"Prometheus Found" part 2
================



CJ dropped into the corner of the couch shortly after she entered her
office. Staff had been postponed until she arrived, the ever observant
Carol having made the arrangements with Leo. Her assistant had also farmed
out most of the meetings CJ had missed to the deputies. The advance
meeting with Henry about the President's trip to India was put off until
later that afternoon.

Staff had been blissfully short: a blessing in disguise as CJ's thoughts
kept wandering to her confrontation with Danny that morning. He had left
by the time she was finished with her shower and she wasn't sure what to
make of it. When her thoughts weren't on Danny, they drifted to how much
her head seemed to pound with every word said in Leo's office.

The sooner this day ended the better, she'd decided.

Closing her eyes and laying her head back against the couch, she chose to
ignore tell tale signs that told her Toby had followed her back to her office.

"You look like something the cat dragged in, and considering the behemoth
of a feline you happen to house, that scenario is entirely possible," Toby
said from his post in the doorway.

"Go away, Toby. I'm not up for any verbal sparring today," CJ replied,
drawing the throw from the back of her couch to cover her shoulders.

"I can see that."

"Then why are you still here?"

He stepped into the room and sat on the corner of her couch. "If you can
manage to keep your germs to yourself, I'd like your opinion on this."

A stack of papers, bound by a binder clip, fell in her lap. Without
lifting her head, she held the papers at arm's length away from her eyes.

"Not wearing your contacts today?" Toby asked.

"Shut up."

"Where are your glasses?"

"I don't know."

Toby crossed to her desk and checked several desk drawers. After finding
her spare case, he moved to sit next to CJ on the couch. He opened the
case and handed her the spectacles. "Here."

"Thanks," CJ mumbled, slipping on the glasses and reaching to turn on the
lamp next to her.

Quickly skimming through the first page of 20 point sans sarif font, CJ's
face contorted with mock disgust. "This again? I thought you had the U.N.
speech locked last night?" she whined. "It took three days of arguing with
the NSC, the NSA, not to mention Nancy McNally, and now you're changing
it? Again?"

Toby reached over and turned to the page flagged by the small yellow
post-it note. "Just read this part."

CJ swatted his hand away and brought the page closer so that she could read
it better. She turned the pages into the light and read quietly aloud.

"'Freedom must run deeper than the free flow of capital. Freedom must mean
more than the free trade of goods and services. The world will be free when
we have freedom of speech for every nation.

"'The world will be free when there is freedom to worship for everyone. The
world will be free when we finally shake off the rusted chains of tyranny,
whether in the guise of fascist dictatorships or economic slavery, ethnic
hostility or the crushing yoke of fanaticism.'"

CJ grimaced and glared at the man sitting next to her. "One word. You
asked me to look at something and you've only changed one word?"

Toby pointed at the middle of the page. "Keep reading."

With a huff, CJ resumed.

"'We have a great deal to learn from the values of belief and faith. We
have a great deal to learn from acceptance and conviction. There is a
great deal to learn from tolerance and trust.

"'When there is freedom from intolerance, freedom from tyranny, freedom
from slavery, freedom from hostility, freedom from fanaticism, there will
be freedom for acceptance and freedom for our convictions.'"

CJ paused, quickly reading through the next paragraph to see that it had
not changed in any way. "How much of this did Andy write?"

Toby shrugged. "About a sentence. She doesn't have Bartlet's voice."

"So, what do you want me to do here?" CJ asked. "Tell you that you're not
whipped, that you didn't just sell out for the sake of marital harmony?"

"Ex-wife. Ex-wife," Toby reiterated.

There was a knock at the door. Carol leaned into the office and pointed to
the televisions in the bookcase across from them. "You may want to turn
those on. It's hit most of the major networks."

"What has?" CJ asked, reaching for the remotes on the coffee table.

"Volcanic eruption in the Virunga region, near the border between the Congo
and Rwanda. The city of Goma was in the lava path."



~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~


The Press room wasn't crowded when CJ walked up to the podium for the ad
hoc briefing on the crisis in Goma. As the reporters took notice of her
entrance, they started to take their seats. The in-house staff reporter
taping the briefing for the closed circuit televisions tapped the boom mike
on his camera and pointed to the microphone on the podium. CJ flipped a
toggle on the podium mic and the cameraman gave her a 'thumbs up'.

Placing her Starbucks coffee cup on the podium, CJ donned her glasses and
looked up to see who was in attendance. It was a Saturday: most of the
regular crew was there in the hopes that they might get a sneak peak at
Monday's UN address even though CJ had been adamant that they would see the
speech Sunday night.

Katie raised the notebook in her hand. "CJ, is there any news on the
extent of the eruption?"

CJ opened her briefing notebook, though she didn't need her notes to answer
the question. "At last report, a 7 foot high river of lava erupted from
the Mt. Nyiragongo -- that's N-Y-I-R-A-G-O-N-G-O -- volcano, engulfing
villages on the slope of the mountain before flowing through the city of
Goma. It is now headed to Lake Kivu -- K-I-V-U -- on the Rwandan border."

"Any casualties?" Mark asked as Katie took her seat.

"45 at last count," CJ replied, "nearly all from the villages along the
slope of the mountain."

Mike from the Chicago Sun Times rose his hand. "Was there any warning
before the eruption?"

CJ pulled a fact sheet out of her binder and waved it for all to see. "Mt.
Nyiragongo is one of 8 volcanoes that border both Rwanda and the Democratic
Republic of Congo. Only two of the eight are active and have been under
surveillance by a number of local, national and international science
organizations such as Observatoire Volcanologique, the British Geological
Survey and the United States Geological Survey. They report that there had
been a number seismic tremors in the area, but that in and of itself is not
unusual."

Mike from the San Francisco Chronicle followed, "Has there been any
indication that the other volcano in the region--" he consulted his
notebook, "Mt. Nyamuragira -- will erupt as well?"

"Again, seismologists and volcanologists in the area say they are
monitoring the situation."

Arthur asked, "Has the President spoken with the UN Secretary-General?"

"Yes, the President has called Mr. Annan. The UN Secretary General has
offered assurances to both the Congolese and Rwandan governments that he
will put the assets of the United Nations to full use in assisting those
governments with the consequences of this disaster. Mr. Annan is sending a
disaster assessment team to the area."

"Any accounting of refugees, where they might be headed?" Arthur asked as a
follow-up.

"UN officials say that some, as many as 50,000, have fled to other
Congolese villages. Three times that amount have headed over the border
into Rwanda."

"Isn't that like sending the child with a lit match to fetch the
tinderbox?" someone asked.

CJ chose to ignore the comment, and nodded to one of the interns standing
in the aisle. "Howie is going to pass out a packet with some of the
background information that we've collected for you. Just to hit a few of
the highlights: this particular volcano was active last in 1994 when lava
filled the volcanic crater near the summit. The last destructive eruption
occurred in 1977. Two thousand people died when a 1000-meter wide lake of
lava erupted from a number of fissures, flowing down the mountain at speeds
of 40 miles per hour. I'm told that's the fastest lava flow on record."

"CJ," Chris called, "the UN is in Goma to help with refugees from the
on-going civil war, as well as the World Health Organization and Save the
Children. Has there been mention if any of these groups will pull out of
the region for safety reasons?"

"At this point," CJ said, referencing her notes, "no one is leaving the area."

"CJ, will the President address today's events in New York on Monday?"
Katie asked.

"I haven't asked, but I wouldn't be surprised."

Arthur asked loudly, "Are we ever going to see an advance of the speech?"

"Sunday night, like I told you yesterday. Okay, that's all I have for you
now. I'll see you again at 4 o'clock for your regularly scheduled briefing
where we will be discussing everyone's favorite topic, the President's
Primary schedule and who gets a ticket to the ball."

There was a round of laughter as she closed her briefing book.

"CJ, one last question," Carl called out.

Hoping no one noticed the grimace she was sure crossed her face CJ looked
up and stared down Carl with a forced smile.

"Bill Price was working with the UN in the Congo when he was killed by
MaiMai soliders working for the Congolese government. Is the President
willing to risk the lives of other Americans by allowing them to stay on in
the Congo?"

The room fell silent. CJ remembered the look on some of their faces last
night, the ones that were still around when she walked into the press area
to inform any reporters that were still in the building about Bill Price's
death. All of them turned en masse on Carl and then looked to CJ for her
answer.

CJ took a deep breath before answered. "The President is concerned for
every American living and working abroad. He is also concerned about the
tens of thousands of displaced refugees caught between a rock and a hard
place. If the President's security advisors deem it necessary to recall
Americans working in the Congo, he will give his decision all due
consideration."

She looked about the room and stepped away from the podium. "I'll see you
all at 4 PM."

Carol met her at the bottom of the stairs and handed her a water
bottle. "Toby told me to give this to you and tell you that you look like
hell and should go home."

Taking the water, CJ glared at Carol. Her assistant held up her hands in
surrender. "Don't shoot the messenger. I'm only following orders."

"That defense didn't work at Nuremburg, Carol."

They started down the hallway towards CJ's office. Carol handed her a pink
message note. "Danny called."

CJ stopped. Grabbing the message, she read through it quickly and shoved
it in her pocket. "Anything else?" she asked as they continued to her
office.

"Yeah, Sam wants to see you for a few minutes," Carol replied as they
reached the outer office.

