Classification: General
Spoilers: Up through "Abu El Banat," although this is not a post-ep.
Dedicated to Judi with respect, love, and prayers.
***
THE QUALITY OF MERCY
***
Friday, December 26, 2003
Under any circumstances, President Bartlet was not a fan of early morning
meetings in the Oval Office. Excellent coffee and a hot shower might ensure that
his mind would be sharp, but at six o'clock in the morning, regardless of the
quality of the coffee, he was easily upset. Perhaps, he mused as he watched Leo
pour a cup and hand it to Ron Butterfield, it was because no one ever called a
meeting at this hour to discuss good news.
The President, the Chief of Staff, and the head of the President's security
detail were in the Oval Office at 5:58 in the morning, the day after Christmas.
Do the math, Bartlet thought as he opened the blue folder and began to read.
Damn.
"Yeah," he said softly, settling his glasses further back on his nose so he
could see the bottom of the page. "Yeah, we need to get him in here. And we need
to get this to Toby, because CJ's going to get questions on it at the early
press conference."
Leo walked toward the anteroom, favoring his right leg a little as he always did
when he was tired. He opened the door and motioned at Charlie. "Come on in. Oh,
and Nancy - could you take this to Toby's office?"
From his vantage point near the desk, Bartlet could see the confusion on
Charlie's face as the folder was handed past him to Nancy. "I don't understand,"
Charlie said slowly. "Isn't this a security briefing?"
"Yes," Ron said. "We would like you to be in on this part of it."
"It's just that I have to meet with Josh about picking someone to stay behind
during the State--"
"Charlie," Bartlet interrupted, his voice sounding unnaturally loud. "Come in.
This concerns you."
***
Josh wasn't pleased with any of the names on his list. He rubbed his eyes before
looking at the paper again, scowling when the lettering didn't change. He
wasn't even sure who some of these people were. "Donna! Who the hell is Fred
Davis?"
There was no reply.
"Donna!"
She appeared in the doorway, lips pursed tightly, arms folded. "What do you
need?"
"I don't know who Fred Davis is."
"Neither do I."
"His name is right here," Josh grumbled, holding up the paper, "in the line of
succession, yet still I have no idea who he is or what he does." He paused,
waiting for a response, but Donna was silent. "So I need you to find out." When
there was no respose, Josh looked up and saw Donna's face turned toward
something in the corner of the room. "Did you hear anything I just said?"
He expected her to stare him down and retort that she didn't care. Instead, she
lifted her head and looked a little to his right, not meeting his eyes, and
softly apologized. "I'm sorry, Josh, I didn't catch that."
Josh leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands on the desk. "Fred Davis."
"You want to know who he is?"
"Yeah, and why he's on the list of people we might leave out of the State of the
Union."
Donna's expression didn't change. "The line of...succession?"
Somewhere in the recesses of Josh's mind, an alarm was beginning to sound.
"Yeah. We should probably take that a little more seriously after the brief
Presidency of GlenAllen Walken, right?"
There was no comeback, just a little tilt of her head. Donna bit her lip, looked
past Josh out the window, and clasped her clipboard to her chest. "Josh, I know
it's right after Christmas, but I need a couple days off."
"To find out who Fred Davis is?" Josh asked, squinting up at her. "Farm that
out, or just look it up somewhere."
"No." She almost met his eyes, then turned her head away again. "Starting
Monday. A few days."
In the middle of everything that was going on? Josh shook his head. "I'd love to
be Good Boss for this, but we've got to get eleven votes for 654, and Toby's
going nuts on the State of the Union now that Will's gone to the OEOB and you
know all the stats he needs, plus there are new people coming in. We need you
here, Donna. This isn't a good--"
She was gone. Josh rose, banged his knee on the corner of the desk, swore under
his breath, and started out the door, where he was intercepted by Toby. "Just a
minute, Toby, I need to--"
"Josh, wait." Toby's expression was almost always serious, but Josh had never
seen this particular set to his jaw. He glanced around, not seeing Donna
anywhere, and pulled Toby into his office.
