Pairing: CJ/OFC (Sydney Ludlow)

Disclaimer: CJ Cregg is, unfortunately, not mine. If she were, I wouldn’t owe what I owe, and I would also be living in LA, writing for the West Wing. So, no, I don’t make any money off of her or any of the other characters that were created by Aaron Sorkin (or later on, John Wells, et al.) Melissa, Lila, and Sydney Ludlow, however, are all mine. And so are any other original characters.

Author’s note: This is what happens when a plot bunny gets into your head and won’t let go.

Timeframe: Covers the whole series, but chapter four is set around Roslyn (Or, What Kind of Day Has it Been)

“That’s not as unusual for you as you claim it to be.” Paula Rinkhoff watched her favorite patient carefully. She knew she wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but CJ was special. “Death is on your mind every day, isn’t it? You talk about death every day from the podium, you think about your mother every day...”

“Why do you say things like that? Just to get me back here in a couple weeks time?”

“If you really thought that way, you’d never make another appointment again.” Paula made a couple of notes on her pad and then looked back at the other woman. Here, CJ was never the press secretary. Here, she was just CJ, the woman, invincible, tired, and racing from a killer she couldn’t see. “What is it about death that makes you bring it up this time?”

CJ shrugged. “Little things. I … a friend of mine, one of the original ones…”

“Original ones?”

“There’s this culture in the world of PWA’s … anyone who was infected back in the eighties gets to call themselves an original one. Terry found out he was positive a year before I did.”

“How did he get it?”

“Boyfriend. His boyfriend died of it, infected him … it was back when no one knew the specifics … he carried a torch for Matt until he died.”

“Terry died?”

“Yeah. Last week. I can’t make it out to the funeral, and that’s hard. He was a great guy.”

“And that has you thinking about death?”

“Naturally.”

“What else?” Paula looked at her carefully. “CJ? What else is it? It isn’t that you’re in the tenth year since your diagnosis, is it?”

CJ sighed and leaned forward, feeling her bones protest and the leather again change around her body. “I’ve been sick for fifteen years. My lease is almost up.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that.” She could feel her hands starting to tremble and she pressed her fingers together. Silence entered the room for a few minutes and Paula sat, letting the other woman work her emotions out. “Did you know that Virginia Woolf killed herself because she couldn’t bear to hurt her husband anymore?”

“Are you thinking about suicide?”

“No … yes … no … not until …”

“Until what, CJ?”

“She killed herself because she knew what her illness was doing to the people she loved. She killed herself because what it was doing to them was killing her.”

“Are you saying it was noble?”

“Why not? I mean, people who oppose doctor assisted suicide are always telling you to think of your family, think of the pain … all I know is that when I get sick, Sydney gets this look in her eyes, like she’s counting how many times we’ve said “I love you” to each other in our lives together, just incase it isn’t enough. Terry held out until the end. He was on life support and his brain was gone and the cancer had eaten away at every organ in his body, but he held out because he couldn’t stand to …” she caught her breath, and caught herself. Leaning back into the chair again, she closed her eyes and pressed shaking fingers against her forehead. “He couldn’t stand to hurt his family by ending his life with some dignity. I’m going to die, someday. Sooner rather than later. Why should I put Sydney through that painful end?”

“It’s her decision too. She’s made the decision to stay with you, to care for you. She’s your wife and partner and she knew, ten years ago, when you got that diagnosis, that it was going to be hard. She makes the decision every day to stay with you. It’s her decision too.”

“It’s my life,” CJ whispered softly. “There isn’t one of us out there who doesn’t know the right mixture of medications to take to end it. We’re going to die anyway. It isn’t cancer. Even when you are in remission, it’s still eating at you, destroying every T-Cell in your body. I tell the people who know that I never think about it, that I have a life to live … but I lie awake at night and it’s like I can feel my immune system shredding itself.”

“Are you still in remission now, CJ?”

CJ didn’t really know how to answer that question. Her T-Cell counts had been low at her last checkup, but not drastically so. Her kidneys were fatigued, but that was normal for her. “It’s been fifteen years, Paula. My number has to come up sometime.”

“You’re the one with the mantra that you need to take life one day at a time, CJ. One day. One hour. Why think about that time when your number comes up? Why think about suicide to make it easier on everyone? What do you have for the rest of the night?”

CJ sighed. “I have a briefing at five-thirty, and then a senior staff meeting at six. After that I’ve got a planning and advance meeting for the trip to Roslyn and a meeting with my boss about the agenda for that meeting. At eight thirty I have a final meeting with my staff to prep for tomorrow and then Sydney and I are having dinner at home together.”

“You have your life planned out, to the letter, by the hour. What’s the point of planning your death that way?”

“Virginia Woolf thought about killing herself every day.” She sighed. “Did you know, that in Mrs. Dalloway, she was initially going to have Clarissa die? She was going to have Clarissa kill herself over something so seemingly trivial to the rest of the world… but that’s the thing. See, to everyone else,” she chuckled. “To everyone else, I am trivial. Do you get that? I get up there every day and talk about everything that’s important. Is it really a big deal that the president is meeting with the Ambassador to Paraguay today? I can’t answer that, but someone thinks it is. But every day from that podium, I talk about the important things. I talk about gay rights and women’s rights and human rights. I answer questions about Roe vs. Wade and Supreme Court nominations and things that actually do have an impact on people’s lives. This week I’m going to be talking about physician assisted suicide. Tell me that doesn’t have an impact on everyone’s life! I know it has an impact on mine. Nothing I say from that podium is trivial, but I am trivial. I’m not a person to anyone who watches those briefings. I’m the face of the administration, someone to love or to hate. And everything I talk about is so much more important than me, even to me. What I am, what I’m going through, what is going through my body, that’s just trivial.”

“Trivial? To who? To the world or to you?” Paula tilted her head, knowing better than to expect an answer from CJ.

“Would it matter if I just ceased to exist?”

“Ask Virginia.”

This elicited a smile from CJ. “I gotta go. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, Paula. Thank you.”

“Call me if you need to talk.”

“I know.” CJ stood up, transforming herself back into the Press Secretary.

“Heya, CJ.”

“Leo!” CJ jumped and then turned and flashed a worried grin at her boss. “It’s nine PM, I’ve put the lid on, I’m putting on my coat. You being here means that you’re here to tell me to remove my coat, sit down, and you’re going to hand me a report or some other nonsense that I have to know about before my pager goes off tomorrow at six AM.”

He cracked up. “I was here to see Josh and thought I’d make sure you were on your way home. But, now that you mention it …”

“No!” She laughed and tossed a file into her satchel. “I am going home. I am ordering a pizza, opening a bottle of wine, putting on my most comfy pajamas and snuggling up on the couch for a night of movies.”

“I’m guessing you won’t be alone in your snuggling.”

CJ grinned. “For once, we have a night together. We’re taking advantage of it. You’re still coming over for dinner on Sunday, right? Syd’s planning fish.”

Again, Leo found himself smiling. From the minute he’d met CJ, and then Sydney, he’d felt a closeness to the two of them – and since he and Jenny had split, they had been the two he’d gone to. Sydney was like a daughter to him, and she also cooked, which was a godsend given that otherwise he was stuck with restaurant food. CJ kept him busy with everything from work to basketball scores, and it kept him from going completely crazy. He knew he was supposed to maintain some kind of professional distance from an employee, but CJ was more than that to him, especially since he’d learned of her heath concerns. Never once did he see her bring that shadow she carried to the office, and that inspired him. “What kind of fish?”

“God only knows. She never truly decides until she goes and sees what the markets have fresh. I really think it’s a chance for her to just go and walk the pier up in Baltimore.”

“Probably.” Leo helped her on with her coat. “Go home and get some rest.”

“Thanks for the advice about the agenda tonight. I’m meeting with my staff tomorrow about the press schedule, and we need to talk about Mandy. With her focusing more and more of her time on other clients, my workload has doubled.”

“We’re looking into a new media consultant.”

