[Oneshot] Believe
Title: Believe
Fandom: The West Wing
Author: nicis_anatomy
Character: C.J. Cregg/Danny Concannon (mentions Leo McGarry, Jed Bartlet)
Genre: Gen, Angst
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,890
Summary: Late at night, C.J. has an unexpected visitor and she finally gets some answers she needed ... Written for prompt #06 "I believe in you" for 12_stories and prompt #74 "Decisions" for 100_tales.
Warning: English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd. Spoiler for all seasons (mention of canon character’s death)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just borrow them from time to time to have some fun with them.
I don't believe that when you die
Your presence isn't felt
But I believe in you
("I believe in you" - Kylie Minogue)
~*~*~*~*
It's dark outside when C.J. finally looked up from her computer screen. Rubbing her eyes, she blinked a few times until her eyes have adjusted to the dark room.
As always, she hadn’t realized how time had gone by, until it was already dark outside The White House and quiet inside The West Wing. In the distance she could hear a phone ring and someone - probably a guy from the cleaning crew - turning on the vacuum cleaner.
C.J. closed her eyes, taking in the silence and wondering if she’d ever be able to leave the office on time again; when the sun was still up and her only company wasn’t Gail and the Hoover guy. She was used to working long hours, but ever since she’d become Chief of Staff it felt like all she did was working. Her life was controlled by a calendar that often even hadn’t enough space for all the meetings and appointments she had to attend to on a single day. If it wasn’t for Margaret she would have long got lost in her own schedule - or starved to death as her stomach reminded her with a loud rumbling noise right in that moment.
She sighed. Burying her head in her hands, she leaned back and wished someone would stop the world and let her off; out of this madness, out of this never-ending circle of meetings, crisis, decisions, more meetings, more crises and more decision she - most of the time - didn’t like to make.
How had Leo handled all this? How did he cope with this madness? How on earth did he do it? Smile, when around him everything was starting to crash down; taking a few minutes for a private conversation when the President (or someone else way more important than the staff) was waiting for him? How did he do it? She couldn’t even make a dentist appointment - or keep it without ruining her whole schedule (and that of half the staff here in this building).
Maybe this meant she wasn’t the right person for this job? Maybe Leo made a mistake, when he suggested her as his successor. Or it was a moment of temporary insanity when the President had made her Chief of Staff that was the root of all evil and he was the one to blame, while she was only a puppet on a string trying to survive?
Yes, she was good. Yes, she could handle stress. Yes, she had experience and she knew how to play with the big guys, with the important one. She knew how to man up, even as the only woman in the room. She was good in doing all this.
But there was no way she would ever became good at this here, being Chief of Staff, answering directly to the most powerful man in the world.
“Oh, Leo …,” she mumbled quietly, her head pressed against the back of her chair and her eyes closed. “What have you done to me?”
“What do you mean?” The voice was gentle, but it startled C.J. Anyway. She sat up and her eyes widened with surprise and shock as she spotted the tale figure at the door of her office.
“What … what are you doing here?” she asked, blinking a few times, but the shadow didn’t vanish. She figure leaned against the door-frame, a silhouette nothing more than a shadow, but C.J. had seen this body so many times that she didn’t need a face to know who this visitor was. And at the same time she knew that this wasn’t possible.
It couldn’t be … and yet he was here.
“The question is what are you doing here. It’s late. You should be at home, resting, enjoying your evening.”
C.J. laughed. “Right … because that’s what I’ve done all my life.” She couldn’t even recall the day when she’d last sat on her sofa, watching TV or reading something that wasn’t a report or the draft version of a speech.
“You are working too hard, Claudia Jean.” The voice was still gentle, but C.J. could hear concern and reproach in it. Her amusement vanished. She knew that he was right. She knew that she was working too hard, and she also knew that one day she would have to pay the price for this. Like her ancestor had. Like Leo had ...
But what could she do? This wasn’t a job you could just quit, whenever you felt like it. This was a job for life. This was her life. Even with all the self-doubts and concerned she had … she couldn’t just quit and move on.
“I have to,” she said. “I have to work twice as hard to get half of the things done I have to do. And even that isn’t good enough.” She sighed again, wondering why she’d just said this. She had learned to keep her insecurity to herself, hidden behind a smile and a mask that should fool everyone around her - including herself. And now she was telling him, of all people, what was eating her up on the inside …
It was definitely time to go home and get some sleep.