"What's going on?"
"Ron Butterfield's in the Oval with the President, Leo...and Charlie." Toby
paced the small, cluttered office, making circular gestures with his hands as if
compensating for the lack of walking space. "I thought it was maybe another
death threat, something like that."
"It's not?" Josh asked, feeling more apprehensive with every step Toby took.
"No. There's a man named Bernard Ritenour, a real mamzer, killed I don't know
how many people. He's on Death Row and they're gonna execute him in a couple
days."
Josh was puzzled. "Are we going to try and get the sentence commuted?"
"No." Toby's countenance was particularly grim. "He's not asking for a stay or
anything. It would seem that while he was incarcerated, he realized the error of
his ways. He found religion and is now confessing to a number of other crimes."
"I don't get it. Is he hoping that because he's found Jesus, he won't be held
responsible for the other crimes?"
"I wouldn't call that an impossible notion, although it does make me wonder
whether someone who'd just found Muhammed would get the same kind of press
coverage. However, that's neither here nor there." Toby took a quick, shallow
breath and fixed his gaze on Josh. "So Ron's in there right now, telling Charlie
they found the man who killed his mother."
***
Toby moved fast when he was wound up about something, so fast that Josh was
constantly in danger of lagging behind. "This guy Ritenour - oh, sorry," he said
to the intern he nearly knocked down. By the time he turned back to Toby, he was
almost at the end of the corridor. Josh ran to catch up. "This guy Ritenour,
they're sure he's telling the truth?"
"I don't see why he'd lie," Toby said sharply. "It's not like he's trying to
bargain for anything. He wants to get this off his chest, so he made a list of
the people he killed, and one of them was a cop who'd arrested him a few times
for drunk and disorderly. Althea Young."
"Oh." Josh was relieved to have reached the anteroom, where he leaned against
the wall and caught his breath. Sometimes his heart and lungs didn't quite keep
up with the demands put on his body. He felt Debbie's appraising glance on him,
so he straightened up and willed himself to breathe normally. "So what does he
want? What does he hope to gain by doing this?"
"Beats hell out of me. I guess he felt the need to confess since he was born
again."
"I never understood that expression - did they get born wrong and need to do it
over?"
Toby's death-glare was in full force. Whatever retort he might have been
preparing died on his lips when the door opened and Charlie walked out. He stood
straight and tall, his face completely impassive as he nodded at Toby and Josh
on his way out into the hall. Josh spun around to say something, then thought
better of it and turned toward the Oval Office. Bartlet was waving them in, so
he followed Toby, cutting a sidelong glance at Debbie to see if she were still
checking his vital signs from across the room. She seemed to be ignoring him.
Good.
Everyone sat down except Josh, who read the report over Toby's shoulder while
Ron talked. "This guy, Ritenour, seems to be on the level about what he's done."
That wasn't what Josh really cared about. "How's he taking it?" he asked.
Bartlet offered him a slight smile. "Quietly, so far. The reason Ron's involved
is that Ritenour wants to see him and Deanna, so Ron wanted to give me some
ideas for protection."
"He's going to go?" Toby asked, sounding surprised and pained. Josh wondered if
he had ever gone to see his father in prison.
"He's thinking about it," Bartlet sighed. "Toby, I wanted you in on this because
there's going to be a thing, of course, since it's Charlie and the whole Press
Corps knows him. And Josh, I wanted you to have all the information because
you're someone he talks to."
"I'm not sure exactly why he wants to see Charlie and Deanna," Josh said."
"Ritenour doesn't just want to meet Charlie and Deanna - he wants to contact the
families of all the people he's killed, whether he was tried for their murders
or not. To apologize, he says." Ron's voice was measured yet disdainful at the
same time, something Josh admired greatly. "He also is asking families of his
various victims to be present at his execution."
"Wow." Josh could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock above the rise and
fall of his own breathing.
"Well said, Josh," Bartlet sighed. "Charlie's going to need some time to think
it over."
