?"
The answer lacked any real fire. "He wants to meet with us."
Toby shook his head. "Given that someone's going to Fed-Ex him a prosthesis so
he can walk 'like a man' to a death chamber - a death chamber, I might add, that
I should feel more conflicted about - I say don't give him anything he wants."
"I figured you'd say that."
"So why did you come here?"
"The merry company," Charlie said dryly. "Hey, I hear Donna kicked you around a
little bit, earlier."
"Don't change the subject. And she didn't, really - I just felt it would be
unchivalrous to keep the argument going when she was in such a distressed
state." Toby spoke primly, staring at Charlie as if daring him to make a
comment.
Charlie grinned at him. "That was really gentlemanly of you. Josh made it sound
a lot more like an ass-kicking."
Before Toby had time to say anything in response, CJ stormed into the room and
stood in front of the desk like a coiled ball of fury, her hands on her hips as
she shifted her weight from foot to foot in a quick, anxious rhythm.
"Speaking of ass-kicking," Toby muttered under his breath.
"You guys are not going to believe this," CJ said, her voice dripping with
contempt, "but Jack Reese has decided to absent himself from next week's
festivities."
"You are kidding me," Charlie said, eyes widening. "No way. He seems like such a
good guy."
"Good for nothing," declared CJ. "Evidently he and Donna were pretty much on
their last legs, and he's decided that Donna would be better off with family at
'a time like this.' I could kill him, Toby, I could kill him with my bare hands,
then I could drop-kick him into next year and save him up for when I needed a
punching bag!"
When she came up for air, Toby said, "It's probably time to attach him to an
outpost in Upper Volta."
"Is Upper Volta a bad place to be?" Charlie growled.
"Know where it is?"
"Nope."
"Me, neither, but it sounds like it sucks." He turned back to CJ. "How is Donna
taking it?"
"Quietly. She said that she'd had a pretty good clue that they were done, but
she thought he'd stand up at a time like this. Brat bastard. Anyway, she's
sitting in the Mural Room until Josh gets out of his meeting with Haffley."
"Does Josh know?" Toby asked.
"Not yet. Anyone want to be standing near him when he finds out?"
"No way." Charlie shook his head. "So Bernard Ritenour gets a leg for free but
Donna has to pay for reconstructive surgery. That is completely messed up."
"Not so messed up that I can't make it worse," Toby said.
"What do you mean?" CJ and Charlie chorused.
Recalling his sotto voce conversation after services, Toby smiled. "Because I
asked the First Lady to step in."
***
The Revolutionary War scenes painted all around the Mural Room depressed Donna.
Men - of whom she was not fond in general, just at this moment - carried weapons
and stared each other down. Everywhere she looked, war. And probably some Navy
people here and there, just to rub salt in the wound. She turned toward the back
of the loveseat and rested her head on her arms.
She must have dozed off for a few minutes, because she didn't hear the door open
and was startled to feel a hand on her shoulder. She started, turning around to
face Abbey Bartlet.
"Oh! Ma'am! I didn't hear you come in." She got to her feet, her legs shaky and
undependable.
"That's okay. Come with me," Abbey said gently, steadying Donna with both hands
and leading her into the hallway. "CJ said you were in here. Josh won't be back
for ages, and in the meantime there's someone I want you to meet."
"I don't look too presentable." She had barely put on any makeup that morning,
and she knew without looking that her face was pale and her hair unkempt.
"That's fine. Let's go to the Residence, shall we?"
Donna stopped walking. "I've never been--"
"The Residence is just a bunch of rooms, Donna. You've stood in the Oval Office
hundreds of times - a living room won't be such a big deal." Abbey smiled at her
retinue of Secret Service agents, who flanked them all the way to the other part
of the building. Abbey kept talking quietly to Donna, who heard something about
how good the preliminary signs are, and especially that the growth was caught
when it was so small that it was difficult to get a reading. "And you're young
and healthy," Abbey added as she went into the sitting room. "So the
reconstruction will be relatively simple."
"Wait, wait," Donna said, scarcely noticing the gray-haired man sitting quietly
in an armchair. "I've been turned down by three banks for a loan, just today,
because they say it's unnecessary surgery. I'm not sure there's--"
"This is where my brother comes in."
Donna's overwhelmed mind finally registered the man, recognizing the wide-set
eyes and strong cheekbones. He got to his feet and shook her hand. "Thomas
Barrington, Abbey's brother. We've met a few times - I just wish this one fell
under less strenuous circumstances."