“Or at least an intern to act as liaison between Mandy’s office and the White House.” CJ shouldered her bag, “I think it’s good that we aren’t her only client right now, the DNC needs someone with her skills leading the charge, but we just need one more staffer to help out with it. Why not use the free labor we get from interns. And it doesn’t look good for us to not be working with her. The memo will come back and that’s the last thing we need right now.”

“You have a point.” He nodded. “I’ll look into it this weekend and have Toby talk it over with her.”

“Thanks.” CJ smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Leo. Get out of here and get some sleep, okay.”

“Definitely.” He grinned. His desk was almost clear, and he could stand to think about leaving by ten. It was unheard of for him.

“Lucy, I’m home!” CJ kicked her heels off and watched with a satisfied smirk as they tumbled across the floor. She’d broken the sole of one of them this afternoon and the rest of the day had been like walking on rusty nails. Three hundred dollar heels, but they’d lasted for years. Maybe she’d have a funeral for them – Prada deserved to be respected.

“Hi, Ethel.” Sydney came down the steps, dressed in her favorite pair of pj pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Her long, black hair was tied up on top of her head in a haphazard bun, her face freshly scrubbed, and on her feet were her fluffy purple slipper-socks. To CJ she was still the most beautiful woman in the world. “You’re actually home by nine-thirty. Something must be about to blow up somewhere.”

CJ chuckled and dropped her bag on the bench behind the door. Next to it, Sydney’s leather briefcase was also abandoned. “I’m sure it is. So let me go put on something comfortable and you put in a movie.”

Descending the rest of the stairs at a hop, Sydney caught CJ in a hug before she could go any further. They didn’t get the chance to touch enough, to just revel in what it felt like to be held. Between the two of them, they easily worked at least one-hundred-and-sixty hours a week, and there was such little time for snuggling or touching or just enjoying the feel of each other. “What do you want?”

“A funeral with a full honor guard for my Pradas.”

“The sling backs finally kicked the bucket, hmm? Well, I’ll dig around, we might have a gold lined shoe box somewhere.” Sydney grinned. “And I want to say a few words about how amazing your legs look when you wear them.”

CJ leaned forward to nibble at Sydney’s neck. She tasted the silver of the chain she was wearing and the metallic feel against her tongue mixed with the salt of her skin and sent a rush through CJ’s body. “Hmmm. And what do you want tonight, Counsel?”

“Well, I figured I’d put in a movie we could ignore.”

“Anything relating to law or politics is off the table.” CJ pulled away and started up the stairs to their bedroom.

“That pretty much eliminates everything we have, sweetie.” Sydney laughed. “But I’ll find something. And I already ordered the pizza – I got two, one with just cheese and one with a ton of meat. I didn’t know how to plan for incase your stomach …”

“I’m okay tonight.” CJ kissed her cheek. “The new meds have finally settled down, I think. I’m not getting as sick after I eat, but getting a plain cheese is always a good thing anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“Open the wine, I’ll be right down.” CJ wandered up the stairs, pulling off her professional clothes as she went. Being in front of the TV cameras all the time was a pain, and she was realizing that she needed to go shopping again. Lately she’d been wearing the same three or four suits and just rotating the color of shirt.

It wasn’t until she collapsed onto the bed that she realized just how sore she really was. Her usual pain regimen, an ibuprofen in the morning and three Tylenol arthritis at lunch, had done nothing to touch the fire in her joints. She wondered, briefly, if it came to the point of breaking into the lortabs again, if the press corps would be able to tell if she was high up there. And did she need to tell Leo that she was going to be using narcotics while on the job?

Leaving her clothes draped over the chair on her side of the room, CJ changed into a pair of old, very comfortable black satin PJ pants and a worn through Ani Difranco baby doll t-shirt. Before heading back down, she rubbed some glucosomine lotion into her fingers and elbows (it was no use hiding the pain from Sydney) and pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail. After scrubbing the makeup from her face, she took a long moment to look in the mirror, inspecting for any signs of change. Her nightmare was a K-S lesion in a place she’d never be able to hide it. “Did you hurt this much at the end, Li?” She asked to the shadows behind her. “Cause if it’s going to get worse … I don’t know if I can handle it.” She wiped the last of the cold cream off her nose and sighed, “Maybe Virginia was right … maybe the doctors in Oregon are right … maybe this is necessary. Maybe when it gets to the end …” she shook her head. “Don’t listen to me,” she said, more to herself than the spirit of her friend. “I’m just feeling sorry for myself tonight.”

“Hey.” She padded back down, kicking the broken heels out of the hallway (so much for an honor guard). She’d deal with them in the morning.

“You smell like joint cream. You okay?” Sydney frowned and took a closer look at her girlfriend.

“Sore.” She sighed and sat, slowly, in the overstuffed cushions of the couch. “Very sore.”

“We should call –“ Sydney moved over to touch CJ’s shoulder gently, gauging the reaction under her fingertips. CJ flinched, visibly, and Sydney’s heart started to sink.

“Let’s see how it goes over the weekend. I don’t want a rush to the doctors and more blood tests just because my joints are predicting a change in the weather or something. Anyway, I’ve got that appointment tomorrow, and I know they’ll draw blood.”

“Fair enough.” Sydney handed her a glass of wine, “Should you be having this?”

“I’m fine.” CJ tugged her down next to her. “What did you decide on?”

“The Object of My Affection.”

CJ giggled. “You couldn’t have dragged out the lesbian stuff? If I wanted to watch a story of a straight girl swooning over a gay man, I’d watch Donna following Josh around all day.”

Laughter pealed through the room, “Well,” Sydney got back up and walked over to the videos and DVD rack, “There’s Oranges Aren’t the Only Fruit …”

“Too long.”

“The Incredibly True Story of Two Girls in Love.”

“Too high-school.”

“Bar Girls.”

“Hmmm ….” CJ sipped at the merlot.

“It’s in the Water.”

“Yeah. That one is easy to ignore. And it’s funny too.”

“You seem to think you’re going to be getting something from me tonight.”

“Who knows,” CJ giggled, “you might just be getting something from me.”

“Ohhh, that will be a treat.” Sydney popped the movie into the DVD player and wandered back to the couch. “Exactly what would that be?”

The doorbell buzzed. “Dinner.” CJ said with a laugh as she stood up. Sydney watched, laughing, as CJ half-danced to the front door to let the guy up, and then hunted around for her wallet and enough cash. It was clear from the face of the kid holding the pizzas that he knew exactly who this was, and he was incredibly star-struck to be in her presence. “Thanks.” CJ tipped the kid and then walked back into the living room, holding the two boxes in front of her. “Take them …”

Sydney did and couldn’t help but notice the way CJ rubbed her knuckles as she sat back down. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Let’s eat.”

She woke to the smell of coffee and toasted English muffins. Slipping her robe around her naked body, CJ moved carefully down the stairs of the townhouse and padded across the cold hardwood floors into the tiled kitchen. Sydney was up and half dressed – black dress slacks, a blue camisole, and her long hair up in a clip. She hated hair dryers, and chose instead to let the long tresses dry naturally. A few drops of water had trickled down her back, leaving dark streaks in the cotton of the camisole. The clock above the fridge read six-thirty AM.

“Good morning.” CJ took the glass of water and two pills that Sydney handed to her. She downed them in one gulp, making a face at the residual taste left behind by the powder on the pills. “I’m running late, I can’t believe that I slept through the 5 o’clock alarm.”

“You aren’t running that late, and you needed the sleep, honey. You don’t have to be up every morning right at five. Anyway, Carol will pull the wires for you so stop worrying. And don’t forget your mammogram with Dr. Mitchell this afternoon at three.”

“Between you and Carol, I never need to plan my own life.” She sank into her usual chair at the table, feeling the familiar dull ache in her hips and knees, and skimmed the headlines on the Post. “Oregon pushes for legalization of Doctor-Sponsored Suicide.”

“I saw that.” Sydney kept her eyes on the notes she was making. She and CJ never talked about the end, about what was going to happen when her body couldn’t even fight off the dust particles in the air. She knew that CJ knew what pills to swallow and still make it look like an accident. But right now, the living will decreed that all measures would be taken to keep CJ alive. Sydney was in charge of the ACLU’s push on this case, which made it even more of a national spectacle. She’d been in the meetings and had to advocate for the state of Oregon because she was the ACLU’s legislative director. She wondered just how many of the supporters in the meetings she’d been in had ever had to sit across the breakfast table and know that their partner in life would someday be faced with the decision of finding a way to end it before God did.