"Not too much time," Leo put in, "because the execution is on Monday. So if he
comes to you, Josh - or to you, Toby - keep an eye on him, let us know what he's
thinking."
Bartlet shifted in his chair. "I don't know who he'll take into his confidence.
I just want him to...God, I can't begin to imagine what he's feeling right now."
"We've got him covered," Josh said, lifting his chin.
"Good, good. I've had a copy faxed to CJ - would you two mind helping her
formulate something to tell the press?"
"You want me?" Josh pointed to his chest with both hands. "Working with the
press secretary?"
"Just be there for the bouncing of ideas. Get Donna in on it; she's got her
finger on the pulse of just about everything going on around here."
Donna. Damn. Josh fidgeted while Toby put his papers in order and rose. Leo
opened the door for them, then Ron followed them out. "Thanks for your help on
this."
"If he asks," Toby inquired, not breaking stride, "how should we advise him?"
"I really can't say. We can keep him and his sister safe, that's a given. But
beyond that, well, I really just can't say." Ron shook his head. "There's no
such thing as closure, no matter how much we think we want it. Don't let him
walk into a psychobabble trap."
"Not much chance of that," Josh said. He suddenly found himself missing Sam,
missing the way his compassion permeated their lives. He'd call Sam later, fill
him in, ask for some words that might help Charlie.
Ron left them and headed for the lobby while Toby and Josh continued to CJ's
office. She was standing up in the middle of the room, her glasses down on the
edge of her nose, frowning at whatever she was reading.
"Ritenour," Toby said without preamble, "wants Charlie and Deanna - among others
- to witness the execution."
"I have that," CJ said, not looking up from the document. "Did you hear about
the leg?"
Josh looked at Toby, who shrugged.
CJ continued. "Prior to his rebirth, or whatever we're going to call it,
Ritenour was a tough nut. Got into a lot of fights, and in one fight he was cut
so deeply with a homemade knife that his leg had to be amputated below the
knee."
"Which leg?" Josh asked, more out of reflex than a desire to know.
"The...right one. Not that it matters."
"Then what does matter?" Toby asked, rubbing his forehead with the pad of his
thumb.
Waving the paper with one hand and taking her glasses off with the other, CJ
recited the facts. "He is willing to go to the gas chamber without a legal fight
of any kind, as long as he gets to walk there on his own steam. No crutches, no
wheelchair. He wants a leg. To be more specific, he wants a state-of-the-art
leg, because that's what his lawyer says he's entitled to."
Toby's eyes were shaded by his hand, but Josh knew what his expression would be.
"We're going to spend a couple hundred thousand dollars on him, then put him to
death?"
"Cheaper than keeping him alive, or than fighting this in court ad infinitum,"
CJ said, brusquely. "Personally, I just think he's trying to stall without
making it look like he's trying to stall."
She and Toby had fought with bitterness on both sides of the death penalty
argument. Josh sometimes sided with CJ, sometimes with Toby, but most of all he
found himself not caring enough to get involved. "Just out of curiosity," he
asked, his words pinging against the palpable tension in the room, "what if a
condemned prisoner needed a heart transplant? Would we give him one, then kill
him?"
CJ shot him a baleful look. "What the hell, Josh?"
"Just curious. Plus, you know some pundit is going to make a remark about it, so
we might as well be prepared."
"Curiosity and preparation aside, I'm going to have to come up with something to
tell the reporters in about an hour, so any help you can give me would be, you
know..." She poked Toby in the shoulder with her glasses. "...helpful."
"Speaking of helpful," Toby said as he backed toward the door, "the President
wants us to keep our ears to the ground about Charlie's reaction, what he's
going to do."
CJ sighed, her shoulders slumping. Even this early in the day, she looked
exhausted. "I'll see what I can find out. We don't talk all that much."
"Not since he sawed the legs off your desk and crazy-glued your phone together,"
Josh smirked. Toby smacked him in the back of the head. "Ow!"
"I'm in my office working on the State of the Union," Toby said, shaking his
hand out. "Josh will be doing something far less important. But be that as it
may, let us know if there's something you need."
