Title:
Through A Fish Bowl
Lightly Author:
Rhonda Characters: CJ &
Danny Rating:
PG13 Spoilers: Season Three
Disclaimers: Not mine and never will
be. Feedback: Always
appreciated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Danny, what the hell happened
to you? And, while we're talking, just where have you been for the
last two years?"
"Geez, CJ. It took me a year just to find my bags
in the Portland Airport. You're a mean woman."
"Serves you
right for making fun of the way I looked in that Notre Dame cap.
Speaking of looks . . ."
"What, you don't like my leather
jacket?"
"Jacket?"
"Yeah, the one I'm wearing."
"Sorry, I
was distracted by a thing."
"What thing?"
"Your
neck."
"What about my neck."
"It's gone."
"Maybe you
should stop looking at me through Gail's bowl."
"No, it's no better
this way. If I turn my head sideways, you're
taller."
"Hey, my feet reach the floor."
"Where did your
neck go? I can see losing your head but your neck?"
"Why do I
need a neck? Everything else is still present and in working
order."
"Show me."
"Here? In your office?"
"No, you
should wait and whip it out in the Press Room."
"You're joking. See
how I picked right up on that?"
"Put up or shut up Fish Boy. Let's
see the goods."
"I need to be wined and dined first, CJ. I have my
reputation to protect."
"You don't have a reputation anymore Nimrod,
you've been gone too long."
"Hey, I had to help my brother Ed get his
bowling alley off the ground."
"I thought your brother was a
lawyer?"
"Long story. Let's get back to the sex."
"Who said
anything about sex?"
"You were about to get to it."
"I
was?"
"Yeah. Maybe if you could lift your head up off your desk,
you could hold up your end of this conversation."
"I hadn't planned
on having a conversation."
"Did you drink all the beer in your fridge by
yourself?"
"Yeah, it's been a tough year."
"I
heard."
"M.S., Haiti, snakes, subpoenas, fashion reporters, Indians in
the lobby, poets, butter cows, Qumar, super glue, mad cows, wine corks,
death threats - I haven't had any fun."
"You lost me with the butter
cows. Can we get back to the sex?"
"I didn't have
any."
"Butter cows?"
"Sex. The last man I kissed got riddled
with bullets."
"Oh."
"Danny? Where are you going?
Danny?"
TBC
Title:
Through A Fish Bowl Lightly
2 Author: Rhonda
Characters: CJ
Rating:
PG13 Spoilers: Season Three
Disclaimers: Not mine and never will
be. Feedback: Always
appreciated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"CJ, what are you
doing?"
"Talking to Gail."
"Is she talking
back?"
"Nope. That's the beauty of our relationship. I
talk. She listens and never, ever, asks any followup questions."
"Was
that Danny I saw running down the hall?"
"Long red hair, leather jacket,
no neck?"
"I saw the hair and the jacket. I don't know about a
neck."
"If you didn't see one, that was him."
"Where's he been for
the last couple of
years?"
"Bowling."
"Oh."
"Josh?"
"Yeah?"
"Your
forehead's getting bigger."
"Huh?"
"Your forehead is growing or
your hair is slipping
backwards."
"Claudia Jean, it is not.
I measured it. Hasn't moved in years. Stop with the staring at me
through that bowl. You're drunk."
"Very. But I can still see a
resemblance between you and Pokey."
"Now I know why Danny was
running."
"He'll be back. He was going for
protection."
"Bulletproof vest or condoms?"
"Get out. Go
fight with your girlfriend."
"Can't, she's mad at me. She thinks
I'm insensitive to women's issues."
"She's kind of slow picking up on
that, Mi Amor. Maybe you should date someone who has a better grasp on
reality."
"That's totally unfair, I'm sensitive. I'm pro-choice,
pro-daycare, pro-nursing mothers in the workplace, pro-equal pay,
pro-lots of other girl stuff. I even read Donna's Cosmo. I'm one
of the best friends the women's movement has in this Administration and I'm
tired of getting no credit for it. Everyone knows how sensitive I
am. What's wrong with you, CJ? Are you on the rag in addition to
being drunk?"
"Go away. Go away now. Take your sensitive,
ever enlarging forehead and go bother someone else."
"I came in here
for a reason, you know, not just to enjoy your charming
personality."
"What?"