“Says who?” asked the voice, catching her off-guard. For a long moment she didn’t answer and when she finally spoke again her voice was nothing more than a whisper.
“No one. Everyone … It’s … I don’t know … I just feel that I don’t belong here. I don’t feel comfortable doing whatever I’m doing. I can’t keep up with my schedule. I need to be reminded of appointments. I forget to eat and … and if it wasn’t for Margaret I would be lying in a corner, curled up like a baby and crying my eyes out. That … that can’t be right.”
“That’s what Margaret is here for, C.J. She is supposed to help you, to support you and to remind you of things. She gets paid for this.”
“I know.” C.J. sighed. “But it doesn’t feel right. I’m the wrong person for this job. But I can’t tell anyone. If I do, I would … I would insinuate that the President made a mistake by giving me this job. And I would betray him, even disappoint him. I can’t do this. Never.”
Again, there’s a long silence and C.J. started to wonder, if she had said something wrong. She pushed back her chair and stood up, ready to leave for the day (or night), when she noticed the slow, thoughtful nod, followed be a shrug.
“He wouldn’t see it this way,” her visitor said, leaving his spot by the door to meet her halfway. “He would disagree and I doubt that he would be happy about your decision. Maybe he would even resist accepting your resignation. But he wouldn’t feel betrayed. He would be proud of you. He is proud of you, Claudia Jean. He loves you like a daughter and nothing you could do would ever change this.”
C.J. lowered her head in a futile attempt to hide the tears she suddenly couldn’t fight back any longer. She wasn’t sure, if what he said was the truth, but it felt good to hear these words - even if they were a lie and only said to comfort her.
“C.J. … do you think he would love and support you if he thinks you weren’t worth it? Do you really think he would’ve given you this job if he didn’t feel you were qualified enough for it? This job is important, you are important. He trusts you and he believes in you. The same way I believed in you.”
C.J. looked up, surprised. “You … you did?”
“I’ve always believed in you. And you should never forget this.” He smiled. “I might not be here anymore, but that does not mean I’m not proud of you or believe in you. I do. And I always will.”
“Thank you, Leo,” C.J. whispered, smiling and no longer trying to hide her tears.
“Leo? Do I look that old to you?”
Startled, C.J. sat up on her chair and opened her eyes only to close them again immediately, as bright sunlight burned her retina. Confused, she shook her head, trying to make sense of whatever had just happen. Her head was spinning and she finally gave up trying.
“Danny,” she said, slowly opening her eyes again. “What are you doing here? What time is it?”
“Almost six,” Danny answered. He left his spot by the door and walked over to her desk to great Gail by tapping gently against the glass. He took the small can with fish food and dropped some flakes into the tank, giving C.J. some time to wake up and fix her hair. She gave him a thankful smile, asking herself once again what she'd done to ever deserve a friend like Danny. She'd dumbed him so many times and every time he had come back to her, flirting with her and silently begging her to let him in. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she pushed him away … he was like a rubber strap - always coming back to her, and every time with my more strength and better arguments why he was her guy. She knew she eventually had to give in. If she could only find out how he could fit into her busy life ...
“Looks like someone had company for the night,” Danny finally said, turning his head to look at her frowning. “Did you stay here all night?”
“I … I don’t know. Maybe,” she answered slowly, feeling like a child that had been caught with her hand inside the cookie jar. She hated when he treated at her like this and she send him a stare that would scare a whole Grade school class. But unlike her Danny was immune against her treatment.
“You are working too hard, C.J. Did anyone ever tell you this?” He asked with the same concern in his voice C.J. had heard before and for a long moment she just looked at him, shocked by the déjà vu feeling. Then she smiled, recalling the conversation she’d had at this exact same place only second ago - or was it hours, if ever? But it didn’t matter, when (or if) she’d had this conversation. All that mattered was that she had found some answers to questions she didn’t even know she was asking. And she had made a decision.
“Yes, actually someone did,” she said, still smiling and knowing exactly what she needed to do next.
She would not quit. She would stay - but not at any cost. Her private life was as important as her job was. Although, she had no illusions that she would ever leave her office before sundown, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a few minutes for herself every once in a while, right?
“Do you think we could get breakfast somewhere around here?” she asks and the tingling in her stomach reminded her of the first time she'd skipped school to meet with a boy behind the football field. Back then, it had been the beginning of something new, something beautiful.
And who knew … maybe this was another déjà vu feeling, a sign she should listen to.
