Looks Like Nothing's Gonna Change

By Karen T


© January 2002



Disclaimer: Except for Jenn, they're still not mine.  I borrowed the title from the Otis Redding song, "(Sittin' on) The Dock of the Bay."




Part II





"So that's it then?  We're gonna go with Matthew Durkin?"


"I think he's the best choice.  He's a relatively new face to the political talk show scene, but he's very well-informed on the issues, gave us some decent positive press time during the MS hearings, and he's viewed by both Democrats and Republicans alike as an open-minded, middle-of-the-road host.  And I don't think middle-of-the-road is a bad place for us to be right now."


"Besides, our list of choices was kind of sparse."


"Hey, it's not my fault there aren't many Bartlet supporters out in the talk show world these days.  Controversy is what brings in viewers, and the controversy lately hasn't been what a decent and honest man the President is."


"We also shouldn't overlook the fact that Sam has a history with this Durkin guy."


"A 'history'?"


"Oh, please.  Don't make it sound like more than it actually is.  His sister and I dated for a couple months during my junior year in college.  Matt and I would exchange a few words whenever I'd pick her up from their parents' house.  That's it, all right?"


"Please tell me she was legal when you were seeing her."


"What?  Oh, give me a break, guys.  She's the same age as me, if you must know.  She just lived with her parents back then to save money.  You've all got dirty minds."


"Hey, we can't be too careful where you're concerned."


"So...we're going with Durkin?"


The playful banter between the senior staff came to an abrupt halt as the President attempted to join their conversation.  Jed was dismayed to see their gazes still falling to their feet whenever he was in the vicinity.  He hadn't entirely believed that his staff would return to normal during the course of only one night, but he had to admit that a small part of him had hoped that just that would occur.  Toby finally cleared his throat and mumbled, "Yes, sir, we believe Durkin's show is the best one for Jenn to appear on."


"All right.  I'm sure you've all researched our options thoroughly."


"Yes, sir."


"Now, Sam, about this statement you've written for me to say tonight, I have a couple of concerns with it.  In the second paragraph, you have me saying that--"


"We can't use this list."


All of the occupants in the Oval Office stopped what they were doing to turn and look at Jenn, who was sitting on one of the office's couches, her right hand holding up the 'unusable' list.  Toby took a step towards her and growled, "Excuse me?"


"You can't give this list of questions to...to...whoever it was you guys have picked to interview me.  The questions suck."


"The questions certainly do not suck," Toby retorted as he grew angry.  "I'll have you know we were up until four this morning finalizing the exact wording that we wanted to use for those questions."


"Well, I feel for the sleep deprivation you've experienced, but I hardly think that's an excuse for sub-par work."


"I wasn't trying to use that as an excuse.  The only reason I even mentioned how late we worked on it was to prove that putting that list together wasn't something we took lightly.  We all put a lot of time and effort into those questions."


"Is something going on between them?" Jed whispered into Leo's ear.


"It's nothing, sir."


"Are you sure?  'Cause it certainly looks like something."


"Trust me, it's nothing to worry about.  Bickering just seems to be Jenn and Toby's preferred method of communication."


"Oh, okay."


Turning his attention to the quarrelers, Leo suggested, in hopes of quelling the potentially volatile situation, "Jenn, maybe it would help if we know what your exact objections to the questions are."


"Okay, well, for starters, they're all leading questions."


"What?!" Toby exclaimed in disbelief.  "All those questions do is show how the President's always had your best interests at heart."


"Yeah, and they accomplish that by leading one to believe that my mother was a bad mother," Jenn seethed, the volume of her voice only a couple of notches below a shout.  "You can't use this list."


"We can use the list, and we will use it because it contains the best questions possible."


"Fine!"  Jenn stood and crossed her arms across her chest as she glared at Toby through narrowed eyes.  "It's pretty obvious to me that my opinions mean squat in this room, so I'm just going to leave and let you all return to your precious, little spinning.  But be forewarned: if I'm asked those questions tomorrow, you might not like the answers I'll give."


Jed, Leo, and the senior staff watched in stunned silence as Jenn threw open the doors leading to the portico and stomped outside.  Jed winced and sighed.  "That could have gone a lot better.  Leo..."


Jed didn't have to say any more, for Leo already knew what needed to be done.  "We'll take care of it, Mr. President.  And we'll also address any issues you have with your statement."


"Good.  Thanks, Leo."


"Thank you, sir."


As Leo ushered his staff out of the Oval Office, he pulled Josh aside.  "This might be a good time for you and Jenn to have that conversation we discussed last night."


"Now?"


"I can't imagine you would have any better things to do," Leo actually managed to say with a straight face.


"Leo," Josh whined.


"You can think of this as one of those perks that comes with getting to be my deputy.  Please, Josh?"


"Oh...all right."


Leo broke out into a smile of gratitude.  "Thanks.  Now hurry and catch up with her before she disappears into her room."


Josh nodded and took a second to collect his thoughts before going off in search of Jenn.  Once he stepped outside, he saw that, despite her quick getaway from the Oval Office, she was only about hundred yards from where he currently stood.  "Jenn, hey, Jenn!" he yelled as he increased his pace to a run.


Upon hearing her name, Jenn looked behind her to see someone racing towards her.  She squinted and asked, "Josh?"


"Hey, how ya doin'?" Josh questioned between gasps as he recovered from his sprint.


Jenn looked at Josh curiously but aloofly replied, "I just threw a temper tantrum in the Oval Office.  You?"


Josh chuckled despite himself and then turned serious.  "Look, we're about to have kind of a weird conversation, but just go with it, okay?"  He paused to formulate his next thought.  "I, um, I don't know if Leo's already told you this but...my father also died from cancer."


Jenn's expression fell flat as she muttered, "I'm sorry."


"Th-thank you.  He...was diagnosed with prostate cancer and was undergoing chemo and seemed to be all right, but he ended up passing away while I was on the campaign trail to get your father elected."


"That...uh...that must have been difficult...not being there...at the end."


"Yeah, it...it was.  Anyway, the reason I'm even mentioning this at all is that I just...I wanted to let you know that if you ever want to talk to somebody about your mom's death...or anything else, I'm here."  He hesitated for a moment before jokingly adding, "Literally.  'Cause, you know, I rarely ever go home these days."


Jenn stared back at Josh blankly, uncertain of how she should respond.  Was he really suggesting that the two of them should have a heart-to-heart chat about their parents' deaths?  Even she wasn't that morbid.  "Uh...thanks, Josh.  I'll...keep that in mind."


"Really?" Josh asked as he completely failed in hiding his surprise.  He'd half-expected Jenn to read him the riot act for suggesting such a strange idea.  "Oh, well, that's...that's great.  You wouldn't happen to want to have this talk now, would you?"


He breathed a sigh of relief when Jenn firmly stated, "No."


"Oh, okay."  He chuckled uneasily and began fidgeting with the way his jacket was hanging on his body.  "Just thought I'd check."


They stared at one another in an awkward silence, each frantic for the conversation to be over, before Josh stuttered,  "Well, I, uh, I should get back to work."


"Okay."


Josh turned around and promptly scrunched his face together into the sour lemon expression as he began making his way back to the West Wing.  The things he was sometimes asked to do as Deputy Chief of Staff never ceased to amaze him.






"President Bartlet, do you have anything to say to those who claim you should resign since you are clearly lacking the morals to carry out the duties associated with your job as President of the United States?"


"People are really saying all that?  'Cause I know of a few organizations who'll tell you that I'm much too moral for their comfort," Jed quipped as he stood behind a wooden lectern. Polite laughter rippled through the press seated before him, but he knew they were all dying to hear what his answer would be.  "But seriously, Paul, I have no intention of resigning.  As I have made plainly clear tonight, I am a man who has made several mistakes in the past for which I deeply regret.  However, I do not believe that these particular mistakes or regrets impinge on my ability to be President.  I love my children.  I love my wife.  And I love my country.  I have no doubt that the American people understand that the relationship I am forging with Jennifer Erickson is a private matter and one that is completely separate from my presidential duties."


As Josh watched Jed's response on one of the TVs in his bullpen, he groaned and mumbled, "You've got to be kidding me."


"It wasn't that bad, Josh," Donna informed him as she walked towards him with an arm full of files.  "I thought he handled himself pretty well.  It was a tough question."


"It was a question we knew he'd be asked!  It was one of the few questions we actually prepared an answer for him to say!  But did he give the prepared answer?  No!"


"Well, I still don't think it was that bad," Donna stated stubbornly.  "And stop yelling.  People are tired and you yelling doesn't help."


Josh glared at his assistant in annoyance before shifting his gaze to the nearest wall clock.  "What are you still doing here?  It's past midnight."


Donna shrugged and began distributing the files into various office mailboxes.  "You needed my help, so I stuck around."


"But it's after midnight."


"I know."  Donna turned and smiled warmly at her weary boss.  "Don't worry about it.  I don't mind sticking around."


Josh sighed and roughly rubbed his eyes.  "It's late, Donna.  You should go home."


"It's okay.  I don't mind--"


"Go home, Donna," Josh snapped.  When he saw how his brusque tone had wounded her, he winced and gave her a lopsided grin.  "Look, if how I'm feeling right now is any indication of how I'll be feeling tomorrow, then I need you to go home and get some rest so that at least one of us is lucid tomorrow.  Okay?"


Josh's exhausted voice worried Donna, but she acquiesced to his request without putting up any more of a fight.  "You sure you'll be okay if I leave?"


"Donna, believe it or not, I am actually able to fend for myself when you're not around."


Donna laughed as she began gathering her things.  "You'll try and get some sleep tonight if you can, right?"


"Yes, Mom."


"I'm serious, Josh.  You need to get some sleep -- some real sleep that involves more than just one hour of resting your eyes."