"Thank you," Donna barely managed to whisper. She looked from the First Lady to
her brother. "I don't understand."
"I came in for one of the Christmas dinners. Great food, but I never did see all
of my nieces at the same time. Anyway, Abbey called to tell me that you're
having some problems that I could help with."
Thomas Barrington was one of the most renowned plastic surgeons in the nation.
Donna's mouth went completely dry. "I need...that is, there's no way I can..."
"Donna," Abbey interrupted, "don't worry about anything. I'm not going to let
stupidity get in the way of what's best for you. Oh, no, none of that," she said
with mock sternness as Donna's eyes filled with tears.
Dr. Barrington put his hands on Donna's shoulders. "I'll be there in the
operating room. If there's nothing to it but a benign growth, then I'll simply
be there to do the closure. If it's something more, then there's a procedure
called the Peg that I'll take care of right then and there." He brought her over
to the table and opened an album. "These are women six weeks post-op."
She didn't want to see what she might look like, but she forced herself to look
at the pictures, Donna was astonished at the results. "It's hard to tell which
breast is which!" she exclaimed. "You could do that for me?"
"I haven't had the chance to do an exam, but judging from your general physical
makeup, I don't see why not. This way, even if worst comes to worst, you won't
wake up to the trauma of missing a breast."
She shuddered. No matter how many times she had forced herself to think about
it, the fear always seemed as fresh, as cataclysmic, as the first shock of
discovery. "Would it affect any radiation or...or..." Even as she tried to
force the words out, her hands smoothed the soft blonde hair.
"It won't affect chemo or radiation, if you need to have them," Abbey said
reassuringly. "There's no foreign object in there, just your own tissues." Donna
began to cry softly and Abbey embraced her, rocking her gently as she kept
talking. "Tom's leaving on Sunday, so we need to get this done first thing
tomorrow morning. He's already made the arrangements with your doctor and the
surgical team. You should go home and get some rest - you'll need to be at G.W.
around 5:30 in the morning. Do you want me to call CJ and have her stay with
you?"
Unable to speak, Donna simply shook her head.
"Well, then," Dr. Barrington said evenly, "Don't eat anything, and don't drink
anything after midnight. Have someone get you to GW at 5:30 tomorrow and we'll
get you checked in quickly. I know you want this to be over with, one way or
another, as soon as possible."
"I don't know how to thank you," Donna whispered brokenly.
"Abbey will want to make you a poster child - she's ready to take on the
insurance lobby and gnaw them into a gelatinous mass," Dr. Barrington said,
smiling reassuringly at Donna. "You won't see me tomorrow morning - I'll get
there once the pathology lab has the growth - but I'll check in on you, either
way, once you're in a regular room. If you have any questions, call here and
they'll put you straight through to me."
If she had any questions. She had nothing but questions.
She also had hope.
Donna shook hands with Dr. Barrington and accepted Abbey's offer of company on
the way out of the White House. Abbey held her hand lightly as they walked to
the lobby, where they nearly collided with Josh.
He bounded up to Donna, ignoring Abbey. Breathlessly, he asked, "Are you having
surgery tomorrow? Do you need anything? Can I take you to the hospital?"
Donna gave him a wan smile as she caressed his cheek. His skin was warm and
flushed, with a prickly covering of stubble, and his eyes were grave as he
listened to her words. "I'd actually like to be alone, and I'll just take a cab.
If that's okay."
He seemed partially relieved and partially hurt. "I just found out that
Jack's--" He cut himself off and shook his head. "Never mind. I just wish I
could do something."
"What if I call you from the hospital tomorrow and let you know how she's
doing?" Abbey volunteered. Donna and Josh snapped back to attention as if they
had forgotten she had been standing with them. "Let her be, Josh, she needs
rest, not a recitation of the middle names of every Congressman from a state
starting with N."
That made Donna laugh, and she pulled Josh close for a hug. He felt thin and she
could feel the tension in his back. "It's going to be fine," she reassured him,
even though she wanted with all her heart to let him wrap himself around her and
protect her from everything.
Josh gazed at her for a long moment, then nodded, drawing himself up to his full
height as he walked away. Abbey squeezed Donna's hand. "He doesn't understand
why you won't let him in," she said softly.
Donna didn't completely understand, either. She inhaled sharply, already
imagining the antiseptic smell of the hospital. "He would just find a way to
feel guilty," she said, considering each word.
"He's going to do that anyway. One of the many traits he shares with Leo."
