"Just the names stay the same…"
Notes: The character of Abby Jacobs was created for the Aaron Sorkin television series, Sports Night. She gave therapy to the main character, Danny "Dan" Rydell ---one of the hosts of Sports Night. She does not belong to me-- Crossover.
Companion Piece: The Dover Test.
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"Part of healing is going on."
--Leo's nurse to Leo in The Dover Test
---
Abby Jacobs stood above her desk in her darkly lit office. It was just barely the end of the day. Her assistant was gone for the night and Abby was getting things together before she left for the evening. It was nine o'clock and the typical day's end for her. The room was spacious and had a cluttered organization to it, a desk, books and such, bookcases to place them on, a leather couch, medical degrees on the walls, and a large window with a view of the Manhattan sky line.
There was a small knock on the door and Abby looked up from beneath her reading glasses to see the man she would later discover was Danny Concannon.
"Hello?" Danny led with his head, lingering in the doorway. Abby raised her head and body up from her writing to give Danny her full view. She wasn't expecting visitors.
"Hi."
"Hi, I'm a friend of Dan Rydell's—" he said, feeling uncomfortable. Abby knew that look. "He said I could stop by…"
"You're a friend of Danny's?" She set the pen cap on the pen she had been writing with.
"Yeah---"
"You're—?
"Danny Concannon." He nodded his head.
"Another Danny?"
"Yeah."
"Dan's friend Danny."
"Yeah."
"How do you know Dan?" She circled around her desk and closer to Danny.
"Fellow journalist."
"You on TV too?"
"Ohh—noo." Danny laughed. "Print." He paused. "I'm a White House reporter." It just came out and Danny didn't even realize he had said it. He hadn't been a White House reporter in three years.
"You meet Dan drinking—but who doesn't meet Dan drinking?' She made a joke Danny didn't get. "Sit down." She motioned toward the couch.
"I don't mean to take—"
"No, no, sit."
"'Cause I could come back…"
"No…"
"Dan said--- he said you were a good person to talk to—told me I should stop by…"
"Well, my last appointment canceled so—" She noticed he still held onto his bag and coat over his arm. "You can put those down."
"Oh, yeah…sure." Danny set his things next to the couch and threw his coat on the arm of the chair. She motioned with her head for Danny to sit, but he didn't sit.
"You gonna sit."
"Sure." Danny didn't move.
"You know you can sit."
"Huh?" He leaned forward toward her.
"Sit, bend you legs—the opposite of a standing upright position."
"Oh, yeah---sorry." Danny walked toward the couch while Abby sat in the chair across from the couch, only Danny walked right past Abby and over to the window.
"Never been to therapy, have you?"
"I don't usual have the time."
"So, never." She turned in her chair to look at him.
"Well—not never—I mean a friend of mine is a therapist and last year I---but he was my friend so it was—so no, I guess no I haven't been to a ... before." He put his hands in his pockets and faced Abby. "I've always been a kind of happy go lucky kinda of a guy."
"That doesn't mean you never had problems. We all have problems, Danny."
"Not me." He said looking down and then up at her again. "Well till about seven years ago." Danny stopped as he heard the words out loud for the first time. "Seven years---man, has it been that long—see I'm losing track of time. I don't know what I've done in the last three years—it feels like hardly two—you know there's a whole year of my life I can't even remember—I can't account for a year of my life—"
"Life can do that—we do the same thing—day after day—we fail into a rut—we want more and we can't distinguish one year from the next. It's common. Monotony can cause depression—unhappiness—uncertainty. What have you been doing for the last three years?"
"I've been on the road."
"Your name's familiar, would I know you from anything?"
"I write for the Post?"
"New York?"
"Washington." Danny walked toward the window.
"Here we only have one Post, sorry."
"Well, in Washington we only have one Post."
"Wait—The Post? I know you—you broke that whole--"
"Shariff thing – Yeah—I don't like--."
"You have a Pulitzer."
"Yeah. Two."
"I meant that." She crossed her legs. "Two Pulitzers? That doesn't make you feel fulfilled?"
"Who says I'm not fulfilled."
"You're the one's who's here. Most people don't come to me because they need help de-filling the void."
"True." He looked toward her and back out the window as he reached it and stood.
"So, you're not fulfilled in some way?"
"I don't know---I mean I do know—it feels great—all I ever wanted to do was be a writer." Danny looked out the window again.
"Why did you become a writer, Danny?" Abby spoke softly as if she wasn't in the conversation at all, just keeping it going.
"For the same reason any man becomes—does anything---to get women.—to show off. I wanted to show off."
"Because you write like no one else?"
"I have two Pulitzers." Danny joked back in a dry tone.
"So I've heard." Abby gave it back to him under a half smile.
"I've always had a way with words—and when I started writing—for the first time I started to get attention from people---and I liked that."
"Who wouldn't?"
"But don't get me wrong—that's not just it—I love the attention, but I mean---I love it. Writing. The whole thing. I love the sound my fingers make on the keys – how the pencil feels between my fingers—in my hands. I hear people say that they can't wait to go home. I can't wait until I go to work. I know some newspaper men—some broadcasters---they don't read the competition—they don't know anything about it---they just do their thing and that's it. I don't understand that. They don't have the passion. How can you be in this business and not have a passion for it? How can you want to do something without wanting to know everything about it—going in with both hands? It doesn't seem right to me? I mean how can they do that?"