"I'll try," he replied obediently.


"Okay."  She reached out and lightly touched his forearm as she brushed past him.  
"I'll see you tomorrow then."


"Night."


Josh watched Donna walk away from him until she was no longer in sight.  Feeling as if he had fifty pound weights strapped around his waist, he turned his attention back to the TV sets and observed Jed contend with another sticky question.  Even though the press conference had ended over an hour ago and he had repeatedly watched different news stations air various snippets of the conference as well as the President's Dateline appearance (which had, to the senior staff's surprise, included the First Lady), Josh still couldn't keep himself from grimacing.  At least the worst was almost over; now all they needed was for Jenn to make it through her TV interview with a minimal amount of damage.  He poured himself the last cup of coffee remaining at the West Wing coffee station and began making his way towards the Oval Office, where Jenn was going through a 'dress rehearsal' of her television debut.


He hadn't walked very far when he heard, "'I love my children.  I love my wife.  And I love my country.'  What the hell was that?"


Josh turned around to see Sam covering the distance between them in long strides.  "It was Bartlet being Bartlet."


"It was Bartlet being a self-righteous bastard, which is a luxury we don't have anymore," Sam retorted icily.


"Donna doesn't think the answer was that bad."


"Donna's too nice to know whether or not it was bad."


"Or maybe we're the ones who are too angry to know the difference."  He paused long enough for Sam to stare at him incredulously before adding, "I'm just saying."


"You going to the Oval Office?"


"Of course.  It's like my second home these days."


"Yeah."


They continued on for a short distance in silence before Josh asked, "Do you know what the press has dubbed tonight's disclosure?  Sexgate.  They're actually calling it Sexgate, which, I guess, is better than, you know, calling it Affairgate or Adulterergate because the latter names immediately bring to mind an image of a lecherous President.  With Sexgate, some of the less informed public might just think they have an extremely virile President who doesn't need Viagra, which might not be such a bad thing."


Sam furrowed his eyebrows and looked as if someone had just asked him to roll around in elephant dung.  "Are we really discussing the President's sex life?  Because on my list of things I really don't want to talk about, that's right up there with discussing how my parents conceived me."


Josh chuckled but then fell silent.  "Hey, where did you disappear to this afternoon?" he eventually asked.  "I went looking for you but couldn't find you."


"Oh, uh, C.J. let me crash on her couch for a couple hours."


"Wow, that was nice of her.  There must have been something in the water today because Donna cleared an hour in my schedule for me to lock myself away in my office and rest undisturbed."


"Donna's great.  You're lucky to have her."


"Yeah, I am."


There was something wistful in Josh's voice that forced Sam to shoot him a sideways glance of alarm.  "Josh, what are you thinking?"


"What?"


"I know you, Josh.  I know what it means when you get that particular cadence in your voice.  She's your assistant."


"I know."


"And as her boss, there are certain boundaries that you're not supposed to cross."


"I know.  God, can't I be thankful for Donna without it turning into a sexual overture?"


"Yes, you can, but be careful. You're skating on thin ice, my friend."


"You can be really infuriating, Sam, you know that?"


"Yeah, but that's what makes me so lovable."


Josh scoffed loudly as he and Sam entered the outer office to the Oval Office.  Charlie looked up from the textbook he was reading and silently motioned for the two deputies to go on in.  They entered the Oval Office just in time to hear Jenn drone, "...and the President welcomed me to his family with open arms."


C.J. and Toby exchanged pointed looks with one another before she stammered, "Uh, that was...that was good, Jenn.  You nailed the answer that's written down on this sheet, but, um, you're sounding a little...rehearsed, and rehearsed isn't what we're aiming for."


"Really?" Jenn asked in mock surprise.  "Well, then, do you think that maybe we should stop, oh, I don't know...rehearsing?"  She proceeded to roll her eyes in a dramatic fashion.


"How's it going?" Sam murmured to Toby as he took a seat next to him.


"Oh, she's being her usual pain-in-the-ass self," Toby grumbled back.


Sensing that Jenn was about to go off into another tirade, Leo took control of the situation and stated, "This seems like a good time to take a break.  Let's go over Jenn's schedule for tomorrow.  C.J.?"


C.J. rifled through some papers in her lap before finding the memo Carol had written up earlier in the day.  "Okay, Jenn's set to appear on Full Circle with Matthew Durkin.  The live shoot begins at three, so she should probably get there no later than 2:15."


"And Toby's going to accompany her there, right?" Jed asked.  He was so secure with his assumption that his mind wandered to thoughts of his wife before waiting for the answer.  At Leo's suggestion, Jed had attempted to open a line of communication with Abbey both before and after his press conference.  While she had been warm and agreeable during their Dateline appearance, she'd immediately turned frigid after the cameras had stopped rolling.  Every time he'd approach her, she'd inform him that the only reason she had decided to appear beside him on TV was for the sake of their children and not him.  So, convinced that his marriage was in shambles, Jed had returned to his office with a renewed determination to be a good father to Jenn.  He found, however, that this didn't prevent him from thinking about Abbey every chance he got.


C.J. squinted and frowned at the piece of paper in her hand.  "Um, actually, according to this schedule, Sam's going to be the one who'll accompany Jenn to the show."


At the mention of his name, Sam looked up in surprise but remained silent.


"What?"  Jed forced his mind to return to the topic at hand.  "That's got to be a typo."


"It's not a typo, sir," Leo replied.  "Toby and I decided that Sam should be the one to go because Toby's needed here."


"Oh, really?" Jed asked, his voice brimming with sarcasm.  "You and Toby came up with that brilliant idea all by yourselves?"


"Mr. President," Leo said with a sigh, "Sam is more than capable to--"


"I'm well aware of his capabilities, Leo, and, no offense to you, Sam, but I think we can all agree that Toby is the one who should--"


"But Toby can't go tomorrow because we need--"


"Dammit, Leo, show me where it says that my Director of Communications cannot accompany my daughter to--"


"I know why they don't want him to come with me," Jenn remarked as she stared at the Presidential Seal on the carpeting.  While Jed and Leo had been interrupting each other's sentences, she had been listening to them with keen ears and had been able to decipher what Leo wasn't saying.  "If I totally screw up on the show tomorrow, it'll look better for this administration if Sam was the one who accompanied me because it'll imply that you guys never really took me that seriously and that's why I was sent down there with a deputy rather than a director."  She raised her eyes from the floor and stoically stared at the senior staff.  "Thanks for the support, guys," she said flatly.  "It's really overwhelming."  And with that, she rose from her seat and walked out of the office into the hallway, slamming the door behind her.


They watched her leave and Josh couldn't help pointing at the door and asking, "Has anyone else noticed she has a really bad habit of doing that?"


Jed covered his face with his hands and groaned.  "I guess someone should go after her and make sure she's all right," he mumbled through the cracks between his fingers.


"Oh, we have bigger fish to fry," C.J. mumbled under her breath as she pushed her glasses on to the top of her head.


"And what's that supposed to mean, C.J.?" Jed asked in annoyance.


"It means, sir," she began, mimicking his annoyed tone, "that we quizzed her on these questions for almost 45 minutes, and she never once referred to you as 'dad,' 'father,' 'pop,' or any of those other fatherly euphemisms people like to use.  It was always 'him,' 'he', or 'the President.'  If we can't get her to appear as if she likes you a little bit, then it really doesn't matter who the hell accompanies her to the show tomorrow 'cause we'll be dead in the water.  Viewers and the press will immediately latch on to her coldness towards you and they'll start thinking that you strong-armed her into going on TV in a pathetic attempt to save your job."


"What do you suggest I should do then?"


"I don't know, sir, but we're running out of time."


The group fell silent as they mulled over C.J.'s last words.  "Maybe we should call it a night," Leo proposed quietly.  "I'll go find Jenn and make sure she's okay, but the rest of you should just call it a night.  Especially you, C.J.  You're going to have a tough day tomorrow and you need your rest."


"I think I'll stick around for a bit," Sam announced.  "I've fallen behind in my workload and wanna do a little catching up."


"Sam, don't push yourself," Leo cautioned.


"It's okay.  All I need is a cup of coffee and then I'll be as good as new."


Josh's eyes grew large as he looked down at the cup in his hand.  "I, uh, I might have just taken the last of the coffee," he admitted meekly.


"Well, didn't you make a new pot?  'Cause you know you're supposed to make a new pot when you're the one who finishes one up," Sam griped.


"Yeah, I usually make Donna do that, but I sent her home."


Sam threw his head back in an exaggerated expression of pain while C.J. patted him sympathetically on the back and Toby tried to suppress his grin.


"Go to the mess," the President ordered, ignoring his staff's antics because he wasn't in the mood to enjoy or encourage them.  "You can probably find some there."


Sam straightened up and gave a short nod.  "Thank you, sir."


"So, we'll adjourn until tomorrow morning, Mr. President?" Leo asked.


"Yeah, fine."


"Good night, sir," they said in unison as they departed from the Oval Office with Sam calling Josh an ignoramic caffeine moocher.






It was a few minutes past one in the morning when Sam descended down into the basement in search of coffee.  The hallway leading to the mess was dimly lit, and he could hear the rev of a vacuum cleaner on the other side of the building.  Even though the President had butchered the answer he'd written for him to say in response to the question of whether he would resign, Sam's thoughts weren't focused on that or the President or Jenn or whether he would still have a job fifteen months from now.  No, his mind was full of Lisa.


