Title: You Spell REPUBLICAN With An H?

Author: CretKid aka Cal (cretkid@juno.com; AIM: cretkid)

Category: General

Summary: epilogue of a sort to "Reason's Prisoner: When the Battle's Lost and Won" though it's not necessary to read it first.

Rating: PG-13 for language

Spoilers: Minor ones for "Bartlet for America"

Disclaimer: Not mine. If we didn't care about the characters this much, we wouldn't be doing this in the first place.

Author's Notes: This sort of got put on the backburner for a while, but I decided to resurrect it when I finally saw "Bartlet for America". You can find this and my other stories at www.oocities.org/rdcottrell/fiction.html

"You Spell REPUBLICAN With An H?"

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CJ had her briefcase in her left hand, her jacket hung over her arm and her car keys ready in her right hand as she left the West Wing. The late evening rain had left the sidewalks slick with water. She was careful with her footsteps to make sure a trip to the emergency room was not in her future.

As she rounded the corner to enter one of the staff parking lots, she heard something: hollow, rubbery and repetitive, echoing with the faint resonance of splashing water. The parking lot played host to few cars and a makeshift basketball court near one of the tree-lined corners. It was well lit by lamp posts that acted as silent and steadfast sentries against the dark clouds that had rolled in at mid-day. Sam's silver SUV was nearby, the back door swung up and a paper sack standing on the tailgate. CJ was fairly certain the cups resting on the bumper were not filled with coffee. Suit coats were draped over the up swung door. One man in wingtips was standing at a chalk line nearly fifteen feet away from the basket and two others were underneath the hoop. The roll away basketball hoop was held in place by a number of sand bags.

Sam bounced the ball several times, raised it just above his forehead with his right hand behind and underneath the ball, left hand to the side. He cocked his arm and let fly. The ball soared through the air, bounced off the backboard, hit the outside of the rim and tumbled into Josh's waiting hands.

Josh bounced the ball off the ground hard and slapped his hands against it on its return. "That's an 'H' for you, Sam."

"You spell REPUBLICAN with an 'H'?" Toby asked, taking the ball away from Josh.

"I forgot we changed the rules. Sue me." Josh slapped the ball out of Toby's hands.

"Changed the rules of what?" CJ asked as she joined them. She dropped her briefcase on the ground near the tailpipe of the SUV, hooked her keys through the shoulder strap and hung her coat up with the rest.

"We're playing HORSE, only rather than spelling HORSE, we’re spelling REPUBLICAN," Sam explained.

"You realize that means nothing to me, right?" CJ said as she casually checked the contents of one of the paper cups to confirm her suspicions. She didn’t want to know how they managed to find a basketball hoop in the middle of the night, but the sand bags holding it in place had to have come from Sam "the Boy Scout" Seaborn's trunk and his stash of emergency equipment for all occasions.

"I still don't understand how you could not have played basketball while you were in school." Josh bounced the ball from one hand to the other, again and again.

CJ crossed her arms over her chest as she watched Josh run a lazy lay-up towards the hoop. "For one, the same year Title IX was recognized, I grew 7 inches in less than 3 months and I wasn't exactly coordinated before hand."

"Some might say you're not exactly coordinated now," Toby added with an innocent look on his face.

CJ chose to ignore his remark. "Secondly, I was much better at soccer and field hockey."

"Field hockey?" Josh snickered to Sam. "Can you imagine CJ in a short skirt running down a field with a candy cane shaped hockey stick?"

Casually crossing to where Josh stood next to Sam, CJ punched at the basketball from below so that it flew up and over Josh's shoulder. She used her natural height advantage in addition to the two inch heel she was sporting to look down her nose at him. "Can you imagine me drop kicking your ass all the way to the Mall?"

Josh leaned away as Sam retrieved the ball. "I'd rather not." Josh sniffed loudly and leaned a little closer to CJ. "Have you been drinking?"

"Maybe," CJ replied coyly.

Josh's face wrinkled in mock disapproval. "You have. 'Fess up."

CJ crossed her arms over her chest. "I may have spiked a few cokes in my office with a bottle of Bacardi left over from last year's Christmas party."

"Okay, from now on," Josh announced, "CJ is in charge of the alcohol procurement. Sam, you're fired."

Sam bounce passed the ball to Toby. "Hey, you guys said beer. I got beer."

