The Pieces of my Life
New Year 1995
Rating: PG
Fandom: CSI/West Wing
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Ellie Bartlet
Feedback: Makes my day
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Summary: Ellie gets a
phone call.
It is New Year's Day 1995 and Ellie sits in her room, alternately
reading and looking out the window. It has been snowing, the fields of her
father's farm covered in pristine blankets of white, shadows of the bare tree
branches stretching along the ground courtesy of the hazy sunshine. It's a
lovely day, and she knows that she should be outside, where she can see her
father and her elder sister Elizabeth walking towards the house, towards her
younger sister Zoey, who is in the middle of a spirited snowball fight with
Liz's daughter, Annie. Ellie knows, like she knows her own name, that her
father and Liz will undoubtedly join in, that the resulting shouts and yells
will draw out Doug, Liz's husband, and it will become this huge family free-for-all,
and she knows that she should join in.
But still, she sits curled up on her chair beside the window and looks
out, and dips in and out of her book.
It would be easier, she thinks, if Mom were here, but Mom was on call
today, and had to go in to the hospital, so she's not around to act as
intermediary between Ellie and her father, whose relationship is complicated to
say the least. At least that's what Ellie always tells people, but she can boil
it down to something very simple, the fact that she doesn’t know what to say to
her father, doesn't know how to make him happy.
She's not like Elizabeth, she of the long glossy black hair and
stunning good looks, the woman with the perfect husband and the perfect kids
and the perfect life. Liz was the first born child, the apple of her parents'
eyes for a number of years, and Ellie's often thought that when she came along,
her father just couldn't look past the wonder of Liz to see her, that Liz was
still a novelty while she, Ellie, was ground that had already been travelled.
Nor is she like Zoey, the baby of the family, and according to her
father, the most perfect child that God ever put on the earth. He's worshipped
her since the day that she was brought home from the hospital, put her up on a
pedestal even higher than the one Liz used to occupy, and Ellie knows that she
can never, ever, measure up to her sisters.
So she doesn't try, does her own thing instead, and that seems to vex
her father even more. Conversations are strained between them, and she can
never wait to get away from him lest she do something, say something, that
makes him even more disappointed in her. Her mother can smooth over the cracks,
but not Zoey, and not Liz, because when she's around them, she can't help but
feel inferior, can't help but feel even more awkward.
She thinks that's why she applied to Stanford, why most of her college
choices were on the far side of the country. Her father wanted her to go to
Notre Dame of course, but that would have meant that she was constantly being
measured against him, that he would constantly be asking her about her courses,
and she didn't think she could take that kind of pressure. Harvard and Yale
were his two other top choices for her, but her own had always been Stanford,
and she's never regretted that decision, not even when it seemed like every
other freshman around her was complaining about homesickness, about missing
their family.
Ellie loves Stanford, and while she loves her family too, is happy to see
them, to be home for Christmas, there's still a part of her that wishes she was
back in
Her thoughts are interrupted when the phone on her bedside table rings,
and her head turns sharply towards it, frowning. That's her private line, all the
Bartlet daughters have one, but precious few people have Ellie's number, and
most of them are outside playing in the snow. She crosses the room in a few
quick steps, sits down on the bed as she raises the phone to her ear, says,
"Hello?"
"Hi…" It's a familiar voice, and only once has she ever heard
its owner sound so hesitant. "May I speak to Ellie please?"
"This is Ellie." She's grinning at his formality.
"Greg?"
Any doubt is removed by his next words; he talks right over her.
"Eleanor! Happy New Year! How are things in
She rolls her eyes, settling back on the bed, leaning back against the
pillows. Conversations with Greg tend to be long-winded affairs.
"Hardly," she says dryly. "Being the Governor's daughter tends
to limit the possibility of underage drinking." Which is also part of the
reason she likes Stanford so much, the anonymity. "What about you?"
"Family party," he tells her. "And let's just say that
no-one cared too much what went into my glass."
Somehow though, he doesn't sound happy about it, even though she hears
the distinct edge of humour in his voice, and she makes the connection
instantly. "You're suffering huh?"