"Did he say why?" CJ inquired from the door to her office.

"Nope, just that he wants to see you. Maybe you should tell him you'll see
him tomorrow."

"Don't you start," warned CJ as she opened her door.

Danny was sitting on her couch, reading the newspaper. His visitor's tag
was flipped over his right shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, hoping her voice really didn't sound
as it did in her head.

After folding the newspaper over his knee, Danny picked up a large paper
bag that was next to him on the couch. "Provisions."

With exaggerated motions, he opened the bag and started pulling out the
supplies he had brought with him. He lined them up on the coffee table.
"Vitamin C, Day-Quil, decongestant, cough lozenges, bottle of water, bottle
of orange juice and Tylenol."

"Thank you," CJ said in a monotone. She sat down next to him on the couch.

When he tried to place the back of his hand against her forehead, she
batted his hand away. "Danny--"

"I know, I know," he placated, turning so that he could lean his side
against the back of the couch. "I just worry. When can you get out of here?"

CJ leaned back and let her head drape over the cushion. "We're waiting on
confirmation from our ambassadors in Rwanda and the Congo that someone's
declared the border a disaster area so USAID can send money and supplies,
then I will have to brief on that. I have to meet with Henry after the 4
PM briefing about India. The UN speech needs to be re-written. Again."

Danny nodded and stood. "Do you want me to bring you anything for dinner?"

"No," she replied quietly. "I'm not hungry now, I doubt I'm going to be
hungry then."

"Okay." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Take care of
yourself. Don't work too hard."

Closing her eyes, CJ listened as Danny left her office and tried to rub the
headache away with the heel of her hand.



end part 2

"Prometheus Found" (3/8)
================

Danny was tugging off his Visitor's pass when he spotted Will Sawyer
leaving the building with a box in his hand. Signing the log sheet as he
returned the pass, Danny jogged through the security checkpoint to catch up
to the other reporter.

"Will Sawyer!"

The tall, lanky reporter slowly turned around to find the voice that had
called his name. His canvas jacket, weather worn and torn in some places,
was open in the front, revealing a faded denim shirt covered by the ends of
a wool scarf draped around and under the collar of his jacket. His hands
were red and raw from the cold wind that had whipped through the District
that morning, the knuckles slightly whitened under the strain of weight in
the box he carried. His eyes lit in recognition and his face carried a
barely there, sardonic smile.

"Danny Concannon. I thought you left for greener pastures in the world of
features articles."

"I'm here visiting someone."

With a lift of his eyebrow, he replied, "The fact that you are currently
seeing CJ Cregg is one of the worst kept secrets in the White House,
followed only by the fact that Leo's a recovering alcoholic."

Danny shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, I was here to see CJ. She kicked me
out of her office."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"No," Danny replied, hoping that his voice did not betray him. "If you
hadn't heard, there's been a volcanic eruption in the Congo and a speech to
the assembled United Nations on Monday that needs rewriting because of said
volcanic eruption."

"I hadn't heard," Will said in a tone that indicated that he really had.

"Sleeping through the briefings again, Will?" Danny asked playfully.

Will lifted the box off his hip and swung it in front of him as a
demonstration. "Packing up my desk."

"Getting pulled off the White House beat."

Danny briefly wondered if Will had been offered Bill Price's position.

"Taking a sabbatical teaching position with American University," Will
responded, bouncing the box off his thighs as he reached his
car. "Journalism ethics."

"No field slots that interest you?"

Will shook his head as he propped the box against the bumper of his
car. "No field slots that my paper can afford to send me to. A buddy of
mine runs the Journalism department over at American University, asked if I
would like to fill a temp spot that he has. Re-election and
scandal-of-the-week are not my thing, so I'd rather be there then here,"
the tall man replied, throwing his head in the direction of the building
they just vacated.

Opening the trunk of the beat-up Toyota Celica, Will wedged his box of desk
trinkets in between the motley assortment of tire irons and plastic egg
crates filled to the brim.

"When's your class start?" Danny asked, bracing his hand on the
under-carriage of the hatchback trunk.

"Day after tomorrow."

"Good. Join me for a few beers and some dinner. We'll talk about old
times in the Press room."

Will looked at his watch. "It's barely 2:30 PM."

"And your point being--"

Will returned with a raised eyebrow and a drawling, "Okaaaay."

"My schedule just opened up," Danny rationalized. "I hate eating by myself
and we haven't chewed the fat since you left for Myanmar."

"We didn't chew the fat before I left for Myanmar."

Danny shrugged his shoulders. "Let's say I have ulterior motives."

Will pointed at the passenger side of his car. "Hop in."



~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~



Sam noticed that the door to CJ's office was slightly ajar so he knocked
first before toeing open the door. He found CJ camped out on her couch,
one throw blanket wrapped around her legs and another around her
shoulders. A briefing book was propped against her knees; her glasses had
slipped to the end of her nose. She had her hands wrapped around a
steaming cup of tea.

"Feeling a bit under the weather?" Sam asked, noting the arrangement of
medicine and juice bottles on the coffee table.

"It's freezing in here. Did the heat go out again?" CJ asked, swinging her
legs so that she sat normally on the couch and drawing the blanket about
her shoulders closer to her body.

Sam didn't think the room was all that cold but kept his comments to
himself. "I don't think so. But I could check for you." He hooked his
thumb over his shoulder as if indicating he would hunt down whoever was
responsible for the climate control in the White House.

"Don't bother. Carol said you wanted to see me."

"I did," Sam replied, stepping into the office. He roamed from the door to
her desk to the door again. Every few seconds he stopped, looked as if he
was about to say something, and then started on his pacing track once again.

"My kingdom for a paintball gun," CJ moaned as she watched him strut and fret.

Sam came to a halt, turned towards her. "You know, Toby said something
very similar to me a couple of weeks ago."

"My patience is a bit thin today, Spanky," warned CJ. "Spill it or get out."

Sam spotted the continuing coverage of the eruption in Goma on one of
several television screens. "I once heard this very interesting story
while I was at Duke. Did you know that there might have been a volcanic
eruption in North Carolina shortly after the New Madrid earthquakes in
1811? It's a matter of folk lore really, but --"

"Sam! Point, please!"

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Sam swayed back and forth on the balls of
his feet. "Hypothetically speaking, if you walked into a room dressed to
the nines and I were to say to you something to the effect of 'you'd make a
good dog break his leash', would you be offended?"

CJ stared at him impassively for a time. Sam started to fidget with each
passing second when she didn't have a reply.

"CJ?"

She blinked, once, twice. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"A hypothetical situation. If you--"

"I know what you said," CJ interrupted, shivering slightly under her
blanket. "What I want to know is what did you say exactly, to whom did you
say it, and will this hit me in the press room?"

"You see, the thing is--" Sam said, a smile darting across his features.

CJ threw a pillow at him. "Short version, please."

"Ainsley walked into the bullpen last night. I in essence told her she
looked hot. Celia the Temp took offense. And then Ainsley, Ginger, Bonnie,
Celia, Charlie and I had a discussion about lipstick feminism. Or was it
stiletto feminism? I don't re--"

Pointing to her office door, CJ voiced loudly, "Out! Get out."

"What? CJ?!"

"My head already hurts, you are going to make it explode, so I don't want
to hear any more. Out, out --"

"Damn spot," Sam chorused. At CJ's furious look, he amended, "Sorry, I
couldn't resist."

"I've told you twice to get out, there will not be a third time."

Sam snapped his fingers. "Gotcha. Leaving."

Before he left her office, he rounded on his heel and leaned through the
door. "Though, you really don't look so hot, and I don't mean in the 'make
a good dog break his leash' kind of way. You should go home."

"The next person to suggest I go home," CJ bellowed, "is going to get
socked in the teeth! Do you hear me, Carol!"

On command, Carol appeared in her door. "Loud and clear, boss." She threw
a look over her shoulder. "Henry's here to see you."

CJ stood up, dropping the throw behind her on the couch. She walked to her
desk to find a folder. "Send him in."




~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~



The first pitcher was nearly empty and a replay of the last Wizards' game
was well into third quarter on the television above the bar. The plates on
the table had long been cleaned. The waitress stepped to their table, long
enough to pick up the dishes and ask if they wanted a refill on the
pitcher. Danny nodded yes and Will asked for a few glasses of water.

"So," Will began, drawing circles on the table top with the tines of a fork
left behind by the waitress. "You didn't drag me here to talk about my
adventures in Southeast Asia and I'm certainly not interested in hearing
about the latest multi-part feature you're researching on dead presidents."

There was a tug of a smile at the corner of Danny's mouth. He couldn't
delay any longer and he was surprised Will stuck around as long as he
did. They watched the first half of the game and Danny played commentator
as they ate, filling Will in on all the major staff, team and player
changes in the NBA and MLB while he had been away. They talked about the
first year of Bartlet's term when they, along with Bill Price, sat in the
Press room and constantly hassled a newbie Press Secretary.

Danny had been a bit self conscious asking Will how he had first met CJ,
sensing that there had been some sort of history between them all those
years ago in the Press Room and again when she told Danny that Will Sawyer
was back in town. But it was all for naught as Will said that they had
been in a few classes together at Berkeley and that her father had been his
Math teacher once upon a time. Danny knew the context of the question was
not lost on Will, as Will smirked his way through his answer.

