Title: After Much Reflection
Author: Rhonda Dossett
Character: CJ/Danny
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Manchester I, II - what if CJ did leave the
administration at the end of Manchester II?
Disclaimer: They're not mine and never will The entire
series can be found at:
(www.oocities.org/rdcottrell/fiction.html)

After Series:

"Danny, how do I look?" CJ limped into the kitchen and set her empty coffee cup into the sink.

"You look good," Danny mumbled around the pencil he had in his mouth. He was busy squinting at his handwritten notes and typing about 60 words per minute.

Frowning slightly, CJ asked, "You don't think this dress is too fussy?"

Still engrossed in his notes, he answered again without looking at her. "No, you look fine."

CJ grabbed his notebook and forcefully slapped the back of his head.

"Ouch! What was that for?" Danny automatically put up his hand in case more blows were imminent.

"Look at me! You don't think this dress is too fussy?" she sarcastically repeated, leaning against the breakfast bar.

Turning his chair to the side, in a matter of fact manner, Danny declared, "You're wearing slacks."

"Duh!"

Hiding a smile, he asked, "What are you going on about a dress for?"

As CJ stepped forward swinging his purloined notebook, he ducked and grabbed her around her waist.

Mindful of her knee, he eased her onto his lap.

"Sorry, I was distracted by a thing," with a huge smile on his face, Danny hugged her. "You look wonderful, I've always liked this gray pantsuit and it pretty much hides the ace bandage on your knee."

"Thank you. It's just as well Josh didn't pack me any skirts." Leaning forward CJ lightly touched her lips to his, and then rested her head on his shoulder.

Lifting her hand and holding it against his unoccupied shoulder, Danny whispered, "Are you nervous about seeing him?"

Her only answer was a quick nod and a squeeze of his shoulder.

"You don't have to do this you know? We can pack some clothes, catch a flight to Hawaii, and be on a beach by this evening," Danny joked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small smile flash across her face. "I might even let you rub suntan oil all over me."

Lifting her head, CJ grinned. "I think with your complexion we'd better forget the oil and stick with about a 50 rating sun block."

Bringing her hand to his mouth, he rubbed her knuckles against his lips. "So, do you want to do it? Just you and me chucking it all, finding an island, and drinking pina coladas all day long?"

His serious tone was in contrast to his words. He was asking if she was ready to give up her career and her former life.

With a wry smile, she asked, "Does it have to be pina coladas? I'm allergic to coconut."

"Okay, I'm easy. Let's make it margaritas in a hammock."

Sighing, she remarked, "I have to go see him. I, we, can't go forward until I tie up all these loose ends."

"What time's your appointment?"

"10:30 am in the residence."

At his raised eyebrows, she explained, "Josh set it up. That way I can meet with the President without running the gauntlet through the West Wing."

"Want me to drive you over?"

"Thanks but I've called a cab." Seeing he was about to argue with her, CJ explained, "Danny, you've done a lot for me these past few days and I appreciate it. But, this is something I need to do by myself."

