Chapter IX – Balance
Danny read diligently and quickly, absorbing everything there was to know about Eric Orson – Special Agent Simon Donovan. He sat, numb in CJ's office, having finished after twelve of his fifteen minutes. The photograph of CJ and Simon trembled in his hands. Thoughts ran through his mind, he was overcome with the need to act. To do something, something good, something right. Leo opened the door softly, Danny stood, placing the photo in the front of the folder and holding it out for the older man. The great Leo McGarry let his guard down, his eyes were heavy with emotion, worry or guilt of some kind, Danny couldn't read them.
"She doesn't know, does she?"
"No." Leo stiffened.
"Leo, you have to..." he was cut off:
"No, Danny, I don't." The Chief of Staff was doing a poor job of hiding his internal conflict, "she can't go in there knowing, I can't allow that, knowing what I do from that file."
"That file is the exact reason she should be told!"
"Danny, I need her head in the game for this, bringing up the stalking wouldn't be..." It was Danny's turn to cut in:
"Do you think this is about the stalking? It's not – it's about Eric, Simon, whatever – she fell in love with him Leo!"
"How can you be so sure, Danny?"
"You forget that I used to be close to her, but that aside they're not just happy in that picture!"
"It could have just been a crush?" Leo looked hopefully at Danny, disbelieving completely he was having this conversation with a reporter.
"No." Danny's eyes bore a hint of sadness, "She doesn't look that way when it's just a crush." Leo knew exactly what he was referring to, and for the first time in the last half hour, he trusted Danny completely.
"I'm not going to run his name."
"Thank you."
"For CJ, Leo." The older man met his earnest stare. "But you've got to tell her." Leo bowed his head in agreement and Danny left, his footsteps firm and his stride long.
The next briefing came and went in a whirl, the death toll in Ephar had risen from only thirty civilians to nearly two hundred, only in the space of ninety seconds. President ben-Kurah had given a statement on national television only two hours after the whole incident. He was quick to reassure his people, he looked strong and unmoved by the attempt on his life, but there was no end of remorse for those who died as a result. He called it a national tragedy. There was no talk of the police or his personal guard.
The first question CJ was presented with was in relation to the fateful bodyguard. CJ didn't need to glance down at her briefing pad to confirm the news. "President ben-Kurah's personal bodyguard was an American, his name: Eric Orson..." the room erupted with questions, she spoke over them, "that's o-r-s-o-n, Orson."
"Mike?"
"Is there any news on the status of Mr Orson?"
"No."
"Danny?" Her heart was already beating far too fast, why she called on Danny, she wasn't all too sure, but when she did, a wave of relief washed over her. Danny suddenly took the focus of the briefing far away from the American, concentrating his poignant questions at the future stability of Ephar, coupled with the US's intentions insofar as a new relationship was involved. The others in the room took Danny's lead. Eric Orson was forgotten. For now.
Leo stood at the back of the briefing room, just watching her. His heart felt heavy, Danny had swept Simon Donovan under the carpet. Yet he still felt a duty to tell her – there was something in Danny's eyes that told him he knew something about CJ's feelings that the headstrong woman would never spill in the West Wing; for a moment, he wondered how much CJ still spoke to Danny. They didn't flirt with the same playfulness any more; they both seemed older, almost jaded. The file was on his desk, perhaps he should just let her see it – call Margaret and get her to leave the damn thing open for her to see. He shook his head and sighed. No, there was no need. It was then he felt a presence behind him.
"You didn't tell her yet."
"Danny..."
"You saw the pictures on CNN?"
"Yeah."
"The men in white uniforms, the ones that made a kind of shield around something before the camera panned away?"
"Yeah." Leo's brow creased, his tense posture revealed his fear over the words that would spill from the reporter's mouth.
"My source says they were protecting their leader."
"Orson?"
"Looks that way."
"I thought..."
"I know he took stood in front of the bullet meant for ben-Kurah."
"Danny!" Leo warned.