He'd stepped out of his shower that morning (or, more technically, yesterday morning) and had immediately thought of Lisa.  It'd been almost a whole year since he'd had even a passing thought about her, so it bothered him that she'd managed to plague him for almost twenty-four hours straight.  As he had done a final run through of the President's Dateline statement with him, he'd been thinking about Lisa.  As he had watched the President and First Lady look straight into a camera and discuss their marital problems with an audience of thousands, he'd been thinking about Lisa.  And now, as he was on a mission of great importance (because when isn't getting coffee an important mission?), he was thinking about Lisa.  It was driving him crazy.


He hadn't thought about her in a year, and it had been an even longer span of time since they'd last spoken.  So, what had changed?  Sam wasn't sure, but he supposed it might be because he missed her.  Even though they hadn't ended their relationship on good terms, he knew a part of him would always love her.  After all, he'd been ready to marry her, and that had to count for something.  He wondered how things would have turned out if he and Lisa had remained together, if Josh hadn't swept into New York and rekindled his dream of putting 'the real thing' in the Oval Office.  He probably wouldn't have stayed with Gage Whitney Page because he'd already known for months that he wasn't happy there, but perhaps he would have moved on to a different firm, maybe even joining Lisa at her father's firm, as she'd suggested numerous times.  Sam wasn't a man who questioned his past decisions.  He didn't believe in hashing and then rehashing over every minute detail in his life as he pondered what might have been/could have been/should have been.  But now, at 1:08 am, he found himself doing exactly that.


As he rounded a corner, his ears perked up as he heard the sound of a piano mingling with the vacuum cleaner's whir.  The closer he got to the entrance of the mess, the louder the music grew until he could also make out a woman singing along with the music in a clear alto.  As he walked into the mess, Sam saw that, off in a far corner, Jenn was seated in front of an up-right piano, singing the most melancholic rendition of 'Bridge over Troubled Waters' he'd ever heard.


Her hands slowly caressed the keys and she wistfully sang, "...When darkness comes and pain is all around, like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down.  Like a bridge over trouble water I will lay me down."


Sensing that he was intruding on a private moment, Sam tried to back out of the room without drawing any attention to himself.  However, since he was endowed with the power of the pen and not the lightness of the feet, he accidentally tripped over a chair and dragged it along the floor for a couple of inches, its feet loudly screeching their anger at being moved in such a manner.


The music instantly ceased and Sam untangled his leg from the chair to see Jenn staring at him, a look of horrified terror on her face.


"I'm-I'm sorry," he spluttered.  "I didn't mean to--  I wasn't trying--  I...I needed coffee and Josh drank all of our coffee upstairs," he said lamely.


Jenn just continued staring at him.


"But I'm gonna go 'cause you're here and I'm interrupting."  Sam attempted once more to vacate the mess.


Jenn snapped out of her reverie and shook her head, an amused smile creeping on to her face.  "Sam," she called out, "come back.  You don't have to leave.  This place is more yours than it is mine.  Anyway, I think there's a fresh pot of coffee back there."


Sam made a beeline for where she was pointing and located the coffeemaker on the counter next to one of the stainless steel refrigerators.  He poured himself a full cup and then walked hesitantly back in Jenn's direction.  She'd turned her attention back to the piano and was idly playing a simple tune with her right hand when he pulled a chair out and sat beside her.  "That was really beautiful what you were singing before," he murmured.


"Thank you."  Her cheeks unconsciously blushed at the compliment.


"No, really, I mean it.  You have a really nice voice.  And with the piano, you've got a whole one-woman lounge act going on.  If you just punched it up with a little Prozac, you could have a real--"  Sam cut himself off as he realized what he had just said.  "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Jenn.  I didn't mean--"


"It's okay, Sam," she assured him gently.  "Don't worry about curbing the mental health jokes on my behalf.  I've told enough of them in my lifetime to make me pretty resilient to them."


Sam silently cursed his stupidity as he took a sip of coffee.  "I didn't even know there's a piano in here.  I've worked here for three years and never noticed it.  You've been here for what?  Three days?  And yet you've managed to find the hidden treasure, so to speak.  Guess that doesn't say much for my observation skills."


"Well, I've had some extra time on my hands lately," she replied lightly.


"Where'd you learn how to play?"


"Oh, um," Jenn scratched an inch on her temple and then tucked some hair behind her left ear, "my landlady lived above me and my mom, and she's a piano teacher.  I spent a lot of time up at her place when I was younger and my mom would kind of...forget to come home.  I think she taught me how to play so that I'd keep my mind occupied."


"Well, she's a good teacher."


"And a good woman."  Jenn turned and gave Sam a small smile, her right cheek dimpling as the corners of her mouth moved upwards.


Sam lowered his lips to the rim of the cup in his hands, deep in thought.  It was disconcerting to see this quiet, less abrasive side of Jenn.  He knew he was probably going to regret asking her the question currently running through his head, but the inquisitive side of him wouldn't let him keep it in.  "Jenn, I...I know this is none of my business -- and you can tell me to mind my own bee's wax -- but...what was it like?"


"What was what like?"


"What was it like growing up knowing that you had a father on the other side of the country you weren't allowed to get to know?"


Jenn closed her eyes and chuckled mirthlessly.


"Did I say something funny?" Sam asked in confusion.


"No one ever forbade me from getting to know my father."


"But Leo told us that--"


"Sam, by the time I was fourteen, I was the one running the show in my family.  My mom still signed all the checks and the bills were still sent to her, but I was the one who wrote the checks out and I was the one who figured out which bills we had to pay and which ones we could let slide a little bit longer.  It's true that, at the very beginning -- when I was ten -- my mother did threaten to spirit me off somewhere if the President didn't back off.  But as I got older, she...became a little less stable, and I...  Well, let's just say that if I'd wanted to write him a letter or give him a call, she couldn't have stopped me."


Sam's mouth fell slightly open in surprise, and his forgotten coffee grew cool in his hand.  "Then, as much as I hate to sound like Ainsley, why didn't you ever try to contact your dad?"


"I don't know."  Jenn removed her hand from the keyboard and gazed pensively at the music stand.  "I guess the desire to want a father lessened as the years passed.  And I think there was a part of me that never got over being that ten year old girl who had a father for a few months, only to be abandoned by him without a second thought.   But I think the main reason I never tried to contact him was because I realized that, for better or worse, it was me and my mom against the world, not me, my mom, and this guy from New Hampshire who could, at best, visit on the weekends.  Sure, my mom and I had our problems like any mother-daughter pair do, but we were always there for each other.  I looked after her and she looked after me.  My mom had her faults, Sam, but...she was a great mother.  She really was."  Jenn dropped her head and didn't brush any strands of hair away as they fell around her face after coming dislodged from behind her ears.  She could feel the tears building up in her eyes and she had to will herself not to begin crying.


A shield of hair now prevented Sam from seeing her face and he felt terrible for making her dredge up all these painful memories, but he couldn't stop himself from asking, "What about when you found out Jed Bartlet was running for President?  Leo told us that it was your mom who forbid him from contacting you anymore."


"Yeah, that was, um, that was me.  I was the one who started sending back Uncle Leo's letters and hanging up on him when he'd call.  One afternoon, I pretended that I was sneaking him a phone call and told him that my mom was freaking out and threatening all sorts of things if he didn't stop trying to contact me."


"Why?  Did you just get sick of Leo hanging around or something?"


"What?  No, I love Leo.  The fact that Uncle Leo was so reachable probably played a huge role in why I never tried to contact my dad as I got older.  Severing ties with Uncle Leo was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.  When I got back home after finding out that my father wanted to run for President, I told my mom.  She did freak out when she heard the news, but not in the angry sense like I led Uncle Leo to believe.  She just...she broke down crying.  She was convinced that once my father got elected President -- and she never had a doubt that he'd get elected -- he'd sweep me off my feet and whisk me off to the White House to live the privileged life of a President's daughter.  I tried to convince her that I wasn't going anywhere, that I couldn't give a rat's ass how high up the political ladder my father went, but she wouldn't be dissuaded.  She didn't calm down until I promised her that I would stop all communications with Uncle Leo as proof of how I wasn't ever going to leave her."  The tears returned to Jenn's eyes, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut.  "And I didn't.  I stayed by her side all the way through to the end.  On the day she died, she'd already been in the hospital for almost two weeks.  She was having some problems swallowing solid foods, so I was feeding her some yogurt when I looked away for a second.  I don't remember why I looked away...maybe something out in the hallway caught my eye.  All I know is that when I looked back at her, she was just staring up at me.  It didn't occur to me right away that she had...passed on.  But when I gave her a little nudge and she didn't blink, I...I knew.  I didn't know what to do, so I just sat there and watched as her lifeless eyes watched me.  It was at that moment that, for the first time in years, I actually wanted my father.  I wanted him to hug me and tell me that everything was going to be all right.  So I flew out here.  Maybe I should've called first."


Sam's eyes grew damp as he watched Jenn open her eyes and begin gnawing on her lower lip.  Her last sentence -- the plaintive 'Maybe I should've called first' -- struck a chord with him.  Why should she have to worry about whether or not she should have called first?  He wanted to console her in some way -- perhaps tell her that everything was going to be all right -- but he didn't know how to broach the subject without sounding like a jerk.  So he instead pretended to be fascinated by something to his right in order to provide Jenn with some time to recompose herself.  After a few minutes had come and gone, he looked back in her direction and saw that her eyes had dried and her cheeks were no longer flushed.


"Your coffee's getting cold," she informed him softly as she sensed him scrutinizing her.


Sam glanced down at the cup and smiled.  "Doesn't matter.  I probably shouldn't be consuming that much caffeine anyway if I plan on sleeping at all tonight."  Sneaking a peek at Jenn, he added, "Hey, do you want me to help you run through your questions for tomorrow?"


While she appreciated the offer, she couldn't help raising an eyebrow.  "You don't have better things to do with your time?  I'm sure you're swamped with work."


"I am, but I don't mind making time to help you."


