I storm Leo's office pretty much as soon as I hit the West Wing on Saturday morning.  Of course he's here, and he's even in a suit.

I didn't even get my cup of coffee; Carol left Josh's notes on the President's decision about the so-called "Defense of Marriage" Act right in the middle of my desk so they're the first thing I see.  Not a great way to start my day.

Leo looks up from his desk when I give a perfunctory knock and walk right in.

"A pocket veto?" I say.  Well, yell, really.

Leo gives me an irritated look.  "CJ--"

"I knew there was a reason you made me go to Portland."

"I didn't make you go, CJ, the President did."

"He didn't make me go because of Notre Dame, Leo," I argue.  "He made me go because Josh was meeting with Skinner and you all knew what the outcome would be, didn't you?"

"CJ," Leo sighs.  "We had hoped--"

"A pocket veto?" I say.  "That is weak, Leo.  It's an insult to the gay community."

"An insult?" he repeats.  "Josh recommended that the President stick it in a drawer as a gesture of support to the gay community."

I am appalled.  "A gesture of support?" I ask, incredulous.

"Yes, by not signing it--"

"By not vetoing it, the President is telling the gay community that he's afraid of the Republicans on the Hill," I argue.

"CJ, they have the votes to override the veto," Leo points out.

"So?" I answer.  "If he wants a symbolic gesture of support, why doesn't he veto the bill even though he knows they'll override it?  That would be a gesture of support."

"It's pointless to veto it," Leo says.  "There's no political gain."

I shake my head at him.  "You've got to be kidding."

"CJ, I know how strongly you feel about this, but we can't win them all."

Toby picks that moment to stick his head in.  "Margaret said you wanted to see me?"

Leo nods at Toby, "Yeah."

I am standing there, arms crossed.  "Leo?"

"CJ, we can't win this."

"So you'd rather cave in to-- to--"

"Legislative gay-bashing?" Toby offers.  "The 'Defense of Marriage' Act, I presume we're referring to."

"Yes," I nod at him.  "What was your advice to the President?"

Toby's glance flicks to Leo, then back to me.  "I wasn't asked for input on this one," he says carefully.  I get the distinct impression Toby is as irritated as I am.

I turn back to Leo.  "So Josh got to make the call on his own?"

"That's how we play it at this level, CJ," Leo answers.  "You know that."

"Maybe you should have asked someone with a little more insight, Leo."

Leo gives me an exasperated look.  "Josh took a meeting with Matt Skinner.  Matt Skinner is gay, CJ."

"Matt Skinner is a Republican, Leo," I answer.  "And my brother is gay, too."

Toby gives me a strange look, but doesn't comment.

Leo shrugs, "Which makes you an expert?"

"No," I admit.  "But I think I've got a better idea of how the gay community is going to react than Josh does."

"CJ," Leo sighs.  "The decisions been made."

I stare at him for a minute.  "Fine.  But you could have asked me."

Leo nods.  "So noted."  He turns to Toby.  "I've got a thing for you."

Toby glances at me.  I take my cue and leave, still pissed off at the entire administration.

Except maybe Toby.

***

I go straight from Leo's office to mine and slam the door.  It makes a nice, loud bang, but it doesn't make me feel any better, and I hear a yelp from next door.

Unfortunately for Josh, not only is our shared door open, but he chooses this moment to pop his head in and joke with me.

"Problems, Claudia Jean?" he grins.

I fix him with a glare.  "Yes.  And I would suggest you remove yourself because you played a role and I'm still very pissed."

I turn my attention back to my work.  Josh, lacking common sense as always, takes a couple steps into my office.

"I played a role?" he asks, that smirky, you've-got-to-be-kidding-me expression on his face.

"In my problem," I nod.  "Yes."

Josh crosses his arms and grins some more.  "So what's your problem?"

"Why does no one here take me seriously?" I ask.  Josh doesn't answer; it's a rhetorical question, plus he looks somewhat taken aback.  I stand and round the corner of my desk.  "You're standing here with that attitude and that smirk--"

"CJ--"

"That smirk," I continue loudly.  "Like you assume whatever I have to say can't be all that serious."

"I do not," he says, eyes wide with shock.  "I do not assume that."

"Toby does," I say.  "Leo does."

"CJ, you're overreacting," Josh says.  "No one here takes you -- I mean, everyone here takes you seriously."

"Right," I give an inelegant snort.  "Which is why I spent last night on a plane to Portland while wearing a stupid hat and singing the Notre Dame fight song!"

Josh tries, but the smirk resurfaces.  "You sang the fight song?"

I gesture at the door.  "Go away."

"CJ, I'm kidding," he says contritely.  Which is as close to an apology as I'm likely to get.