CJ read the tone in Sydney’s voice and dropped the subject. “You coming out to meet us tonight?”

“The gang all going to be there?” Taking a minute to blink away the sudden rise in tears, Sydney turned and smiled. “Yeah, I think it’s going to be fun. Nineish?”

“Yeah.” CJ opened her robe a crack and looked down, “Hey, do you think I can get a pass on getting my tits flattened today? There has to be some kind of “get out of mammogram free” pass somewhere, right?”

“Nice try.” Sydney put the muffin and coffee down in front of CJ. Lightly buttered muffin, black coffee and now she would try to get some grapefruit down her gullet. CJ’s appetite had been off the last little while, and swallowing had become increasingly difficult.

CJ sipped at the coffee but with her free hand reached out and snaked her arm around Sydney’s waist. With a tug, she pulled her down onto her lap and kissed at the bare shoulder in front of her. Sydney smelled of freesia body wash and lavender shampoo. The scents had changed over the years, all evolving into a smell that was always perfectly “Sydney”. If she could bottle this smell, she’d take it with her everywhere. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Hey,” Sydney smiled, “you’re welcome. Now,” regretfully, she pulled away, but not without a kiss. “I have to finish getting ready for class. Call me after your appointment, okay?”

“Will you bring bags of ice over to my office and help my breasts recover?”

Sydney just smiled. “Maybe.”

“The Celtics lost last night, how is the president this morning?”

CJ giggled in spite. “He cancelled his plans for the weekend and has spent the morning burning all of his Celtic memorabilia.” She shook her head, “Do you have a real question for me?”

“Senator Rick Santorum of Pennsylvania came out with a statement early this morning, and I’m quoting from notes, “The Bartlet Administration’s push to renew the Ryan White Act is as futile as watering the deserts in Utah and Nevada. Nothing good can come of it. Do you have a comment from the White House?”

“When the President heard of the quote from the Senator from Pennsylvania, he asked for the man’s head on a platter, seriously. The renewal of the Ryan White Act is one of the single most important steps that we can take in the fight against AIDS and HIV in this country. Every year, more and more young people are becoming infected and the research dollars aren’t there to study how the virus has mutated. When the research dollars aren’t there, the programs either dry up completely, or are swallowed by private projects and tainted by biased research. The rise in HIV among young heterosexual men and women is frightening, and if we can’t enact funding now to educate people about the dangers of sexually transmitted diseases, then we’re looking at another pandemic like what happened during the 1980’s in this country. We will renew the Ryan White Act and when we do, Senator Santorum can start looking for a new job.”

“So you’re declaring war?”

“War was already been declared on us, Mark. We’re just fighting back. And if you look at other comments from Republicans across the board to Senator Santorum’s comment, you will note that he stands alone in his comments. The Republicans and the Democrats may have different ideas about why the Act needs to be renewed and what to do with the money, but overall we agree that the funding has to be reinstated.” She looked around the room. “Danny?”

“Does the White House have a comment about the push in Oregon to legalize state-sponsored doctor suicide?”

CJ glared at him. “The White House is committed to it’s stance on the overall right to choose that is granted under Roe vs. Wade. That being said, this is specifically a state issue and the White House does not find it appropriate at the moment to get involved with this debate. End of life decisions are agonizing for all family involved.”

“What about the rights for doctors in other states who are already practicing—“

“You’re asking if we’ve giving Doctor Kevorkian a get out of jail free card?”

“Yes.”

“No.” CJ sighed and closed her book. “That’s it for now, I’ll be back in at three.”

Toby met her outside and fell into step with her. “Good work on the Santorum thing.” He looked at her. “And the other thing.”

“Sydney wants us to denounce it.”

“It’s personal for her.”

“For me too.” CJ led him into her office. “I don’t know what I’m going to want to do …”

“There will be a cure by that point.” Toby hovered in the doorway. “Anyway, good job.”

“Thanks.” She opened the Tylenol bottle and downed two of the small white pills before taking a seat and kicking her less than comfortable shoes off under her desk. “Is it possible for Santorum to be anymore of an ass? Really? What’s next? Saying that gays and lesbians need to be put into ghetto areas so that they don’t taint the poor, sweet children who are running and playing?”

Toby shrugged, “We can put you front and center.”

“I don’t think so.” CJ looked up at him. “I’m not a poster-girl, Toby. And God, the minute I say anything, especially now …” she let out a shaky breath. “Sydney’s already upset enough over the doctor-assisted stuff and …”

“We decided a long time ago that you weren’t a poster child for anything, CJ.”

“But you’re saying I should be?”

“You’ve got the power of the podium.” Toby shrugged. “Anyway, you got that agenda outline for me to look at?”

She did her best not to think about it. She didn’t have the time to think about it. Her daily regimen of pills was as much of a no-brainer as taking her vitamins. She didn’t want think about it. But when the pills sent her to the bathroom and had her puking out everything she’d digested in the past twenty-four hours, she couldn’t help but think about it.

The florescent light of the bathroom made her already pale skin a sickly green, adding to her look of death. She wanted to say that she didn’t hate it, but she did. She hated that her makeup wouldn’t cover everything and that her hands trembled and that the very medications that were keeping her alive were also eating her internal organs. Splashing water on her face, she put back on the mask she wore so well, and slipped back out and down the hall – there was another briefing in an hour and she had to be ready for it.

“CJ?” Carol stopped her.

“Yeah?” She turned and gave her ever-present assistant a smile. “What do you need?”

“Actually, He needs you. And Senator Santorum is on a crusade, apparently.”

“That’s nothing new.” CJ rolled her eyes and started to lead Carol down the hall toward the Oval. “Wait here for me, okay?”

“No problem.” Carol leaned back against the wall and flashed Mrs. Landingham a smile after the door to the Oval Office closed behind her boss. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Landingham.”

“You too, dear.” Delores smiled at the younger woman. Of all the assistants, she had a special affinity for Carol Fitzpatrick. There was something elegant about the way the woman carried herself; she carried no ambitions to be anything but diligent and loyal to her place. Whenever she overheard the girls gossiping, it was usually Carol who triumphed as the voice of reason. Margaret seemed to know everything, but it was Carol who could truly handle it. “Would you like a cookie, Carol?”

“Oh, thank you.” Carol smiled and snagged one of the homemade mini-chocolate chip cookies from the crystal jar on the older woman’s desk. Standing in the foyer to the Oval always made her nervous, as if she was back in high school, waiting for the principal to call her into his office. But CJ had told her to wait, which meant that she’d be working the minute that door opened again. If she’d learned anything over the past year since following CJ from Triton-Day, it was that the world of the Press Office was the most important world to control. Seconds could literally change policy initiatives.

“Hey, Kid.” Bartlet looked up and smiled as CJ came into the room. “I saw your comments about Santorum, the ass. You did a good job.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re the one taking the lead on the agenda for the Roslyn town hall?” Bartlet looked back at his notes. “Impressive.” He waved her to the couch.

CJ laughed. “Impressive that Leo took this out of Josh’s hands or impressive that he’s trusting me with an agenda. When you walk out of there I’ll have you against affirmative action and giving all federal dollars to Planned Parenthood.”

Bartlet cracked up. “I figured. Good job with pulling this assignment. And looking over this proposed agenda, I can’t see anything wrong with it, though we know it will change drastically.”

“Well, Sir, that’s the problem with letting the people ask you questions.”

“I know. That’s always our first mistake.” He grinned and then handed the agenda back to her. “I’ve made a few notations beyond what Leo had discussed with you.”

CJ glanced down and sighed, not really knowing if it was the time and place to argue with him about sex on college campuses. He had crossed the item off the agenda, but had still made a note that it could easily come back into the discussion and to prepare questions for it. “All right, Sir.”

Bartlet could sense her disappointment but just nodded. “Go ahead and get the prep-questions drafted and we’ll begin rehearsals when?”