Donna had heard the rumors of what was transpiring between Dr. Bartlet and Leo
McGarry - it was impossible to work in the White House and miss them. She knew
how much Leo had agonized over Zoey's abduction and his own role in the
impossible turns of events that had led up to it, and she suspected that it was
that very guilt that had reconciled the two old friends to one another. She
looked into Abbey's compassionate eyes and nodded. "I'll ask the hospital to
list him as the contact person so they'll let him know as soon as I'm...done.
And I'll call him when I can."
"Thank you. He's going to be unbearable until he hears from you." Abbey and the
agents walked with Donna to the door, then she grabbed Donna again for another
hug. "I'll be praying for you," she whispered.
Donna managed to hold back the tears until she was past the main gate. At this
hour, there were very few people around to notice one young woman crying softly
as she made her way to her car, her apartment, and an uncertain future.
***
Saturday Morning
"I can't believe we haven't heard anything yet," Josh groused as he tapped the
side of Gail's bowl.
"I can't believe Charlie and Deanna left for the prison without saying
anything," was Toby's response as he shook the fish food canister.
"I can't believe the two of you have commandeered my office," CJ said sharply.
She took the food from Toby's hand. "If you overfeed her, Tobus, I will have to
hunt you down and hurt you."
He smirked even as he returned the food. "We work fifty feet from one another. I
think 'hunting' may not be necessary."
CJ looked at Josh. His face was drawn and there were deep circles under his
eyes. While CJ had also endured a restless night, at least she got to cover up
the telltale signs with makeup. Josh just looked like ten miles of bad road.
"Did you sleep at all?" she asked, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
Josh's yawn told her everything she needed to know. "I tried to call Sam but he
wasn't home. I couldn't fall asleep, so I just sort of read and, you know,
watched Fox News and made rude remarks."
CJ missed Sam so much at times like this. When nothing made sense and the vague
hurt clawed at her from within, Sam had a way of producing order from the chaos
that surrounded them. "At least you accomplished something useful," she quipped.
"Not as useful as hanging Jack Reese from a yardarm," Josh said with grim
determination.
"What is a yardarm, anyway?" CJ asked. She didn't wait for an answer. "The notes
I got from Debbie Fiderer said that the Youngs were one of six families Ritenour
wanted to meet today, ostensibly to apologize. Six families, on top of the two
we already knew about from the trial, had their lives turned inside out because
of one man."
"Ritenour's not stupid," Toby said. "He knows that Charlie will attract
attention, and that the President is firmly against the death penalty, and
there'll be a lot of debate in the press. Maybe enough to buy him the time his
lawyers couldn't."
"That's pretty cynical," countered Josh. "What if this is legit, if he really
just wants to say he's sorry to the people he hurt?"
CJ could scarcely hide her amusement at the irritation in Toby's face as he
turned toward her and waved a hand at Josh. "CJ, would you please explain to
Josh, here, why Ritenour's definitely blowing smoke up our collective ass?"
"I actually don't care about his motive," Josh said, sticking his chin out and
balling his hands into fists. "What makes me angry is that he's got Charlie and
Deanna all tied up in knots."
The three of them agreed with that statement enough to render them silent. Josh
went back to annoying the fish, while Toby busied himself reading the
ingredients on the fish food label. If she hadn't been so worried, CJ might have
demanded that they both get the hell out of her office and accomplish something
important.
Not that she could manage to think of anything to do, either. She put her
reading glasses on, took them off, put them on again, then finally put them on
top of her head and paced back and forth between her desk and the door. Carol's
phone wasn't ringing. Was it better the longer Donna was in surgery, or the
other way around?
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she almost walked straight into Will,
who had entered Carol's office quietly and stood with his hands at his sides.
"Hey. Got any news?"
"Of whom?" Will asked with a sigh.
"Good question. Come on in and we'll all wait together." She touched his elbow
and nudged him forward.
Will stood at the threshold. "Am I really allowed to come in?"
"We're giving amnesty today," Josh called out, not taking his eyes off the
fishbowl. Gail hovered behind the miniature podium, unresponsive to the random
taps.
As he entered the room and stood near the television sets, Will looked over at
Josh. "I'm surprised you're here."
CJ saw Josh's back stiffen. "Where else would I be?" he asked.
Before CJ had time to give Will a signal, he replied, "The hospital. You look
like you haven't slept, and if tormenting a goldfish is your idea of a pastime,
then obviously you're just on this edge of going insane with worry. Get someone
to cover for you, go on over."
Toby raised an eyebrow. CJ could not be sure if he wanted Will to keep tripping
over his tongue, just for the pure entertainment value, or if he was going to
step in and derail the conversation.