"I don't know Danny." She paused. "I'm not a journalist."
"Ahh—it makes sense in all things." He waved it off.
"I can see how you and Dan have a lot in common."
"I feel foolish." Danny blurted out.
"You feel foolish being here?"
"I just feel foolish."
"Okay—Danny, I'm gonna need more than that?"
"I'm stuck in this thing and I feel foolish."
"This thing?"
"A thing."
"There are many things, Danny—you can't assume everyone will know what you mean when you say that?"
"I never had trouble before." He muttered to himself. "I don't sleep."
"At all?"
"That much."
"Lack of sleep can play games with your head Danny. It messes with your chemical make-up--- the way the brain functions. Sleep and food are like what water and sun are to a flower or a plant. We need it to function correctly—make decisions. But not sleeping alone can't just be the problem. It can be an indicator---and a contributor." Danny didn't answer her. "Take a pill, then."
"You're not much help, you know that?"
"Either are you." She stood up. "You want me to help you—I'll help you, Danny—but you gotta give me something, here. You gotta help me so I can help you."
"Okay, okay."
"You wanna sit?"
"Do I really have to—I like to walk."
"Sure." She paused and no one said anything. "You were saying?"
"Yeah." He nodded his head.
"You feel foolish why, Danny?"
"I can't stop thinking about…"
"Danny….?" She tried to get something out of him.
"A woman."
"This is about a woman?"
"Yes."
"You feel foolish—this is about a woman?"
"Yes."
"We're all human. Who is she?"
"I can't tell you…."
"I need more than…"
"Let's just call her Claudia."
"Have you had a relationship with this Claudia?"
"It's unspoken."
"I see…." But Abby really didn't.
"And in many ways it's not."
"I still don't…."
"It's hard to explain."
"That's why I'm here, Danny. I'm here for you to explain to. We have a whole session—take your time."
"See if I just wait out a year—then I'll know my answer—then I'll know for sure and I think if I knew for sure it would be easier…then I'll get over it---then if she says no---I'll want to get over it. Now I just don't. Which means I'm fighting with myself. I got so much conflict inside of me I just don't know what to do with myself. I used to have all the patience in the world and now I can't wait one lousy year."
"A year---it sounds like she's locked off somewhere---she's not, right?"
"Like in jail? Noooo."
"Okay." She paused. "It's just hard, Danny if you can't tell me things like this---"
"I can't tell anyone what she does." Danny was resolute about it.
"You can't tell me her name or what she does—What, does she work for the government?" She paused and saw Danny's face. "Sorry. I just—is she in the witness protection program?" Danny gave her another look. "Sorry—I'm sorry." She paused. "Danny, you don't have to tell me anything you're not ready to tell me---but it's kind of my job—and if I don't know all the facts I can't help you—I can't help you help yourself."
"I feel like I'd be betraying her trust."
"Danny, this is all private—I can't tell anyone anything---if she did something---or you did something I can't tell anyone—this is all between us---like on The Sopranos—sorry I forget who I'm talking to. That usually works with all my patients." She thought for a moment to find Danny's language. "Like the second amendment." Danny walked toward her.
"The second amendment is the right to bear arms, you gonna shoot me?"
"Sorry—ahhh."
"The fifth amendment." He was now next to her.
"Yeah."
Danny sat down on the couch and put his hands together looking down.
"Danny, you need to speak for this to work—" Abby stood up and walked toward the door. "If you're going to be misleading, Danny ----I should just end this session now---I'm not interested in…."
"She's The Press Secretary." Danny looked up at Abby.
"I'm sorry?" She looked back at Danny.
"Well, she was--- ---now she's the Chief of Staff—which just makes it more complicated."
"At the White House?" She said trying not to act surprised.
"Yes."
"Okay." Abby sat herself down. "I understand now." She paused, sitting inches from Danny's face. Looking up, he stared at her. They talked in hushed voices.
"We, didn't have a relationship—we couldn't."
"Unspoken." Abby was getting it.
"Well, she wouldn't—now I understand---I never did—now I do." He paused. "I had a story—see I had this story and for all sorts of reasons it made sense for me to bury it—for the moment—in hindsight---but reporters don't do that—we don't bury stories for three days."
"You think you did it for her?"
"Looking back… Yes."
"And now you've been running away?"
"I don't know."
"You been on the road since…?"
"I don't know---a few months after I posted."
"I think you do know, Danny ---and I think you're afraid if you go back…….you'll do it again. That's it isn't it?"
"There's more."
"More?"
"She did it too."
"Did what?"
"She…." He paused.
"Danny, you need to get this out---you've been trying to get it out for three years…haven't you?"
"She gave me the heads up—she did it back to me—she did what she was afraid would happen—what we both did…"
"Danny, I need more than that—you're talking like I know---Like I was there—I wasn't there. Tell me like I wasn't there?"
"She told me to post."
"To post?"