They talked about Bill Price's death, other reporters that they had known
through the years that had been kidnapped or killed while working on a
story. Will downplayed some of his own close calls, but Danny had a few
friends over at State and knew that the latest pull-out from Myanmar had
been very well timed indeed.

"So how was she in the room?" Danny finally asked, not daring to look Will
in the eye.

"She? You mean CJ?"

"Yeah."

After pulling the abandoned basket of pretzels over to him, Will popped one
in his mouth and mumbled, "What do you mean?"

"I was watching that last briefing from her office. She seemed off. It's
hard to tell on tv, but you were there."

Will shrugged his shoulders. "Sounded like she's caught a touch of the flu
but other than that…"

"That's not what I mean and you know it," Danny insisted.

"Why don't you ask her," Will challenged.

"Because you and I both know she'll deny anything's wrong. Were you around
last night? Did you know about Bill before…"

Will leaned back against the cushioned booth, crossing his arms over his
chest. "CJ came back to the offices around midnight. There were a few of
us hanging around, watching the west coast feed of the Lakers
game. Watching west coast feeds is probably the only thing I will miss
about working at the White House."

"How did she seem?"

"Bill's death threw her a little. Hell, it threw all of us," Will
thoughtfully replied, finishing his first beer and refilling his mug with
the new pitcher. "But, she's okay. In fact she's one of the toughest women
I know."

"Yeah, she's a rock," Danny mumbled.

Will tapped his chest. "Now me, I'm a mess. If you want to worry about
someone, worry about me."

Blowing air through his nose, Danny replied, "You're not my type."

"Eh, your loss."

Danny tapped his fingers on the table top. Will quietly sipped the rest of
his beer.

"You know," Will said, exchanging his mug for a glass of water, "I'm not
the one you should be talking to about this."

"Yeah, well, the intended receiver has run off the playing field."

"Not that it's my business and not that I've been investigating this in any
way," Will said, pawing his pockets for his wallet, "but she seems a lot
happier now than the last time we were all in the Press room together."

Danny grabbed his own billfold with the check, waving off Will's offer of
money away. "I've got it. Good luck with the job."

"Don't you want a lift back? Where's your car anyway?" Will asked,
slipping into his coat.

Danny buttoned up his coat and wrapped his muffler around his neck. "I
think I'll walk."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Will nodded. "See you around, then. We can catch a game together."

Danny dropped a couple of bills on the table, anchoring them and the check
in place with one of the empty mugs.



~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~


CJ lifted her head from where it was resting on her arm when she heard the
knock on her doorframe.

"Desks were not made for sleeping," Josh said, stepping into her office.

Stretching in her chair, CJ let out a yawn. "Shut up."

"You are going home soon, aren't you?"

"Has the President spoken with Ambassadors McMahon and Hooks?" CJ asked,
slowly getting to her feet.

"Just got off the phone with both of them."

"So, it's safe to say that the U.S. Agency for International Developments
Office of Foreign Disaster Assistance will be sending aid to Goma."

Josh nodded. "Yeah. A shipment of blankets, water jugs, dust masks,
towels and whatnot will be leaving the Baltimore/Washington airport
sometime tomorrow afternoon for Goma and Gisenyi, Rwanda. They sending
water/sanitation specialists as well."

"Yeah, wouldn't want a cholera outbreak on top of everything else, now do we?"

"Go home, CJ," Josh implored, grabbing her coat and holding it out for
her. "And don't come in tomorrow if you still feel under the weather."

CJ glowered at him, taking her coat in the process.




The apartment was dark when she finally opened the door. Leo the Cat wound
his body about her legs as she walked through the hallway, turning on
lights as she moved. Danny's car wasn't outside; she didn't really expect
him to be at the apartment though she had hoped he would be there.

She checked the answering machine to see if he had called. The caller-ID
box had registered several hang-ups, a number of them from his cell-phone,
the last from his home phone, but no messages.

Walking into the kitchen, she noticed that the cat's dish had been recently
filled.

"Looks like I just missed you," she said to the air.

Popping two Tylenol, she walked back towards her bedroom. The bed had been
made. A bottle of Ny-Quil was sitting on the nightstand along with a new
bottle of Tylenol and a bottle of orange juice inside a small ice
bucket. She picked up the phone and dialed Danny's home phone number.

His answering machine picked up.

After sinking onto the edge of the couch, CJ leaned against the
headboard. "Hi. I was… I guess you're not home. Or you're screening. I…
uh, thank you. For the feeding the cat. And the Ny-Quil. Call me."

She dropped the phone on the comforter and let gravity control the upper
half of her body. She was asleep before her head hit the mattress.



end part 3

"Prometheus Found" (4/8)
================


Leo walked into his office by way of the Roosevelt Room without looking up
from the latest draft of the speech the President was to give in front of
the UN General Assembly. He knew the President had seen an advance copy
before he had left for Mass that morning. Peter Buick from State was
expected within the hour to look over the language. Leo had just come from
Nancy McNally's office to get her opinion on the changes so
far. Undoubtedly, there would be several more drafts before everyone was
happy with it.

They wanted to make a strong statement about the changing nature of their
foreign policy initiatives. Toby had taken an almost fanatical approach to
the speech, but it was exactly what they wanted. Their record in the
foreign arena was less than desired; Bruno had made a point very early on
in the campaign that they would need to punch a hole through their
Amero-centric policies if they wanted to stand a chance against the
Republican party in the next election. Hopefully the speech would start
that ball rolling.

Bypassing his desk, he headed for Margaret's desk. She wasn't in her area
when he finally looked up from his file.

"Margaret?"

A voice erupted from behind him. "Yes, Leo?"

Jumping, Leo turned on his assistant. "Geez, what, are you taking lessons
from CJ?"

Margaret seemed completely unfazed. "No, I followed you from your office."

"You were in my office?"

"I followed you through the Roosevelt Room and into your office."

Leo backtracked into his office. "How did I not notice you behind me?"

"I've been practicing my tailing techniques," Margaret said, following.

"Who in the world would you have to follow in such a way that they wouldn't
know you were doing it?" Leo asked, incredulous, as he continued out of his
office into the main hallway.

"You never know when a skill like that might come in handy."

Leo stopped in the hallway and stared down Margaret. "Well, don't do it here."

"Okay. Was there something you needed, Leo?"

"Yeah." He closed the file he had been reading and tucked it under his
arm. "I need you to call Peter at State."

"Confirm the meeting time with him," Margaret anticipated. "You got
it." She turned on her heal and headed back to her desk.

Leo watched her leave and wondered idly if someone had spiked the Mess coffee.

As he passed the Communications bullpen, he spotted CJ headed his
way. When she got closer, he noticed she looked a little glassy-eyed.

"You look like hell," he commented.

The expression on CJ's face told him that she had already heard that phrase
enough today. She continued on, business as usual.

"When will I be able to give the Press an advance copy of the speech? They
are getting antsy."

"The Press are always antsy," Leo said under his breath. "Peter from State
is going to take a look at it, Nancy already has."

"So long as I get it before I call a full lid, and I'd like to call a full
lid before today turns into tomorrow," CJ added.

Leo nodded as he stepped towards Toby's office. "Staff with the President
in 10 minutes."

"I'm expecting a return call from the USGS. Will Frederick Pratt be there?"

Turning, Leo replied, "Yeah, the National Science Advisor as well as Sheryl
Foglio, the government liason officer for the American Red Cross."

"And I can tell the Press this?"

Leo nodded and stepped into Toby's office. Toby looked up from his laptop
as Leo walked through the door.

"Two down, one to go," Leo announced.

"The President has seen the revisions?" Toby asked, his voice hesitant.

Yet again the thought crossed Leo's mind that there was something rotten in
the State of the West Wing. Toby had been hedging his answers whenever
asked about what happened the night of the Iowa caucus. The President had
been ornery and irritable for the past week, to the point that even the
First Lady was loudly complaining as well.

"This morning," Leo replied. "He said it looked good. Nancy is in the
Oval Office with him now."

Ginger knocked on the door. "Excuse me. Leo, Margaret just called down
here. The Congolese attache is waiting in your office."

"All right. Staff in the Oval Office."

Leo made short work of the walk back to his office. McKonnen Loboko, the
government attache from the Democratic Republic of Congo, stood at parade
attention just next to Leo's desk, hands held behind his back. He did not
appear to have the air of arrogance about him as he did the other night
when they were negotiating for the life of the reporter.

"Mr. Loboko. Two visits in as many days."

Leo dropped the folder he had been carrying on his desk.

"There is much happening in my country," Loboko replied, his voice a deep
timbre.

"What can I do for you?"

"There has been talk," Loboko started.

Leo could have sworn the man looked about as nervous as a long tailed cat
in a room full of rocking chairs.

"Whisperings," the attache continued, " that the United Nations is
threatening to leave Goma."

"Last I heard, there wasn't much left of Goma to leave," Leo said. "And
there is a volcano erupting as we speak."

Loboko's stance never wavered. "The United Nations cannot leave Goma."

"Even if they were to leave, there's nothing I can do to stop it."

"You can talk to your President."

"There's not much the President can do to stop the UN from withdrawing from
Goma either."

"But he has influence with the Secretary-General."

Leo used a remote control to turn on a television across the room. As many
of the stations were doing, MSNBC was covering the eruption in Goma. "Want
to tell me why the peacekeepers should stay when your government's soldiers
are shooting looters with automatic rifles?"

