Kathleen A. Klatte
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"Reflections"
Feedback and commentary are most welcome.
Disclaimer: The West Wing is the property of NBC, et al; this is a recreational endeavor, no profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
Another take on a cliffhanger resolution.
**Spoilers for "What Kind of Day Has It Been."
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"I’m sleeping fine tonight."
C.J. to Danny
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Danny Concannon studied C.J. Cregg’s calm, still countenance. Her hair was spread out over her pillow and her lashes curled against pale cheeks. If he ignored the tubes inserted in her nose and mouth, he could almost convince himself that she was sleeping...but she wasn’t. She was in a drug-induced coma following surgery to remove two bullets from her chest. The room was cluttered with electronic equipment that whirred and beeped its soft assurances that she still lived. Machinery pumped blood through her veins and oxygen through her lungs.
He’d been here for two days. Danny figured someone must have done some pretty fast talking to keep him from being thrown out, but he didn’t know who and he didn’t much care. In the interminable hours since the snipers had opened fire on the President’s entourage, Danny had come to realize that the one thing he really did care about lay in this hospital bed. He just wished she’d wake up, so he could tell her. Hell, he wished she’d wake up, even if it was to tell him to get lost. He wished she’d wake up...
Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he reread what he’d written on his pad...they wouldn’t allow a laptop in the room, for fear that it would cause interference with the equipment.
"I have covered the White House for eight years. In that time, I have seen and experienced many things, but I have never been shot at before – never seen friends and colleagues fall in the street to lie in their own blood. I wish I had never had to see that...wish I wasn’t sitting here in a hospital room, hoping against hope to see someone open their eyes, but I have, and I am.
I think the thing that saddens me the most is that this happened here – in the country that offers its citizens more personal freedom than any other. There are so many ways to express your opinion – you can write letters, post a webpage, stage a peaceful demonstration, rent a billboard or advertising time on television or radio, and most importantly, you can vote. But two nights ago, someone decided that all that wasn’t good enough and they chose to express their opinion with a gun.
I wonder if they even realize how badly their plan backfired? That their message has been lost in the screams and the blood? That they have made martyrs of people guilty of no other crime then being in the wrong place at the wrong time?
I wonder...and I watch...and I wait."
"That’s very good, Danny. I can have it typed up and sent in to your editor if you’d like."
Danny jumped at the sound of the First Lady’s voice. "Mrs. Bartlet – I -"
"Sit down, Danny," she told him kindly. "I know I shouldn’t have been reading over your shoulder."
"It’s all right," he said. "I just didn’t hear you come in."
"How is she?"
"The same...I guess," Danny replied tiredly. "She hasn’t moved or anything..."
"Not quite," the First Lady informed him. "Did you know that those few times you’ve had to leave the room her readings have dropped? And that they leveled out again as soon as you came back? She knows that you’re here. C.J. knows that someone who loves her is nearby."
Looking at up Mrs. Bartlet, Danny suddenly realized whose orders were preventing the hospital staff from tossing him out, and he was grateful.
"Danny?"
"Yes, ma’am?"
"You take good care of her."
"I will. How...how is Zoey?" he finally roused himself enough to ask.
"She’s very frightened. I think it terrifies her to realize that in this century, in this country, people would try to kill her because they don’t like the person she’s dating."
"God knows, it terrifies me," Danny replied.
"Me, too," Abbey agreed. "And...we lost Gina this morning. She arrested...they brought her back twice...the third time...they let her go."
"Damn," Danny swore, burying his head in his hands. "Where does it end?"
"For the people who did this, it ended this morning," she told him quietly. "Federal Marshals got a tip about where the shooters were hiding out...they resisted arrest and..."
"They’re dead?" Danny guessed.
"Yes."
"But it’s too late for Gina...maybe for C.J. and Leo."
"Jenny and Mallory are in with Leo, praying for him and giving him something to hold on to. That’s what you have to do for C.J."
"How?" he whispered.
"Just be here for her."
"That’s all?"
"That’s all...and everything," Abbey told him with a wise little smile. "And when she wakes up, you read her your article."
"I’m not sure it’s –"
"I am," Abbey said firmly, taking the pad away from him.
******
Danny was dozing in the hard plastic char when he felt someone squeeze his fingers feebly. Bolting upright in the chair, he saw C.J.’s head turned towards him on the pillow. Her eyes were open and filled with recognition, despite the haze of drugs. The hand he held cradled in a gentle grasp squeezed again and he smiled.
"Welcome back," he greeted her.
Too weak to do much else, C.J. curled her fingers around his again and then her eyes fluttered shut.
Leaning over, Danny softly kissed her forehead, then settled back into his chair.
Fin.
Copyright © 2000 Kathleen Klatte
All Rights Reserved