“There will be a couple of prep meetings next week with the staff and we’ll do full blown rehearsals the Friday before and the day of the event.”

“What times?”

“Whenever I can convince the people who help you run the country to give you to me for ten minutes.” She couldn’t help but laugh.

“You think I’m ready to face two hundred college kids?”

“Well, Sir, they’ll be well vetted. We’ll try to just let the Democrats through the door.”

Again, Bartlet laughed. He waved CJ away and called for Mrs. Landingham.

Carol stepped forward and took CJ’s briefing book. “After the call to the Post,” CJ started as they took off down the hall, “call up the Times and tell them I’ll give their senior reporter anything he wants, save an exclusive with the President. Then I want you to call Santorum’s office and talk to his press secretary about his language on World AIDS day of last year. He comes out publicly for funding and then votes against it consistently. Find out what she’s saying to the press, if she’ll talk to you. If she won’t talk to you, make sure you fax her the papers I had you cull for me yesterday. I also need you to get on with Toby’s office about the tentative summit between the Sub-Saharan African countries and the drug companies,” they entered her office and CJ tossed the agenda onto her desk. “See what kind of progress, if anything, has been made. And while you’re at it, call the drug companies themselves and ask them why I’m paying what I’m paying for my medications.”

Carol laughed. “Got it. And I’m calling your doctor now to get the reauthorization of one of your medications. Do you want it …”

“See if he can just fax it directly to the pharmacy. Sydney said she’d pick them up for me on her way over to the bar tonight.”

“All right.” Carol took a second look at her boss. “I’ll also get you some ginger ale and a couple of crackers.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh please,” CJ giggled into her grasshopper. “Josh, Virginia Woolf was a lesbian. She loved Leonard, yes, but she was a lesbian in a time when it wasn’t proper for a woman to be a lesbian.”

“Is it proper now?” Josh waggled his eyebrows at her.

“What’s proper?” Sydney put her hand on CJ’s shoulder before slipping into the chair next to her girlfriend.

“Hey,” CJ smiled, but then launched back into her diatribe, “Josh is refusing to admit that Virginia Woolf was a lesbian.”

“Josh,” Sydney fixed her grey eyes on him, “how much Virginia Woolf have you read?”

“Um …”

“Well then,” Sydney flagged a waitress and ordered a long island iced tea before continuing. “You have no right to talk about whether or not she was a lesbian. You have to read something of hers first.” She smirked and reached up to loosen her hair from the ponytail it had been in all day.

“How was your day?” CJ slipped her hand into Sydney’s, carefully keeping their linked fingers below the table.

“Eh.” Sydney shrugged. Actually, it had sucked. She’d spent the day arguing points of view on assisted suicide with her students, and then repeated the conversation with her interns, her law clerks, her associates, and the chairman of Senate rules committee. She didn’t care if the ACLU was for it, her own views were vastly different from the professional one she was forced to take.

“Yeah?” CJ gave her a gentle smile. “Then we won’t talk about work.”

“Yeah, why don’t we talk about how the senior staff of the white house managed to find themselves at a bar by nine o’clock. Tell me, CJ, this isn’t where you usually are when you are telling me that you’re running late, is it? Because if it is, then we need to talk.” CJ giggled. It was Sydney’s favorite sound.

Toby smirked and leaned back in his chair. They had all needed to get out. The town hall meeting in Roslyn was just a few days away and CJ was about ready to kill the President and Sam over the details of the agenda. Between Santorum’s comments and the assisted suicide issue, her tolerance was worn pretty thin.

“You have to go back?” Sydney turned puppy-dog eyes to CJ.

“No, I’m done for the night.”

“So I can get you drunk, take you home, and take full advantage of you?”

“Please.” CJ grinned and had it been any other place than a bar in the heart of Washington DC, she’d have leaned over to kiss Sydney. “I could use someone telling me what do to tonight.”

“Anything you say, Doctor Cregg.” Sydney grinned and sipped at her drink.

“Hey, Leo.”

He smiled and handed over a bottle of sparkling grape juice. “Evening, Sydney. How are you?”

“I’m all right.” Sydney stepped back to allow him into the two-story town house.

For as often as he visited, Leo never lost the sense of comfort he felt when he stepped into this home. Over the years, he could tell, CJ and Sydney’s tastes had conformed together, making possible the overstuffed leather settee set and the elegant, 1920’s era writing desk. The walls were a mixture of classical art, modern abstract, and one entire wall was dedicated to framed pictures of family and friends. Every picture branched out from the center portrait of two very young women holding hands in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. Someone had actually come in and painted a tree, and each picture was a leaf. To Leo, it was the most beautiful work of art he’d ever seen.

Hardwood floors graced every room, save for the Italian tile in the kitchen, a kitchen done in sleek, modern black glass-front and top appliances. Yet, even for the rather cold touch in the kitchen, it all still felt warm. Two nooks, one a breakfast nook filled with overstuffed pillows and a small table and another one, a tiny alcove of pantry shelves, gave the room a strange, geometric feeling. From here he could see into the small room they used as a shared office, and the carpet-lined hardwood stairs that led to the rather spacious upstairs. Here also he could see into the room they’d remodeled so that Sydney could have an office at home. CJ’s office was upstairs next to the bedroom.

For the austerity, all the furniture was perfectly padded, and even overstuffed. He loved it; his old bones always preferred something soft to sit on, even if his ego wouldn’t let him admit it. He also knew that the reason they went with overstuffed padding wasn’t because of a choice of taste but necessity. CJ’s bones ached constantly, and the extra padding gave her a bit of relief. “You got new bar stools,” he commented as he took a seat.

“Yeah.” Sydney did her best to not look uncomfortable. She failed. “CJ couldn’t sit on them anymore. Hell, I couldn’t either. They were pretty worn down.”

“Where is CJ? Margaret told me she called in today, and that …” He laughed, cautiously. “She’s the only staffer that actually calls when she won’t be in on a Sunday, so when she does …”

“She was in a lot of pain this morning …” Sydney leaned against the counter and looked at the older man. “A lot of pain.” CJ had Toby, and Sydney had discovered a friend in Leo. She never felt she could truly open up to Toby, he worried enough as it was about CJ. But Leo had always just been there, since the minute he’d found out about it. He never once compromised CJ’s work ethics, but he was also able to be there for Sydney. “She’s still in bed right now, actually. I don’t know if she’ll make it down for dinner.”

“How is she, really?” Leo reached over and took her hand.

“She … the doctors keep telling us she’s fine. Her blood counts are normal, if a bit lower than they’d like to see. But … she’s been in so much pain recently. She keeps telling me it’s a change in the weather but it’s more than that. Really.”

“Is that gut instinct or worry talking?”

“Both, I think. CJ’s a fighter. Hell, the only thing that kept her in bed this morning was that movement was literally impossible. She couldn’t roll over in bed without screaming. I doped her up on a couple of lortabs and then came down here to make dinner. I have to wake her up in a few minutes to get her meds into her, but it might just be us for dinner.” She sighed. “Getting her meds down at lunch almost had me on the phone to her doctor. She was in that much pain.”

“Sydney …”

“I’m sorry, Leo.” She turned to check on the vegetables. “I shouldn’t go on like this.”

“You can, you know. If you need to, you know I’ll listen.” He went to the fridge and pulled out one of the cokes that Sydney kept for him. She didn’t touch soda, and CJ’s diet standbys were something he wouldn’t go near.

“I know. It’s just … I always over react when she’s in pain.”

“It’s easy to do.” Leo settled on the barstool again. “I …” he sighed. “I’ve got a friend who is ill. I’ve known him a long time, and every time he seems just a bit under the weather, my heart just races. He’s like a brother to me, and I just thank God every time I get to talk to him.”

“Yeah.” Sydney looked back from the vegetables. “You know, almost every day, CJ is up at four-thirty. No matter what. She gets up, she has a cup of coffee and half a grapefruit and she reads the morning wires. By five-fifteen she’s either in her office on the bike or she’s on her way to the gym. Without fail. And she always leaves just enough coffee for me to have my cup and a half and she leaves the other half grapefruit, and a chocolate kiss. But days like today, when she can’t even reach over to turn off the alarm clock without sobbing … I just find myself looking back at the days when we were really young and in love, before the car accident, and I just want to know why God did what he did.”