"I need a
favor."
"No."
"Please."
"No."
"Oh, come on. I
hardly ever ask you for anything."
"What is it?"
"Amy lost her job
because I ratted her out to her boss. I got a heads up from Ernie in
Security that Amy's meeting with the First Lady right now. I know she's
gonna drop by after, just to torment me."
"You want me to protect
you? Forget it."
"Nah. I want you to help me make her
jealous. We could roll around on your couch and let her catch
us."
"You're crazy. Go away before I have to hurt
you."
"Come on, CJ. Please. I'll let you cop a feel of the
boys."
"Out."
"Hey, you can move your
head!"
"Out."
"Uh, you're scaring me there, Claudia Jean.
No, don't get up. I'll just head on back to my office
now."
"Out."
"Put the broken beer bottle down. You don't
want to get blood on your
carpet."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"CJ?"
"Yes,
Carol?"
"Why's Josh running down the hall?"
"Why does Josh do
anything?"
"You have a point. Uh,
CJ?"
"What?"
"Doesn't that hurt your neck?"
"Yes, but I
like the view from here. The most important things loom large when seen
through this fish bowl."
"Okay. I'll just leave you with your
fish."
"Carol?"
"Yeah?"
"You might want to start using my
exercise
bike."
TBC
Title:
Through A Fish Bowl Lightly
3 Author: Rhonda
Characters: CJ
Rating:
PG13 Spoilers: Season Three
Disclaimers: Not mine and never will
be. Feedback: Always
appreciated. Archive:
Sure, if you want it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Do you know you have
a yellow sticky note on your cheek?"
"Hell."
"I'll take that as
a no. What does it say?"
"Uh . . . You're depressing the
fish. Go home. Signed, Leo."
"Sounds like good
advice."
"Toby, I don't have a home. I have an apartment.
The only living thing I'm responsible for is Gail and a Ficus that's
slowly turning brown. My glamorous life is just a facade. I'm
adrift without an anchor. Just a candle in . . ."
"Glad to see
you're feeling better."
"Compared to what?"
"Josh warned me
you were having a mid-life crisis, so I brought aspirin and
Scotch."
"What do you mean mid-life? Are you implying I'm no
longer young?"
"Uh, no. But Sam assures me that it's common for
women of a certain age, I think he meant your age, to question their
remaining physical attributes and overall limited career
accomplishments. He claims that it's perfectly understandable why
a woman in your position, without a husband and children, would feel the
need to take stock of her life and maybe readjust her long term
goals."
"Remaining physical attributes? Certain age?"
"Uh,
well, CJ, don't get upset at me. I'm just repeating what Sam
says."
"Sam Seaborn? Spanky? Guy down the hall that uses more
hair products than I do? Never had more than a first date,
Seaborn? That Sam?"
"Yeah, but don't worry about your
body. Sam and I discussed that physical attributes thing and I think
I've convinced him that real men don't expect perky forever. At least
not without some major support. Actually we've come to the conclusion
that you've held up rather well."
"You and Sam have talked about my .
. . Listen buster, my attributes are as perky as they come. I'd show
you if I could sit up. Don't try to cheer me up anymore, Pokey.
And tell Spanky that I'm not having any mid-life crisis. I'm just
depressed. I'm certainly entitled after the year I've had.
Actually, considering all that's happened in the last three years, I'm
overdue."
"I've never understood exactly why it is you call me
that."
"What?"
"Pokey."
"It used to be a term of
affection."
"And now?"
"It refers to your lack of mental
agility. You should have realized by now that I'm in no mood to be
cajoled, humored, amused, or quoted Sam Seborn-isms about
women."
"Uh, well, I'll just set this sack down here on your desk.
Should I open the aspirin bottle? No? Okay."
"Open the
Scotch."
"Seeing all the empty bottles in your trash can, maybe you
should save the Scotch for another crisis. Uh, sorry, another
depression."
"Come closer to the desk."
"I don't believe I
will."
"It's just looking through this fish bowl, I notice things I
haven't before."
"Yeah, I've heard what you've said to the others who've
ventured near your crystal fish ball, uh bowl."
"I think you're
getting a little paunch there, Tobias. Kind of looks like a bowl full
of jelly when you talk."
"I'm leaving now, Claudia Jean. Keep this
up and you really will end up all alone, a bitter, drooping, old woman with
a permanent crick in her neck."