"Thanks for the offer, but I'm, uh, I'm gonna pass.  I think I'd rather just stay down here a little longer."


"Okay, but you should try and get some sleep.  It's going to be a long day tomorrow."


Sam was sounding so concerned for her that Jenn found herself on the verge of tears again.  "I could say the same for you, Mr. Seaborn," she countered with a laugh.


"Sleep?  What's that?"  Stretching his back he stood, Sam tossed his half-empty cup into the nearest trashcan.  "Well, I'm gonna go.  You sure you'll be okay down here?"


"Yeah, I'll be fine."


"Okay.  You know where to find me if you change your mind about wanting some company.  Good night."


"Night.  Oh, and, uh, Sam?  Could we keep the stuff I just told you about Leo and why I had to cut him off to ourselves?  I just, um...I don't think telling him the truth would do any good at this point."


"Yeah, sure.  No problem."  Sam started to walk away before turning back around, a serious expression dominating his face.  "Jenn, the thing you should know about me is that, even though I may bumble around here, tripping over things and acting all...geeky, I'm actually really good at what I do, so you shouldn't worry about going to the show with me tomorrow instead of Toby."


Jenn gazed into his eyes and truthfully replied, "I was never worried."


"Oh.  Good."


He was about to begin exiting the mess again when he heard Jenn continue on to say, "And the thing you should know about me, Sam, is that I'm not usually such a pain.  I know I've been a real jerk since I showed up here, but I'm not like that.  I'm usually a very mellow, happy-go-lucky kind of girl.  And I hardly ever yell.  Much."  She broke out into a huge grin as she said the last word.


Sam chuckled and shook his head as the corners of his eyes crinkled into laugh lines.  "Don't stay up too late, Jenn."


"I won't.  Thanks, Sam...for everything."






"We need to stop."


Without looking up from the papers strewn all over his desk, Josh stated, "Well, I'm all for that, but since I'd also really like to sleep in my own bed tonight, I'm gonna have to pass."


"What?"  Sam stepped into Josh's office, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.  "I'm serious, Josh.  I think we need to stop being mad at the President."


Josh looked up without moving his head and eyed his friend.  "Sam, what are you--"


"No, hear me out.  I've been thinking about this and I know we're all angry with him and I think we have every right to be, but he's...he's..."


"Not your father?" Josh offered as he finally raised his head and leaned back in his chair.


Sam stood motionless for a second, shocked that Josh had read his mind so easily.  "How did you..."


"'Cause I know you, Sam.  And you're right, Jed Bartlet isn't your father.  He didn't have an affair with a woman for twenty-some odd years and build a home with her across town from his wife and child.  But the President did lie to us and deceive us, and for that, I think all of us have every right to be as angry with him as we want to be."


"And no one's more upset with him than I am!" Sam exclaimed before sighing and dropping his head.  "But...would it have made a difference if he'd told us?  I mean, let's say that, not long after you'd brought me on-board and Toby had brought on C.J., the President ushered us into a room and told us about how he'd had an affair and that there was a daughter of his out there who no one knew existed.  Would knowing that have made you go back to Hoynes?  Because I don't think I would've gone back to Gage Whitney.  After all, isn't an imperfect something better than a perfect nothing?"


Josh brushed some nonexistent hair away from his forehead and stared intently at Sam as he wondered exactly how many cups of coffee he'd consumed while down in the mess.  But rather than ask that particular question, he grinned impishly.  "That last question sounded a lot better in your head than when it just came out of your mouth, didn't it?"


"Yeah," Sam admitted begrudgingly.  Looking out into the empty hallway, he asked, "C.J. go home?"


"Yeah.  Toby practically had to shove her out the door, but she finally left.  What about you?  Any plans to follow her lead?"


"Uh, yeah, eventually.  But I've got this thing about women in the military to write and I want to go through some of the research Cathy put together for me."


"Women in the military?"


"Yeah."


"Well, you know, they -- the women -- are there.  In the military."


"Gee, Josh, what would I do without all your help?"


"That's why they pay me the big bucks."


Sam snorted and leaned against the doorframe.  "You better make sure C.J. doesn't hear you say that."  When the moment of levity passed, he looked Josh squarely in the eyes and declared, "I still think we need to stop being mad."


"Duly noted."


"Okay."  And with that, Sam disappeared into the shadowy hallway.






With exactly three hours, twenty-three minutes, and twelve seconds left until she would appear on Full Circle, Jenn sat cross-legged on the bed in her room.  Lying on the comforter in front of her was the revised list of questions she was going to be asked by Matt Durkin.  She'd gone over each of the questions and their respective answers so many times that she was certain she could write them all out by hand off the top of her head.


At around three in the morning, she'd been petrified, convinced she was going to make a fool out of herself and the administration by completely botching her interview.  But now she'd moved on to a state of determined confidence.  She was going to go on TV, smile pretty for the cameras, and dazzle them all with her eloquence and poise.  "Yeah, that's right," she mumbled to herself in a half-hearted attempt to pump up her spirits.  Yes, she'd moved on to a state of determined confidence.  It was just too bad that the cynical half of her wouldn't shut up and let her delude herself into believing that her interview and everything associated with it would go off without a hitch.  As she picked up the list of questions and began re-memorizing the first question, one of the agents standing outside her door knocked and said, "Ms. Erickson?  Toby Ziegler has asked for you to join him in his office as soon as possible."


Jenn tossed the list onto the floor with gusto and breathed a sigh of relief.  She was so tired of looking at and reciting the contents of the list that even seeing sour-faced Toby was a welcome distraction.  "Coming," she called out as she shrugged off the robe she'd been wearing over her T-shirt and jeans and pulled on an oversized gray sweatshirt with the word 'Cal' printed across the chest in big, navy letters.  


She flung open the door and stepped out into the hall, still tickled by how the two agents fell into step behind her without a moment's hesitation, as if it was the most natural thing for them to do.  She silently led them through various corridors as she made her way to Toby's office.  People appeared to be especially busy in the West Wing, with staffers marching through the hallways absorbed in whatever folders or documents they happened to have in their hands.  As Jenn watched them whiz by her and around each other, she realized that many of them were probably so busy because of what the President had admitted on national television last night.  She was surprised people weren't hissing at her for making their lives more difficult.  But she was even more surprised when she came face to face with a tall blonde woman.  They were walking in opposite directions down a narrow passageway towards one another and could not avoid making eye contact.  The woman smiled warmly when their eyes met, which slightly unnerved Jenn; it was just so much easier to prepare for everyone hating you than for people to be nice and welcoming.  Jenn recognized the blonde and vaguely recalled Leo introducing them to each other.  She remembered her having a funny name, something Italian-sounding.  Isabella?  Belladora?


"Hi, Jenn," the woman greeted her as she stretched out her hand.  "You probably don't remember me.  I'm Donna, Josh's assistant."


Jenn shook the proffered hand and smiled as the name Donnatella Moss flashed in her mind.  "Hi, Donna.  It's nice to see you again."


"Are you on your way to see the President?"


"No.  I'm, uh, going to see Toby.  He summoned me to his office."


Donna chuckled knowingly and said, "Yeah, he's good at that."


"So I'm learning."


"Well, I don't want to delay you any further.  Good luck this afternoon.  I'm sure you'll do fine."


"Thank you."


The two women squeezed past each other and Jenn stopped to look over her shoulder at Donna's back, her blonde hair swishing from side to side.  It felt nice to know that someone other than the senior staff (who had ulterior motives of their own for doing so) were rallying behind her.


Toby's door was open when she arrived at his office, so she stepped inside and announced lightheartedly, "Private Erickson reporting for duty, sir."


"Sit," he ordered without bothering to look up from the piece of paper he was reading.


She obeyed and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.  "So, what am I here to do?" she asked, still making an effort to sound happy and hopeful.  "Help you devise a plan on how to rid the world of destructive right-wing-ism?"


Toby raised his head high enough so that he could look at her as if she was crazy.  "We're going to go over your questions one more time."


Jenn threw her head back and groaned.  "I know the questions, Toby."


"You know the questions?"


"Yes.  I know the questions and the answers forwards and backwards.  And if I was able to do a headstand, I could even say I know them upside-down.  I've done nothing but study them since I was given the revised set yesterday afternoon.  I really don't need to go over them again."


"So, you think you know them?"


"Yes."


"And you're telling me that you think you'd do fine if you were to go on the show right now?"


"Yes."


"You'd be fine even if Durkin changed the wording of the questions on you or decided to ask you five questions in a row without giving you a chance to answer so that you'd get confused and stumble over your response?"


"Yes."  This time her answer came out more as a question than a statement.


"Well, then, let's just go over them one more time for my peace of mind."


"Okay," she yielded meekly.


"Good."  Toby dug through a stack of papers on his desk before finding the list.  "Pretend I'm Durkin.  Ms. Erickson, how do you feel about--"


"Toby, we've got a situation."  Ginger appeared in his doorway, a look of foreboding on her face.


"I don't care.  Take care of it," he snarled.


"It's Sam.  He's having a minor meltdown in the Roosevelt Room.  Something about dumping truckloads of manure in there.  Maybe you should go check on him."


Toby rolled his eyes for he knew the reference to manure was a comment Sam liked to make when he was unhappy with his writing.  "Tell Sam to take a deep breath and get a grip.  I'll go over there as soon as I can."


"Okay," Ginger replied, her tone clearly implying that she thought Toby was making a huge mistake.  But she left without saying another word.


Toby turned his attention back to Jenn and resumed role-playing.  "Ms. Erickson, how do you feel about being in Washington, D.C. right now?"