“Yeah.”

Sydney took a breath and wiped her eyes, brushing away tears that threatened. “Anyway. I should head upstairs and see if CJ can swallow these. If she can’t I need to call her doctor.”

“I’ve got my driver.”

“Her doctor makes house calls. We pay a bit extra on the co-pay but it helps with her anonymity.”

“Good.” Leo watched her reach for the towel to dry her hands. She shook while she moved to unlock a drawer in the bar, and he finally moved and put a hand over hers. “Syd, let me.” He didn’t know where it was coming from, the very thought of seeing CJ in any form but her usual, professional, cheerful self was frightening for him. But he also knew that he had to do it sometime. He was part of the small, inside group that knew, and that meant he’d become someone to help take care of her, and to help take care of Sydney. “You stay here with the fish.”

“She’s not swallowing well and …” She tried to shake him off.

“No.” He made her look at him. “Let me. What ones does she need?”

“She …” Sydney shook her head again, “Leo, it’s not anything you need to worry about.”

“Yes, it is. Sydney, let me help.” She acquiesced, silently, handing him three blue pill bottles.

“One of each,” she said, softly, “and there’s a bottle of lortab in there. The pills are big, but if she can swallow, get the painkiller in her too. If anything, she’ll sleep.” She refused to cry in front of Leo. Leo had known them for just a couple of years, but he’d taken them both in as family and he was more her father than her own father was. “She won’t want to take them, make her. There’s a berry smoothie drink in the fridge, it helps the pills go down easier.”

“Okay.” He shook the pills out into his hands, not realizing until he tried to cap the bottles just how much he was shaking too. He knew he had no right to be nervous, that CJ really was fine, she was just in pain today, but he’d never done anything like this. Even when Mallory had been younger, it had been Jenny who cared for her when she was sick. “I’ll be back down.” He left Sydney staring at the vegetables on the stove.

“Thanks.” She whispered, when she thought he was out of earshot.

He’d been in their bedroom once before, at a party they had hosted for senior staff and he’d needed to borrow the bathroom. The floors were the same hardwood as in the rest of the townhouse, but a thick blue rug protected the floor from scratches. A few framed prints hung on the walls, including a depiction of Tolkien’s Rivendell. Sydney was a nut for the author. The room had an overhead lamp, but he knew it was rarely used, the couple instead opted for small table lamps. This was not a room to work in. They had offices for that. There was no TV, no computer, only a cozy, comfortable sense of togetherness. Thick curtains of maroon, covered with white lace, kept the light out.

“CJ?” He whispered in the direction of the bed. From his place in the doorway, he thought he could see a small lump under the thick blue comforter, but he wasn’t sure. “CJ?” He dared again, a bit louder.

“What?” CJ’s eyes flew open at the sound of her boss’ voice and she bolted upright – and let out an agonizing scream as she did so. “God!” She couldn’t control the tears of pain.

“CJ …” Leo hurried into the bedroom, set the pills and drink down on the table, and reached across to try and touch her. Only at the last minute did he realize that might make it worse. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, I’m … I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were here already is all. Is dinner ready?” CJ put on her work face and struggled to sit up completely.

“Almost. It’s time for your meds. I offered to bring them up to you.”

“Oh.” CJ sighed and reached across for the tiny pills. Leo watched her move, and his arthritic bones were sympathetic to her pain. But he let her be brave, for now. “Thanks.” She said, after visibly struggling to get the first of the pills down. She swallowed the other two without fanfare and ran a hand over her hair. “I guess it’s time for me to join the land of the living.”

“Come down when or if you’re ready, CJ. Take it easy.”

“Just give me a few minutes.” She smiled. “I’ll be right down.” After Leo closed the door behind him, she whimpered, letting the pain come completely through. Everything hurt. Absolutely everything. Even her hair hurt.

“Mr. President!” CJ rubbed her middle finger, easing the pain out of her joint, and shook her head at her boss. “Do I have permission to come over there and hit you over the head with that report?”

Leo stifled a laugh.

“Well, CJ, I think the Secret Service would have a problem with that.”

“I could take the secret service!” She sighed. “We can’t stand up there and declare that affirmative action is the best course of action for every college campus across the country. In cities where the majority population is ethic and is not getting into school, maybe, but the fact of the matter is, there are schools all across the country where no matter how many kids of an ethnic background that you let in, the majority of the students will be white. You can’t change that. So we can’t say that it works perfectly for everyone, especially when it isn’t a perfect system.”

“You’re really mad that I was mocking Dayton.”

“That too.” She paused and then started to laugh. “Yeah, I am.”

Bartlet chuckled and hopped off the table as Charlie came in to interrupt them. “Well, I’ve got another meeting folks. We’ll pick this up on Monday. Thank you, CJ.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.” CJ sighed and looked back at her notes as the rest of the staff filed out.

Leo hung back, watching her. “CJ, go home.” He said, softly.

“Leo …”

“Tell me something.” He walked over to her and sat down, taking her shaking hand in his. “How high are you right now?”

It took visible effort for her to raise her head and she blinked a couple of times, “To be high, the pain killers have to be doing more than barely touching the pain.” With Leo, she could be honest. He’d been there the other night.

“Go home. Get some sleep. Seriously.”

“I have work to do.”

“The work will wait. It’s not worth it if you collapse or something, okay. Frankly, the fact that you’ve made it through the day at all is a shock to me. Go home. Don’t make me order you.” He took the notebook from her and closed it. “I’ll see you at staff in the morning.”

“I haven’t called a full lid.”

“Let Henry do it. There’s no other news coming in and, as always, you’ll be paged if there is.”

“Leo…”

“Go home, CJ. It’s going to be a long, long day tomorrow and you need to be at the top of your game.” He would have squeezed her hand, but he could only guess at how much that would hurt her. “Go home.”

“Okay, you must have been fired. You’re home by nine-fifteen for like the fifth day in a row.” Sydney looked up from her case notes and grinned.

“What?” CJ kicked off her heels and even forced a smile to her face. She was home early and wanted nothing more than to pounce on Sydney. The notes slid to the floor as CJ straddled her lap and kissed her thoroughly, ignoring the pain that coursed through every part of her body. “You were expecting your other girlfriend?”

“Yeah. I mean, I always bank on you not being home until eleven.”

“Well, we’ll just have to get her to join us then.” CJ nibbled at Sydney’s neck.

“Hmmm … I dunno, you’re all the woman I can handle.” She unbuttoned CJ’s blouse and stroked the bare skin of her stomach. “Are you still in pain, Honey?” She knew the answer to the question, but wanted to give her girlfriend the option to lie to her.

CJ sighed and slid her fingers through Sydney’s hair. “If we give up everything now just because I’m hurting, then I might as well resign my position and go to bed until this thing takes me. For some reason, I’m in pain right now. Next week I’ll feel better. Okay? Please?” She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders and started on the button of Sydney’s jeans.

“Fair enough.” Sydney pushed back her worries and tugged the lacy material of CJ’s bra aside. “And do those reporters who are lusting after you know what kind of lingerie you wear?” She bit her lip as CJ tugged the t-shirt she was wearing over her head.

“Yes. In the private meetings back in my office, I walk around only in my underwear.” CJ rolled her eyes as she slid down off Sydney’s lap and nudged her legs apart, giving herself the leverage she needed to pull the jeans off her body completely, taking the boxer shorts with them.

Sydney moaned and slid her hands into CJ’s hair as CJ’s hands moved to maneuver the material of her clothes out of the way. She was worried, she didn’t want CJ to push herself, but moments like this, as CJ’s mouth kissed its way up her leg, Sydney forgot to care. When they made love it was perfect and explosive and … “Hold on …” she moaned, ten years of practice kicking in. Blindly, she reached into the end table drawer and pulled out one of the dental dams. She missed the days when they’d been reckless and safe sex hadn’t been a priority.