"You could have gotten good beer," Toby grumbled, banking the basketball off the backboard and into the net.

"Fosters is good beer."

"We're not in Australia. You couldn't have found a good microbrew from around here?" Josh asked as he retrieved the ball from where it rested in the grass.

"What, and have you complain because it has some fruity taste to it, or Toby snipe about my choosing a girly beer?"

"For the last time--" Toby's voice rose above the din, "I did not say Sam Adams Cherry Wheat was a girly beer! I said it was too early in the year for that particular beer. Get your hearing checked, Princeton."

"I'm sorry if I misinterpreted your scotch-sloshed speech, Toby, but you distinctly said it was a girly beer," Sam ventured. "Back me up on this, CJ. You were there."

CJ watched, amused, as Sam surreptitiously stepped behind her for cover. "I have to say, Toby, it did sound like 'girly beer' to me, but then again, that was one time you let yourself get truly shit-faced with us during the campaign."

"Ooh, now we really know CJ's been drinking," Josh chanted. "She just used language better not said in front of mom and dad."

Scowling, CJ retorted, "So says the man who falls down after one drink. As I recall, you were already passed out under the table when the girly beer discussion started."

"I was not unconscious! I was hiding," justified Josh.

"From whom?" the other three chorused.

Unabashedly, Josh replied, "I don't recall."

"You're pathetic," CJ announced.

"So speaks the woman with a gravitational attraction to pools. Talk about nonexistent coordination." Josh danced behind Sam in case CJ decided to take a swing at him.

CJ slowly advanced on Josh. "Gimmee the ball."

"What?"

"Give. Me. The. Ball. What part of that did you not understand?"

Josh was too busy laughing to dart away. "Why?"

"I want in on this game."

Cackling until his gut hurt, Josh wiped the tears from his eyes. "Are you insane? One, you're wearing heels! And two, you said you don't know how to play the game!"

"Give me the damn ball. Sam, what are the rules?"

Sam decided that this was indeed not a hallucination and calmly explained, "The way we were playing it? Someone chooses a place to shoot from." Sam pantomimed the way the game was played by choosing a spot on the court. "Any shot is allowed since Josh prefers jump shots and Toby only does set shots--"

"Sam--"

"--and I think I will just make this simple because Toby looks like he wants to maim me."

"Thank you," Toby said under his breath.

Sam continued, "If that person makes a basket, everyone else has to shoot from the same spot. If you miss, you get a letter. The next person alphabetically in the rotation chooses the next place. The first person to spell REPUBLICAN loses."

CJ nodded. "Sounds simple enough. So, what's at stake?"

"Nothing," Sam and Josh chimed together.

Rolling her eyes, CJ turned to the odd man out. "Toby, what’s at stake?"

"Loser makes Starbucks runs for a week."

"No assistants?" CJ asked for clarification.

Toby nodded. "Asking the assistants or interns for that matter to get the coffee is in violation of terms of the agreement and increases the penalty time to two weeks."

"All right. Give me the ball."

"Why?" Josh asked again, a little nervous. "You can't be serious."

"Absolutely. What, are you afraid you're going to lose now?" CJ taunted as she stepped closer and grabbed the ball from his hands.

Josh waved his arms towards the makeshift foul line drawn in chalk. "Be my guest. Would you like a few practice shots before we begin?"

"Don't mind if I do."

CJ experimented bouncing the ball down on the ground, getting used to the rhythm. It wasn't elegant and she threw a dirty look at Josh as he snickered once again at the clumsy dribble. She had seen her brothers play enough basketball to know the basic rules of the game. At one point her older brother had tried to teach her how to play but she quickly tired of his perfectionist instruction and his insistence to make her play his way. She stood at the pretend foul line, looked over her shoulder at Josh and Sam. Toby was shaking his head as he stood under the basket. With knees slightly bent and her right hand below the ball, she launched it towards the basket.

The ball arced through the air, bounced off the backboard and through the net.

Josh and Sam's chins bounced off the ground.

"CJ, that was one-handed. From 15 feet away." Josh crossed towards the basket.

"Your point being?" She clapped her hands for the ball.

Toby obliged and bounce passed the ball to her. She raised her right hand with the ball over her head again and pitched it at the basket. It went straight through the hoop, touching nothing but net.

"That's a rather unorthodox shooting style you have there, CJ," Sam observed. He stepped up so that he was standing next to her on the foul line.