Standing up and straightening her jacket, she declared, "It's past time that the President and I had a discussion."

~~~~~~~~~~

It felt different, CJ reflected. She had walked down this ornate hallway many times in the past three years, but it felt different today. The air seemed thick. It was hard to breathe.

CJ slowed down her already slow pace as she approached the living quarters. She had been concentrating on not limping and had failed to mentally prepare herself for this moment. That beach was looking better all the time.

The Secret Service agent stationed outside the residence's informal living room opened the door for her. Tucking her hair behind her ears, CJ silently willed herself to remain resolute in her determination to speak frankly with the President.

He was the first thing she saw when she entered the room. Obviously alerted to her presence by the Secret Service, he was posed in front of the fireplace, hands in his pockets. His expression was unreadable.

Oh God, I don't think I can do this, CJ thought, clenching her hands.

Motioning her into the room, Jed worried that he was going to say the wrong thing. Maybe he should have had Abbey join them. No, she asked to meet with me alone. I certainly owe her that much.

Why isn't he saying anything? He looks so grim. I think I made a mistake coming here.

Damn, she looks like she's afraid of me. Okay, Bartlet do something to put her at ease

"CJ, please sit down." Gesturing towards the loaded coffee table centered in front of the sofa, "Would you like some brunch? I had the cook fix a few things for us."

Does he really think I can eat anything under these conditions? I can't believe he thinks food is going to solve our differences.

"No, thank you, Mr. President." Walking over to the sofa, she sat down, folding her hands in her lap and crossing her ankles.

Sitting down in the arm chair across from the sofa, Jed worried about the stranger seated in front of him. Why is she limping? Josh didn't say anything about a physical injury. I can see the outline of a bandage, it looks like she's done something to her knee.

"Sure you don't want to try some of these little quiches? I know they're your favorites," the President urged, handing her several on a china plate.

If she takes the plate at least she'll have to stop digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands. Go on CJ, take the plate. Surely, you can take that much from me.

Reaching out her hand, CJ graciously took the unwanted food and balanced the plate on her good knee.

"Thank you, Sir."

I shouldn't have taken this from him. I said no, but he didn't pay any attention to my answer. This is typical of our whole relationship. He ignores my opinions and I end up doing what he wants. Well, it will be a cold day in hell, before I eat this quiche. He can force me to take it, but he can't make me eat it. I need to calm down, I can feel my face flushing.

"Coffee?" the President hopefully asked.

I think this is going well. She's not as pale as she was when she came in. Without waiting for an answer, he placed a cup on a saucer and poured several ounces into the fragile cup. Handing the cup and saucer to her, he smiled.

Reflexively, taking the coffee from him, CJ then had her hands full. Confused she glanced across the oval coffee table at him. The President was pouring his own coffee. His cup was shaking. My God, he's nervous. Straightening her back, CJ emptied her hands by setting everything back on the small table.

"Mr. President, I didn't come here for this," she waved her arm towards the food. "I needed to explain my reasons for leaving Manchester, for resigning."

Taking a sip of his coffee, the President slowly returned his cup to its saucer. Nodding, he indicated that she should continue.

"Sir, I left because I couldn't bear to work for you one more minute." CJ loudly proclaimed.

Fingering his cufflinks, Jed reflected that maybe he had overestimated how well this meeting was going.

"Why? Was it because of Haiti?" he gently asked, not really thinking it was but trying to keep her talking. As long as she was talking, she wasn't walking out the door.

"Haiti, India/Pakistan, the Sex Education Report, Lowell Lydell, the Leadership Breakfast, Mandy's memo, Danny, my root canal, the hours, missing my father's birthday, there are hundreds of reasons." Gaining courage, CJ shouted, "Why did I resign? There are a lot more reasons to resign than to stay. The real question is why I stayed so long!"

Suddenly trying to stand up, CJ's injured knee buckled and she almost lost her balance. With a grimace, she moved around the coffee table and started pacing.

Although he half rose when it looked like she was going to fall, the President decided it would be prudent for him to remain seated and allow her to vent her frustrations.

"What reason did I ever give you not to trust me? Just tell me that?" she demanded.

"CJ, I know you've made sacrifices to work for me. I know . . ."

Interrupting him, she argued, "You don't know, not really. I gave up everything for this administration. Do you know how long it's been since I've visited my parents? How long it's been since I've seen a movie all the way though?"

Pacing around the room, CJ didn't let him get in a word, "Damn it, I can't even take a bath without the phone ringing while I'm in the tub."

The President took a quick sip of coffee, wishing it was scotch.

"Uh, CJ, maybe we could cut down on your hours or . . . ."

"It's not just the hours, it's this little boy's club you've got going. When are you going to trust me like you trust them?"