Jenn uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in her chair, which was a technique C.J. had taught her to utilize when she wanted to appear alert and engaging.  "Well, first of all, I'm very grateful to the First Family for providing me with such a warm welcome.  This has, understandably, been a stressful time for all involved and I'm, of course, still grieving over the death of my mother, but everyone has been so kind and thoughtful that there really isn't anywhere else I'd rather be than in D.C."


Toby frowned as he stared hard at the document in his hand.  "That's not what's written."


Jenn made a face of exasperation.  "I thought it'd sound more natural and less prepared in my own words.  I got the gist of the answer right, didn't I?"


"Yeah, let's try to stick to what's been written.  Next question: How do you think--"


"Toby, you need to get to the Roosevelt Room now."  Ginger's voice was overflowing with anxiety.  "Sam's barricaded himself in there with Ed and Larry, and is tearing every piece of paper he can find into shreds and then tossing them up in the air.  Ed and Larry are beginning to get that wild-animal-stuck-in-a-cage look."


Toby croaked out a sound that was an odd combination of dismay and disgust as he shoved his chair backwards.  "Stay.  Don't move," he commanded Jenn as he rushed out of the room.


"I'm not a dog," Jenn muttered in annoyance, but her words fell on deaf ears for both Toby and Ginger had left the area.


Two minutes passed.  Then five, and then ten.  Growing impatient as well as bored, Jenn rose to her feet and began exploring Toby's office.  There wasn't much to see, however, for Toby kept even fewer personal effects in his office than Leo did.  His bookcases were crammed full of books, journals, and reports pertaining to topics she wasn't particularly interested in.  As she walked behind his desk, a piece of paper with red ink scrawled all over it caught her eye.  Glimpsing to her right and left to make sure she wasn't being watched, Jenn leaned down and took a closer look.  It appeared to be a draft of either a speech or a position statement of some sort.  The topic seemed to have something to do with education and the role of teacher unions, and as scintillating as that sounded, what really drew Jenn in was the split infinitive she spotted in the third paragraph.


Grabbing a pencil from off the desk, Jenn made the correction with a look of bliss on her face.  She hadn't intended to do any more than that, but the next thing she knew, she'd grabbed Toby's chair and was scooting it closer to the desk.  Tucking her hair behind her ears, she settled into the seat and hunched over the desktop as she began carefully reading the document from the beginning.  And that was how Toby found her when he returned to his office seven minutes later.


"What are you doing?" he demanded in a loud bark that caused Jenn's hand to jump and scratch a ragged pencil line across the page.


"Oh, uh, hi," she replied timidly as she scrambled out of his chair and back over to the other side of the desk.  "Is Sam okay?"


"He's fine," Toby dismissed, although the obvious concern in Jenn's voice caught his attention.  When had those two gotten so close?  "What were you doing in my chair?"


"Oh, I was, uh...um...  Well, I was just looking around to kill some time and noticed that piece of paper down there.  I saw one minor grammatical error, so I thought I'd be nice and make the correction.  But then I got to thinking that maybe I could be of help to you, so I decided to do a quick proofread.  Sorry if that was inappropriate.  I was really only trying to help.  I guess I'm just an eighth grade English teacher at heart.  Don't have the patience to be one for real, though."  She smiled sheepishly at the end of her explanation and hoped Toby wouldn't get upset.


"So, in other words, you chose to snoop around my desk and deface other people's property," Toby stated coldly.


"Deface?!"  Jenn rolled her eyes and could feel her stomach beginning to churn with anger.  "Oh, c'mon.  You can't call it that.  I even wrote all my comments in pencil, for pete's sake.  And don't even act like I didn't just do you a favor.  That speech -- or whatever it is -- was a mess."


Toby scowled at her as he sat down in his chair and briefly glanced at the document currently being discussed.  From his quick glimpse down, he could see a slew of gray pencil markings and arrows intermingling with his red pen scribbles.  It looked like she'd managed to do quite a bit of work on it.


Jenn crossed her arms and waited impatiently for the harsh rebuttal she was sure Toby would throw her way.  But he remained surprisingly silent.  "So, Sam's really okay?"


"Yeah.  He's just a little stressed.  We all are."  His tone clearly implied that she was the culprit for all their problems.


Jenn shuddered and looked away guiltily.  "Are we going to continue going through the questions?" she asked as she plopped down into a chair.


Toby looked at his watch and grimaced.  He'd spent the thirty minutes he'd set aside for the question rehearsal calming Sam down, and now he was late for a meeting.  "Oh, forget it," he huffed.  "If you don't know the questions and answers by now, it's too late to do anything about it.  Why don't you just go back to your room and pretty yourself up for the cameras."


A series of colorful adjectives ran through her head as she gritted her teeth together.  "Fine," she spat out.  She stomped out of the office and brought a smile to Ginger's lips when she muttered under her breath, "Damn sexist pig."


When Jenn was out of sight, Toby shook his head in disbelief.  "Eighth grade English teacher," he muttered derisively.  He flipped his pencil upside-down and was about to erase all of the work she'd put into the speech when he noticed that she'd crossed out half of the second paragraph, moved what was left to the sixth paragraph, and wrote a snappy transition to what had been the third paragraph.  Dropping the pencil back on to his desk, he propped his head up with his right hand and read through all the changes she'd made.  As much as he hated to admit it, the speech had been a mess.  He'd been pulling out what hair remained on his head that very morning as he'd attempted to produce a decent rewrite.  And now, after at most fifteen minutes of work, Jenn had managed to produce a pithy, lucid, and charming revised speech that remained true to its original tone.  "Huh," he uttered in amazement as he leaned back in his chair and continued reading.






"Oh my God, I think I'm gonna puke."


"What?" Sam asked, snapping his cell phone shut.  "Did you say something?"


Jenn brought an ice-cold hand to her feverish forehead and brushed away some of the beads of sweat that had gathered along her hairline.  "I'm sweating like there's no tomorrow, but I can't feel my hands.  Is that normal?"


Sam's smile was strained, but he tried to sound as reassuring as possible when he stated, "Perfectly.  Don't worry, you'll do fine."


Jenn scanned the controlled chaos unfolding before her and tried to calm her nerves by taking a deep breath.  There were only about five minutes left until they would go live on the air, and the entire studio was bustling with activity.  Yards of cables were strewn haphazardly along the floor, and Jenn counted three stationary cameras and one roving camera blocking her view of the set.  She was accidentally jostled by a crewmember as he attempted to maneuver around her, and this propelled Sam to reach out and steady her.  "I didn't think there'd be so many people here," she whispered as she disentangled herself from Sam.


"Don't be nervous.  You'll do fine."


Jenn turned to face him and laughed.  "Do you realize that that's like the hundredth time you've said that to me since we got here?"


Sam chuckled and shyly shrugged.  "Well, I do think you're going to do fine.  But it also looked like you could use the affirmations."


Jenn sighed and was about to agree when she spotted an attractive man in a black suit step onto the set.  "Is that Matthew Durkin?"


Sam followed her gaze and then nodded.  "Yeah, that's him."


"How old is he?  He looks like a kid."


Sam raised an eyebrow and glanced at Jenn, a person who, in her own right, could pass as a 'kid.'  "He's old enough.  Now be nice.  He's coming our way."


Matt was smiling broadly as he approached them.  "Hi, Sam," he greeted warmly, holding out his hand, "it's been a long time."


"Yes, it has, Matt.  How's it going?"  The two men clasped hands and shook vigorously.


"Can't complain."


"And your sister?  How's Denise doing these days?"


"Good.  She got married a year ago to an investment banker in Boston.  And she's about to make me a very proud uncle.  Her due date was ten days ago, so we're all just kind of waiting for the baby to pop out."


"Oh, wow.  Be sure to tell her congratulations for me."


"Sure."  Turning his attention to Jenn, Matt again flashed his wide grin.  "You must be Jennifer.  I'm Matt Durkin."


"It's nice to meet you, and please, call me Jenn."  She shook his hand and prayed that he wouldn't notice how clammy it was.


"Well, it looks like we're about ready to begin.  Why don't you go get comfortable on the set?  The chair on the right's mine, so you get the chair on the left.  I'll be there in a minute."


Jenn looked uncertainly at Sam, and he nodded his approval to the suggestion.  As she started to walk in front of him, he touched her arm and leaned towards her to murmur, "I'll be right here if you need me, and don't forget: you're going to do fine."


Jenn chuckled nervously and looked like she was about to attend her own execution, but she turned towards the set and didn't look back.


Both Sam and Matt watched Jenn travel the short distance to the barren set, which only possessed two armchairs on opposite sides of a small table.


"She's younger than I imagined she'd be," Matt remarked with a tinge of surprise in his voice.


"Funny, that's what she said about you."  Sam turned to face Matt and said, "Look, I want you to understand that--" just as Matt said, "My producers and I want to thank you for picking our show for Jenn to make her debut on."


"Oh, uh, sure," Sam mumbled, momentarily taken aback.  "We wanted to be positive that she wouldn't get hung out to dry by some overly ambitious television personalities."


"Well, you came to the right place then.  I must admit that you guys raised a few eyebrows when we got that call from C.J. saying that she wanted to book some mysterious guest for my show but that she couldn't tell us who that person was yet.  Things got a little clearer when we received that list of questions, but we definitely got the whole picture after the President's announcement last night."


"Yeah, Matt, about that list..."


"Oh, don't worry about it, Sam.  It's all taken care of."


"Well, that's great, but I still need to make sure that we're all on the same page.  You only get to ask Jenn the questions on that list.  Understand?"


"Yeah, Sam.  I told you, it's taken care of.  You're lucky we're so accommodating over here."


Sam's eyes grew large as a chill ran up his spine.  "What are you saying, Matt?"


"Oh, don't start sounding like that.  I was just saying that you guys might want to be a little more careful about the number of demands you put out there.  With the President's MS admission and now this, the administration's hardly running at a hundred percent.  And demands aren't usually taken very seriously if people don't believe the demander has the cojones to back them up."