"It's too early to drink," CJ said, her words crisply enunciated, "so check with
me this afternoon. Oh, wait, you're taking the kids to the doctor, aren't you?"
Josh was endlessly amused at how Toby always stood up a little straighter and
looked people in the eye when he talked about his children. "That's at three. It
should only take a little while, and I'll come back right after."
CJ was already waving them off, fumbling for the pencil she kept tucked behind
her right ear. Josh left Toby without another word and strode back to his
bullpen.
Donna was at her desk, absent-mindedly licking the flap of an envelope. Josh
leaned against the file cabinet. "Are you okay?" he asked.
Her eyes, when she finally looked at him, were a little unfocused. "What do you
mean?"
"Well, you seemed a little off your game in there, then Toby called me in about
the thing with Charlie--"
"I heard," Donna said, frowning. "Is he going to be okay?"
That was the question, all right, but Josh had no answer for it. Instead of
saying anything, he just cocked his head to one side. "What were you asking me
about, before?"
Donna pushed a strand of hair behind her ears. "I need a couple of days medical
leave. Jack's going to be here for a week and I was hoping to take care of it
while he's here."
Jack Reese had been returned Stateside to a post in Maryland - all was evidently
forgiven for his outburst to the press - and was still seeing Donna whenever he
could get into town. Josh felt his blood pressure rising. "This has to do with
Jack?"
Crimson spots stood out on her cheeks and she folded her arms across her chest.
"I don't think you get to ask me that question."
He didn't care what she thought. What was driving him over the edge was what he
was now thinking. "Medical leave that involves Jack?" he hissed.
"That's none of your business, Josh." Her eyes brimmed with tears and she
hunched over her desk. "Please. Just let me send over someone from OEOB and--"
He cut her off, his face drawn. "Do whatever you need to do, Donna," he said,
turning on his heel and walking away, his steps falling in time with the panicky
beat of his heart.
Somehow he ended up in Toby's office, where Toby and Will were engaged in an
unpleasantly heated debate over what Will called Ritenour's "legal leg to stand
on." Will turned to Josh and began to reiterate his points, but the words
slipped away, unheard.
"Josh? Are you with us?" Will asked when whatever question he had asked drew no
reply.
Will was a good guy, despite his bizarre defection to Bingo Bob's Traveling
Circus. He was smart and funny and kind, all the things Sam was, but he was not
Sam. And what Josh wanted to say was something he'd freely say to Sam - but it
wasn't something he could entrust to Will Bailey.
"Will, would you let us have the room?" Toby asked with more politeness than
usual. Will started to say something to Josh on his way out, then stopped
himself and kept going, closing the door behind him.
Toby had been sitting on the sofa but he stood up and went to Josh, standing
right in front of him. Josh couldn't look at him. He lowered his head and put
his hand over his eyes.
"Josh," Toby murmured, "is it Charlie? Did he talk to you about this?"
"No, I haven't heard anything." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't even know
why I came in here."
"If you don't know, then I certainly don't." The words were caustic but the tone
was concerned. "Just spit it out, whatever it is."
"Nah. It's nothing." That was probably a mistake. Toby always called him on it
when he used that phrase.
Yes, it was a mistake, because Toby's brow was more furrowed than Josh had seen
it in a long time. "There's no such thing as 'no big deal' with you, so just
spit it out." Toby gestured for Josh to continue.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Donna asked me for a few days
off."
Concern turned to annoyance as if someone had flipped a switch on Toby's face.
"She needs a few days off, so you come tell me? What, you need to get Ginger or
Bonnie to fill in?"
"That's not it. Donna's not taking vacation days - she's taking sick days."
"She's taken sick days before. What's the problem this time?"
"It's not that she's taking sick days. It's...I don't know what to call it..."
He trailed off.
Toby was looking at him, palms upward, shaking his head. "Josh, what's the
matter with her?"
He had to say it. He had to turn the ugly thoughts in his head into words. Had
to make it real. Had to break his own heart.
"She's having an abortion."
***
End part 1
More to come tomorrow!