"We must maintain a sense of authority in the region."

"They were taking toiletries and canned food from a grocery store that had
5 feet thick flow of lava making a bee line for the front door."

"Looting is looting," Loboko maintained.

"And you can't guarantee the safety of anyone that goes into your country
to help you. Give me one good reason why they should stay?"

Loboko stood tall. "It's in the interest of peace."

An uneasy silence was broken when Margaret knocked on the doorframe. "Leo,
the President is ready for you."

Leo nodded and walked around the desk. "Mr. Loboko, will you follow me,
please."

The Chief of Staff led Mr. Loboko through the door to the main hallway
across from the Roosevelt Room, past Charlie's desk and into the Oval
Office. The President was sitting in one of the wing chairs near the
Seal. Nancy McNally, Fred Pratt, a woman that Leo took to be the woman
from the Red Cross from her position on the couch next to Nancy and
Fred. A number of people he didn't recognize were seated and standing
around the room. Sam and Josh were leaning against the desk behind the
President.

The President stood when he saw Leo enter. Leo stood aside and allowed
Loboko to step forward. "Mr. President, this is McKonnen Loboko,
government attache for the Democratic Republic of Congo."

"It is my pleasure, Mr. President," Loboko said with all diplomacy.

Shaking his hand, the President replied, "I wish we could have met under
better circumstances."

"As do I."

The President led Loboko to the couches where the others were
standing. "Let me introduce Dr. Nancy McNally, National Security Advisor,
Frederick Pratt, my science advisor, and Sheryl Foglio from the American
Red Cross."

Leo noticed that Loboko only acknowledged Pratt's presence with a look; he
ignored the women in the room. If the President noticed, he did not say
nor do anything about it. However, Josh and Sam did, and shared a knowing
glance. As the President introduced Loboko to the rest of the people in
the room, Leo stepped back into the outer office for a moment.

Charlie was seated at his desk, reviewing a schedule of some kind on the
computer.

"Charlie, can you call down to CJ and Toby's offices and find out when they
will be here?"

Nodding, Charlie picked up the phone. Leo returned to the Oval
Office. Pratt was briefing the President on the situation in Goma.

"A number of agencies have been in contact with us," Loboko told the group,
though his eyes were only focused on the science advisor. "My government
is willing to cooperate in the interest of what is best for the people of
Goma."

Pratt opened a folder and displayed a number of diagrams on the low table
between the two couches. "What we are most concerned about is something
similar to Lake Nyos happening here. In August of 1986, a large volume of
volcanically derived carbon dioxide was released from Lake Nyos, traveling
down slope towards villages and killing 1700 people overnight. Prior to
the event, Lake Nyos was strongly stratified; the surface waters did not
mix with the waters at the bottom of the lake, where the carbon dioxide
resided."

"Then how did the carbon dioxide escape if the lake was so strongly
stratified?" the President asked.

"The exact cause is not known, however something must have happened to
initiate the release. Perhaps there was a local over-saturation of carbon
dioxide in one area, causing the water volumes to move vertically. Perhaps
there was a minor tremor to trigger the release," Pratt explained.

Foglio added another graph to the pile growing on the table. "Two women
were treated for carbon dioxide poisoning after they collapsed during
religious services. A field geologist working with the UN team that's
testing water purity in the area measured high emission rates of carbon
dioxide from two small fissures in the floor of the church where the women
were found. They are not lethal, yet, but the levels have been rising over
the last 24 hours."

Leo turned as he heard more people approach the Oval Office. CJ looked
spitting-nails-livid as she approached; Leo didn't want to be on the
receiving end of whatever was on her mind. Toby was close behind, and as
Leo asked him with a look what was wrong with CJ, Toby shrugged his shoulders.

Pratt was still talking when Leo returned his attention to the conversation.

"I've talked with James Grout, the Director of the US Geological Survey,
and several of the people monitoring the volcanic activity in the Virunga
region. They are also concerned that the other active volcano in the
region, Mt. Nyamuragira may erupt as well. It is 14 km from the volcano
that erupted early yesterday morning. Seismic activity in the area has
been on the rise."

"Excuse, Mr. Pratt," CJ said, stepping closer to the center of the room,
"can I ask for a clarification?"

"CJ?" Leo asked, not liking the venomous look in her eye.

CJ waved him down. "Mr. Pratt, you said that seismic activity has been on
the rise in the Virunga region. Doesn't the USGS participate in a
multinational effort to monitor the volcanoes in this region?"

"Yes. In 1994, I believe, the USGS Volcano Disaster Assistance Program
donated 5 seismic monitoring devices to the Goma Volcano Observatory."

"I've just spoken with a member of the VDAP that has studied Mt. Nyiragonga
and his story is verified by a Dr. Jacques Durieux of the Active Volcanoes
Study Group in Lyons, France. VDAP scientists received a warning five days
ago about abnormal seismic activity in the area. Dr. Durieux spoke with
Congolese volcanologists hours before the eruption. The Congolese
volcanologists tried to raise an alarm by contacting the government."

There was no mistaking the scorn in her voice or the fact that her eyes
were shooting daggers at the back of Loboko's head.

"This is the first that I've heard of this," Pratt said, looking to the
President.

The President addressed the Congolese attache, "Mr. Loboko, were you aware
of any forewarning?"

"I am aware of no such thing," Loboko replied, succinctly.

"Forty-five people have died," CJ continued. "Those deaths could have been
prevented with an evacuation order, one that was never issued because
government in Goma is a myth."

"CJ--" Leo warned. He shot Toby a look; Toby moved next to CJ.

The President was watching for any sort of reaction from Loboko and was
concerned when he found the attache had no reaction whatsoever to the
accusations presented.

Toby grabbed CJ's arm and started to pull her out of the room. "CJ, can I
see you outside for a moment?"

Once they were clear of the outer office and safely out of hearing distance
in the Roosevelt Room, Toby turned on CJ, not letting go of her arm. She
rubbed at her eyes and forehead with the other.

"What the hell was that?" he asked. "Since when are you the expert on Goma?"

CJ dropped her hand from her face and glared at Toby. "Since one of my
reporters was killed there for doing his job."

"So this is about Bill Price?"

Frustrated, CJ pulled away from him. "No… yes… no!"

She paced the short distance to the door and back again. "People died,
Toby. And they didn't have to."

A knock on one of the glass panes near them startled her. Looking over her
shoulder, she spotted Josh on the other side of the door.

Josh was miming that he wanted in the room. CJ threw her arms and rolled
her eyes. Toby opened the door.

"You sure you don't want to come back in there?" Josh asked, pointing
towards the Oval Office. "The President won't let anyone but Nancy or
Sheryl Foglio talk and then asks Loboko what he thinks."

The expression on CJ's face more than told Josh what she thought of his
proposition.

"Okay then," Josh said, clapping his hands together. "Toby, the President
would like to see you back in the room. CJ, Leo would like to thank you
for stopping short of suggesting Loboko jump *in* the volcano. However, you
should feel free to sneeze on Loboko the next time you're in a room with him."

"You're not helping, Josh," CJ replied under her breath.

Toby pushed Josh towards the door. "I'll be right in."

Turning to CJ, Toby placed a hand near the small of her back and led her
out of the Roosevelt Room. "Before you can tell me to shove it up my ass,
I'm going to ask you nicely to go down to the Mess, get a cup of tea, drink
it slowly and then come back up here so someone can brief you on what's
happened while you're gone."

CJ stopped before they reached the main hallway. "Don't think that because
I'm being complacent right now that in my head I'm not telling you to shove
it up your ass."


end (part 4)

"Prometheus Found" (5/8)
================

The pile of papers on CJ's desk seemed to grow in the hour she had her nose
buried in briefing books. One moment she was familiarizing herself with
India's import/export treaties, and the next the moment the newspaper
clippings, wire lines and memos had encroached well within her personal
space. Her head was starting to lend credence to what everyone else was
saying, the credo 'mind over matter' slowly dissolving as the lead weight
sitting on her lungs told a very different story.

"If you were bent over any further across that desk, people will think that
you're asleep on it."

Lifting her head from where it resting against the heel of her hand, CJ
stared with word-weary eyes at Leo as he stood framed in her doorway. She
tried to sit up straight and hoped to hell that was exactly what she was
doing. "What can I do for you, Leo?" she croaked, trying not to cough and
give way, and in, to the illusion that she was sick.

"For one, you're going to speak to the President about what happened this
morning."

CJ nodded, knowing that talking to the President was a foregone conclusion
the minute Toby pulled her out of the Oval Office.

She had never known Leo to lean against doorframes or walls, but he was
doing so now. Or, at least it appeared he was leaning against the door;
her perspective was a little skewed. She shook her head to clear it.

"How long have you been fighting this… whatever it is?" he asked.

Cringing at the look on his face, CJ tried to shoo him off. "Leo, it's
just a little cold. It'll go away."

"Yeah, and the Titanic was taken down by a little ice cube."

"It's not that bad."

"Sell it to someone who's buying. I want you to call it an early
day. Hand the last briefings over to one of your deputies. If you're not
feeling well tomorrow, you stay home."

Before she could object, Leo shushed her with a hand motion. "I won't hear
it, CJ."

"I just took a decongestant. The post-groggy-second wind should be hitting
me any second now."