- The End -
Fandom: The West Wing
Author: nicis_anatomy
Character: C.J. Cregg/Danny Concannon (mentions Leo McGarry, Jed Bartlet)
Genre: Gen, Angst
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,890
Summary: Late at night, C.J. has an unexpected visitor and she finally gets some answers she needed ... Written for prompt #06 "I believe in you" for 12_stories and prompt #74 "Decisions" for 100_tales.
Warning: English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd. Spoiler for all seasons (mention of canon character’s death)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just borrow them from time to time to have some fun with them.
I don't believe that when you die
Your presence isn't felt
But I believe in you
("I believe in you" - Kylie Minogue)
~*~*~*~*
It's dark outside when C.J. finally looked up from her computer screen. Rubbing her eyes, she blinked a few times until her eyes have adjusted to the dark room.
As always, she hadn’t realized how time had gone by, until it was already dark outside The White House and quiet inside The West Wing. In the distance she could hear a phone ring and someone - probably a guy from the cleaning crew - turning on the vacuum cleaner.
C.J. closed her eyes, taking in the silence and wondering if she’d ever be able to leave the office on time again; when the sun was still up and her only company wasn’t Gail and the Hoover guy. She was used to working long hours, but ever since she’d become Chief of Staff it felt like all she did was working. Her life was controlled by a calendar that often even hadn’t enough space for all the meetings and appointments she had to attend to on a single day. If it wasn’t for Margaret she would have long got lost in her own schedule - or starved to death as her stomach reminded her with a loud rumbling noise right in that moment.
She sighed. Burying her head in her hands, she leaned back and wished someone would stop the world and let her off; out of this madness, out of this never-ending circle of meetings, crisis, decisions, more meetings, more crises and more decision she - most of the time - didn’t like to make.
How had Leo handled all this? How did he cope with this madness? How on earth did he do it? Smile, when around him everything was starting to crash down; taking a few minutes for a private conversation when the President (or someone else way more important than the staff) was waiting for him? How did he do it? She couldn’t even make a dentist appointment - or keep it without ruining her whole schedule (and that of half the staff here in this building).
Maybe this meant she wasn’t the right person for this job? Maybe Leo made a mistake, when he suggested her as his successor. Or it was a moment of temporary insanity when the President had made her Chief of Staff that was the root of all evil and he was the one to blame, while she was only a puppet on a string trying to survive?
Yes, she was good. Yes, she could handle stress. Yes, she had experience and she knew how to play with the big guys, with the important one. She knew how to man up, even as the only woman in the room. She was good in doing all this.
But there was no way she would ever became good at this here, being Chief of Staff, answering directly to the most powerful man in the world.
“Oh, Leo …,” she mumbled quietly, her head pressed against the back of her chair and her eyes closed. “What have you done to me?”
“What do you mean?” The voice was gentle, but it startled C.J. Anyway. She sat up and her eyes widened with surprise and shock as she spotted the tale figure at the door of her office.
“What … what are you doing here?” she asked, blinking a few times, but the shadow didn’t vanish. She figure leaned against the door-frame, a silhouette nothing more than a shadow, but C.J. had seen this body so many times that she didn’t need a face to know who this visitor was. And at the same time she knew that this wasn’t possible.
It couldn’t be … and yet he was here.
“The question is what are you doing here. It’s late. You should be at home, resting, enjoying your evening.”
C.J. laughed. “Right … because that’s what I’ve done all my life.” She couldn’t even recall the day when she’d last sat on her sofa, watching TV or reading something that wasn’t a report or the draft version of a speech.
“You are working too hard, Claudia Jean.” The voice was still gentle, but C.J. could hear concern and reproach in it. Her amusement vanished. She knew that he was right. She knew that she was working too hard, and she also knew that one day she would have to pay the price for this. Like her ancestor had. Like Leo had ...
But what could she do? This wasn’t a job you could just quit, whenever you felt like it. This was a job for life. This was her life. Even with all the self-doubts and concerned she had … she couldn’t just quit and move on.
“I have to,” she said. “I have to work twice as hard to get half of the things done I have to do. And even that isn’t good enough.” She sighed again, wondering why she’d just said this. She had learned to keep her insecurity to herself, hidden behind a smile and a mask that should fool everyone around her - including herself. And now she was telling him, of all people, what was eating her up on the inside …
It was definitely time to go home and get some sleep.