Feedback or pointy sticks welcome: [email protected]
Back to West Wing.
Spoilers: Up through "Abu El Banat," although this is not a post-ep.
Dedicated to Judi with respect, love, and prayers.
***
THE QUALITY OF MERCY
***
Friday, December 26, 2003
Under any circumstances, President Bartlet was not a fan of early morning
meetings in the Oval Office. Excellent coffee and a hot shower might ensure that
his mind would be sharp, but at six o'clock in the morning, regardless of the
quality of the coffee, he was easily upset. Perhaps, he mused as he watched Leo
pour a cup and hand it to Ron Butterfield, it was because no one ever called a
meeting at this hour to discuss good news.
The President, the Chief of Staff, and the head of the President's security
detail were in the Oval Office at 5:58 in the morning, the day after Christmas.
Do the math, Bartlet thought as he opened the blue folder and began to read.
Damn.
"Yeah," he said softly, settling his glasses further back on his nose so he
could see the bottom of the page. "Yeah, we need to get him in here. And we need
to get this to Toby, because CJ's going to get questions on it at the early
press conference."
Leo walked toward the anteroom, favoring his right leg a little as he always did
when he was tired. He opened the door and motioned at Charlie. "Come on in. Oh,
and Nancy - could you take this to Toby's office?"
From his vantage point near the desk, Bartlet could see the confusion on
Charlie's face as the folder was handed past him to Nancy. "I don't understand,"
Charlie said slowly. "Isn't this a security briefing?"
"Yes," Ron said. "We would like you to be in on this part of it."
"It's just that I have to meet with Josh about picking someone to stay behind
during the State--"
"Charlie," Bartlet interrupted, his voice sounding unnaturally loud. "Come in.
This concerns you."
***
Josh wasn't pleased with any of the names on his list. He rubbed his eyes before
looking at the paper again, scowling when the lettering didn't change. He
wasn't even sure who some of these people were. "Donna! Who the hell is Fred
Davis?"
There was no reply.
"Donna!"
She appeared in the doorway, lips pursed tightly, arms folded. "What do you
need?"
"I don't know who Fred Davis is."
"Neither do I."
"His name is right here," Josh grumbled, holding up the paper, "in the line of
succession, yet still I have no idea who he is or what he does." He paused,
waiting for a response, but Donna was silent. "So I need you to find out." When
there was no respose, Josh looked up and saw Donna's face turned toward
something in the corner of the room. "Did you hear anything I just said?"
He expected her to stare him down and retort that she didn't care. Instead, she
lifted her head and looked a little to his right, not meeting his eyes, and
softly apologized. "I'm sorry, Josh, I didn't catch that."
Josh leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands on the desk. "Fred Davis."
"You want to know who he is?"
"Yeah, and why he's on the list of people we might leave out of the State of the
Union."
Donna's expression didn't change. "The line of...succession?"
Somewhere in the recesses of Josh's mind, an alarm was beginning to sound.
"Yeah. We should probably take that a little more seriously after the brief
Presidency of GlenAllen Walken, right?"
There was no comeback, just a little tilt of her head. Donna bit her lip, looked
past Josh out the window, and clasped her clipboard to her chest. "Josh, I know
it's right after Christmas, but I need a couple days off."
"To find out who Fred Davis is?" Josh asked, squinting up at her. "Farm that
out, or just look it up somewhere."
"No." She almost met his eyes, then turned her head away again. "Starting
Monday. A few days."
In the middle of everything that was going on? Josh shook his head. "I'd love to
be Good Boss for this, but we've got to get eleven votes for 654, and Toby's
going nuts on the State of the Union now that Will's gone to the OEOB and you
know all the stats he needs, plus there are new people coming in. We need you
here, Donna. This isn't a good--"
She was gone. Josh rose, banged his knee on the corner of the desk, swore under
his breath, and started out the door, where he was intercepted by Toby. "Just a
minute, Toby, I need to--"
"Josh, wait." Toby's expression was almost always serious, but Josh had never
seen this particular set to his jaw. He glanced around, not seeing Donna
anywhere, and pulled Toby into his office.