He groans, and she knows she hit the nail right on the head. "You
know it," he confirms, and when she laughs, he groans again. "You
might show some sympathy you know," he grouses.
"All self inflicted," she shoots back, and there's a second
of silence.
"OK, you got me there." A pause. "I still say you could
be more sympathetic."
"I'm cruel like that."
"You sure are." There's another pause, and Ellie's sure that
Greg's leading up to something. Once again, her guess is confirmed when he
says, "So… how are things in
Ellie sighs, looks out the window at the snow covered fields outside.
"It's been snowing," she tells him, hears him chuckle.
"Been making snow angels without me?"
His joke makes her blush, remembering that night before Christmas break
when he was acting so strangely and they ended up kissing. It was just a one
off thing, she reminds herself now, no matter how much she wants things to be
otherwise. She's been nursing a crush on Greg, probably since the first time
she met him, but she knows he doesn't feel the same way about her. She tells
herself that she's ok with that, that it doesn't matter to her, reminds herself
that she knows what Greg is like with girls, has seen how they come and go with
him. She's never wanted to be just another notch on his bedpost, and she's
certainly not willing to sacrifice what they have now. His friendship is enough
for her she tells herself firmly.
It is.
Even if she felt that kiss all the way down to the tips of her toes.
"Not yet," she tells him now, shaking her head to clear the
thoughts. "Though Annie and Zoey are out there now." And from here,
she can see her dad and Liz laughing at them.
"And yet you're inside by the phone." His tone is light, but
she can hear the question underneath. Then he asks it anyway. "Everything
ok?"
She shrugs even though he can't see her, concentrates on twisting the
phone cord around her fingers. "The usual," she admits finally.
"I don't know what to say to him, he doesn't know what to say to me, and
we do this whole formal dance around each other…" She sighs, shaking her
head. "Mom got called into the hospital… and judging from the snow, even
if she's able to leave tonight, she might not be able to get back."
"That's right." Greg sounds hugely amused suddenly. "You
guys are a million miles away from civilisation, right?"
"Twenty five miles, give or take," Ellie confirms, rolling
her eyes, tilting her head back so it hits against her headboard. It feels
pretty good, so she does it again. "Awasini
Odinack," she adds. "Far from the things of man."
"You know, just when I think you can't get any odder…" Greg
teases, and despite herself, she finds herself laughing.
"Did you just call me up to insult me?" she demands,
expecting a joking "Yes" as reply. What she gets instead though is
Greg at his most earnest.
"No. I called you to wish you 'Happy New Year'. And to make sure
you were doing ok."
She closes her eyes, a smile spreading across her face. "I'm
fine," she tells him, and for the first time all day, she feels fine.
"Also to tell you that we have seventy three degrees of glorious
sunshine in San Gabriel and I'm heading to the beach in a couple of
hours," he continues, making her eyes fly open, then narrow in a glare,
even though she's laughing again.
"I'm happy for you," she says, tucking a strand of hair back
behind her ears. Just then, there's a noise at his end of the phone, someone
calling his name.
"Hang on." She hears him shout to whoever is calling him that
he'll just be a minute, and then he's back on, sounding contrite. "My mom.
Apparently we have to go visit my grandmother… looks like my surfing is going
to have to wait."
"How tragic for you." Contrary to her words though, she's
hugely amused, something that does not go unnoticed by Greg.
"When we get back to Stanford, we're seriously going to have to
talk about you and sympathy," he tells her, and she laughs again.
"And if you don't go downstairs, you're not gonna make it back to
Stanford," she tells him sweetly.
"You got me. Again. Look, I'll call later in the week… Happy New
Year Ellie. Again."
"Happy New Year Greg." He listens to her say the words, then
he's gone, her ear filled by a dial tone, and she stares at the phone in her
hand for a long moment before laying it down on the bed. Then she looks across
the room at the book resting on the chair, and beyond that, to the snow
outside, where, as she predicted, a full-blown snowball fight has broken out.
Smiling again, feeling brave, she stands, grabs her coat and goes
outside to join in.
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