"And I want you healthy enough to travel with the President at the end of
the week. Take the time now. The UN speech will sell itself. Henry can
handle the press afterwards. The India trip is the next big thing on the
agenda and I want you with the President when he goes. The Prime Minister
likes you."

Smiling wryly, CJ asked, "Can I put that on my resume?"

"There are worse things to be known for," Leo replied.

CJ leaned back in her chair and hoped that Leo didn't hear the groan she
barely managed to suppress. "Fine. When does the President want to see me?"

"He's meeting with Nancy McNally and the Joint Chiefs about Kashmir." Leo
looked at his watch. "That should break in about 15 minutes."

"All right."

Carol knocked on the door and Leo stepped to one side. "CJ, Senator
Houseman's office in on line 1 for you."

Leo, puzzled, asked, "He wants to talk about the welfare reform bill?"

Shrugging her shoulders, CJ answered as she picked up her extension, "I
don't know. Guess I'm about to find out."

CJ held the phone to her ear as she watched Leo leave the office. "CJ Cregg."



~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~


Leaning against what was once Mrs. Landingham's desk, CJ idly wondered how
much longer the President would be with the National Security Advisor. The
Joint Chiefs had already trucked out of the office. Charlie had been called
in only moments before. A nagging, pulsating pain started to throb near
the base of her neck. But to avoid yet another lecture on how she 'didn't
look so hot', she sat on her hands to prevent herself from kneading the
muscles of her neck.

The door opened and Charlie stepped into the outer office.

"CJ, the President will see you now."

After pushing off the desk, CJ ran her hands down the front of her skirt in
a vain attempt to rid it of wrinkles. Charlie held the door open for her,
as well as for Nancy as the National Security Advisor passed on her way out
of the Oval Office. CJ heard the door close behind her as she approached
the President's desk.

The President looked up from the piece of paper that he was reading as she
came closer. He smiled and walked around the desk.

"Claudia Jean, you look like you've been run over by a herd of bison."

Not about to argue with the President, CJ nodded and said, "Yes, sir."

"You should go home. I want you well enough to go to India at the end of
the week. Else, I might be stuck with Toby and no one wants that."

CJ let the statement roll over her. Leo had asked if anything had happened
between Toby and the President during the appearance at the Iowa caucus and
she proclaimed ignorance. She had been a little preoccupied with her
father's phone call and missed any subtle change in the nuances of Toby's
relationship with the President. Then there was the UN speech and Toby had
been surly and unapproachable while he tried to get the language
right. She certainly didn't want to be on a plane with him any time soon.

"No, no one wants that."

The President directed her towards one of the couches. "Toby and long
plane rides is about as entertaining as watching paint dry."

"I suppose so, sir."

He sat down and invited her to do the same. "Though, I have to tell you,
watching you take down the Congolese attache this morning was a good show."

"About that, sir--"

"Not as much fun as watching Nancy go tit for tat with him after you
left. Let me tell you, that was a very amusing meeting, considering the
circumstances."

"Sir--"

The President waved her off. "CJ, though I can't applaud what you did this
morning, it was a lot of fun to watch Loboko squirm. I've never liked that
guy. Leo told me what happened in his office Friday night concerning the
reporter. I understand you spent much of Friday night with the reporter's
wife."

CJ took a deep breath. "Yes, sir, I did."

"This reporter, what's his name again?"

"William Price."

"He and his wife have kids? Are the children set?"

CJ nodded. "Leonard Wallace has made sure a trust fund will be set up for
them."

"Good." Bartlet clapped his hands and stood. As he walked to his desk, he
continued, "Bad news, what's going on in Goma."

"Yes, sir, which is something I need to talk to you about. You authorized
an order yesterday to account for every American in the Congo
region. There are currently half a dozen American UN civilian police
working in Goma doing just that."

Bartlet nodded as he picked up his glasses and started to read a memo that
had been left on his blotter.

CJ followed him to his desk. "Sir, I've just received a call from Senator
Houseman's office."

Bartlet threw one hand in the air and whipped off his glasses with the
other. "Is he complaining about sending aid overseas again? Why should I
care what that old wind-bag--"

"Mr. President, his daughter is unaccounted for in Goma."

Frozen for a moment, the President stared over her shoulder towards the
thickened glass panes behind her.

"Ah, hell."

CJ tented one hand on the corner of the President's desk. "Approximately 6
months ago, she and 5 other medical personnel with Save the Children
Foundation were assigned to the Rwandan border to aid in the cholera
epidemic. No one has been able to reach any of them since early this
morning. Reports indicate that the tents where they had been treating
people have been destroyed by the eruption."

Bartlet contemplated the situation for a few minutes. "Is Houseman in D.C.
right now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Charlie!"

CJ turned when she heard the door open and Charlie walked in. "Yes, Mr.
President?"

"Contact Senator Houseman's office for me. I'd like to speak with him
personally. At his convenience."

Charlie replied, "Yes, sir."

CJ straightened to make her leave. "Thank you, Mr. President."

"CJ," Bartlet called before she could exit. She turned to face him once
again. His face took on a paternal expression.

"You have nothing you have to prove to me that I don't already know. I can
tell you've got a fever; I've lived with three daughters that tried their
damndest to hide fevers from me and my wife. If you are sick tomorrow, I
want you to stay home. Forget New York, forget the UN. You were here for
nearly 24 hours Friday. I don't want you to collapse from
exhaustion. Take care of your fever, and don't come back here until your
temperature is remotely near normal."

"Yes, sir," CJ replied.

"I mean it, CJ. As soon as possible, I want you to go home. If you won't
listen to me, and only god knows why you wouldn't, I'll sic my wife on you."

Smiling, CJ said, "No one wants that, sir."

"Good."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

She left the Oval Office with a half smile on her face as she reflected on
the President's standing orders. Looking at her watch as she walked, CJ
tried to mentally calculate how long it would be before she could actually
leave the building without fear of having to do more work when she returned
to work than if she had stayed on through the day.

The walk back to her office was surprisingly non-adventurous. No one was
in the hallway, therefore there was no one to comment on the dark circles
under her eyes or the fact that she looked like she desperately wanted to
knead the muscles of her neck. She was nearly through her office door
before she ran into anyone.

That someone was of the reporter kind. She honestly didn't expect to see
Danny in her office, not after the last few days. The tenseness was still
in the air as he looked up at her approach. His hands stayed steadfast at
his sides and she noted the struggle on his face to keep from immersing her
in an overprotective hug.

"Hi," she said tentatively, stopping near Carol's desk, two feet away from
where he stood. "What are you doing here?"

Danny idly tapped his index finger on the corner of the desk. "I have an
appointment with the First Lady today. In about 15 minutes. I told you
about it last week."

"Yes, yes you did." She stepped through the threshold of her office. "Do
you… do you want to come in for a few minutes?"

"Sure," Danny said, a smile lighting his features.

He timidly took her hand as he followed her to the couch. As he watched
her take a seat, he took careful note of her tired, ruddy eyes. "How are
you feeling?"

"Honestly?"

"Honesty's good," Danny ventured, sitting down next to her.

CJ closed her eyes and leaned heavily into the back cushions of the
couch. "I feel like crap."

Danny patted her hand gently. "If we're playing the honesty card today,
may I say you like crap?"

"Some boyfriend you are," CJ mumbled, sighing.

"I do try, when my girlfriend lets me." He circled her wrist with his
fingers, stroking the inside of her arm with each pass. "Will you let me
take you home after my meeting?"

"Yeah."

"Will you let me take you to a doctor tomorrow morning?"

A frown fractured CJ's expression. "I don't need to see a doctor."

"You do and you will," Danny insisted. "You sound worse than you did
yesterday."

"I do not," CJ rebelled. "If I feel worse tomorrow, I'll think about
making an appointment."

Danny leaned in close to kiss her cheek. "If you get any worse, you're
going to end up in a hospital. This meeting shouldn't take too long. Try
to stay out of trouble."

"I don't plan on leaving this couch," CJ replied, watching him leave with
one eye as she grabbed the throw off the end of the couch and draped it
over her torso.

End (part 5)

"Prometheus Found" 6/8)
================



It had taken some time, but CJ finally found a position on the couch where
the armrest wasn't digging into her back and she could lay her head in such
a manner that her neck wasn't tense. Carol was taking care of all of her
calls, routing everything to Henry after extracting a promise from CJ to go
home soon. Now that CJ had let herself relax for more than five minutes,
the exhaustion had settled like a second skin.

A briefing book was set against her thighs in the vain attempt to get some
work done. However, she found that her eyes were more often closed than
open. She tucked her head into the corner of the couch, turning her face
into the cushion.

She could have sworn she had only closed her eyes for a few minutes.

"I hear that you don't play nice with others."

Tilting her head in the direction of the voice, CJ spied Abbey standing in
her door. CJ dropped her head back and closed her eyes again. "It's a
vicious lie."

Abbey swatted CJ's calf and sat down after the younger woman moved her
legs. "Something about telling someone to jump in a volcano?"

"I never *told* the Congolese attache to jump in a volcano. Josh or Leo
implied that I was thinking that."

"You weren't?" the First Lady asked teasingly as she picked up the briefing
book from CJ's lap and dropped it on the floor.

CJ shrugged her shoulders. "I was, but I never said it out loud. If you
can't say something nice--"

"--wait until they leave the room."

