A/N: For John Spencer.
xiv. Black
They sit in the first row, dressed in stark colors. This isn't how they do funerals in California. But California is different. And irrelevant. He rises to pay his respects.
Josh. Donna. CJ. Toby. Countless others.He feels Ainsley grab his hand.
His lips move before he can stop them. One of the few men he respected. One of the few men who cared. Warm tears fall onto his cheeks. He doesn't care.
He begins, and the others follow his lead, all of them weeping, standing to join him. "Andrew Jackson had in his White House a big block of cheese…"