Politics
Sometimes he thinks it would have been better if he had died that day. He's sure he can't be the only one.
It's the nature of the beast -- the political animal. It's what they do. They think of every event in terms of political capital, and the points bump the shooting garnered would have been higher and more sustained if he had had the decency to slip away on lying on that chilly pavement. Not to mention all the problems he has since caused this administration and the benefits to appointing a new Deputy Chief of Staff instead of waiting for their lame duck to come back. The bills they could have pushed through in that time when they were unattainable. The stress and angst and pain that he caused with his little nervous breakdown. The bad atmosphere that was almost entirely his fault. The fact that right there and right then he was happy.
Back then, they had done well, and he had been almost ready to call it a night. The President had spoken brilliantly, Charlie and Zoey had reconciled, Hoynes was back under their thumb for the moment (and didn't that feel good? weren't, "I know you would," the sweetest words in the world right then?) It hadn't been an extraordinary day, but it had been a good one, and he was all right with that.
Lying on the pavement, bleeding out, he had been oddly content. He hadn't even considered, right then, that there might be other people injured. He had simply thought that at least he was going out on a high. Working in the White House, for an honourable man, a success in the career that defined him. Still unmarried, yes, and that was something of a disappointment to his mother -- and that gave him a jolt, that he would be leaving her alone, but that had led to thoughts of Papa and Joanie and he knew, suddenly, that he was ready and willing to go.
And then there was Toby, and light, and he was gone.
He didn't want to kill himself, after that. He was depressed, perhaps, and maybe he didn't want to live, didn't deserve to live, had cheated death again (and the words "third time lucky" didn't drift through his head.) But things just didn't seem to get any better. And while suicide wouldn't help -- would probably even drop them a few points -- he couldn't help but think it would have been better if he had died.
And if he were to say this to anyone, be they friend or enemy, no matter how politically astute, they would tell him not to say things like that.
And lurking behind their eyes, he would spy the guilty thought that he was probably right.
So he didn't tell anyone. Only think it, and wait for the day he approached death again. Wait, and hope.