Chapter X – These Walls
CJ stood still and closed her eyes. Ron had shut the door softly, he had left gently after dropping the hugest of bombs on her life. Simon Donovan was in Ephar, he had been protecting Jeremiah ben-Kurah. He had been walking a few paces ahead, no doubt on the correct side. Simon would have been watching, waiting. Then he did his job. He did his damned job! Something snapped in her mind. Perhaps it was jealousy. Maybe it was that old feeling of betrayal and anger. Whatever it was, it took hold of her and wouldn't let go: she hurt from head to toe.
Through the blinds, she must have looked like a ghost, a mere apparition of CJ Cregg. People passed by, busy and impervious to the woman withering away. She didn't know how long she was stood there for, time seemed to have stopped.
The door burst open: "CJ we just got news, the attack was by the Ephari Suprematist League, they're – they're a racial group, aiming to..." She hadn't moved an inch since he entered, "aiming... CJ?" Still, nothing. "CJ?" Her eyes found his, he felt the life drain out of him. "CJ... what's wrong?" Toby's voice took a soothing tone that very rarely featured in the West Wing. "CJ?" Just the stare. Toby tentatively reached a hand out to touch her arm. She looked right through him. "CJ, are you ok?" Nothing. "Come on, CJ talk to me!" Her eyes focused on him, recognition flashed across her face and as her pupils widened, she started to cry silent tears. He caught the first couple with soft hands before she fell into his willing arms. Toby held his friend tightly; he was scared. Scared that someone, or something had done this to her, and moreover that he'd never experienced this side of CJ Cregg before. Rocking her back and forth like a child, he hushed her. Finally, she drew away from him, there was a little colour in her cheeks and her eyes had softened.
"Simon's dying." It was a statement, there was no feeling, detachment only.
"Simon, CJ?" Toby's face morphed into puzzlement.
"He's dying... in Ephar, Toby."
"Oh God... he's not... Orson?" She nodded her head weakly. "He?" She nodded again, Toby had worked it all out; he was horrified when he remembered the look in her eyes the day Donovan had left. That something he thought was hurt at a push had been something deeper. If he could lay his hands on that... he sighed, no he wouldn't.
"CJ?" She smiled so faintly her lips hardly moved. "CJ you're shivering." And she was, not violently, just little shakes, her skin was covered in goose flesh. She nodded and followed Toby to her couch, where he gently wrapped her Afghan around her shoulders and took her cold hands in his. "Better?" CJ nodded. She was in shock partly because of the revelation, but more so the way it had gone right through to the core of her being. She cared; she cared more than anything.
The cruel sound of the ventilator filled the room. Two men in peacock blue stood at the door, two more stood, one in each window. In the centre of the room, by the bed, the Ephari President sat, solemnly watching the bandaged chest of the man he called brother rise and fall. The surgeons had been at work for the past six hours, their patient was stable, but his body was a broken mess. The left shoulder blade was shattered; it had taken the full impact of the first shot. Another five bullets had ripped into the American. One went through the left biceps, another following the first into the shoulder. The other three wreaked havoc in the left side of the chest cavity, causing a collapsed lung and damage to the diaphragm. Tubes drained blood from his chest, tubes fed air into his lungs; sedatives and pain relief were given intravenously. Jeremiah sat transfixed. His hand found its way to the scar on his neck. Silently, in his mind he damned his culture, and he wished for a moment that Simon was not a man of his word. This was the deal; this was the debt, yet it felt wrong: utterly wrong. The hours ticked on. Still the only sounds were the machines; the heavy sound of the ventilator punctuated only by the digital sound that signified Simon's heart rhythm. Doctors and government advisors came and went. The President did not move.
Alone in her apartment, CJ sat in shadow, turning for the first time to a bottle. Jack Daniels. Not her drink of choice, but she kept a bottle for the times, although few and far between, that Toby had come around. Tonight, she didn't want Toby there. She wanted to escape for a few hours. It was the first step of many before the fall. She knew that, but somehow it just didn't matter.
A tall figure knelt at the side of a neatly made single bed. Ron clasped his hands together, they held a rosary tight. The beads were counted away. The prayers were whispered. Only the light from the lamp in the hall breathed any warmth into the room. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of the young Ranger, the Chicago cop, the Special Agent. The thought that surpassed them all was the truth in the man he'd seen the morning he last laid eyes on Simon Donovan. Life wasn't about how good you could be at your job, he knew Simon was that, but he'd been empty. CJ had given him life. He knew that now, and he felt the guilt of the world for taking it away. There was the Ranger's code, there was the Ephari custom they had come to respect as their own – there was human loyalty and the unbroken word of a noble man. There were so many reasons, excuses. None of them seemed to justify it. It was their job, the purpose of their lives to protect, to stand in harms way, but somehow it felt like they had been cheated, duped into it. Ron asked God for a lot of things that night, but the only words he hoped the Almighty would hear were for a man who kept his word, who was courageous, and who was probably dying because of it. Show mercy, Lord. Give me peace.
Work the next morning hurt for CJ, her head was thumping and she felt the periodic urge to throw up. She saw the way they all looked at her; they all knew – all of her friends knew, Leo had told them. They all looked at the dark circles around her eyes that she had not bothered to cover up. They saw the emptiness and confusion. No one said anything, they could figure what had happened the night before. The only man qualified to scold her for it kept his distance; he should have told her himself and it pained him. Danny's eyes were avoidable in the briefings, but she knew they were on her. All these men looked at her, they felt sorrow for her, but knew that she was unreachable – she was beyond their touch. The day dragged on, she caught herself starring at her goldfish, there was no news from Ephar. Nothing.
President Bartlett spared himself a moment, he looked at the clock in the Oval Office, it counted the seconds; time marched on without him for a moment as he wondered when they would fix up the telephones in Ephar. The door opened, preceded by a brief knock. It was Charlie.
"President ben-Kurah on your line." Charlie's expression was heavy, his eyes weary. Jed nodded and reached over to the phone and answered the flashing light, his tone was even, controlled. The thoughts that ran through his head were numerous, but they came to rest on the American he knew would become a part of this conversation:
"Mr President!"
-TBC-