"Your sources are going to get it in about an hour – but they're not going to get the name Eric Orson. I don't want this to happen to her." Leo's eyes widened, he knew it was coming sooner or later.
"Do you know something about their relationship I should know?"
"No, but Leo, have you seen her lately? She's... empty! I don't think it's stress; I know... I know it's something more – it's loss."
Despite being disturbed by the depth with which Danny had been observing his Press Secretary, he was strangely grateful for the scruffy reporter's heart. He nodded, exhaling deeply and turning away to face up to one of those harder days. Danny watched him, standing in the shadows. He prayed for her, but more than ever, he prayed for a soul he didn't know: he hoped for a miracle.
Margaret knocked softly and entered at the sound of her boss' gruff permission. "Leo – Ron Butterfield." The tall man entered, his head bowed. His face was grave, there was pain very near the surface of his Service mask.
"Simon Donovan, Mr McGary." Leo stood.
"Ron?"
"Simon Donovan is on life support in Shuphis, the Ephari capital. His condition won't be disclosed to us, further than to say he lost a lot of blood on the scene. He is critical, the next twenty-four hours... Mr McGary... I should tell you now that CJ Cregg is named in his Last Testament."
"In what capacity?"
"Donovan wanted her to know why he left." Leo felt his stomach drop, he sat down, deflated.
"I should tell her anyway, when will his name get out?"
"To the Press, sir, I hope never. He is a national hero in Ephar, but they won't be using his American name." Leo nodded.
"Sir, I could tell her."
"Are you..." He didn't want to farm this one out, but at the same time, the offer was perfect. Ron didn't let him finish.
"I have a certain history with this, I;d like to, sir." Leo agreed, Ron had that assuring look in his eyes, and in a cowardly way, he was glad the burden had been lifted.
The knock on her door was one she hadn't heard in a long while. She glanced up from her papers and frantic typing to find exactly what she expected. His frame filled the doorway. His face was stony. Yet he was different, somehow. There was a weight on his shoulders, a hint of pain in his usually expressionless eyes. It worried her. She stood to greet him and he quickly entered, closing the door softly behind him. Ron Butterfield stood in front of her, his hands clasped before him.
"Ms Cregg. We are currently hearing more from our limited sources in Ephar." He swallowed. "As it is, we know that the personal bodyguard to President ben-Kurah is the American Eric Orson." She nods, knowing this bit already; the air is thick with nervous tension. "During the hit, he sustained serious injuries; he's in critical condition in the Shuphis Central hospital's intensive care." He took a deep breath, fixing his eyes on hers. "Ms Cregg, what I'm about to tell you is at the digression of a last testament. The Eric Orson has another name... it's Simon Donovan."
Her hands covered her gasping mouth in an instant. She backed away from her desk. As her back met the wall, she finally blinked. Tears streaked down her whitened face, her eyes wide and unseeing. Ron wanted to offer her some comfort; there was nothing he could say. She stood there for what felt to the two of them an eternity.
"He wanted you to know why he left." She lowered her hands slowly to her sides. Straightening her suit, she regained control of herself. The river of tears dried up, and her eyes froze over.
"Why are you telling me this Agent Butterfield?"
"Simon Donovan's last testament, ma'am."
"Is he dead?"
"No."
"Then why are you telling me!" Ron hung his head for a moment, taking a deep breath.
"Because he wanted you to know, CJ. He wanted to know why he couldn't stay. He wanted you to know why he had to leave you, and I can't keep it from you now. Not while he's fighting for his life. Not when all I can do is... pray." Ron turned quickly, facing the door, a hand cradled his forehead, his shoulders slumped.
CJ pushed herself away from the wall, the heart of the man in her office stunned her. She approached him slowly, numbly, and touched his shoulder. When he turned, she got an eyeful of the real man. The man who was losing someone: not a friend, but a man with whom a bond had been made over many years of dependence and mutual respect.
"You know now." Ron slipped from the room, re-adorning his game face; leaving her alone. So alone.
-TBC-