Abbey drew the bunched blanket down around CJ's legs and placed a thermos
on the low table with an audible thunk. CJ turned her head and opened one
eye, unable to focus properly.

"That had better not be something doctor-ish you just dropped on my table."

"And if it is?" Abbey teased.

CJ sighed and pushed herself up higher on the couch. "I'm running for the
hills."

"I'd like to see you try with that chest congestion. I could hear you
wheezing from the door." Abbey grabbed the thermos, unscrewed the top, and
poured some of the steaming liquid into the ready-made cup. "It's tea, my
grandmother's special recipe for all that ails you."

Refusing to take the cup from Abbey's outstretched hand, CJ asked, "And how
much liquor is in it?"

Abbey shrugged her shoulders this time. "A couple ounces of bourbon."

"Yeah, I thought so."

Aghast, Abbey held a hand to her chest. "Are you suggesting my grandmother
was some sort of alcoholic witch doctor?"

"I'm suggesting the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Wagging a finger, Abbey admonished, "Because you're sick, I won't take
offense."

"Can we skip the lecture part of today's scolding?" CJ whined. "I've
already heard it from your husband."

Abbey wrapped CJ's hands around the thermos top. "You wouldn't be hearing
it at all if you had stayed home yesterday as Danny suggested."

CJ cringed and then took a small sip of the tea. "He told you about that,
did he?"

"Yes, he did. I asked him how you were doing since my husband said you
looked like death on a triscuit yesterday and I can see now he wasn't
exaggerating. Have you been to see a doctor yet?"

"It's the weekend. My primary care physician doesn't have weekend hours."

"But you are going to go tomorrow."

Sighing, CJ responded, "Yes, I will go tomorrow. First thing in the
morning. Happy now?"

Abbey patted CJ's knees. "Yes, and by the way, that wheeze of yours has
nice pitch and resonance. You should think about a musical career."

"Go away," CJ growled.

"Gladly." Abbey checked her watch. "Danny should be done with whatever he
needed to do in the Press room. He should be here any minute."

She turned her head in the direction of the office door. "And speak of the
devil…"

Abbey stood and gave CJ a hand up as Danny entered the office. He
immediately reached for CJ's coat.

"Don't even think about bringing your briefcase home," he said, holding her
coat open for her to step into.

"It's a good thing I'm not the paranoid type; else I'd think I just stepped
into a Philip Dick novel," CJ complained as Danny helped her thread her
arms through the coat sleeves.

Abbey pushed them both out of CJ's office. "It's not paranoia when we
really are out to get you."



~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~



CJ startled awake with the touch of warm, wet cloth against her
neck. Danny held his hand at her forehead as he crouched beside the couch
and brushed the hair away from her face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he said quietly. "I just wanted to
reheat the towel for you."

"How long was I asleep?" she asked, eyes closed.

She could hear that the television was on. The three receptacle floor lamp
was shining down on her torso. The material of the thermal cotton blanket
that Danny must have pulled from the linen closet was warm where the light
touched it. CJ shrugged the blanket closer to her head, displacing the
warm dishcloth in the process. The collar of her sweatshirt was damp and
she pulled the dishcloth away and dumped it on the floor.

"Not long, maybe two hours."

"Oh, Danny, I'm sorry." CJ blindly reached for his hand. "I slept through
dinner."

Danny held her hand, kissing her knuckles. "It's okay. You were out
before the water started to boil for the pasta. Do you want anything now?"

CJ shook her head. "I'm too tired to eat."

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

Sighing, CJ turned into the couch cushion under her head. "I honestly
don't remember. I called and left a message on your machine and then next
thing I know the alarm clock is ringing."

"Are you finally ready to admit that you're sick?"

"I'd say no, but then you might sic the First Lady on me again."

"That wasn't my idea. And if I were to sic anyone on you, it would be your
father."

CJ pried open one eye and fixed its glare on him. "That's dirty pool."

"Well, thems the breaks, toots."

"'Thems the breaks, toots'?"

Danny shook his head and smiled as if in memory. "Something my mother used
to say to me." He tucked a few stray locks of hair behind her ear. "You
can sleep in for a bit tomorrow. Your doctor's paging service called; she
can see you tomorrow morning first thing, 8:00 am."

"'Kay."

Drawing another blanket over her body, Danny tucked her in tight. "I'll
take you. I cleared my morning meetings with my editor."

"Thanks."

She took a deep breath, as deep a breath as she could handle, as she felt
his hand in her hair. Coughing, she turned her face away from
him. "Sorry," she said.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Danny replied softly. "Think you might be
more comfortable in your bedroom?"

Again, CJ shook her head. "Fine here for now."

"Okay."

As he straightened, she kept his hand locked in hers. "Are you staying
tonight?" she asked plaintively.

"Do you want me to?"

She nodded before he finished asking the question.

Danny turned his head towards the kitchen. "I was going to make myself
some tea. Do you want anything?"

"Sleep," she mused and closed her eyes again.





Rousing at the roar of the television set, CJ lifted her head, opened her
eyes and decided there was nothing that needed her attention. She laid her
head back down on her pillow.

Her pillow had a pulse.

Turning her head toward the ceiling, she found Danny with his laptop
balanced on the arm of the couch. "Ping pong?"

"Pinball, and no," Danny replied. "I'm looking up something on the
internet. Go back to sleep."

"Okay." She settled back down and yawned. "Can I ask a few more questions."

"Shoot."

"How the hell did I end up with your thigh as my pillow, why is Abbey in my
living room, and who the hell is this Andrew Sarchus she keeps talking about?"

Danny laughed and shut the top to his computer. "Sure you didn't drink all
of that spiked tea this afternoon? Do you see the First Lady in your
apartment?"

Lifting her head and looking about, CJ replied. "No. But I hear her voice."

Danny pointed at the television. "Voiceover. Something for the Discovery
Channel."

"Oh. Yeah." CJ turned so that she was lying on her back. "The thing
about prehistoric men."

"Prehistoric beasts."

"I didn't say that?"

Danny ignored her last comment. He helped CJ readjust the
blankets. "Andrew Sarchus is Andrewsarchus, a wolf-like carnivore whose
closest living relative is the whale. Named, coincidentally, for Roy
Chapman Andrews, who was the role model for the Indiana Jones character."

"Geek." She rolled her shoulder to bring the blanket up under her chin.

Thumping his chest, Danny replied, "And damn proud of it."

The wolf-like carnivore was stalking something that looked vaguely
camel-like. Abbey's voice was describing the scene with detachment. "Why
are you watching the Discovery Channel?"

"Couldn't find the remote. And I haven't been able to train your cat to
change the channel for me."

CJ lifted her upper body in a vain attempt to look for the cat. "Where is
Leo?"

Danny hooked a thumb towards the bedroom. "Sulking. He didn't like losing
his spot when you got up a little while ago."

"I got up a little while ago?"

"Not that I followed you to the bathroom, but yeah, you got up about an
hour ago. And I got tired of sitting on the floor, so I offered my
services as a human pillow."

Pushing herself into an upright position, CJ swung one leg over to rest her
foot on the floor. "And I'm about ready for a real pillow."

Danny placed his laptop on the end table and helped her stand. Grabbing
the blankets off the couch, he led her to the bedroom.

end part 6

"Prometheus Found" (7/8)
================


After another exhausting hour in his editor's office, Danny decided to take
on a battle of a sort different than finding new ways to rewrite history.
All the better, he had decided, that his day had been unproductive, since
he hadn't been able to concentrate on work at all.

With laptop ready, he had stayed in the waiting room of the doctor's office
while CJ was seen by her primary care physician. Nearly 90 minutes later,
CJ came out more shaky than she had gone in.

The nurse practitioner assured him that the effects of the albuterol
nebulizer treatments would wear off on a few hours and that all CJ needed
was rest, liquids and a fast track course of antibiotics to kill whatever
bug that had decided to wage war and take no prisoners. Danny had trundled
her back to bed with a 2 liter bottle of water, a couple of bottles of
gatorade, the medications the doctor had prescribed for her and a promise
to check on her in a few hours.

Before he left, he had turned on the television to something innocuous and
hidden the remote control so that she wouldn't be tempted to turn on CSPAN
to watch coverage of the President's UN appearance. With the way she
immediately closed her eyes the moment he pulled the covers to her chin, he
thought that maybe she would sleep the entire day.

As he neared the bedroom door, he realized how wrong he had been.

CJ was lying with her head at the foot of the bed, the linen torn asunder
so that she was cocooned in the comforter, then the top sheet, then the
thermal blanket he had slipped between the sheets that morning. Since he
had not seen the cat during his journey through the apartment, he assumed
Leo was wrapped in there as well. Pillows were threatening to avalanche to
the floor with no head board to stop their descent. The television had
been pulled close to the bed with the channel buttons just outside arm's
reach. The cable line and power cord were stretched to their limit.

CSPAN was indeed on the television: a floor vote from the looks of
it. Danny leaned against the doorjamb as he listened to her swear at the
television set. As he caught catch phrases from the speech being given, he
better understood the slurs being thrown at the television and wondered if
he could ever get a hold of CJ's Washington insider resources. How she
knew that the married Republican backer of the marriage incentives for
welfare reform also happened to be supporting a young woman and her newborn
son, he could not fathom.

Sitting on top of the fitted sheet, Danny stroked her shoulder through the
many layers. "I thought we agreed no work."