"What's going on?"
"Ron Butterfield's in the Oval with the President, Leo...and Charlie." Toby
paced the small, cluttered office, making circular gestures with his hands as if
compensating for the lack of walking space. "I thought it was maybe another
death threat, something like that."
"It's not?" Josh asked, feeling more apprehensive with every step Toby took.
"No. There's a man named Bernard Ritenour, a real mamzer, killed I don't know
how many people. He's on Death Row and they're gonna execute him in a couple
days."
Josh was puzzled. "Are we going to try and get the sentence commuted?"
"No." Toby's countenance was particularly grim. "He's not asking for a stay or
anything. It would seem that while he was incarcerated, he realized the error of
his ways. He found religion and is now confessing to a number of other crimes."
"I don't get it. Is he hoping that because he's found Jesus, he won't be held
responsible for the other crimes?"
"I wouldn't call that an impossible notion, although it does make me wonder
whether someone who'd just found Muhammed would get the same kind of press
coverage. However, that's neither here nor there." Toby took a quick, shallow
breath and fixed his gaze on Josh. "So Ron's in there right now, telling Charlie
they found the man who killed his mother."
***
Toby moved fast when he was wound up about something, so fast that Josh was
constantly in danger of lagging behind. "This guy Ritenour - oh, sorry," he said
to the intern he nearly knocked down. By the time he turned back to Toby, he was
almost at the end of the corridor. Josh ran to catch up. "This guy Ritenour,
they're sure he's telling the truth?"
"I don't see why he'd lie," Toby said sharply. "It's not like he's trying to
bargain for anything. He wants to get this off his chest, so he made a list of
the people he killed, and one of them was a cop who'd arrested him a few times
for drunk and disorderly. Althea Young."
"Oh." Josh was relieved to have reached the anteroom, where he leaned against
the wall and caught his breath. Sometimes his heart and lungs didn't quite keep
up with the demands put on his body. He felt Debbie's appraising glance on him,
so he straightened up and willed himself to breathe normally. "So what does he
want? What does he hope to gain by doing this?"
"Beats hell out of me. I guess he felt the need to confess since he was born
again."
"I never understood that expression - did they get born wrong and need to do it
over?"
Toby's death-glare was in full force. Whatever retort he might have been
preparing died on his lips when the door opened and Charlie walked out. He stood
straight and tall, his face completely impassive as he nodded at Toby and Josh
on his way out into the hall. Josh spun around to say something, then thought
better of it and turned toward the Oval Office. Bartlet was waving them in, so
he followed Toby, cutting a sidelong glance at Debbie to see if she were still
checking his vital signs from across the room. She seemed to be ignoring him.
Good.
Everyone sat down except Josh, who read the report over Toby's shoulder while
Ron talked. "This guy, Ritenour, seems to be on the level about what he's done."
That wasn't what Josh really cared about. "How's he taking it?" he asked.
Bartlet offered him a slight smile. "Quietly, so far. The reason Ron's involved
is that Ritenour wants to see him and Deanna, so Ron wanted to give me some
ideas for protection."
"He's going to go?" Toby asked, sounding surprised and pained. Josh wondered if
he had ever gone to see his father in prison.
"He's thinking about it," Bartlet sighed. "Toby, I wanted you in on this because
there's going to be a thing, of course, since it's Charlie and the whole Press
Corps knows him. And Josh, I wanted you to have all the information because
you're someone he talks to."
"I'm not sure exactly why he wants to see Charlie and Deanna," Josh said."
"Ritenour doesn't just want to meet Charlie and Deanna - he wants to contact the
families of all the people he's killed, whether he was tried for their murders
or not. To apologize, he says." Ron's voice was measured yet disdainful at the
same time, something Josh admired greatly. "He also is asking families of his
various victims to be present at his execution."
"Wow." Josh could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock above the rise and
fall of his own breathing.
"Well said, Josh," Bartlet sighed. "Charlie's going to need some time to think
it over."