“I would but I have no idea how long I’m going to be in the office tonight. This case is really kicking my butt.” Sydney came up and wrapped her arms around CJ’s waist, resting her chin on her girlfriend’s bony shoulder. “Go with the pants. You’re going to be running around like crazy today and the pants are going to be easier to deal with. Anyway, those pants make your legs look even longer than they already are and you know how hot that makes me.”

“You have a point.”

“I usually do.” Sydney broke away from CJ and turned back to the mirror to fix her makeup and hair. “You know, I think it’s time to cut this off.”

“You say that every day, and after seventeen years you think I’d have stopped listening to it.”

“I also tell you that I love you every day.”

“It’s why I still listen to you.” CJ grinned and turned around as she shrugged into the blue blouse she usually wore with this suit. “But, Syd, remember the short hair disaster of nineteen-ninety-three? I loved it, but you bitched until it grew out. You’re meant to have long hair. It’s just the way it is. Anyway, I love the way it falls around your shoulders. It’s like an obsidian waterfall. My hair has never been like that.” CJ took a sip of her coffee before pulling up the loose pants and fastening them.

“First off, your hair isn’t black. Secondly, since when do you talk like Toby?” The women exchanged places, CJ sat at the vanity to fix her makeup and do something with her ever-changing hair while Sydney decided on a black pantsuit and red blouse.

“Since I’m working on about three speeches that he’s made notes on.” CJ grinned back in the reflection of the mirror. “Going hunting today?”

“Yeah. My testimony is in front of the judiciary committee today.” She stepped into a pair of open toed heels.

“That’s right.” CJ chose a shade of lipstick and talked to her girlfriend’s reflection as she applied it. “And stop whining. You work for the ACLU because you believe in the power of the first amendment, and you believe in the power of the state and the Federal government to balance power. You believe in the power of a person’s right to choose, not just a woman’s.” She left the rest of the sentence hanging for a long minute while she applied her usual eye shadow. “You believe that the decision in the end is up to the family, and that’s the key point to your argument today.”

Sydney fastened a thin golden chain around her neck and walked slowly over, putting her hands on CJ’s shoulders. She bent to kiss CJ’s ear, trying to hide the tears that suddenly sprang up. “Lover, how on earth do you know the questions in my head before I even say them? How do you know what I’m really feeling about this issue?”

“First off, I know you. Secondly,” she tried to joke before Sydney started to cry, “I talk to reporters all day long. You learn to read people’s minds pretty quickly.” CJ laughed.

Sydney laughed and stepped back to select a new series of hoops for the six earrings she had in each ear.

CJ stopped talking long enough to apply her lipstick. “Hey, you think that maybe this weekend we could sneak up to Virginia, find a tiny bed and breakfast, and have sex for two straight days?”

“First off, you know the rule about saying the word “straight” in this house. Second, I’ll make the reservations today during a recess. You think you can really sneak away?”

“I do have a deputy for a reason and we need to get out of DC and away from our jobs and the constant conflicts of interest for a couple of days.”

“Yeah, we do.” Sydney back walked over and put her hands on CJ’s shoulders. “Call me when you get done tonight, okay?”

“I will. And I’ll really try to not be home too late. The gaggle keeps me, you know that, but I’ll rush out of there as fast as I can.”

“Good.” She kissed the top of CJ’s head. “Have a good day, finish your breakfast, and don’t forget your meds tonight. You tend to forget them when there’s a late night event.”

“I’ll remember.” CJ rolled her eyes, but secretly thanked her for the reminder. As it was, she knew she’d still forget. “Your briefcase is in the kitchen!” She called down when she heard Sydney stop suddenly by the front door.

With a laugh, Sydney went to retrieve it, remembering now that she’d been reviewing things while making dinner last night.

Sydney knew that she was hopeless. Completely hopeless. She had decided, a long time ago, that it was inevitable that the TV in her office would always be tuned to C-SPAN so that she could catch a glimpse of CJ telling the press corps to go fuck themselves. Even when C-SPAN had better things to run than CJ’s briefings, briefings which could be boring at times, she kept the channel there, muted, hoping that her angel would appear on screen.

“Good morning.”

The voice caught her off guard and Sydney hadn’t realized that the TV was even un-muted. Last she had looked up, the Senate had been in a quorum call. But now, three paragraphs further into one of her clerks reviews, a musical voice was striving to catch her attention.

She was comfortable up there today – Sydney could tell by the way CJ was balancing her weight and by the look in CJ’s eye when she called on Danny. But at the same time, she knew something was up. Whenever CJ was acting, she dropped her shoulder just a bit. And whenever she talked diplomatic strength and flat out avoided military action, it was too easy to see through her. For a minute she wondered why the press corps never saw that, but they hadn’t been with CJ for almost half their lives.

Knowing that CJ was avoiding questions about military action for the pilot in Iraq only made Sydney sigh. It was days like today, even if they ended up being good ones, that turned into nights where CJ would stumble through the door sometime after midnight and barely make it to their bed before collapsing. It was those nights that CJ would sleep for fifteen minutes before waking up enough to tug off her hose and skirt and walk around in just her camisole and her silk blouse hanging open. She’d remove her makeup and rant about whichever of the men pissed her off and she would pull her hair up in a messy pony tail and get into bed dressed only in an old t-shirt of Sydney’s and her panties and they’d snuggle. Nights like the one that Sydney knew was coming always meant so much more than the nights of wild love making. Nights like this, they’d hold each other and Sydney would talk about her day until CJ fell asleep. Never, in the years that they’d been together, had Sydney found offence that CJ always fell asleep while she was talking. In fact, she took pride in the comfort that CJ apparently found in her voice. And if it meant that CJ was getting any kind of sleep, she’d take it.

“CJ, Sydney Ludlow, Director of Legislative Affairs for the ACLU, also the director of the Washington DC ACLU office is testifying this afternoon before the senate judiciary committee about the constitutionality of doctor assisted suicide. Does the White House have a comment about her testimony?”

“Well, Steve, I haven’t seen Sydney’s,” she caught herself, “Ms. Ludlow’s statement, but it’s a well documented fact that she and the ACLU are long time friends of the Bartlet administration.”

Sydney cracked up. In moments like that, it was worth the stress they endured for CJ to do her job and do it well. Sometimes she honestly thought that her girlfriend should be a stand-up comic.

“But the ACLU –“

“From what I know of Ms. Ludlow’s testimony, the ACLU is taking the stand that, as with issues of abortion, the right to life needs to be in the hands of the family, not the government.”

“Does the White House have a comment?” Steve asked again.

“What, that wasn’t good enough for you?” The press corps laughed again. “Seriously, folks. The administration’s long-standing support of the right’s of patients is something that is well documented. That being said, we also are open to the debate on this subject and will accept whatever ruling the Supreme Court hands down. As nice as it would be to be the final voice on this subject, it is the court and not the Executive that gets that right. It’s controversial, we know, but we try to not run from controversy. That’s all for now, I’ll be back to check in with you before we load up to Roslyn, and if there is any word on the pilot in Iraq. Thank you.”

Sydney all but reached out to touch the TV as CJ exited the podium. Part of her was still amazed that even after seventeen years, the unconditional love was still there, and under it, lust. But even more important than the sex, was the love, and the knowledge that for Sydney, she’d found the right one back in that gay and lesbian community center in Berkeley.

CJ wondered if beating Josh and Mandy’s heads together would make them both die. No, knowing her luck it would only cause to join them together and suddenly they’d not only be annoying but also inseparable. They hadn’t been this bad when they’d been sleeping together. Sighing with relief, she slipped out of the rehearsal and back to her office. How did it get to be two o’clock? Closing and locking the door behind her, she unlocked her desk drawer and took out one of the pill bottles she kept at work.

It was a small vial; just large enough to hold the pills she’d need for the week. Unmarked, on the off chance that she forgot to lock the drawer and someone went snooping. She remembered which pills were which by the color of the vial. Just like with her vitamins in the morning, she downed the pills with a full bottle of water and a couple of crackers. The vial went back into the drawer, the drawer was once again locked, and she turned her attention to the press releases, the distressed shuttle, and coming up with a peace offering to give to Danny.