Jed opened his mouth to dispute her claim but she didn't slow down. In a sing-song voice she chanted, "Don't tell CJ, she might not be able to lie to the Press. CJ doesn't need to know. We'll tell her later. Or, better yet just let the Press tell her."

Walking over next to him, she asked, "Why didn't you support me when I made the mistake on the Haiti briefing? I'd been cleaning up your mess for 4 days straight with little to no sleep. You benched me and destroyed what little credibility I had left with the Press. Why?"

"CJ, I'm sorry about doing that. You should have done the next briefing. That was a mistake," the President stated, reaching for her hand.

Jerking away, she stared at the window near the fireplace. "Why did you make me give up everything and then give me nothing back, not even respect? Why?"

Standing up, the President walked over to the liquor cabinet and got out a crystal decanter. Pouring a couple of inches of the amber liquid in a glass, he tossed it back.

"CJ, is this . . . is this about Danny and the conflict of interest problem" he asked as he poured a second glass and offered it to her.

"You never cared about how I felt. You never even asked. I was just expected to fall in line and even let you take over my personal life." Shaking her head, she grabbed the glass and slammed it down on the marble mantle. The glass shattered and the liquid dripped down onto the hearth.

A door opened somewhere behind her, but she ignored it. The President said something to an agent but she didn't catch the words. She wasn't listening any more. Her life was like that glass, shattered into a million pieces.

Turning suddenly, embarrassed at her outburst, she started for the exit but knocked her knee against an end table. Crying out with pain, she slipped to the floor.

Rushing to her side, the President put a hand on her shoulder and asked what was wrong with her. She shrugged off his hand and sat up, cradling her knee. Tears were streaming down her face, but he wasn't sure if she was crying because of her knee or because she was so angry with him. Either way, she didn't answer his question.

Sitting down on the floor beside her, the President took one of her hands in his, ignoring her attempts to pull it away. "CJ, listen to me," he ordered, using his best Commander In Chief voice.

"The reasons for you to stay are more important than your reasons for leaving." With that statement he got a resentful glare.

"I didn't say your reasons for resigning weren't valid, just that other things are more important. The work you do here is important. You make a difference every day not just to this administration, but to the welfare of the whole country."

Letting go of her hand, he removed a pristine handkerchief from his jacket and handed it to her. "Dry your tears, Claudia Jean. I'm the one who should be crying." With his eyes downcast, he explained, "I've lost the trust and respect of a woman I greatly admire. I never considered how my secrets would hurt her or those around her and I didn't . . . ," sighing, he looked directly into her eyes, "I didn't give you the information you needed to do your
job."

Pausing, the President looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

Wiping her eyes with his handkerchief, CJ stared at him.

Smiling now, the President stated, "CJ, I am a selfish, pompous, insensitive fool who badly wants you to forgive him and come back to work."

"I don't know," CJ sadly announced. "I don't want to live or work like this anymore."

"Tell me what you want?" the President asked. Smiling, he added, "I'll make it happen or have Leo buy it."

The look that flashed through her eyes made him understand that this was no joking matter to her. He immediately sobered. "I meant what I said in Manchester. I need you. I will do anything to make you believe that."

CJ closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't want anything. But I need you to trust me when I say I can handle a situation. I need you to listen to me even when I'm the lone voice of opposition because if I'm thinking it, so are the Press. I will not be patronized, I will not be pushed aside like someone's bad date. And I need you to know that I can separate my public life from my private life and I will not have you telling me otherwise."

The President nodded and reached out to hold her hands in his. "I will try my very best."

"Trying's not good enough, Mr. President."

"CJ, I won't make you an absolute promise that I might break. I won't do that to you again. But I am giving you my word that I will try and be mindful of what you've said. And sometimes you might need to give me a good swift kick in the pants as a reminder. I don't want you to feel you can't voice your opinion, and I'm sorry that you've ever felt that way. The brunt of everyone else's mistakes seems to fall on you, and for that I am truly sorry."

"It's all well and good to say you're sorry, Mr. President--"

"--but it loses its meaning when it's repeated like a broken record. I'm going to get that record fixed, CJ. You have my word on that as well."

For the first time since she entered the room, he thought he saw the flicker of a genuine smile. He patted her hands with his own. "Danny means that much to you?"

"Right now, he feels like the most important person in my life."

The President stood and offered her assistance. She hesitated but accepted.

"You do an admirable job here, CJ. I don't want to have to look for another Press Secretary."

"You won't have to Sir."


End part 8