Faith Is A Fine Invention

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"Tourists," Sam said, observing the Saturday afternoon crowd as it milled toward the Jefferson Memorial. "That's funny."

"Funny?" C.J. asked. "It's a tourist attraction."

"It's way past the cherry blossom season," Sam explained. "The average date of peak bloom is April fourth."

C.J. shot him a sidelong glance. "You know that, and you don't know which Roosevelt--"

"I can't know everything."

"No," she said thoughtfully. "You can't. You want to sit?"

He nodded, and they settled on the slope facing the water. The grass around them was sprinkled with white, wilting petals from the surrounding trees. "It's not just a tourist attraction," Sam said, after a moment.

C.J. took a bagel out of the paper bag she'd brought. "No?"

"It's a tribute. 'I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.'" He paused. "Jefferson was a good writer."

"Indubitably."

"Good President, too."

She split the bagel with a plastic knife. "Not the best record on civil rights."

"For the time, he did. He considered the question of slavery way more deeply than is evidenced by the Constitution."

"Well, he had no problem denying women the right to vote."

"He was a man of his time."

"I suppose." She paused in the act of spreading cream cheese. "You've talked to Leo and Toby. And Josh, by now."

"Yeah."

"Me too." C.J. handed him half of the bagel and leaned back. "It's been a fun week, huh?"

"I thought it was." Sam frowned. "I thought I was having a good week. The surplus was going to be small. I was writing the speech; I was in the zone. Toby was making Batman jokes."

C.J. raised her eyebrows. "Batman jokes?"

"Don't let it get around, but he's the Dark Knight." He smiled sadly. "I guess he was trying to cushion the blow."

"The mental image of Toby in tights and a cape would cushion almost anything."

"Not this."

"No."

"Boom," Sam said. "Wham. Zip. Zowie."

"Essentially," C.J. agreed, and took a bite of her bagel.

"I'm having a hard time getting my mind around this. The magnitude and the scope and -- you know what they're going to call this, C.J. You know what they'll say we did."

"They'll be right."

He studied his hands. "Is it all right that I kind of hate Oliver Babish?"

"Definitely. But he's not half as bad as a Republican investigation will be."

"Will be," Sam repeated. "I always thought we were the good guys."

"Do you still love your father?" she asked suddenly.

His mouth tightened into a line. "Don't."

"I'm saying--"

"I know what you're saying. I'm saying, please don't."

"Fair enough. I'm sorry."

"So we were the last ones," Sam said. "How do you feel about that?"

"Don't ask me how I feel." C.J. drew her knees up to her chest, then caught herself and sat back again. "The amount of time I've spent curled up in a ball the last couple days is ridiculous. I don't think it matters what order things went in, Sam. We weren't really the last ones."

"We weren't?"

"No. We were two of the first. There are two hundred and eighty million people out there." She indicated the tourists walking by. "They're the last to know."

Sam nodded. He ate some of his bagel before speaking again. "He could lose -- literally lose his mind."

"I know," she said quietly.

"This whole thing is so ugly."

"You want out?"

He blinked. "There isn't really an out, is there?"

"Not entirely," she agreed. "We're stuck with the legal ramifications. We're stuck with what we've done."

"We haven't done anything. We didn't--"

"We're stuck with what we didn't do," C.J. said.

He looked at her questioningly, but she didn't elaborate. "So what did you mean?"

"We could get out of the spin control portion of our game." She chuckled. "The lightning round. Take our money and run."

"We have no money," Sam said, trying to keep it casual.

"There's no reason you have to help defend this administration if you don't want to. If you don't feel the need to maintain loyalty after this lie."

"Loyalty implies trust."

"Are you going to quit?"

His expression clouded. "Are you?"

She hesitated. "Do you think I'm an extremely selfish person?"

"No, I think you're just about the direct opposite of that."

"On a personal level, I'm just as hurt and worried as you are. On a moral and an ethical level, I'm profoundly offended. And on a professional level..." She smiled wryly. "I love this job more than I ever thought I'd love a job. And I will never be as good at anything again as I am at this, right now."