“CJ?” Carol buzzed in. “Sydney’s on the line.”

She grinned. “Thanks.” She muted CNN and reached for the phone, “Hey.”

“Maggie’s B and B. We’ve got one of the larger suites for the weekend. It’s romantic, it’s in the woods, it’s gay friendly, so we’re all set.”

“Do you know how much I am loving you right now?”

“Enough to find some kind of emergency so that I have to leave the committee?”

“No.” She laughed. “Not that much. And come on, you’re arguing a case to the US Senate. Aren’t you having fun?”

“No.” Sydney sighed. “They’re calling us back. I love you, baby, and I’ll talk to you tonight.”

“Love you too, Sweetie.”

It was good to hear everyone laughing. Sam was yacking in her ear about something and she needed to catch up to Toby and make sure he was okay, and where was Josh? But she knew better, his fan club was probably keeping him busy.

“What was that?” CJ asked, still chuckling as she turned her attention back to Sam. His response was cut short by Gina’s scream of “gun!”, the subsequent gunfire, and Sam throwing her to the ground. She felt, more than heard, the cop car window explode over her head and the last thing she thought of as her head hit the ground was that she needed to call Sydney.

*** Never in her life had she been more scared than she had in this moment. Not when they’d been waiting for the results from CJ’s blood tests, not when she’d fallen when they were hiking in the Rockies and she’d broken her leg, never in her life had she felt this scared and helpless. And there was nothing she could do.

Shots fired … shots fired … it kept ringing in her ears as she sped toward the hospital. She couldn’t get anyone on the phone and one reporter said they’d seen CJ go down near a bullet riddled police car. This couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t. Their entire life together couldn’t be snuffed out in this moment, could it?

Apparently it didn’t matter that she was on the family list with the service, they weren’t letting her in the door. Her tears seemed to only annoy the already tired agent and she backed up, doing everything but screaming at the windows in the hope that maybe, just maybe CJ could hear her. Please, please God, let her be okay. Please. I’ll do anything, just let her be okay. Don’t take her from me. Not now. Just let her be okay. She tried the cell phone again, and CJ’s pager and still nothing. So she was relegated to behind the barrier, hoping and praying that someone would finally relent and let her in the door. Or that maybe CJ would make an appearance and talk to the press. Or maybe try to call her. Or something. But the longer she waited, the more scared she became. Why wasn’t her phone ringing with the doctors contacting her? They needed to know that CJ was deathly allergic to penicillin and to most of the basic anesthesia. They needed to know that she’d been on cold medication recently and that she was HIV positive … oh God, what if they weren’t calling her for a reason, what if … her cell phone rang.

“Oh, God, CJ. Where are you? God … are you okay, where the hell are you?”

CJ collapsed back against the hospital wall, watching the hustle of the ER bay. “Come around to the back of the ER admitting bay, I’m here. And I’m okay, Angel. Really.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Sydney took off at a run, not daring to hope that things really were fine until she saw for herself that CJ was, really okay. She didn’t sound okay. She was shaky and something was off in her voice – she was dazed. CJ hung up as Sydney tore around the corner and past the bulky secret service agent. She really didn’t care who tried to stop her at this point. “Oh, God,” Sydney whispered, taking in her girlfriend’s slightly unfocused expression and the red scratch on her neck. “You’re okay?”

“Just a concussion, that’s all,” CJ reached for her and took her hands. “Really. And it’s a mild one. I think more damage was done to my neck than my head.”

“You should be sitting still, resting. God, when do you … who else …” She stopped talking for a second and just wrapped CJ in her arms. “I love you.”

“I love you.” CJ held on, tightly. This, this right here was her sanity.

“How is everyone else?” Sydney still hadn’t let go.

“The President’s going to be fine … he was hit but it’s minor. It’s Josh …” CJ choked. “God, Sydney …”

“Shhh, sweetie,” she could feel the tears starting and then stopping in CJ’s chest. “He’ll be fine.”

She collapsed into the chair in her office, feeling every bone in her body creak and pop with the sudden chance to actually relax. She was tired, bitchy, and her head hurt. The lortab she’d taken earlier to stem the encroaching pain in her joints had only made her cranky and queasy and now she had to take her meds and it was enough to wish, for a brief moment, that Sam hadn’t been as fast as he’d been. After downing the little white pills with a full bottle of water, she stopped for a moment and pulled the charm necklace out of her pocket.

Usually she opted for a small charm on her watchband – a silver heart that to the untrained eye looked to be just an accessory. But to any medic who looked at her, they would know to look at the charm, and when they flipped it over, they would see the medi-alert symbol, her name, and her health status: HIV Positive/Penicillin Allergic. But she’d switched watches … had it been yesterday morning, she couldn’t remember anymore, and instead donned a necklace Sydney had given her on the anniversary of her diagnosis. Yes, they both admitted to the morbidity of celebrating the anniversary of the day they’d found out she was positive, but it helped them to laugh in the face of death. The necklace was elegant, a gold pendant on a simple golden chain, and on the back of the pendant, all her pertinent information. She’d learned one thing through this whole ordeal, that when she got the chain replaced, she was having it made just a little longer, long enough to slip over her head, and there would be no clasp. They couldn’t risk a hospital not knowing.

She downed an aspirin, not really caring what all the medication would do to the lining of her stomach, and went to collapse on the couch for a while. No one had been allowed to go home yet, and everyone was taking watch at the hospital. But she had a few minutes, and the calls Carol had handed her could wait, and right now she needed to just close her eyes and see if she could get her head to stop throbbing.

“It’s good you came in.” Roger sighed quietly and looked at one of his favorite patients. “A stressful event like the shooting can actually alter a body’s immune system and make it more vulnerable.”

“What are you telling me?” CJ toyed with the band-aid in the crook of her elbow.

“Well... How’s your head?” Roger sighed.

“Headaches for a couple of days after the shooting, but I’m better now.”

“And the joint pain?”

CJ sighed. “Excruciating. Mostly in my knuckles and ankles.”

“What’s your pain regimen currently?”

“Mostly Tylenol. I break into the Lortab when I can’t handle it.”

“Since that incident what, about three weeks ago, how has the pain been?”

“I’m not confined to bed, which I take as a good sign.”

Roger almost laughed. But he didn’t like what the signs were starting to point to. “I want you to switch back to the Ibuprofen. Work it into your regimen and see how the pain handles itself. I think also once you bring your blood pressure down, the pain will go back to its usual levels.” Roger sighed and looked at the blood test results in front of him. “CJ, I’m worried about your kidneys. I want to talk about taking you off the cocktail completely for a while. Right now, I’m worried that the side effects are more detrimental than the virus.”

CJ’s heart soared. No medication. None except the pain killers- and maybe something for her blood pressure. No setting her pager to go off, no keeping a pill vial in her jacket pocket incase she wasn’t in her office right at six PM. No being sick all day long. She could eat what she wanted and drink what she wanted and enjoy life again. “Really?” She tried to not sound too hopeful.

“Yes, really. Even though your viral count is slightly accelerated, I don’t like what I’m seeing in your kidneys.” He saw the hopeful look in her eyes and tried to squelch it. “This isn’t a break for you, CJ. Seriously.” He scribbled something onto a green piece of paper, “You’re going to taper your medications off for the next week. Here’s the new schedule and then by next Sunday I want you off of everything. Come back in three weeks and we’ll do another round of tests. If you show any signs –“

“Roger, I’ve done this before. If I start to show signs of illness of any kind, I page you directly and we go back to the medications.” CJ felt fifty pounds lighter.

“Yes. And CJ, this is for your kidneys. I want you to monitor yourself closely so that we don’t have to start doing regular urine testing. But if you notice anything – unusual smells, white cloudiness, and above all else, blood, you get in touch with me immediately.”

“I will.”

Roger handed over the checkout paperwork and smiled. “Okay, good luck and I’ll see you back here in three weeks.”

“Thank you.” CJ all but skipped out of the office.