“Says who?” asked the voice, catching her off-guard. For a long moment she didn’t answer and when she finally spoke again her voice was nothing more than a whisper.
“No one. Everyone … It’s … I don’t know … I just feel that I don’t belong here. I don’t feel comfortable doing whatever I’m doing. I can’t keep up with my schedule. I need to be reminded of appointments. I forget to eat and … and if it wasn’t for Margaret I would be lying in a corner, curled up like a baby and crying my eyes out. That … that can’t be right.”
“That’s what Margaret is here for, C.J. She is supposed to help you, to support you and to remind you of things. She gets paid for this.”
“I know.” C.J. sighed. “But it doesn’t feel right. I’m the wrong person for this job. But I can’t tell anyone. If I do, I would … I would insinuate that the President made a mistake by giving me this job. And I would betray him, even disappoint him. I can’t do this. Never.”
Again, there’s a long silence and C.J. started to wonder, if she had said something wrong. She pushed back her chair and stood up, ready to leave for the day (or night), when she noticed the slow, thoughtful nod, followed be a shrug.
“He wouldn’t see it this way,” her visitor said, leaving his spot by the door to meet her halfway. “He would disagree and I doubt that he would be happy about your decision. Maybe he would even resist accepting your resignation. But he wouldn’t feel betrayed. He would be proud of you. He is proud of you, Claudia Jean. He loves you like a daughter and nothing you could do would ever change this.”
C.J. lowered her head in a futile attempt to hide the tears she suddenly couldn’t fight back any longer. She wasn’t sure, if what he said was the truth, but it felt good to hear these words - even if they were a lie and only said to comfort her.
“C.J. … do you think he would love and support you if he thinks you weren’t worth it? Do you really think he would’ve given you this job if he didn’t feel you were qualified enough for it? This job is important, you are important. He trusts you and he believes in you. The same way I believed in you.”
C.J. looked up, surprised. “You … you did?”
“I’ve always believed in you. And you should never forget this.” He smiled. “I might not be here anymore, but that does not mean I’m not proud of you or believe in you. I do. And I always will.”
“Thank you, Leo,” C.J. whispered, smiling and no longer trying to hide her tears.
“Leo? Do I look that old to you?”
Startled, C.J. sat up on her chair and opened her eyes only to close them again immediately, as bright sunlight burned her retina. Confused, she shook her head, trying to make sense of whatever had just happen. Her head was spinning and she finally gave up trying.
“Danny,” she said, slowly opening her eyes again. “What are you doing here? What time is it?”
“Almost six,” Danny answered. He left his spot by the door and walked over to her desk to great Gail by tapping gently against the glass. He took the small can with fish food and dropped some flakes into the tank, giving C.J. some time to wake up and fix her hair. She gave him a thankful smile, asking herself once again what she'd done to ever deserve a friend like Danny. She'd dumbed him so many times and every time he had come back to her, flirting with her and silently begging her to let him in. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she pushed him away … he was like a rubber strap - always coming back to her, and every time with my more strength and better arguments why he was her guy. She knew she eventually had to give in. If she could only find out how he could fit into her busy life ...
“Looks like someone had company for the night,” Danny finally said, turning his head to look at her frowning. “Did you stay here all night?”
“I … I don’t know. Maybe,” she answered slowly, feeling like a child that had been caught with her hand inside the cookie jar. She hated when he treated at her like this and she send him a stare that would scare a whole Grade school class. But unlike her Danny was immune against her treatment.
“You are working too hard, C.J. Did anyone ever tell you this?” He asked with the same concern in his voice C.J. had heard before and for a long moment she just looked at him, shocked by the déjà vu feeling. Then she smiled, recalling the conversation she’d had at this exact same place only second ago - or was it hours, if ever? But it didn’t matter, when (or if) she’d had this conversation. All that mattered was that she had found some answers to questions she didn’t even know she was asking. And she had made a decision.
“Yes, actually someone did,” she said, still smiling and knowing exactly what she needed to do next.
She would not quit. She would stay - but not at any cost. Her private life was as important as her job was. Although, she had no illusions that she would ever leave her office before sundown, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a few minutes for herself every once in a while, right?
“Do you think we could get breakfast somewhere around here?” she asks and the tingling in her stomach reminded her of the first time she'd skipped school to meet with a boy behind the football field. Back then, it had been the beginning of something new, something beautiful.
And who knew … maybe this was another déjà vu feeling, a sign she should listen to.
- The End -