July felt unbearably long to CJ and Simon. He flew down to Florida to head Governor Ritchie's detail after five glorious days with CJ. It wasn't until the last day of their vacation that he dared to tell her he'd been tapped to head Ritchie's security, a considerable promotion for him. This time, she did throw things at him, mostly articles of clothing that he busily removed from her body. Lovemaking was still fun, though, as it always have been for them.

Whenever they found themselves within reasonable geographical distance, CJ and Simon did their best to steal some hours alone halfway between their locations. It wasn't much, though, and the prospect of 120 days mostly apart was truly depressing. Simon, being true to form, refused to discuss any aspects of his work on Ritchie's campaign, and CJ had to agree it was the best way to handle their awkward situation. But he was often moody and depressed, and she worried if their relationship could survive the pressures of their respective positions on opposing campaigns.

In early August Governor Ritchie was slated to give a speech in Miami, weighing in on gun control. The senior staff, knowing a response would be required, decided to watch in the communications bullpen. Leo and the President were in a meeting, so Toby, Sam, and Josh were taking notes while CJ was watching the screen, hoping to catch a glimpse of Simon, half listening to Ritchie's introductory remarks. The commotion that started at the back of the auditorium at first went unnoticed by the four watching, and then all hell broke lose.

CJ caught sight of Simon, gun drawn, racing in front of the podium and taking aim. The gun blast that sent him crashing backward into the podium came a heartbeat before someone in the bullpen screamed his name, and it took CJ several minutes before she realized the scream came from her. By then, she was in her office, with Josh's arms holding her tightly, and she was hysterically asking for someone, anyone, to find out what happened, and if Simon were alive. Sam and Toby, of course, were already screaming into phones, and in what seemed like an instant, Ron Butterfield was at CJ's side, as were the President and Leo.

"This isn't happening," she cried. "Oh, God, please tell me this isn't happening. This is just another nightmare I'm having, like in New York!"

"CJ," The President's strong, calm voice cut through her hysteria, "we're not really sure what's happening yet. Ron will find out any minute. Hard as it is, we have to hang in here for a while longer…" He looked at Ron, who was listening to his earpiece, face grave. Butterfield turned to CJ and said softly, "We have three agents down, condition unknown. Simon is one of them. May I use your phone?"

CJ's face was gray, and when she couldn't respond, the President jerked his head in the direction of CJ's desk. Ron walked over to dial.

There was roaring in CJ's ears, the words kept repeating in her head: "…agents down, condition unknown. Simon is one of them." And Simon's voice, that night in New York, "…there is always the risk I won't come home from work one day."

Please, she thought desperately, oh please, Simon, you've got to come home, I love you. And for the first time in my life, I'm not afraid to feel this way…

Ron was off the phone now. How long has it been? CJ looked at him apprehensively. His face did not bode well.

"He's being taken to Ryder Trauma Center. He was hit in the chest, unconscious, but is breathing on his own so far…"

CJ stopped listening. Through the following quick conference between the President, Ron, and Leo, she kept replaying a scene in her mind, one from last month, when the Ritchie campaign stopped in Norfolk, VA...

Remarkably, she was in D.C. at the time, and, even more remarkably, Simon managed to get time off. They met in Colonial Williamsburg, because it was a good compromise, and because the place seemed more romantic to them than any other spot along the way. They walked around, ducked into the old fashioned stores, and had lunch outside in a sun-drenched courtyard. Afterwards, they sat on a bench and people-watched for a while in comfortable silence.

"Are you ever afraid you'll die on the job?"

Simon looked at her in surprise, the question having come completely from left field. Then he shook his head. "If I were I wouldn't be an effective agent. I do know that after Rosslyn, when I came off the adrenalin rush, I was relieved to find myself still standing. But I don't walk around worrying about what the day might bring."

She bit her lip. "Do you figure when it's your time, it's your time?"

He pondered that. "It's more of a conviction that what I'm doing is right, and worth the price, though I hope I never have to pay it."

CJ laid her head on his shoulder and tightened her arms around his waist. "What was your first thought after Rosslyn, when…you know…you guys were done?"

He leaned his head back and sighed. "We weren't done for a while. There was a hell of a mop up operation after the shooting was done, and we had to gather evidence…and all the time I worried about my parents, actually."

She looked up, surprised. "Your parents?"

Simon nodded. "Well, they're in their late seventies, and they have this nightly ritual of watching the news on several stations, for the better part of the evening. Keeps them talking about current events, you know. They say it keeps their minds sharp," he smiled gently, and CJ could sense his love for his parents. Then his smile vanished and he continued, "So I knew there was no way they missed the shooting. They also knew I was on Eagle's protection detail. I knew they'd put two and two together, and they're not young, as I said…"

CJ touched his face gently. "What happened?"

"Oh," Simon sighed, "I finally got to call home. My mom answered, I said 'Ma, it's me, I'm okay.' And she started to cry."

"And your dad?"

"When she finally let him know hers were happy tears, he snatched up the phone and informed me in his best tough-guy manner that he was proud of me. I didn't find out until later, when I talked to my sister, that he'd been having chest pains the whole evening, but refused to go anywhere until he found out if I were alright. It was the only time in my life I wondered if my job was worth it. Between my dad and shooting a 15 year-old…"

"And what convinced you again?"

"My dad died a few months later. In his possessions I found a letter he wrote me the day after Rosslyn, when he already knew I was all right. Not sure why he never sent it. Among other things, he talked about his fears that evening, and his conviction in the rightness of what I was doing…a lot of thought went into this letter. It was as if he was trying to untangle his own mind, trying to resolve the conflict between worrying about me and knowing I'm where I should be, and happy with it…"

"CJ?"

She snapped back to reality. Leo was looking at her. Josh was rubbing her back, while Toby glared at him and held CJ's hand. Leo spoke again.

"Toby will take you back to your place so you can pack. Then he'll drive you to the airport. Your flight leaves in two hours, and an agent will meet you in Miami and take you to the hospital."

"I can fly with…"

"No, Toby, that's OK. I appreciate everything, but I need to be alone on the plane." CJ wiped her eyes. She had to get herself together, for Simon's sake. She looked around at her friends, her throat tightening. "You are the most amazing group of people…" She faltered, lifted her chin. "Thank you."

In the car, on the way to the airport, CJ stopped Toby from flipping past a news station that talked about the shooting. Governor Ritchie was asked for his response. "Crime. Boy I don't know." He offered. Toby let out a series of expletives that would have stunned CJ had she been listening. Oddly, she felt sorry for Ritchie's press secretary, who had to butt in and clarify that Governor Ritchie was of course appalled…extremely grateful to his Secret Service agents…wishes a speedy recovery…condolences…"What?" CJ's head snapped in Toby's direction. "Why?"

"It wasn't Simon," said Toby.

"How do you know?" she was desperate.

"Leo called my cell when you were packing. We thought it best you didn't know, but one of the agents died at the scene. Not Simon."

Toby expected CJ to come back with a biting remark about the stupidity of trying to coddle her. When none was forthcoming, his concern for her increased ten folds. She went back to her nearly catatonic state, staring straight ahead in stunned silence, not noticing the tears that kept rolling down her cheeks.

His cell phone rang.

He listened to the voice on the other side, inserting a "Yes, Sir" every once in a while and ending with, "Thank you, Sir. CJ will appreciate that."

"CJ?" He asked tentatively.

She turned her head slowly, looking at him with apprehension.

"The President has a message for you. He said 'Tell CJ that in the future, if she ever wonders, 'Crime. Boy I don't know' is when I decided to kick Ritchie's butt.'"

CJ almost smiled.