"Donna gave pretty specific instructions," CJ said firmly. "She wouldn't even
let me go. The First Lady is over there now, and she'll call in when she knows
something."
"I'm just saying, that with what's-his-name not coming, and her family not being
able to get here in time, it might be a good idea for you to--"
"I don't like hospitals," Josh said quietly. He traced a fish shape on the glass
of Gail's bowl.
Will shrugged. "No one likes them, at least no one who likes the taste of, you
know, actual food. But if it's a close friend, then--"
Glaring at Will, Josh retorted, "I don't do hospitals. Period. Maybe you haven't
heard, but I spent a hell of a lot of time in one, a couple of years back."
CJ telegraphed to Toby that they should end this conversation now. Toby shook
his head. Let them play it out.
"I heard about that." Will's tone was conciliatory but firm. "I didn't know you
then. In fact, I'd forgotten that anyone got shot but the President until about
a month ago, and even then I had to look up who it was. I'm sorry that it
happened to you, Josh. I can only imagine the kind of fear and pain you went
through. All of you, for that matter," he added, turning to CJ and then to Toby.
"You've suffered. Anyone with two warm brain cells knows that. But, bottom line?
You're not the only person in the world who has. So I'm telling you this - suck
it up and get to G.W."
Toby broke the agonizing silence that followed. "It's good, but you could use
fewer words. Watch and learn." He faced Josh, staring him down. "Josh, be a
mensch." He turned back to Will. "See how easy it is?"
CJ watched Will relax for the first time since he had gone to work for the Vice
President. Only Toby could make an obtuse gesture of good will that also served
as the mild reproach Josh needed.
Sure enough, Josh squared his shoulders and cocked his head at the door. "Okay,
then. I'm going."
"Let us know how she is," CJ called after him. She made her way past the two men
and sat down at her desk. "If you don't have anything to do, I can find
something." It was a challenge, issued directly to Toby, who gave her a rueful
smile.
"Let's get some coffee before we end up writing this evening's press
conference."
"Me?" Will pointed to himself with both hands. "The pariah? You want to get
coffee."
Toby glanced at CJ, who tried to hide her smile, then started walking toward the
door. "Getting coffee is my way of telling you that we need to discuss your
recent bursts of verbosity."
Will raised his eyebrows at CJ, who nodded toward the door. "Go," she whispered,
watching as Will and Toby headed for the Mess and, more importantly, an
understanding.
It was about damn time.
***
Layers of smoke and gauze, thin as they were, held Donna just beneath the
surface. She wanted to swim to the top, but her limbs were far too heavy. Maybe
if she stopped struggling, she could float upwards and break free.
Donna felt cool air on her face, and a warm, soft hand holding hers. Guiding
her, pulling her gently back to shore. Mom? She wanted to ask, but she knew it
wasn't her mother. Besides, the clouds in her throat wouldn't let her speak.
Slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, Donna opened her eyes. She
couldn't see the clock because it was wobbly and swimmy, and she couldn't turn
her head because her stomach warned her that would be a very, very bad choice.
Instead, she closed her eyes again and took a deep breath.
Adrenaline surged through her when she recognized the sounds and smells of a
hospital room. She forced her eyes open a second time. Abbey Bartlet was looking
down at her, smiling gently. Donna took in a sharp, frightened breath. "I know,
sweetie," Abbey whispered. She helped Donna put her hand lightly over the
bandages. "It was benign. You've got everything you went in with. All Tom did
was close the incision."
The swirling sensation of relief almost pulled Donna back under again, but she
kept breathing evenly and made herself stay awake, made herself process the
wonderful news. She swallowed, wincing at the graininess in her throat, and
moved her parched lips.
Abbey leaned over. "Just whisper it," she admonished. "Don't try to talk just
yet."
Donna nodded, fighting back the sudden ocean-swell of lightheadedness. She moved
her hand to Abbey's and squeezed it with what little strength she could muster,
then she managed to get out the two words that meant more to her than she could
comprehend.
"Call Josh."
***
The stately grandfather clock ticked away the seconds, its insistent meter the
only sound in the Oval Office. Charlie sat on the loveseat, holding hands with
his sister. Their dark suits brought out the gravity in their expressions.
For all his intelligence, education, and experience, the president had no idea
what to say to the two young people who sat opposite him. Their responses to his
questions had been terse: yes, they had spent fifteen minutes with Bernard
Ritenour, who apologized for shooting their mother during a hold-up at an ATM
machine. He knew who she was, he had said, because she'd given him coffee and
blankets on cold nights. And he was sorry.