I glower at him.

He sobers up.  "CJ, please.  Tell me what's bothering you."

"The Defense of Homophobia Act," I say finally.

Josh looks away for a moment.  "I'm not real proud of that, CJ."

"So why do it?"  I honestly want someone to explain this to me, because I sure as hell can't understand.

Josh shrugs.  "Fighting is pointless," he sighs.  "It's going to be law."

I gape at him, at the uncharacteristic look of defeat, and I am suddenly unfathomably sad.  "What the hell happened to you?" I ask softly.

"What?" Josh looks at me, puzzled.

"'Fighting is pointless'?" I repeat.  "This from Josh Lyman, the guy you send in when you have no chance of winning because no matter what, you know he'll fight till the death?"

Josh flinches a little, and he won't meet my gaze.

"Josh," I touch his arm.  "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."  He pulls away from me and crosses to the window.  He's staring outside, but I don't think he's seeing much of anything.

"Josh, why are we backing down?"

"What are you talking about?" he asks, but his tone is dismissive.

"What happened to 'let Bartlet be himself,' or whatever the hell Leo was calling it?"

Josh mutters something.

I step closer.  "What?"

"'Let Bartlet be Bartlet,'" Josh repeats, finally turning back to me.

"Right," I nod.  "So what happened?"

Josh leans one hip against the window sill.  "Nothing.

"No," I argue.  "It's not nothing.  It's been since the shooting.  We're--"

"CJ," Josh pushes away from the wall and brushes past me.  "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" I demand, following him through the door into his office so that he can't run away from me.  Or away from this.

Josh retreats behind his desk, but his response is vehement.  "Yes."

"We're running scared," I say.  "We're acting like they shot at us for our political agenda."

"They did!" Josh explodes, his eyes wide and dark with fear.  "They shot at us, CJ.  They tried to kill us because they didn't like what we believe in."

"No," I shout back.  "They shot at us because they were ignorant, hate-filled young men who believed gunfire and violence could help them further their bigoted agenda."

Josh stares at me, still breathing hard from his outburst, but he doesn't speak.

"Are we going to let that happen?" I ask quietly.

Donna appears in the doorway with a worried look.  "Is everything okay?"

I let Josh answer.  He musters up a hint of a smile for her.  "Yeah," he says.  "Could you shut the door?"

She nods after a long moment and pulls the door closed. I feel bad shutting her out of the conversation, but I think I may actually be getting through to Josh.

"CJ, can we drop this?"

Okay, maybe not.

There's a pleading note to his voice that I've never heard before.  It scares me.

"No," I shake my head.  "Josh, they didn't shoot at us because we believe in equal pay for equal work, or because the president signed the hate crimes bill, or even because we want to tax the hell out of their paychecks."

Josh gives me a faint smile.

"They shot at us because they wanted to kill Charlie for being black and for having the unmitigated gall to avail himself of his civil rights and, oh yeah, love who he wants to love.  Regardless of their differences."

"I know that, CJ."

"You know that here," I say, giving him a playful tap on the head, "but not here."  I place my hand over his heart.

Josh shrinks away from my touch.  "I can't feel it there," he says darkly.  "Too much scar tissue."  He won't look at me.

My eyes are stinging with sudden tears.  Josh is still in so much pain and he's closing himself off to those of us who care about him.

"Josh." I am almost pleading with him.  "What you believe in is always worth fighting for."

He nods, but I don't think he's listening to me anymore.

"This bill," I say, touching his arm gently, "this 'Defense of Marriage' Act, it's more hatred."

"I know," Josh admits.

"What's going to happen to my brother and Charles?" I ask.  "They've been together for seven years.  That's longer than a lot of heterosexual marriages."

"I know," he repeats.

"What's going to happen to them when they're out shopping or having dinner or seeing a movie and some bigot objects to the sight of them together, just like those three bigots objected to Zoey and Charlie?"

Josh shrugs helplessly.

"It's the same mindset," I argue.  "How can we condone it, even tacitly?"

"I don't know what to tell you, CJ," he answers quietly.

"Don't tell me," I say.  "Tell the president.  He can still--"

"No," Josh interrupts with an apologetic look.  "It's too late."

"Don't say that," I snap.

Josh gives a bitter laugh.  "Why not?  It's true."

I stare at him, stymied.  I have no idea how to reach him.  "Please," I say finally, "just think about it."

"Sure, CJ."  Josh sinks into his chair and leans back.  He looks up at me.  "I've got work to do."

I can't figure out how to break through his defeat.  I nod, feeling helpless, and head for my office.

"So do I, Josh," I say.

THE END

12.01.00