"Coming up with ways to insult Congressman Campbell is not work," she
mumbled into the covers.

Danny leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Feeling any better?"

"My hands stopped shaking. Does that count?"

She held one hand out from under the covers. He decided not to tell her
that her hands were still shaking a bit.

"You've watched this segment how many times now?" he asked, noting the
'Earlier today' stamp in the upper corner of the screen. He stood and
walked towards the dresser.

"Two. Live and now the repeat."

Danny opened the top drawer and pulled out a remote control. "You know, I
hid the remote on purpose so you wouldn't get worked up like this."

"And it's a good thing my hands were shaking too much to hold the phone,"
CJ continued as if she hadn't heard his reply. She held her thumb and
forefinger together. "I was in info-mercial hell. I was this close to
buying Time-Life's Singer and Songwriters series."

"That's okay; I hid your purse and keys too."

"Ha ha, very funny," CJ guffawed. She tried to clear her throat, but it
turned into a coughing fit. Danny helped pull her into a sitting
position. In the move, they dislodged the cat from the bedding
burrito. Leo scampered into the adjoining bathroom.

Danny sat down on the edge of the bed. He had one arm wrapped around her
shoulders and the other hand at her waist as she tried to clear her
lungs. When she was able to catch her breath, she leaned heavily against
his chest.

"I hate this," she murmured, still clearing her throat.

"Well, hopefully it will pass soon," he said, gently rocking her.

When the fit appeared to have passed, he stood up and placed both hands on
her shoulders. "Now, if I let go, will you tip over?"

The look on CJ's face was priceless and if her hands had not been trapped
inside the terrycloth robe she was wearing, Danny was sure finger gestures
would have been involved in her response as well.

Danny grabbed the pillows from the end of the bed and propped them against
the head board. He pushed the bedding back so that it vaguely resembled a
made bed. Grabbing CJ's hands, he pulled her off the bed for a moment so
that he could draw back the covers.

"Why don't you lie down properly and I'll fix you some soup." He searched
the floor for the dropped remote control. "Since I assume you watched the
President's address, how did it go?"

"Okay." CJ leaned back against the pillows, readjusting them to suit
her. Then she decided that she really didn't want to be in her terrycloth
robe and attempted to pull her arms out of it. "People applauded when they
were supposed to, they stood up at the end."

"Good." Danny placed the remote in her lap and sat down on the edge of the
bed. Noticing that she as having problems getting out of the bathrobe, he
tried to help. "Have you been using your inhaler like a good little patient?"

Finally free of the robe, she unearthed one hand from the mound of covers
with a small white inhaler held like a trophy. "Two puffs every 4 hours."

"Good girl."

"You're just cruisin' for a bruisin' there, buddy," she replied, using one
hand to push Danny aside so she had a clear site to the television.

CJ dropped the inhaler and started to channel surf. Danny leaned back on
his hands and was amazed at the speed she clicked through what the local
cable carrier had to offer.

"Are you even registering what's on?" he asked, laughing.

"Yes." She stopped on The Learning Channel. "Why the hell is moss on that
wall? Who in their right mind would willingly put moss on their wall?"

"'Trading Spaces'. My mother loves that show," Danny replied.

CJ watched for a few minutes then started flipping channels again. "I want
sanity."

Danny turned towards the TV to see what she had stopped on. "And CNN is
sanity?"

"I thought you were making me soup," CJ replied, crossing her arms over her
chest.

"You're bossing me around," Danny said, standing. "You must be feeling
better."

But her attention was no longer on him but whatever was on the
television. Danny stepped aside to get a better look at the
television. The caption in the upper right corner labeled the scene as
Goma. Military personnel in the guise of fire fighters were battling a
blaze at a gas station. Geysers of flames leapt to the sky as people
watched helplessly as storage cans exploded.

The talking head on the television described the event as a number of taped
segments were shown.

"This was scene earlier to day in the city of Goma, as lava surrounded one
of several gas stations in the region. Hundreds of thousands of people
have left their homes after the Nyiragongo volcano erupted on Saturday,
with smoking lava engulfing the town of Goma in the Democratic Republic of
Congo, killing an estimated 45 people and destroying homes and streets.

"Experts have said the eruption is the worst in central Africa for 25
years, with fires raging and tremors still being recorded Monday throughout
the Rwanda-Democratic Republic of Congo border region.

"Residents said thousands of refugees including children had not eaten or
drunk anything since the start of the eruption. A large number of people
tried to go back into Goma Monday morning through a blackened landscape
shrouded in smoke and mist but could not find a way through the lava.

"U.N. officials said more than 300,000 refugees clutching bedding and
bundles of goods were heading eastwards into Rwanda, while others fled in
boats to Bukavu on the southern tip of Lake Kivu.

"Rivers of lava edged with black crust inched forward through the two main
streets of Goma with the U.N. expressing "deep concern" for the situation,
saying half of the city has been burned and destroyed. With lava having
flowed into Lake Kivu, aid groups were establishing fresh water tanks so
residents would have clean drinking water."

The talking head stopped talking and the scene changed to a taped interview
of someone on scene. The caption beneath labeled the man as Dr. Dieudonne
Wafula, Rwandan volcanologist.

"Overnight the situation seems to have slowed a bit. The lava slowed, but
the big problem now which we have to deal with very quickly is the fires.
Roads and houses and also the airport runway are being eaten by fire. We
have been promised water trucks, but they have yet to materialize."

The phone started to bleat and on the second ring, Danny picked it
up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Danny."

"Hi. How's it going at the White House?"

CJ tapped him on the hip and asked with her eyebrows who was on the
phone. He held his hand over the receiver and mouthed, 'Donna' before
returning to his conversation.

"Fine," Donna continued. "You'd think the place was falling apart, but
some of us have things under control. Do you think I can speak to CJ for a
few minutes?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

Danny handed the phone to CJ. "Remember you are sick."

After the snide leer he received, Danny held his hands up and left the bedroom.

CJ took a deep breath and held the phone to her ear. "Donna, what's up?"

"More importantly, how are you?"

"They are saying it's bronchitis, but I don't believe them," CJ responded.

"So we've heard."

CJ hit the mute button on the television. Closed captions appeared a
moment later. "Have the Lost Boys done anything that I have to worry about?"

"No, not yet. We've managed to keep a tight leash on them, but that is the
reason why I'm calling."

CJ sat up a little straighter. "Why? What's happened?"

"Turn on MSNBC."

CJ turned the channel to find a bank of microphones surrounded Richard
Houseman on his way out of the Hart Senate office building. The mute
function was still active and the remote control decided to rebel at that
moment. She growled in frustration as she threw the remote across the room.

"Donna, what's going on? My television is possessed."

"Well, we're trying to track down exactly how this went from A to B to Z,
but the gist of it goes like this. The Congolese attache was questioned by
reporters outside his embassy about the lack of a government sanctioned
evacuation and he accused the White House of leaking bad information. He
specifically named the White House Press Office in that allegation. Now
Senator Houseman wants to know what the hell is going on since someone
figured out that his daughter is still unaccounted for in Goma and if
someone knew the eruption was going to occur, why wasn't anyone warned
about it."

Suppressing a cough, CJ asked, "What are we doing?"

"Sam is talking with Senator Houseman, Josh is coordinating with the
American Red Cross to see what they can do, Leo is trying to get some
better communications between here and Goma, and Toby is drafting a message
for Henry to give at the next briefing."

"There wasn't a leak," CJ replied, "as least not out of my office."

"We know that, and Carol is confirming it," Donna assured her, "and I'm
calling you because the Lost Boys spent the better part of an hour deciding
whether or not to tell you. Sam and Josh thought they could handle
everything without telling you at all. Leo apparently has been threatened
by the First Lady about keeping you out of the West Wing."

"Uh huh," CJ said, debating whether or not she wanted to call Danny in to
fix the mute button.

"Obviously Toby won, or else I wouldn't be calling you. However, I have
been told in no uncertain terms that you are NOT to come in today, or
tomorrow for that matter. Word has come down from on high, the First Lady
via Leo."

"Okay, fine."

"And if you call in to any of the assistants, you will be shuffled to
Toby's office and he will give you an earful before handing you over to the
First Lady."

"This is a conspiracy, I swear to god," CJ mumbled.

She heard Donna laugh and wanted to groan.

"Well, CJ, it's been nice chatting with you, but Toby is pointing at his
watch and threatening me with a venomous look."

Danny was standing at the door with a serving tray in his hand topped with
a steaming bowl and a glass of ginger ale, with an expression very much
similar to what she pictured Toby was wearing.

"I'm getting the same look on my end."

"Feel better, CJ."

CJ toggled the 'off' button and dropped the phone beside her. "I'm off, okay?"

"Just so long as you remember that you are here to get well, not work," he
said, placing the tray on the end of the bed.

"So I take it you won't let me make any more phone calls this evening to
make sure my name does not get blasphemed half way across the world?"

As he moved the television out of the way, Danny threw over his shoulder,
"What do you think?"

"I'm thinking 'no'." She coughed and leaned back against the head
board. "Donna said something interesting, that they knew I had
bronchitis. I wonder how they figured that out?" CJ asked as though she
already knew the answer.

Danny shrugged his shoulders and straightened the comforter and blankets so
that there would be a flat place to put the serving tray. "The First Lady
made me promise to call."

He grabbed her dinner and brought it over. "Now, have you had anything to
eat today?"

