Bits and Peace
The next entry in my A/U series that already includes:
"One Flu Over The White House"
"The Politics Of Poetry"
"The Consequences Of Poetry"
"Summit Time And The Lovin' Is Easy"
"The Scoop"
"Stepping Up"
"An Open Heart"
"Faith and A Potato"
There had been books already about the Bartlet campaign. There were books coming out about the first days of the Bartlet Presidency. There would be future books about the Bartlet White House and its two terms.
God willing and after the events at Rosslyn calmed down, it seemed He might be willing.
Current and former White House staffers would probably write some of those books. Many kept journals and diaries along with every non-classified scrap of paper.
C.J. Cregg had been and would be a prominent figure in those books.
But most days she doubted she would author one of them. First, she didn't consider herself a writer. She left that to Toby Ziegler, Sam Seaborn and most of all, Danny Concannon. No, Danny wasn't a writer; he was a wordsmith of the highest order.
Second, C.J. hadn't kept a journal until the last few weeks. She corrected herself, no it hadn't started in the last few weeks, it was more like a month. Maybe.
It had begun after that night at the Newseum. C.J. found a black composition book on her desk with a note reading: "Use this" and signed with Abigail Barrington Bartlet's initials.
The First Lady spent some of her nervous energy on bullying the Staff to vent their feelings by becoming diarists. C.J. had resisted but gave in to keep Abbey from fretting about one more thing.
Every day, C.J. dutifully scribbled in the book. Most often it was a minimal few lines and she doubted she'd ever want to refer back to those entries, to those moments.
Finally, C.J. had no interest in a book because she wanted to forget about as much of what the diary covered as possible.
She hauled out the journal and wrote the date. Her wireless phone rang with her pen in midair. It sat on her desk where she'd dumped it when she started flying through the overnight news summaries.
C.J. glanced at the caller ID and rapidly answered the phone, "Danny, where are you?"
"VIP lounge, slight fog delay there."
"Will that make P.J. more anxious?"
"Didn't tell him my wheels down time. This way, I can surprise him."
"He'll like that."
"C.J., I'll be in touch as often as I can."
"I know, don't worry. It's fine." She made her tone reassuring.
"Hated seeing you walk out the door."
"Duty called." C.J. noticed Carol in the doorway and waved her off. "And duty is calling yet again."
"I love you, C.J."
"I love you, Danny."
She closed the phone and put it to her cheek as if it were Danny's face. She was glad she hadn't told him how much she'd hated seeing his luggage packed and piled up for his much delayed vacation with his son.
Danny did keep a journal or more precisely journals. One was on his computer and that was mostly dates and a few phrases. His handwritten journal was more detailed and more personal. He'd substitute a tape recorder when he didn't have a lot of time to write in it and then transcribed the entries.
Plus, Danny kept an extensive perpetual calendar that was color coded with important dates, personal and professional. It kept him focused on the essentials in his life and provided unlimited material for follow up stories.
Unlike C.J., he had gone back over entries for the past few months. It was painful but his kind of therapy.
He quickly scrawled an entry under today's date. "Worth the scramble to pack because it allowed me to be at C.J.'s place. Lucky for us it wasn't her night to be at the hospital or White House.
"We tried to be casual but it became frantic and desperate. Usually I'm torn about missing Patrick and loving D.C. This time it's the opposite.
"I worry she'll pull back again while I'm gone."
His boarding call interrupted any further insights.
(TBC)