"I'm not drooping."
"Sam says
the pencil test is a good indicator."
"Out."
"I'm leaving.
You should go home and be miserable there."
"Don't slam the door . . .
Hell, Gail. He didn't even give me the good Scotch."
"I'm not
having a mid-life crisis. I'm not."
"Gail, do you think a ballpoint
pen would work?"
TBC
Title:
Through A Fish Bowl Lightly
4 Author: Rhonda
Characters: CJ
Rating:
PG13 Spoilers: Season Three
Disclaimers: Not mine and never will
be. Feedback: Always
appreciated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Squeak, squeak, squeak . .
.
Giant mice was her first thought. The second was that the
cheap Scotch, provided by Toby before he left in a huff, was giving her
auditory hallucinations.
Opening one eye, the very drunk Press Secretary
looked past Gail and towards her office door. Nothing was there, just
the darkened hallway. Okay, as long as she wasn't seeing things,
she'd probably live.
Squeak, squeak, squeak . . .
The noise was
getting louder.
"Gail, something's coming. You're on your
own."
Opening both eyes, CJ tried to focus through the water in the
fish bowl on the blurry form that appeared in her doorway.
"What the
hell?" she muttered, trying to raise her head off her desk.
"Lancelot?"
The figure in her doorway was wearing a suit of armor.
Very shiny armor, she thought as it reflected the light from her desk
lamp back to her.
The knight raised his visor and a familiar Irish face
peered out. "I'm not sure about Lancelot, I think he was a little prissy
for my tastes. He wore a lot of scarves."
"Danny, why are you
wearing a suit of armor?" CJ moaned, shutting her eyes against the
glare.
"Wouldn't you rather know how I got through the metal
detectors?" he grinned, clanking towards her.
"Oh God," she moaned,
the loud noise vibrating through her head. "Don't move,
please."
The high pitched squeak of his arm picking up the half empty
bottle of Scotch, had her writhing in the chair.
"Did you drink all
this while I was gone?" he asked, taking a sip straight from the
bottle.
"Yes. Now, go away. Quietly, please," she moaned,
holding her hands over her ears.
"I think you're missing the point
here, CJ. Besides the personal sacrifice, I went to a lot of trouble to
rent this outfit and talk my way past the Secret Service. You notice
they kept my sword, even after I told them the effect would be ruined.
Who ever heard of a knight without his sword?"
"What personal
sacrifice? Your dignity? You lost that a long time
ago."
"You wound me fair maiden," he said, as he executed a noisy
bow.
"Go slay a dragon and leave me alone," she begged, trying to open
the bottle of aspirin that Toby left on her desk as part of his care
package.
"Keep up, CJ. We were discussing my sword, or lack there
of. I can't slay a dragon without my weapon. And, I can see
it's going to be tough to win the fair damsel."
"Danny," she
whispered. "My head is about to blow up. You really don't want
to be here when it does, especially swordless."
"Damn," he said,
trying to unlock his knees so he could sit in her visitor's chair.
"This thing is chafing my family jewels."
Dry swallowing a couple of the
aspirin, CJ tried sitting upright, but her head was too heavy. Giving
up, she laid it back on her desk and stared at him. "Did you just refer
to your . . ."
"Yep, my package is going to need some first aid, by the
time I get this outfit off."
"Why are you wearing it in the first
place?"
"I wanted to show you that I wasn't afraid of getting
involved with you. If you want, I could wear this and be sure of
not catching a bullet. Course, I'll probably get some kind of rust
disease or lead poisoning."
"Only if you suck on it," she said, laughing,
and then flinching as the movement made her feel like her eyes were
going to fall out.
"I'm serious, CJ. Take a chance on me.
Take a chance on us. Ride off into the sunset with me on my trusty
steed."
"It's three in the morning, Danny. The sun's already
set."
"That's okay because I don't have a horse anyway."
"Huh,"
she asked, wrinkling up her nose. "That doesn't make any
sense."
"And having a horse in the West Wing does?"
"What horse?"
she said, rubbing her forehead.
"My trusty steed. Or, in this
case, maybe we could use your Mustang."
Shaking her head, she
immediately moaned and closed her eyes again. "Stop. Skip ahead a
few sentences. What do you want?"