Bartlet couldn't imagine the grief the two of them held behind their studied
facades. Charlie had almost sounded snide when he described the artificial leg
Ritenour had been tapping as he talked to them.
He'd be walking to the death chamber in two days. Bartlet objected to the very
notion of such a thing, and he knew that Charlie had come to agree with him.
That said, he began to understand how Charlie had been able to say that he'd
want to perform the act himself.
Leo entered as quietly as a cat, CJ at his side. He had a note in his hand and
his expression was grave. Bartlet reached for the paper, but Leo and CJ walked
past him and handed it to Charlie.
Bartlet couldn't get Leo to look at him, so he watched Charlie's face. The young
man's eyes widened. Deanna peered at the paper, clenched her teeth, and nodded,
clutching her brother's hand tightly.
Only then did CJ and Leo walk back to the president and give him the folded
note.
Bernard Ritenour, killer of at least eight people, had suffered a heart attack
during an interview with the family of one of his victims. He was pronounced
dead at the scene.
***
"CJ! CJ! CJ!"
The din in the press room was deafening after the morbid silence of the Oval
Office. "Chris."
"Have Charles Young and his sister been notified of Ritenour's death?"
"Yes, they were made aware of the situation a few minutes ago. They are in the
company of Leo McGarry and will not be speaking to the press at any time." She
squinted into the crowd. "Barry."
"Do you think that a death from natural causes will be enough closure for the
Youngs and the other families?"
"Can there be enough closure?" CJ shot him an annoyed look over the rims of her
glasses and hoped Katie would get back from vacation soon. "Mike."
"Will the White House make a statement about whether Ritenour was being
considered for pardon?"
"There will be no statements whatsoever coming from this building."
She wanted to say that Bernard Ritenour had been treated with more compassion
than he had shown any of his victims. She looked out into the crowd and saw Toby
standing next to Will. Both men were watching her, their expressions serious,
but only Toby knew what was in CJ's heart as she deflected the issue.
"On to good news - as many of you know, Special Assistant Donnatella Moss
underwent surgery this morning. I'm happy to report that the tumor was benign,
and that she'll be back and running the West Wing in about a week. In lieu of
flowers, we're asking that people donate stiff drinks to those of us who will be
dealing with Josh in the meantime."
***
Donna's hospital room was of the standard variety - except for the profusion of
flowers. Vases and bowls covered every flat surface, and the combined aromas
made Toby's eyes water as he entered. He started to say something, but Josh
turned around and put his finger over his lips.
God only knew how long Josh had been in that chair. He'd left the White House
before noon. Around one-thirty the call had come, saying that Donna was out of
recovery and being moved to a regular room and that the tumor had been benign.
Now it was growing dark outside, and Josh showed no signs of being ready to
leave.
"She's asleep," Josh whispered. "Dr. Barrington came in and said they'll release
her tomorrow."
"I'm glad," Toby said, looking down at Donna's pale, relaxed face.
"Everything's going to be all right," Josh said, probably as much to himself as
to Toby.
As he walked to the chair on the other side of the room, Toby noticed that Josh
held Donna's hand very gently, his fingers absently stroking her skin. He wasn't
sure who would derive more comfort from the gesture, but anything that calmed
Josh was fine with him.
"I'm glad," Toby said after a while. "She told me some things I didn't want to
hear."
"She does that to me every day," Josh replied.
"I'm sure. I'm also sure that she'll end up being the biggest thorn in the
insurance lobby's side - and an effective one." He sighed. "I used to think that
not having a child would be the most unimaginable thing that could happen to
Andi." He shook his head. "Not even close."
"I know."
Toby motioned toward Donna. "She really is quite something."
Josh looked at him for the first time. "I know that, too," he said before
turning his gaze back to the bed.
He was watching Donna's every breath with an intensity Toby understood all too
well. Little by little, Josh's eyelids drooped and his breathing slowed as he
fell asleep in the chair.
Toby got up and unfolded the little blanket at the foot of Donna's bed. He
draped it over Josh's shoulders, careful not to wake him, then reached over and
stroked Donna's hair. "You really are quite something," he murmured in a gentle
voice he would never have used while she was awake.
Satisfied that both his friends were asleep, he returned to his chair, pulled it
closer to the bed, and began to keep watch.
***
END "Quality of Mercy" Feedback is adored at marguerite@swbell.net or
Marguerite@operamail.com