 "Was that a threat?" Sam demanded with a frown.


"Oh, God, no.  You took my comment all wrong.  I just meant it to be a little friendly advice.  After all, we're almost family."  Matt placed a firm hand on Sam's shoulder to emphasize his point.


"Yeah, we're really not," Sam asserted as he pulled away from Matt's embrace.


Matt stared at his arm, which was left hanging in mid-air, and dropped it back down to his side.  "Okay, I may have overreached there, but seriously, you have nothing to worry about.  We're going to do this interview and she's going to come out looking great and I'm going to come out looking great.  It's a win-win situation for us all."


"And you're going to stick to the list, right?"


"Of course.  Goes without saying.  Sam, you really should--  Oh, I'm being beckoned.  Gotta go."


Sam looked in the direction of the set and saw a petite Asian woman signaling Matt by pointing at the watch on her wrist.


"See that girl with the braids?" Matt asked as he pointed out the woman Sam was already looking at.  "Well, her name's Angie and she's one of the producers.  If you have any problems during the interview, she's the one you should speak to.  See you in thirty."


A heavy nugget of dread settled and grew in his belly as Sam watched Matt scurry away.


As Matt slipped into his chair and clipped a microphone onto his lapel, he flashed Jenn another one of his disarming smiles.  "Relax," he urged her lightly.  "I don't bite, I swear."


A nervous giggle gurgled up from her throat and Jenn's hands unconsciously fluttered up to her neck.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just--"


"Don't worry about it.  I know this can all be pretty overwhelming at first.  But once the cameras start rolling, a rhythm will develop and you'll find yourself just going with the flow."


"That's good to know."


"And don't let the cameras intimidate you.  The way to know which camera angle is being shown at any one time is to look for the one with the flashing red light.  So, if you ever want to speak directly to a camera, you should look for that flashing light.  But I'd recommend that you keep your eyes on me.  Unless you know for sure which camera angle is being used, you'll just end up looking lost searching for that light."


"Okay."


"Is there anything you need before we get started?"


"No, I'm fine.  Thank you."


Matt reached across the table and gently patted her hand.  "Don't be nervous.  You'll do fine."


"That's what Sam keeps telling me."


"Well, Sam's a smart guy.  And it's not like you don't know what questions I'll ask you.  No worries.  We'll just have a little chat and have some fun while we're at it."


Jenn smirked at the comment.  "I highly doubt that."


"Well, regardless of whether or not you do, you look great, and that's half the battle right there."


"That sounds frighteningly narcissistic."


"Yeah, well, welcome to the world of television."


"Okay, people," a middle-aged man with a headset shouted as he paced in front of the cameras, "we're on in five."


"Ready?" Matt asked as he straightened his tie and smoothed out the front of his jacket.


"Yeah."


"Five," the headset man began to count.  "Four.  Three.  Two."


Right on cue, Matt looked directly at the camera closest to him and said, "Hello.  I'm Matthew Durkin, and I'm glad you could join us for another edition of Full Circle."






"Am I late?  Did I miss anything?"


Ainsley swooped into Josh's bullpen with a can of Fresca in one hand and her purse in the other.  As she pulled up beside Josh and Donna, who were standing in front of a TV tuned to Full Circle, she dropped her bag onto the floor and popped the tab on her soda can.


"They're just doing introductions right now," Donna informed her without looking away from the screen.  "She looks kind of nervous, don't you think?"


"Well, who wouldn't be?" Josh asked, reaching around Donna to grab a brownie off of a plate on the desk in front of them.  Donna slapped his hand it passed across her body.  "Hey," Josh yelped.  "What gives?  That hurt."


"Those brownies aren't for you."


"Well, if they aren't for me, then what are they doing sitting in my bullpen?"


"I baked them for everyone else, Joshua.  They've been working hard and I thought they could use a treat."


"So let me make sure I got this right.  You baked brownies for everyone but me?"


"Yeah."


"That's just so wrong.  Why?"


"You really want me going into my list of reasons right now?"


Josh pondered her question for a second before confessing, "No."


"I didn't think so."


Josh quickly stuffed the brownie he'd managed to snag into his mouth and turned his attention back to the TV.  "She looks good," he observed with a full mouth.


"Yeah," Ainsley agreed proudly.  "I lent her that red shirt.  I thought the red would do a good job offsetting the darkness of the suit.  But the curls were all her idea.  They're a nice touch."


Josh shot Ainsley a puzzled look but decided to let her remark pass without any further comment.  "She looks good in red.  Just like you do," he added as he turned towards Donna.  "You should wear red more often."


Donna blushed at the compliment and smiled in bemusement.  "Thank you."  Before she had a chance to say more, she caught sight of Margaret in the hallway and chased after her with a document Leo needed to sign.


Once Donna was gone, Ainsley grinned slyly at Josh.  "What was that all about?"


"What?" he asked, snatching another forbidden brownie.


"That stuff you just said to Donna.  'You look good in red.  You should wear more red.'  You were flirting her."


"What?"  Josh glared at Ainsley in exasperation.  "You don't know what you're talking about."


"Yes, I do," she insisted.  "I know flirting when I see it, and that was definitely flirting."


"What are you, in fifth grade?"


"Oh, don't get your panties in a bunch," Ainsley retorted, doubled over in laughter.  "I was just kidding around."


Josh narrowed his eyes and stiffly asked, "Ainsley, do I have to remind you that I was the one who said you could watch Jenn's appearance up here?  Do you want me to send you back down to the dungeon?"


She gasped and pointed an accusing finger at Josh.  "I knew that's what you guys call my office."


"Oh, don't get your panties in a bunch," he mocked.


"Do I need to send you two to your rooms without dinner?" Donna admonished as she stepped back into the bullpen.


"Donna, she--" Josh attempted to gripe before being hushed by his assistant.


"Shh.  They're coming back from commercials.  Here we go."


***


"Mind if I join you?"


Leo looked over his shoulder to see Jed striding into his office with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets.


"I thought you were going to watch this with Abbey over at the Residence, sir," Leo stated, his forehead furrowed in surprise.


"Oh, well, I, uh..." Jed pursed his lips and stared down at the floor.  "She looked like she wanted to be left alone, so I decided that I'd come here and keep you company instead."


"Are you avoiding your wife, sir?"


"Don't you think that's kind of a personal question?"


"You really shouldn't be avoiding her, Mr. President.  I don't see that helping matters any."


"Gee, Leo, isn't that like the pot calling the kettle black?"


"I never avoided Jenny, sir."


"No, you just turned a blind eye to everything until it was too late."


Both men fell silent and watched as Full Circle returned from its commercial break.  The camera focused in on Jenn, and they got an unobscured shot of Jenn looking cool and composed in her new suit as soft waves framed her face.  It was also obvious, however, that she was feeling uneasy.


"She looks nervous," Jed pointed out mournfully.


"I'm sure she is."


Jed sighed and glanced at his best friend.  "Did we do the right thing by putting her on this show?"


"It had to be done."


"I really need her to come out of this unscathed, Leo."


This time Leo was the one who sighed.  "I want that, too, Mr. President, but I think we both know the odds of that happening are next to impossible."


"Yeah."


The camera panned out to reveal both Matt and Jenn as the interview got underway.


***


"So, Jenn, I'm sure you already know that we're eager to hear about your current relationship with your father, the President, but why don't we ease into things by discussing your mother.  Is that okay?"  Matt oozed charm as he gazed amiably at Jenn from across the table.


"Sure."


"I understand that you and your mother were close.  Would you mind telling us a little more about that?"


It appeared almost as if the mention of her mother caused Jenn to fall into a daze.  She stared ahead blankly and looked like a deer caught in a pair of headlights.


"C'mon, Jenn," Sam encouraged quietly from his post behind the cameras, "snap out of it.  You can do this."


Jenn blinked several times, panicked, before regaining the use of her tongue.  As she remembered the question was one of the ones from the list and that she had an answer already prepared, she flipped some hair over her right shoulder and smiled confidently.  "Yes, Matt, my mom and I were very close.  I know it sounds trite, but I think you could honestly say we were best friends.  My mom was only in her twenties when she had me, so I guess you could say we kind of grew up together.  She was the sweetest, most wonderful person I know."


"Do you think it would be fair to say you kept each other's confidences and did whatever the other asked?"


Sam raised an eyebrow and looked up from the phone number he'd been punching into his cell phone.  It wasn't one of the 'allowed' questions, but he didn't feel like it was so out of line that he had to be concerned.


"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Jenn responded, trying not to appear too startled.


"Then is that why you hid your identity all these years?"  Matt's eyes twinkled triumphantly as he saw Jenn's face fall.


"What the hell?" Josh cried, his mouth dropping open.


"That's one of the questions on the list?" Donna asked in disbelief.


"No!"  Josh grabbed the phone nearest to him and dialed Toby's extension.  When he got a busy signal, he slammed the receiver down and stalked off in the direction of Toby's office.


On the screen, the camera was pulling in for an up-close shot of Jenn's stunned face.  "I don't--" she squeaked in a small voice.


"Oh, c'mon, Jenn," Matt jeered.  "Isn't it true that the President told your mother that he wanted to keep you a secret?  So she, in turn, asked you to conceal your father's identity?"


"No, that's not true," Jenn asserted as firmly as she could.  When had things spun so out of control, she asked herself.  "No one ever asked me to keep my father's identity a secret."


"Are you saying that you expect us to believe that you never tried to contact your father for more than a decade because you just didn't feel like it?"  The venom in Matt's voice was unmistakable.