"You," he grinned, bending
down on one knee.
The squeaks had her clamping her hands over her ears
again. "Danny," she growled. "Don't do that."
"I guess I should
have oiled it," he sheepishly admitted. "But I ran out of time. It was
almost impossible catching a cab in this outfit."
"Danny," she
moaned "Get to the point."
"Marry me."
"Will you take off
that tin can?"
"Yeah."
"Right now."
"You
bet."
"Okay, but if I hear one more squeak out of you, the deal's
off."
"Can I use your phone?" he asked, trying to maintain his
balance on one knee. "I need to call out for some WD-40. I think I
know a mechanic that will deliver."
TBC
Title:
Through A Fish Bowl Lightly 5 - The
End Author:
Rhonda Characters: CJ
Rating:
PG13 Spoilers: Season Three
Disclaimers: Not mine and never will
be. Feedback: Always
appreciated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Don't look Gail," Danny
warned, as CJ helped him out of his suit of armor. "You're too young to see
my goods."
"You wouldn't have to be worrying about anyone
seeing anything, if you'd left your underwear on."
"I wanted to be
authentic," he whined as she yanked one of the metal legs off.
"Careful, a inch to the right there and you would have ruined our
honeymoon."
"Do you want my help or not?" CJ hissed, leaning on
the desk as the room spun round again.
From his position on the floor,
Danny tried to adjust the metal above his crotch. "I'm just pointing
out, that I'm not the only one with an interest in seeing that I retain
all my working parts."
"Danny, I really don't feel well. Put up
your other leg, or shut up."
"Maybe we should have started from the
top," he whined, his visor slipping, as she tugged on his leg.
"There," she exclaimed, as the leg gave way in her hand.
"What
the hell?" Leo growled, from just inside her doorway.
They both turned to
look at him; CJ, in yesterday's clothes and the signs of a hangover on her
face, holding the leg and foot of a suit of armor; and Danny, wearing only a
smile and a metal breastplate and helmet, lying on the floor with one leg
lifted in the air.
"It's not what it looks like," CJ responded,
setting the leg down on her desk, and sinking wearily down in her
chair.
"It looks like you stayed here all night, drinking and fooling
around with Danny," Leo exclaimed, walking into the room and resting his
briefcase on the back of one of her visitor chairs.
"I guess it *is*
what it looks like," CJ moaned, rubbing her temples.
"We didn't
actually get to the fooling around part," Danny said, trying to be
helpful.
"Maybe if you put some pants on, you'd be more credible," Leo
retorted, his voice rising as he stared at the half-naked reporter lying on
the floor.
"Please," CJ whimpered, laying her head back down on
her desk. "Just kill me and get it over with."
"Leo, we're
engaged," Danny explained, successfully jumping to his feet, but
unfortunately failing to latch open his visor. As he stood, it slammed shut
and stuck.
As Danny danced around bare-assed, struggling to open it,
Leo grimaced and turned to CJ. "You're really going to marry this
idiot?"
"I resent that," Danny said, his voice muffled by the metal
hood, as he continued to try to remove the helmet.
Ignoring him, an
angry Leo stared at the President's worse- for-the-wear Press
Secretary. "Well," he said, gritting his teeth. "Don't you have
anything else to say to me?"
"I'm not seeing too well right now," she
whimpered, looking at the two men through the glass of Gail's fish
bowl. "Leo, your teeth? - What big teeth you have. And, Danny, no
wonder that suit was chafing you. It's kind of like that wooden
puppet's nose, it's just getting longer and longer and . . .
"CJ,"
Leo shouted, causing the Press Secretary to jerk upwards.
"Go home and
take your damn fish bowl with you. I don't want to see you, your fish,
or your court jester around here, until you sober up."
Grabbing his
briefcase, Leo marched out of the room.
"And he huffed and he puffed and
he . . ."
"Danny, shut up." Getting to her feet, CJ grabbed her
coat and threw it at him. "Put your jewels away and go home.
I've got to try and save my job."
"So, I should call you later and we
can look at rings?"
Making a gesture to convey her feelings on the
matter, CJ stumbled out of her office, hoping to clean up a little and
then face the wolf in his den, uh, shaking her head, Leo in his
office.
"Gail, you didn't see that," Danny said, picking up the fish
bowl. I'm sure she was just showing me her finger size.