“I’m tapering down. Sydney, we’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, and it landed you in bed with fever blisters! CJ …”

“Sydney, my kidneys are in trouble.” The words spilled out before she could stop them, words she hadn’t said at all until this point. Three months ago Roger had noticed the fatigue, but just decided to monitor it. Now that this step had been taken, CJ knew it was something serious.

“What?” Sydney felt a cold hand grab her gut. “How …”

“It wasn’t anything to worry about last time I got checked, so I didn’t say anything. But this time … he’s worried …”

“God, Baby,” Sydney wanted to be mad, but just crossed the kitchen to be closer to CJ, “are you in pain or anything?”

“Not from that. Really, honey, it’s just preventative.”

“CJ, the last time you went off the meds, you got sick. I … does this mean your body has stopped responding, that the virus is mutating?”

“We haven’t got that far yet, but Roger said he would be in touch after he reviewed the case further. Right now, it’s just best to do what I’m doing.”

Sydney snaked her arms around CJ and held her tightly. This, this right here was her nightmare. She could handle CJ being sick, but it was the possibility of her getting sick that terrified her. Medication was her only weapon, and it had just been taken away from her. “Let’s eat, okay?” She couldn’t talk about this anymore.

“And I don’t see why the reauthorization is so important.” Josh’s voice sounded tinny across the speakerphone. “Seriously, Leo, if we want to gain any ground, we can’t go to this congress, a congress that is too busy out campaigning to do any real work, and say that we want Ryan White re-authorized. We wait until after the midterms when we can actually fight for it.”

CJ leaned back into the couch and closed her eyes. She hurt. Resorting to a Lortab before coming in here had only made her feel queasy, and Josh was now giving her a headache. He had a point, but she hated to concede it. But, they had a chance now to reauthorize this bill, if they waited much longer, they couldn’t be sure congress would pass anything.

“I say we wait until we introduce the health care legislation package we’ve been putting together.”

“It’s a bill aimed at kids, Josh,” CJ said, “how do you suppose we fit AIDS funding into it?”

“We broaden the scope to include teenagers. It’s a start.”

Leo nodded, “All right, we drop Ryan White for now. What about the Violence Against Women Act?”

“It’s a year before it’s up for reauthorization, do we want to introduce it now?” Toby looked around the room. “Why not make some noise with it?”

“Because,” CJ stood up and moved to lean against the doorway, “if we make noise, the members of congress who want to see it eliminated will make as much noise.” She could make the same arguments as Josh. He was right, they might fare better next year, with a different congress, but she’d stood at the podium and voiced their strong support. Now they were putting it in a drawer for another year. All the while, the debate would fade and people would again stop caring.

“And they’ll look bad doing it. I think it goes on the table.”

CJ nodded, he did have a point about that. She wasn’t exactly at her best today and so she leaned back, deciding to listen, and dream of the bubble bath that Sydney had promised her tonight. This meeting was proving to be a waste of time, and she had seventeen press releases to still approve before they hit the wires in an hour.

It had been a flash, a split second realization that if he didn’t pull her down, she’d be dead. Over the noise of the gunfire and the exploding car, he’d heard her head smack against the pavement and as he clawed his way up her body to make sure he hadn’t just killed her himself, her necklace had come loose in his hands. Without even bothering to look, he’d pocketed it and then kept on going. It wasn’t until six hours later, at the hospital, that he’d realized he still had it and when Sam had taken a look at the pendant, his heart had broken.

He wanted to respect her reasons for not telling anyone, and truth be told, if he didn’t know for sure, then he’d never suspect. CJ had been sick twice the whole time he’d known her – once shortly after the campaign started and then last Thanksgiving when she’d been out for close to a week and a half – when that flu bug had landed her in the hospital. Now he worried. Now he looked at her differently, and wondered if she hurt or if her organs were healthy or if he shouldn’t be near her when he wasn’t feeling great. He worried about the germs in the White House and if traveling was really healthy for her. For all his experience, he’d never known anyone with the virus and he’d never sought out the chance to get to meet people like CJ. Truth be told, he was honestly scared. A part of him had never realized that people with HIV could be as normal as anyone else.

Deep down, he knew that CJ knew he knew. But she hadn’t said anything and he wasn’t likely to bring it up. It wasn’t any of his business and if she wanted to tell him, she’d tell him. It was her job to protect all of them, and she knew how to protect herself. The more people knew, the more likely they were to turn their backs on her and make it a scandal that could ruin her forever. So, instead, he just worried silently, and watched her for any signs of illness. And he tried to not cry whenever she laughed.

“Hi,” Sydney looked around at the group. Some faces she knew, others were new, but she trusted all of them to keep their secret, secret. A place like this was just like any other support meeting. “My name is Sydney and my partner has HIV. She’s had it for fifteen years now … we actually celebrated the tenth anniversary of her diagnosis this year.” The scattered chuckles from around the circle let her know that she wasn’t alone in the morbidity. “It’s been a rough few weeks for her, for us. We ... we lost a friend to AIDS and couldn’t go to his funeral, her job keeps us pretty much grounded. And then she was at Roslyn and then last week her doctor took her off all her HIV medications. All of them. Her kidneys are in danger right now.” Sydney took a deep breath. “So … she keeps beating death. But I guess it’s what all of our partners do.” She looked around the circle again and smiled at a couple of her friends.

“My girlfriend loves Virginia Woolf, we both do really – all those morose writers from the nineteen-twenties. But she really has a passion for Virginia’s work and life. It’s the one hobby she can find time for, I guess. And she’s always … she’s always been fascinated with Virginia’s suicide and the idea that it isn’t a selfish act, but one of compassion – especially when you’re sick. She says that it’s brave to walk into the unknown, to dare to try to live a life without pain.”

“What do you say to that?” The moderator asked quietly. Few people in the room actually knew who Sydney’s girlfriend was – she was always careful to not reveal names.

“I don’t know.” Sydney bit her lip, trying to hold in the tears. “I mean … I want to argue with her and tell her that it’s God’s choice, not any one else’s when we go … but what about … we’ve all sat there, at one time or another, thinking that this was it, this was what was going to be the end … and I hate myself for it, but there is this tiny part of me that almost wishes she’d been hit in Roslyn. She wouldn’t be in pain anymore; she’d be free of this shadow. And it’s a tiny part and I don’t like it, but for ten years I’ve watched her try to hide it. I’ve lived and died with the test results and every sneeze and cough. I over-clean the house and I have hand sanitizer in every room and I know exactly how long it’s been since we had sex that wasn’t protected. And this part of me that I hate is the same part of me that can’t argue with her when she brings up her living will and tells me that we shouldn’t let them go to extraordinary measures to save her life. Of course we have to go to these measures! We have to!”

“Why?”

“Because when she was diagnosed I promised her that we’d pick out each other’s nursing homes.” The tears spilled over. “She came so close to death at Roslyn, over something so trivial, and when I came home the other night she was actually home before I was and she was thumbing through Mrs. Dalloway … and she looked up at me and told me that she was going to leave her living will right as it was. She told me that when she got bad, maybe we’d talk about letting her go when she was ready, but that suicide was too trivial to think about. We’ve lived our lives waiting for this to kill her when we really should be just living. She’s always one step ahead of the virus, you know, doing what she wants to do, but she’s thumbing her nose at the world. Now she’s just living. It … we came closer to tasting death than we ever have before, and it wasn’t even over the virus. It was her and a bullet.” She wiped the tears away. “Her and a bullet.”

“What did you tell her in response to that?”

Sydney broke down, pressing her always well-manicured fingers over her eyes. For a long moment she couldn’t answer, and eventually she felt gentle arms slide across her shoulders. “What was I supposed to say? She could go tomorrow or I could spend forever at her bedside watching her waste away. I don’t even know what I want, because what I wish for, isn’t ever going to happen.”

“What do you wish for, Sydney?”

“For the nightmare to end. I want those test results to be negative. I know,” she tried to take a breath, “that we’re just supposed to accept it and move on and know that wishing doesn’t make it so. But I want just one test result to come back negative. I want there to be a cure.” With a final breath, she looked around the room. Some people were nodding, some were crying, others looked ready to argue with her. “I want to worry about the trivial.”