Josh burst into Toby's office without bothering to knock.  "Toby, we--"


Toby silenced Josh by holding up his hand and continued his phone conversation.  "Yes, Leo, I know....I don't know what happened....No, I--...Let me talk to him and I'll get back to you."  Looking up to address Josh, Toby muttered, "I've got to call Sam."  He punched in Sam's cell phone number and waited impatiently for him to pick up.


"It wasn't that I didn't feel like it," Jenn countered weakly.  "It's just that...my mom wasn't well.  She...was bipolar and thought the President would...she was just scared, that's all.  She asked him not to contact me, but she never forbid me from contacting him.  I just didn't--"


Sam jumped and almost dropped his phone as it vibrated in his hand.  He'd been hanging on to every halting word coming out of Jenn's mouth.  She had paled by two shades after the questions had turned critical and now looked close to what Sam imagined death to look like.  "Sam Seaborn," he whispered into the phone as he turned his back on the set and stuck a finger in his left ear.


"What the hell is going on over there?" Toby shouted into his ear.


"I don't know.  I think we're getting sandbagged."


"You think, Sam?  Well, I know that's what's happening.  Get her out of there.  Now."


"What do you want me to do?  Run up there and drag her off the set while the cameras are rolling?  That would look great."


"Then what do you suggest?  Durkin's killing her and the President's about to have a heart attack!"


"I'll pull her at the next commercial break."


"Which will be when?"


"I don't know."  Sam turned back around to see Jenn's lower lip quavering.  "I gotta go.  Bye."


Toby moved the receiver away from his ear and stared at it as it emitted a dial tone.  "He hung up on me," he declared, faintly astonished.


Josh rubbed his hands over his face and mumbled, "What's he gonna do?"


"Pull her at the next break."


"Which is when?"


"He doesn't know."


"Oh, God."


"Yeah."


Both men refocused their attention on the show in time to see Matt berate Jenn some more.


"Your father is the governor of New Hampshire and he's well aware of the fact that your mother is mentally unstable, and yet he has no qualms with leaving his daughter in her hands?  Is that what you're telling me?"


"Yes.  No.  Wait, I--"  Jenn gazed beseechingly at the cameras as she tried to locate Sam hidden behind them.


"Oh, this is bad," Josh stated, wincing.  "This is very, very bad.  The things he's implying...he's..."


"I know," Toby said.  "I don't know what could be worse."


"I do."


Toby and Josh turned to see C.J. lurking in the doorway, a briefing book clutched in her right hand.


"You want to know what's worse?" she challenged as she walked towards them.  "You could be in Jenn's shoes right now."


The two men ducked their heads guiltily and nodded.  C.J. stared at the TV and shook her head in dismay as she watched a distraught Jenn look as if she wished the floor below her would open up and swallow her whole.


"You were ten years old when you met the President for the first time," Matt began to say before being interrupted by Jenn, who murmured, "He wasn't the President then."


"Well, yes, I realize that, but my point is that you were only ten when your father introduced himself to you and then abandoned you.  Both you and the President claim that your mother was the one who precipitated that break in your relationship, but you're also claiming that no one ever stopped you from contacting him as you got older.  Now how can that be?  Actions were taken that you're now not being frank about!  Who made these atrocious decisions?  Who are you protecting?  It's your father, isn't it?"


Just as Sam was about to disregard his own arguments on why he should wait until the next commercial break to pull Jenn off the show, her face clouded over and she stopped cowering in her chair.


"Who the hell do you think you are?" she demanded loudly, her face livid.


Not expecting Jenn to start arguing back, Matt shot a hasty look to the director standing off to the sidelines.  "Well, maybe we should--"


"No," Jenn interrupted.  "You keep your eyes right here," she ordered, pointing to her own eyes.  "Who the hell do you think you are to sit there and question the decisions that have been made in my life?  You have no idea what I've gone through and what my mother has gone through.  Did you spend your 21st birthday pleading with your mother to open a locked bathroom door as she threatened to smash in the medicine cabinet mirror and slice her wrists open with the shards?  At the age of 13, did you have to learn how to beg store managers to allow you to return wore merchandise that your mother had bought on a whim because if they didn't, then that would mean both of you would end up on the streets?  Did you grow up having to hide the fact that your mother wasn't well so that people wouldn't pity you and say 'Oh, you poor thing' every time they saw you?  No?  Well, guess what?  I did.  I had to do all of that and more.  Yes, decisions were made when I was young and as I got older, and I may regret some of them now and they may seem absurd to some people, but I don't care.  I don't care because those of you who are irked by this don't know what it's like.  There are over 2.3 million adults who suffer from manic depression in the United States, and they and their families struggle through every hour of every day, just like my mother and I did, to try to hold on and keep things from falling apart.  So, don't you dare sit there and judge them or me or my mother or anyone else in my family.  Don't you dare."


A hush fell over the studio.  Jenn's eyes filled with tears as she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands.  Matt stared at her, stunned.  Soon the man with the headset appeared beside two of the cameras and began waving his arms around wildly.  Taking notice of him, Matt blinked and stammered, "Well, it, uh, it looks like it's time for another word from our sponsors, so we'll be right back."


"And we're out," the headset man yelled in relief.


Jenn yanked the microphone off of her jacket and flung it away from her, not caring that it probably broke when it smacked against the cold floor.  "You bastard," she condemned Matt as she rose from her seat and pushed her way through various cameramen and crewmembers.


Sam rushed to her side.  "Jenn, I--"


She broke his gaze and advised with a strained voice, "I really wouldn't talk to me right now, Sam, because I might end up saying something I'll regret later."


He nodded in understanding and asked her to give him a second as he marched over to Matt, who hadn't moved from his chair.


"She can't leave yet," Matt informed him flatly.  "We're supposed to have her for another segment."


"Then that's your problem, not mine."


When Matt opened his mouth to protest, Sam snapped, "What?  You want to sue us over this?  Fine, go ahead.  I'm sure the Counsel's Office would have a field day with you."


Matt closed his mouth and looked away as he tried to avoid Sam's eyes.  But Sam slammed both of his hands against the table and moved his face within inches of Matt's.  "Congratulations, Matt," Sam hissed, "you just succeeded in committing not one, but three grave mistakes.  First, you pissed off the President.  Second, you pissed off Leo McGarry.  And your third and most critical mistake?  You pissed off me.  Hope it was all worth it."


Sam then spun himself around and made his way towards Jenn.  It was time to return to the White House.






The car ride back to the White House was a silent one.  Sam glanced at Jenn periodically during the trip, but her eyes were always focused on the scenery blurring by her window as the car raced through the streets.  They were minutes away from reaching 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue when Sam cleared his throat and gently touched Jenn's right thigh.  She jumped and instinctually pulled away.


"I'm sorry," Sam apologized.  "I didn't mean to...  We're about to arrive at the White House, and I just wanted to let you know that, once we get there, we're going to have a meeting in Leo's office.  The President, Leo, and the senior staff will be there.  It's not a meeting we pulled together especially for you.  It's just something that we always hold whenever one of us makes a public appearance.  We'll go over what was said, what wasn't said, and what wasn't said but might as well have been.  It helps C.J. get an idea of what kind of questions to expect at her briefing.  Is that okay?"


"Sure."  Jenn's voice was dull and emotionless.


The two once again fell silent until the car pulled around to the back of the White House and slowed to a stop.  As Sam began to push the door open, Jenn declared, "I really messed up back there, didn't I?"  There was regret in her voice as well as resentment.  It was obvious she was still incensed.


"What?  No."


"I lost my temper.  I couldn't remember any of the stuff I was supposed to say.  And then I just--"


"Jenn," Sam interrupted, "you didn't mess up.  You did as well as any of us would have if we'd been in your place.  He was attacking you.  You had every right to say what you did."  Sam reached down and helped Jenn out of the car.


"Yeah, but--"


"No buts.  As far as I'm concerned, you did great."


They had just entered the West Wing and Sam was about to lead them to Leo's office when she grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.  "Can I ask you for a favor?" she begged.  "Do you know if there's some place I can go to...pull myself together?  All I need is a couple of minutes, that's all."


Sam smiled kindly and pointed in the direction of his office.  "You can use my office, and take as long as you need.  I'll go to Leo's and hold them off until you're ready."


"Thanks."


Sam watched her flee towards his office before walking in the opposite direction.  Outside Leo's office, Margaret was seated at her desk, typing away like a speed-demon.  "They in there?" Sam asked, gesturing towards the closed door with his head.


"Yeah," Margaret replied without looking away from her screen.  "Where's Jenn?  She okay?"


"Yeah, she's..."  Sam paused mid-sentence to rub his eyes as a sense of weariness suddenly hit him.  "She's kind of beating herself up about what happened, but I think she'll be fine.  She should be headed this way in a few minutes.  Send her in when she shows up?"


"Sure.  Poor kid.  She shouldn't have had to go through that.  Some people just have no clue what it means to be a decent human being."


"Yeah."  Sam left Margaret to continue fuming on her own as he let himself into Leo's office.  Five pairs of eyes turned and looked at the door expectantly as the hinges squeaked his arrival.  Sam noticed all their faces fall as they saw only him walk into the room.  "Yeah, it's only me," he mumbled, stating the obvious for them.


"Where's Jenn?" the President asked with concern.


"In my office.  She's a little upset, so she asked for some time to herself, which I thought was a completely reasonable request.  She should be joining us shortly."


"Oh, okay."


Left, once again, with some unexpected time to kill, the President, Chief of Staff, and senior staff didn't seem to know what to do with themselves.  They exchanged furtive glances and scrutinized the already familiar surroundings.


To break the awkward silence, Josh asked, "So, while we're waiting, should we, you know, go over what we think went wrong?"


"It'd probably go faster if we instead went over what went right," Toby pointed out brusquely.