"I had some applesauce at lunch."

Pushing the soup bowl closer to her, he asked, "Do you think you can finish
all of this?"

CJ stared at the bowl with a touch of trepidation. "My eyes say 'yes', but
my stomach says 'no'."

"Well, try. You didn't have anything to eat last night." He handed a
spoon to her then looked around the room. "Why is it so quiet in here?"

"I muted the television and couldn't un-mute it," CJ said between mouthfuls
of soup.

Danny found the remote in the corner. "A little frustrated?"

"You have no idea. I hate not doing anything all day long."

Sitting down next to her on the bed, Danny slowly rubbed her knee. "Just a
few days more."

"Promises, promises."

Danny stole one of the crackers off the tray. "Want to watch a movie
tonight? I can move the VCR in here."

"You just don't want me to watch the news," CJ grumbled playfully.

"No, because then you will think about work. So if you're not
concentrating on work, you're concentrating on getting better." He
punctuated his statement by stealing another cracker.

The spoon hovered over the half empty bowl for a second before diving in again.

"So, what movie should we watch?" he asked.

CJ shrugged. "Whatever you want."

"Really?"

CJ nodded and yawned. Danny rubbed her shoulder. "You're slowing down
with the soup there."

"Yup." The spoon was hovering again.

"Want to finish it later?"

CJ put the spoon down and leaned back against the headboard. "Yup."

"Okay." Danny took the tray away. "I'm going to get the VCR and a few
tapes, change into something more comfortable and join you here. Sound
like a plan?"

"Hmm mmm."

"You're going to fall asleep on me before I make it back from the kitchen,
aren't you?"

CJ sank down under the blankets. "It's a good guess."

"Okay," Danny said, kissing her forehead. "I'll be back."

Sure enough, by the time he returned from the living room, Danny found CJ
fast asleep.


end part 7

"Prometheus Found" (8/8)
================


CJ startled awake, unsure of what had spooked her. However, now that she
was awake, her lungs decided now was as good a time as any to rebel. She
tried not to groan as she slowly sat up, the congestion in her chest
bearing down on her like a lead weight. Her chest constricted as she
fought the urge to cough, not wanting to wake the man lying next to
her. She was surprised he could sleep at all with the tossing and turning,
coughing and wheezing she was doing.

Slowly she disentangled Danny's arm from around her waist. Grabbing the
old quilt from the armchair and the inhaler from the bedside table, she
trudged into the living room. She wound the soft and aged material around
her shoulders as she settled into the recliner. At least when she was
sitting up, she didn't feel like she was drowning, and two puffs on the
inhaler lessened the effect even more.

She reached for the remote control before her hands betrayed her with an
albuterol-induced shake. Quiet rooms bothered her. Even if the television
volume was too low to hear all the words, there was still the gentle thrum
of cathodes burning and ozone crackling in the dry apartment to liven the
silence. She grabbed one of the blankets off the back of the chair to
throw over her legs, pulled the quilt tight around her shoulders.

CNN's top story continued to be the volcanic eruption outside Goma. Though
it seemed like they were preying on unfortunate opportunity, tacking the
situation in Goma on to the address helped tone down the language
concerning terrorist extremists in the Middle East. Even the political
pundits that were picking apart the address seemed to agree.

There was a shot of the President disembarking from Air Force One in the
left corner of the television screen as the talking head bulleted the
President's address before the United Nations. The scene snapped to an
interview outside the Rayburn House Office Building. One of the members of
the House International Relation was talking on camera about how his
committee disapproved of the language of the address.

"Toby's not going to be happy," she said to herself as she turned in the
chair to get more comfortable.

The focus changed from the UN address to the Kashmir border dispute between
India and Pakistan, mentioning the upcoming meeting between the President
and the Indian Prime Minister. She looked longingly at the computer desk
sitting in the corner of her living room wondering if she had the energy to
get up to turn it on or if she was willing to face the wrath of Danny.

But Danny was right; if she continued to watch the news, she would think
about work. She rooted for the remote control and started to channel surf
once it was in her clutches. There was a time when she had followed a few
television shows religiously; nowadays she didn't know what network shows
were worth watching anymore. She looked at the clock on the wall and
groaned: prime time had been over for a couple of hours.

Infomercial for hair removal products. Infomercial for cleaning
products. Infomercial for music collections. Infomercial for weight
loss. Infomercial for weight loss. Infomercial for weight
loss. News. News. Weather. Music. News. Sports. Classic
television. Infomercial. Infomercial. Infomercial.

"Over seventy channels and nothing's on," she complained, settling on
Animal Planet and a program on large cats.

Within minutes she felt her eyes start to droop.

"You're going to give your cat a complex if you watch that," she heard from
behind the chair.

Rolling to her back, she watched as Danny rub at his eyes and yawn. His
hand traced the back of the reclining chair as he walked around to the side
and perched on the arm closest to her head.

"What are you doing up?" she asked in a yawn filled voice as she turned
back to her side.

"My heat source disappeared. I tried to find you on your pillow and all I
got was a face full of cat." He placed the back of his hand on her
forehead, then turned it over to brush the hair out of her face. "Your
temperature's near normal now."

"Does that mean I can go to work tomorrow?"

"No."

"Just thought I'd try."

"One more day of rest, minimum."

CJ yawned again and shoulder-rolled the blanket around her more
securely. "Promises, promises."

Danny continued to stroke her hair away from her face. "Why are you out here?"

She leaned into his fingers. "More comfortable. Don't feel like I'm
drowning if I'm sitting up," she replied drowsily.

"We can prop more pillows on the bed."

"Fine where I am."

Danny moved around to the other side of the recliner, grabbing a blanket
and large pillow from the couch in his travels. "I seem to recall having
this conversation with you once before. Mind if I share that recliner with
you?"

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in the other room?" CJ asked as she
scooted forward.

Draping the blanket over both of them, he snuggled against her back. "I
will be more comfortable with you in my arms. You may not know this, but
when you're sick, you don't like to be held."

"You don't say?" was the sarcastic, sleepy reply. "You don't seem to have
a problem with invading personal space right now."

"That's because you're not emitting heat like a Dutch oven gone nuclear."

CJ elbowed him in the chest, then trapped his forearm against her chest.

"See? You are feeling better," he rejoined.

"Don't press your luck," she said, sinking against his chest. "You're
going to wake up with a stiff back if you sleep here all night."

Danny reached for the footstool extension lever and maneuvered the chair
into a more reclined position. "This okay?"

"Yeah. You're still going to be sore tomorrow."

"Then maybe I'll just have to stay home with you." He effected a poor
excuse of a cough. "I think I may be coming down with something. Wouldn't
want to infect any one else."

CJ started to fuss and tried to free her arm from the blankets. "Need to
turn off the tv."

"You like to sleep with the tv on," Danny pointed out, trying to hold her
in place.

"But you don't. If we're going to sleep where *I* want to, we can at least
do it without the tv so you can sleep."

She found the remote on the floor and thumbed off the television. The glow
of the television was replaced with the curtain-muted glare of street
lamps. Rolling her neck to work out a kink, she settled her head on the
pillow next to Danny. He kissed the crown of her head and held her close.

"You slept nearly all day: think you can fall asleep again?" he asked,
tucking the blanket around her.

"Mh hmm," she murmured.

"Glad you're feeling better."

"Mh hmm."




The President looked up as Leo entered through their common door, then
glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just past midnight. The last
time he had looked at a clock, it was still light outside.

"Is it done?" Bartlet asked.

Leo, walking with his hands in his pockets, crossed the room with slow,
measured strides. "They'll be in the air within the hour."

Bartlet nodded and tossed his glasses on the desktop. "Not soon enough if
you ask me, but I suppose we should be happy with what we can get."

"We did all that we could," Leo reasoned. "The Virunga region is not
exactly the most accessible area in the world." He stopped near the corner
of the desk.

"Everyone is accounted for?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Bartlet leaned back in his chair so that it his center of gravity kept the
chair from tipping over completely. "Any word on CJ?"

"Margaret called for a progress report about 8 pm. Danny answered the phone."

Cocking an eyebrow at his friend's tone of voice, Bartlet couldn't help
feel a twinge of sympathy. Neither had been very happy with the rekindling
of that particular relationship, but CJ was happy and no one outside the
White House seemed to care in the least that the Press Secretary was dating
a former White House reporter.

"And?"

"She was asleep at the time, but he felt she was on the mend. Abbey
happened to be in the office at that time, and your wife ordered Danny to
keep CJ home tomorrow."

"Doesn't she have a staff of her own to boss around?" he asked peevishly.

"She's your wife, not mine," Leo reminded him. He pointed at the
phone. "You need to make a call."

"I know. Charlie!"

The door to the outer office swung open. Charlie stood in the doorway with
his hand on the doorknob. "Yes, Mr. President?"

"Get Senator Houseman on the phone for me. He should be in his office."

"Yes, sir."

Leo wandered to the couch and sat on the cushioned arm.

Charlie appeared at the door again, holding up two fingers. "Line 2, Mr.
President."

"Thank you, Charlie. You can go home now."

Bartlet picked up the receiver and tapped the blinking LED
button. "Harry? I've got some news for you. You need to be at Andrews
Air Force Base tomorrow afternoon around 3 pm. I thought you might to
greet your daughter personally as she disembarks from the plane."

END