"He could have told us three years ago," Sam mused.

"We'd never have gotten him elected. We're good, but not that good."

"He could have told us."

"But he didn't."

"Or he could have just said, that's it, I'm not running for another term, and he could've gotten out without..." He waved a hand. "It didn't have to be this way."

"But it is." She furrowed her brow. "And aside from this whole thing, Josiah Bartlet is the greatest man I've ever met."

"So you're not quitting?"

"Twisted as it is, and it does bother me, there's a part of me that enjoys a challenge, Sam. There's a part of me thinking that this thing is impossible, but God, how great would it be if we could somehow spin it?" She looked at him carefully. "You do think I'm horrible."

"No."

"I see a little spark of that in Josh and Toby, too. And in a few days, I think you'll be there."

"So you're not quitting?" he asked again.

C.J. shrugged ambiguously. "Not today."

"We're doing this day by day, huh?"

"Do you see any other way?"

"No," he admitted. "I just... I wish to hell this wasn't happening."

"So do I."

"He should have told me himself," Sam added. "He didn't. Leo told me."

"Yeah, me too."

"He should have had to look in our eyes and say it."

"I think Toby was probably eyes enough for all of us." She tilted her head back and looked at the sky through the screen of slender branches above them. "It's got to be hard enough for him, knowing he's sick. Knowing what might happen. It's got to be hard enough carrying that."

"The whole thing is ugly. This disease..." He shook his head. "Tyranny over the mind of man."

"It's not his fault he's sick."

"It's his fault he didn't tell us. It's his fault he didn't have enough faith in us to be straightforward."

"And there's nothing we can do about either part," she said firmly. "I'm tired of making myself crazy about things I can't change. I've been depressed and I've been pissed and I've agonized and cried--"

"You cried?"

"Shut up. The point is that that's all futile. I'm tearing myself up, and I don't want to, anymore. However I'm going to deal with this, I'm going to deal with it."

"You're tough."

"So are you." She patted his shoulder. "I know this is going to be hell."

He drummed his fingers on his thigh. "We may spend the next three years in court. We probably won't get a damn thing done for the rest of the time we're in the White House. We'll be crucified in the press and the public imagination."

"It's going to hurt."

"And we may never work in this town again," Sam concluded.

"Nice if we could go back in time."

"We should start NASA working seriously on that, while we still can."

"We aren't superheroes," C.J. said. "We can't change this and we may not be able to fix it. But I think if we take this day by day, there can be some kind of self-preservation. This doesn't have to break us."

"And if it does?" he asked.

"Then we go down swinging," she told him. "We go out in style."

"You're mixing your metaphors."

"Do I look like I care?"

"No." He smiled fleetingly. "So what do we do between now and Monday morning?"

"Get laid?" she suggested.

"...What?"

"Not together, Sam!" C.J. slapped his arm lightly. "God. I just meant... we should take tonight and tomorrow. And we shouldn't keep driving ourselves crazy about this. We can do that on Monday, and for the rest of our lives."

Sam sat in silence for a moment, and then got to his feet. He helped C.J. stand up. "It's not going to be okay," he said.

She dusted herself off. "No, not anytime soon."

"This is what our lives are going to be about, and then there's--" He ran a hand shakily over his face. "There's no cure. God. I wish he'd told us three years ago."

"It's too late for that." She glanced around. "Hey, it looks like the tourists are tapering off."

"I hope they're not disappointed that they missed the blooming season."

"It's pretty here anyway. Finish your bagel."

He looked puzzled. "What?"

"Have you eaten anything else in the last few days?"

"Sure. I... No, I guess not."

C.J. took a step back. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll see you Monday?"

He took a deep breath. "Same bat time, same bat channel."

She laughed bleakly and folded her arms. "Finish your bagel."

Sam took a bite for her benefit. She studied him for a moment before she turned and walked away. He watched her go, and turned his gaze to the Jefferson Memorial, waiting for the sun to slip below the horizon.

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