"Not too much time," Leo put in, "because the execution is on Monday. So if he
comes to you, Josh - or to you, Toby - keep an eye on him, let us know what he's
thinking."
Bartlet shifted in his chair. "I don't know who he'll take into his confidence.
I just want him to...God, I can't begin to imagine what he's feeling right now."
"We've got him covered," Josh said, lifting his chin.
"Good, good. I've had a copy faxed to CJ - would you two mind helping her
formulate something to tell the press?"
"You want me?" Josh pointed to his chest with both hands. "Working with the
press secretary?"
"Just be there for the bouncing of ideas. Get Donna in on it; she's got her
finger on the pulse of just about everything going on around here."
Donna. Damn. Josh fidgeted while Toby put his papers in order and rose. Leo
opened the door for them, then Ron followed them out. "Thanks for your help on
this."
"If he asks," Toby inquired, not breaking stride, "how should we advise him?"
"I really can't say. We can keep him and his sister safe, that's a given. But
beyond that, well, I really just can't say." Ron shook his head. "There's no
such thing as closure, no matter how much we think we want it. Don't let him
walk into a psychobabble trap."
"Not much chance of that," Josh said. He suddenly found himself missing Sam,
missing the way his compassion permeated their lives. He'd call Sam later, fill
him in, ask for some words that might help Charlie.
Ron left them and headed for the lobby while Toby and Josh continued to CJ's
office. She was standing up in the middle of the room, her glasses down on the
edge of her nose, frowning at whatever she was reading.
"Ritenour," Toby said without preamble, "wants Charlie and Deanna - among others
- to witness the execution."
"I have that," CJ said, not looking up from the document. "Did you hear about
the leg?"
Josh looked at Toby, who shrugged.
CJ continued. "Prior to his rebirth, or whatever we're going to call it,
Ritenour was a tough nut. Got into a lot of fights, and in one fight he was cut
so deeply with a homemade knife that his leg had to be amputated below the
knee."
"Which leg?" Josh asked, more out of reflex than a desire to know.
"The...right one. Not that it matters."
"Then what does matter?" Toby asked, rubbing his forehead with the pad of his
thumb.
Waving the paper with one hand and taking her glasses off with the other, CJ
recited the facts. "He is willing to go to the gas chamber without a legal fight
of any kind, as long as he gets to walk there on his own steam. No crutches, no
wheelchair. He wants a leg. To be more specific, he wants a state-of-the-art
leg, because that's what his lawyer says he's entitled to."
Toby's eyes were shaded by his hand, but Josh knew what his expression would be.
"We're going to spend a couple hundred thousand dollars on him, then put him to
death?"
"Cheaper than keeping him alive, or than fighting this in court ad infinitum,"
CJ said, brusquely. "Personally, I just think he's trying to stall without
making it look like he's trying to stall."
She and Toby had fought with bitterness on both sides of the death penalty
argument. Josh sometimes sided with CJ, sometimes with Toby, but most of all he
found himself not caring enough to get involved. "Just out of curiosity," he
asked, his words pinging against the palpable tension in the room, "what if a
condemned prisoner needed a heart transplant? Would we give him one, then kill
him?"
CJ shot him a baleful look. "What the hell, Josh?"
"Just curious. Plus, you know some pundit is going to make a remark about it, so
we might as well be prepared."
"Curiosity and preparation aside, I'm going to have to come up with something to
tell the reporters in about an hour, so any help you can give me would be, you
know..." She poked Toby in the shoulder with her glasses. "...helpful."
"Speaking of helpful," Toby said as he backed toward the door, "the President
wants us to keep our ears to the ground about Charlie's reaction, what he's
going to do."
CJ sighed, her shoulders slumping. Even this early in the day, she looked
exhausted. "I'll see what I can find out. We don't talk all that much."
"Not since he sawed the legs off your desk and crazy-glued your phone together,"
Josh smirked. Toby smacked him in the back of the head. "Ow!"
"I'm in my office working on the State of the Union," Toby said, shaking his
hand out. "Josh will be doing something far less important. But be that as it
may, let us know if there's something you need."