"Yes, I know. My brother tried to drill it out of me, but I wouldn't have it. It's not like I played for a team or anything. You go with what works."

Toby bounced the ball back to the foul line.

"And this works for you?" Sam asked, retrieving the ball and handing it to her. "Anywhere on the court?"

In answer, CJ dropped another basket through the hoop. It landed squarely in Josh's hands.

"I think we're going to lose. Let's call the bet off, shall we?" Josh endeavored.

"You're just scared because 'J' and 'L' come after 'C' in the alphabet." Toby grabbed the ball from Josh's hands. "You’re screwed either way. I think this qualifies as a forfeit."

An anonymous body walked into the playing area. He was wearing a Parks Service uniform and a remonstrating expression. "Excuse me, but I'm going to have to ask you to break up your little game."

"Oh, really?" Josh dropped the basketball and started to pick up the sand bags holding the basketball hoop in place. He threw them into the back of Sam's SUV. "That's too bad."

"Guess we won't get to finish the game. No forfeit." Sam pulled out his cell phone and called the groundskeeper to pick up the basketball hoop.

"Yeah, that's just too bad." CJ laughed as she walked over to the SUV to pick up her things.

The park ranger was looking in the direction of the paper cups on the bumper, but Toby moved to block his view.

"I appreciate your cooperation," the ranger continued slowly. He walked off without a second glance.

Toby leaned over CJ's shoulder as she knelt down to collect her keys. "Good thing it did end early, or else Josh and Sam would have learned you can't hit the broad side of a barn from anywhere outside the foul line."

"Shut up, Toby."

"So," Josh asked, clapping both Toby and CJ on the shoulder, "shall we continue this little celebration elsewhere?"

"What celebration?" CJ asked. "We have something to celebrate?"

Josh shrugged his shoulders. "A 'No Impeachment' party?"

"We did that last week." Toby grabbed his coat from the rear door of the SUV.

"So? Let's continue the festivities! How about the Republican's new patsy making an ass of himself on national television. That's not enough reason to celebrate?"

CJ slipped her arms into her coat and shouldered her briefcase. "Raincheck."

Toby settled next to her as Sam closed the tailgate. "Mike's gonna pick up the hoop," Sam said.

"'Kay. Sam-me-boy, let's go rattle some cages." Josh slapped the side of the SUV. "You coming, Toby?"

"No. I think you have done enough celebrating already and I am not going to babysit you two while you make fools of yourselves."

"'Kay. See you tomorrow. Let's go, Sammy." Josh climbed into the passenger seat of Sam's SUV.

Sam walked around the car to the driver's side. "Only if you stop calling me 'Sammy'."

Toby and CJ watched as the tail lights faded into the distance. CJ turned to walk towards her car; Toby followed half a step behind.

"I looked for you after the briefing," Toby said, his hand hovering near her elbow. "We were headed out to Hannigan's to grab dinner. You weren't in your office."

CJ shrugged the strap of her briefcase higher on her shoulder. "I needed to get some fresh air."

"I hope you realized it was raining before you actually stepped outside," Toby quipped.

"I did indeed. That's why I stayed near the portico."

They had reached her car. She used the keyless access to unlock the door. The parking lights flashed twice as the locks disengaged.

Toby leaned against the rear driver side door. "Have you eaten?"

"Danny brought me a sandwich about an hour ago." CJ dumped her briefcase on the hood of the car and then held her back against the driver's door. They both stared across the parking lot at the dwindling traffic.

"You okay?" Toby asked quietly. "Rum and coke is not your drink of choice."

"I'm just tired. It's funny. I didn't realize how much Carol does on a daily basis until she was stuck with crutches today." CJ smiled and pushed herself off the car. "I'm going to go home and hopefully get more than 4 hours of sleep."

Toby reached over to open the car door for her. She slid into the car seat and Toby handed CJ her briefcase.

"Drive safely." Toby closed the door and stepped away as she started the car. He rubbed the back of his neck as he watched her drive away.

As he walked back to the White House, he noticed the basketball lying in the grass. Stopping to pick it up, he fingered the shallow gash in the rubber left behind from a fateful journey through a plate glass window: a testament to the first true bonding moment of the fledgling Bartlet for America campaign. He tucked it under his arm to return it to its rightful place in his office.

END