"The story—I held it—for three days—that was the agreement—between her and me—and Leo—and I did it—I agreed—I wouldn't do it for anything other than an exclusive---but looking back…"
"If it hadn't been her?"
"I don't know---I mean they said it was security reasons….I believed them—and it ended up it was true, so I was right."
"You believed her?"
"Yes, but looking back…."
"So, she told you to post your story?" Abby was backtracking because she was lost.
"Post it—send it to press—post it on line---I'd already lost my exclusive, but that wasn't her fault---although I gave her flack for it---I mean it was their fault she was missing they had to know that…"
"Who was missing? Are you talking about Zoey Bartlet—was this about Shariff?"
"It doesn't matter—we both did something we shouldn't have—the conflict of interest I said would never happen came and bit me in the ass…..irony for ya—I got sucked in and then it all came back to haunt me. She told me to post—she knew they were going to bypass me and announce….and she told me to post." He was getting teary eyed. "It was the greatest gift she ever gave me---. I couldn't even begin to thank her. And there we were…………and that's when I left."
"So, now on top of this longing—you feel guilt?"
"Yeah." Danny leaned in toward his hands and Abby leaned in toward him.
"So you can't go back because you love her and she won't have you—and you can't go back because you're afraid you won't be able to do your job. Even if she's not Press Secretary?"
"Even if she's not Press Secretary."
"A whole new ball a' wax?"
"You said it." Danny looked at his watch. "I have to go." He said through a small rasp.
"We have ten more minutes." She stood as Danny did.
"I'm sorry I know, it's just that I have a flight." Danny picked his jacket up off the couch and put it on, and instantly he was back in work mode.
"Why did you come now, if you had a flight?"
"I had a lay over."
"Wait, you scheduled therapy for yourself in between flights?"
"Yeah, I had time, I stopped by..."
"That's . . ."
"My job."
"Weird."
"It's my job, I'm sorry—really sorry." He slid his bag over his arm.
"Okay?" She didn't know what to make of it. "Why don't we look at our schedules and see what time would work for next week.
"I can't come next week, I'll be in Houston."
"Danny, are you really going to take this seriously? If you want help—like you say you do—you have to take this seriously."
"I do. I want to. I just don't have the time right now—I'm always traveling and I live in DC anyway."
"If you live in DC—you should see a therapist there."
"I'm never there." Danny made sure he had his ticket.
"And you don't think that maybe you're just avoiding all this by being on the road?"
"It's my job. I don't like it. But it's my job."
"You're not trying to avoid her."
"At first maybe—but now I really do have things to do…" Danny looked away knowing full well what he was doing. She folded her arms and gave her a look. "Listen, thank you---this was a help." Abby didn't seem to believe him. "This really is my job—I go where the stories are."
"You said you're a White House reporter."
"It's an election season!"
"Not last year."
"It's always an election season."
"Don't be cute. I have never found cute interesting or beguiling."
"Oh." There was a silence. "I've always had that to fall back on."
"Listen.' She paused, circled her desk, and pulled out a business card. "This is my card." She walked toward Danny and handed him her card. "We're going to set up a time for you—once a week."
"I.."
"Once a week." She shushed him with her finger and continued her sentence. "This is my last appointment of the day—I'll be here—you can stop by—you can call me—you can not call me. Whatever you want? But I'll always keep this half hour open." Danny looked at her, not believing her. "I'm serious." She paused again. "And I'll only charge you if you call—so don't think this is some kind of scam 'cause it's not." Danny didn't respond. "Do we have a deal?"
Danny looked at her and saw something in her. He trusted her, and yet he wasn't sure.
"Okay." Danny took the card. "But no promises."
"Same here."
"I'm sorry?"
"No promises, here either."
"Okay." Danny looked at the card. "You spell Abby without an E," he bemused.
"Yeah?" she wondered why he asked.
"It's just I was thinkin' before, the last time I was interviewing an Abby like . . ."
"This wasn't an interview, Danny."
"Sorry---last time I was in with an Abbey like this, she spelled her name with an E.Y."
"Oh, really who was that?"
"The First Lady." Danny put the card in his pocket.
"Of the United States?" Her voice cracked and she stopped in her tracks as much as she could since she was standing still.
"Yeah."
"Abigail Bartlet—?" Abby was impressed and taken aback "You call Abigail Bartlet—Abbey?"
" I did." He laughed. "Now I just call her Ma'am."
"I see." She took a gulp.
"It's okay—I'm sorry…. it's old hat for me --I forget most of the time. Really."
"Yeah…" It was suddenly hitting her what would be in store for her. "Don't you have a flight?"
"Yeah." He started to leave.
"And please do call me, Danny." She spoke as he left. Danny turned to her.
"Yeah." He said, his voice rising up, in a way that seemed very non-committal. "I should get going." He motioned toward the door.
"Healing is moving on, Danny, but in a different way. You can go on with your life and you can wait—and live in a small case of denial--but that doesn't mean you can't ask for help along the way." She paused.
"Yeah." And Danny was gone. Abby, with no E, circled toward her desk again before standing behind it like she had when Danny at first entered.
"I hope you do call Danny." She spoke to herself. "I hope you do."