"It's too early to drink," CJ said, her words crisply enunciated, "so check with
me this afternoon. Oh, wait, you're taking the kids to the doctor, aren't you?"
Josh was endlessly amused at how Toby always stood up a little straighter and
looked people in the eye when he talked about his children. "That's at three. It
should only take a little while, and I'll come back right after."
CJ was already waving them off, fumbling for the pencil she kept tucked behind
her right ear. Josh left Toby without another word and strode back to his
bullpen.
Donna was at her desk, absent-mindedly licking the flap of an envelope. Josh
leaned against the file cabinet. "Are you okay?" he asked.
Her eyes, when she finally looked at him, were a little unfocused. "What do you
mean?"
"Well, you seemed a little off your game in there, then Toby called me in about
the thing with Charlie--"
"I heard," Donna said, frowning. "Is he going to be okay?"
That was the question, all right, but Josh had no answer for it. Instead of
saying anything, he just cocked his head to one side. "What were you asking me
about, before?"
Donna pushed a strand of hair behind her ears. "I need a couple of days medical
leave. Jack's going to be here for a week and I was hoping to take care of it
while he's here."
Jack Reese had been returned Stateside to a post in Maryland - all was evidently
forgiven for his outburst to the press - and was still seeing Donna whenever he
could get into town. Josh felt his blood pressure rising. "This has to do with
Jack?"
Crimson spots stood out on her cheeks and she folded her arms across her chest.
"I don't think you get to ask me that question."
He didn't care what she thought. What was driving him over the edge was what he
was now thinking. "Medical leave that involves Jack?" he hissed.
"That's none of your business, Josh." Her eyes brimmed with tears and she
hunched over her desk. "Please. Just let me send over someone from OEOB and--"
He cut her off, his face drawn. "Do whatever you need to do, Donna," he said,
turning on his heel and walking away, his steps falling in time with the panicky
beat of his heart.
Somehow he ended up in Toby's office, where Toby and Will were engaged in an
unpleasantly heated debate over what Will called Ritenour's "legal leg to stand
on." Will turned to Josh and began to reiterate his points, but the words
slipped away, unheard.
"Josh? Are you with us?" Will asked when whatever question he had asked drew no
reply.
Will was a good guy, despite his bizarre defection to Bingo Bob's Traveling
Circus. He was smart and funny and kind, all the things Sam was, but he was not
Sam. And what Josh wanted to say was something he'd freely say to Sam - but it
wasn't something he could entrust to Will Bailey.
"Will, would you let us have the room?" Toby asked with more politeness than
usual. Will started to say something to Josh on his way out, then stopped
himself and kept going, closing the door behind him.
Toby had been sitting on the sofa but he stood up and went to Josh, standing
right in front of him. Josh couldn't look at him. He lowered his head and put
his hand over his eyes.
"Josh," Toby murmured, "is it Charlie? Did he talk to you about this?"
"No, I haven't heard anything." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't even know
why I came in here."
"If you don't know, then I certainly don't." The words were caustic but the tone
was concerned. "Just spit it out, whatever it is."
"Nah. It's nothing." That was probably a mistake. Toby always called him on it
when he used that phrase.
Yes, it was a mistake, because Toby's brow was more furrowed than Josh had seen
it in a long time. "There's no such thing as 'no big deal' with you, so just
spit it out." Toby gestured for Josh to continue.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Donna asked me for a few days
off."
Concern turned to annoyance as if someone had flipped a switch on Toby's face.
"She needs a few days off, so you come tell me? What, you need to get Ginger or
Bonnie to fill in?"
"That's not it. Donna's not taking vacation days - she's taking sick days."
"She's taken sick days before. What's the problem this time?"
"It's not that she's taking sick days. It's...I don't know what to call it..."
He trailed off.
Toby was looking at him, palms upward, shaking his head. "Josh, what's the
matter with her?"
He had to say it. He had to turn the ugly thoughts in his head into words. Had
to make it real. Had to break his own heart.
"She's having an abortion."
***
End part 1
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