"Okay, then, what do we think went right?"


The six occupants in the room, who held an array of degrees and prestigious awards between them, wracked their brains for an answer but were unable to come up with one.


"It wasn't that bad...was it?" Jed asked after several seconds had passed without a response.


"No, it wasn't," Sam chimed in as he decided to be the one who would find the silver lining to their current dark cloud.  "Some things did go right, sir.  Like...um...well...Jenn looked good.  She really did."


As the other men in the room began to nod their heads, C.J. crossed her arms and scoffed, "That's your example of something that went right?  'Jenn looked good'?  Aside from being one of the more sexist comments you could've said, it's an incredibly stupid one.  The reason none of us can come up with anything more positive than 'she looked good' is because nothing went right during that interview.  Jenn got massacred, and the only ones we have to blame for that are ourselves.  We promised Jenn that if she memorized those questions and she memorized those answers, then she'd be fine.  Well, she held up her end of the bargain, but we didn't hold up ours."


"Now, wait a minute," Toby interjected.  "We did everything we could.  How could we have known that Durkin wasn't going to stick to the list like he said he would?"


"Oh, c'mon, Toby.  Why did we think we could give Durkin that directive and expect him to follow it?  When did we develop that kind of hubris?  Let's face it, guys, we failed her, and we're damn lucky that things didn't disintegrate more than they did.  She could have just sat there and fallen apart."


C.J.'s words rang true in everyone's ears, which caused them to lapse into silence.  As Jed watched his staff process C.J.'s comments, he was pleasantly surprised to find that, while his staff still sometimes averted their gaze from his, they did so out of a sense of them having let him down and not the other way around.  His eyes settled on Josh, who appeared to be deep in thought.  "What about you, Josh?" Jed asked.  "You've been uncharacteristically quiet.  What are your thoughts on what transpired during the show?"


Josh frowned and waited a second before growling, "I think Matthew Durkin's a gigantic jackass who'll get his when he least expects it."


The response elicited a series of wicked smiles from everyone in the room.  Trying to suppress his own grin, Jed moved over to Josh and patted him on the shoulder.  "Thank you, Josh.  Always my beacon of wisdom, aren't you?"


"Yes, sir."


As a feeling of camaraderie slowly filled the room, Leo sneaked a peep at his watch.  "Sam, how much time did Jenn say she wanted by herself?"


People's smiles faded as Sam checked his own watch, his eyebrows furrowed in apprehension.  "She said a couple minutes, but..."


Leo caught the President's eye and noticed that his friend looked as alarmed as he felt.  "Mr. President, may I--"


"Please."


Leo nodded and rushed out of the room, remembering at the very last second to look over his shoulder and say, "Thank you, sir.  I'll return as soon as I can."


With Leo gone, the senior staff didn't seem to be able to decide whether or not they should stay.  "Sir, do you think we should--" Toby began to suggest before being hushed by a wave of Jed's hand.


"Oh, I don't think Leo'll mind if we loiter here a little longer.  If something comes up that needs my attention, Charlie'll come get me."  Jed paused to settle himself into one of the armchairs.  "Oh, and before I forget, I'd like to thank you, Sam, for a job well done on that speech I'm set to give in New York."


Sam stared at the President in bewilderment.  "The teacher union speech?" he asked as he shot Toby a questioning look.


"Yeah, that's the one.  Great job.  Leo gave me the final draft earlier today and I signed off on it about an hour ago.  I like how you kept it short and sweet.  I wanna be in and outta there before any of them have a chance to sharpen their claws."


"Well, uh," Sam stammered, scratching his head, "I'd love to accept your praise, sir, but I'm afraid I can't."


"You can't?"


"No, sir.  The draft I wrote and handed off to Toby was horrendous.  I wish I'd done a better job on it, but...my mind was on other times at the time.  Sorry."


Jed turned his attention to Toby and gave him a courtly nod.  "Well, then, my compliments go to the revisionist.  Nice job, Toby."


Toby's eyes fell to his lap as he mumbled, "I'm afraid I can't accept your praise, either, sir."


Taken slightly aback, Jed stated wryly, "Lemme guess.  You weren't the one who revised the speech."


"I rewrote part of it, but not the entire thing."


"May I be bold enough to ask whose help you received?"


"Your daughter, sir."


Jed was now completely confused.  He knew he'd been preoccupied with various things during the past few days, but was it possible that one of his daughters had dropped in for a visit without his knowledge?  "Zoey?"


"It was Jenn, sir," Toby begrudgingly admitted.


Various mouths fell at the mention of her name, especially Jed's.  "She hasn't even been here for a week yet, but you've already put her to work?  Were you trying to make sure she was earning her keep?" he asked, feeling slightly miffed.


"It wasn't like that.  We were in my office going over the questions one last time, when I was...called away from my desk.  By the time I returned, she'd already rewritten half of the thing.  She did a decent job so I just followed her lead and finished it up.  In retrospect, I guess her work was pretty impressive."  When Toby looked up from his explanation, he saw four faces smirking back at him.  "What?  I give credit where credit's due."


Josh chortled and threw his hands over his heart as he feigned having a heart attack.  "Can this be?  The great Toby Ziegler is actually handing out compliments?  If we don't intervene soon, people, he may just start apologizing!"


"Well, Josh, I am sorry.  I'm sorry you're such an idiot," Toby countered sarcastically.


Both C.J. and Sam started laughing at this point as all thoughts of Matt Durkin flew out the window.  Even Jed allowed the corners of mouth to push upwards.  Everything's going to be fine, he reassured himself.  His staff was no longer angry with him.  He and Abbey would kiss and make up the way they always did.  And Leo would make sure Jenn was all right and then convince her to stay in town.  Everything would be just fine.






The first thing Leo noticed as he approached Sam's office was that someone had drawn the blinds shut.  He knew Sam always left them open because he found the hustle and bustle out in the bullpen and hallway inspiring.  That left only Jenn as the one behind the deed, and that worried Leo.


Before knocking on the closed door, he pressed an ear against it but heard only silence.  So, he knocked and called out, "Jenn?  It's Leo.  May I come in?"  Again there was only silence.


Upon letting himself into the room, he saw Jenn pacing in front of Sam's desk at a frantic rate.


"Jenn, what are you doing?" Leo inquired quietly as he closed the door behind him.


She threw her arms up in the air and clenched her hands into fists.  "God, Uncle Leo," she seethed while continuing to pace back and forth, "I am so pissed right now I can hardly..."


"Honey, you need to calm down.  I know you're upset, but I promise you that we're going to deal with Durkin in the appropriate--"


"You think I'm pissed at Matt?" Jenn asked as she came to a stop.


"You're not?"


"No, I am, believe me, but I'm...I'm more pissed at myself right now."  She sighed and leaned against the front of the desk.  "I can't believe the things I said about my mom."


"You got caught up in the moment.  When that happens, it's next to impossible to censure yourself."


"That's no excuse."  Jenn shook her head and pressed a hand against the right side of her face.  "I made her sound like such a terrible person.  I'm didn't mean to, but he was saying all those things about the President that weren't true and I just wanted him to shut up.  Then those words started flying out my mouth and I..."  Jenn stopped and bit her lower lip as she struggled to remain composed.  "I can't believe I said those things."


Leo moved over to the desk and leaned against it beside her.  "You didn't sell out your mother to save your father, if that's what you're thinking you did."


"For as long as I can remember, I've promised myself I would never trade off of my mother's illness.  Ever."


"I know," Leo murmured as he put his arm around her shoulders.  "I know."


She recoiled from his embrace and asserted, "No, Uncle Leo, you really don't."


"Jenn, I didn't mean to--"


"See, the thing is, I spent so much time making sure I didn't blame my mother for anything that I..."  Jenn turned her head and gazed at Leo with defeated eyes.  "I wanted her to die.  Did you know that?"


Leo stared back at her, transfixed, and found himself speechless.


"It's true," she continued, sounding chillingly detached.  "The ironic thing is that I'm not sure I would've felt that way if things hadn't been going so well for us.  I'd graduated from college and found a good job.  Mom inexplicably started taking her medication regularly and stabilized enough to find a job of her own.  For the first time in years, we found ourselves with extra money at the end of each month and opened a savings account.  We were happy, the two of us.  A year passed.  And then another one.  It was amazing things were so good.  But then Mom started feeling run down.  She became really listless all the time, and it was a different kind of listless than when she was feeling depressed.  So she went to see her doctor and some tests were done and that's when we found out about the cancer.  The next thing we knew, what little money we'd saved got eaten up by tests and treatments and hospital stays.  I used up time-off days faster than I earned them, and I...I just got so tired.  I was tired of being forced to be the grown-up again.  I was tired of having to be the worrier and the caretaker and the dutiful daughter who always had a smile on her face and the words 'it's going to be okay' on the tip of her tongue.  I'd just turned 25, was in what many people would consider the prime of my life, and I was miserable.


"I don't remember how many times I fell asleep half-wishing she'd be dead when I woke up so that it'd all finally be over.  And then, one day, my wish came true."  She choked on the last word and dropped her head as a tear slid down her right cheek.  When she raised her head back up and brushed her hair away from her face with trembling hands, Leo saw two large brown eyes full of pain and overflowing with tears.  "I miss her, Uncle Leo," Jenn whispered before a sob broke free from her chest.  "I miss her so much.  I'd give anything to have her back."


Leo felt a tear of his own slither down his cheek as he wrapped his arms around Jenn and held her close.  While he stroked her hair and murmured "shh" over and over again, Jenn buried her face in his shoulder and wept.  As an ache exploded and radiated throughout her body, she wept for all the times she'd been lonely and scared, for all the times she'd been bitter and angry, and for all the times, in the last four days, she'd wanted nothing more than her mommy.


-the end-







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