Title: Hold Ground

Author: CretKid aka Cal

Category: CJ/Toby

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Well, general spoilers from 'The Leadership Breakfast' on to 'Bartlet for America'

Disclaimer: Ain't mine. 'Nuf said. (Well, not really, but then again, if someone wants to sue me, they can take over my mortgage as well.) Title adapted from another lyric, this time Moxy Fruvous' "I Will Hold On".

Summary: "It's been a long year. Can we forget it happened and start fresh tomorrow?"

CJ shifted all of her bags and belongings into one hand so that she could manipulate the key in the door lock. Feeling the lock give, she pushed the door open with her foot enough so that she could slip through and not let the cold air of the hallway enter. The apartment was not especially well lit for the middle of the afternoon, but she suspected the curtains and blinds had been drawn to hold back the dawn of day and quite possibly the coming year.

She could hear CNN on in the background and managed to hazard a look around the wall that separated the foyer from the living room to see if Toby was indeed still alive.

There was a lump on the couch that was vaguely Toby-shaped. If she had not recognized that his clothes had been changed since she was last in the apartment, she would have sworn he had not moved in two days. His head was tucked between the arm and the back cushion of the couch, his feet crossed at the ankle and resting on the corner of the coffee table. The blanket and pillows she had left within easy reaching distance were still stacked neatly on the end table, obviously as a sign that said he refused to acknowledge that he was sick. A hardcover book was resting face down on his chest, held in place by his left hand.

His eyes were closed. The only obvious sign that declared the couch as a sick bed was the arrangement of aspirin and empty bottles of water and fruit juice on the coffee table. Toby was even dressed in casual work attire; even when his muscles and joints were aching with the flu, his brain refused to let him lounge about the house in anything but khakis and a button down shirt. At least his shoes were off.

CJ set her wares on the kitchen counter, shrugged out of her coat and went in to check on her semi-recumbent friend. The living room was darker than it should have been, even with the television on. She turned to the corner where the 'set usually sat and noticed that a large dish towel had been draped over the screen. CJ managed not to laugh out loud as she made her way to the coffee table to collect empty dishes.

As she leaned over to stack glasses and dishes, she caught a glimpse of part of the title of the book Toby was holding. The portion not obstructed by his hand read 'cholera'. She couldn't help but snicker, waking Toby in the process.

He slowly sat up, the overall body ache evident in the grimace on his face. "When did you get here?" he asked, voice rough.

"Five minutes ago," she replied, crouching down so that she was eye level with him. "Judging from the sour look on your puss, I will assume you still feel like crap, but you most assuredly do not have cholera."

"Wha' hell are you talking about?"

She pointed at the book that had fallen from his chest as he sat forward. "Your choice of recreational reading."

Toby stared at the upset book in his lap, closed it and placed it on the end of the coffee table. "I will have you know that the author has a Nobel Prize in Literature."

CJ picked up the book in her left hand while keeping a careful eye on Toby. "Love in the Time of Cholera" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. She flipped it to read the summary and editorial comments on the back cover. There was an index card on the floor, bent in the familiar way that told CJ it had been used as a bookmark recently. She picked it up as well and took a quick glance at it. There was a coin taped below an inelegant script that was faintly similar to Toby's handwriting.

"Your sister sent you this?" CJ asked, tucking the card into the back of the book. Toby could find his place later.

"A couple of years ago." Toby tried to stand up and was successful on the third try.

CJ stood up and placed her hand on his forearm. "Toby, what do you need? Let me get it for you."

Toby scowled. "I have to pee. I don’t need your help with that, thank you very much." He slowly, painfully walked towards the back of his apartment.

"You sure about that?" CJ called after him, laughter in her voice.

If he mumbled some sort of response, she didn't hear it. CJ stepped into the kitchen and unloaded the groceries she had brought with her. She took the empty juice jugs out of the fridge, clucking her tongue at Toby's insistence that mere swallows at the bottom did not constitute an empty container. She drained, washed and rinsed the glasses she had retrieved from the living room and set them on the dish rack near the sink. She dumped one of the containers of soup she had brought with her into a sauce pan to heat on the stove; the others went into the fridge.

The lack of any sort of cooking dishes in the sink bothered her, which was why she was at his apartment on New Year's Eve rather than getting ready for one of many Congressional parties to which she had been invited. She searched through the cupboards for the heating packs she knew he stored somewhere in the kitchen.

Toby was rummaging around in the living room. As she continued her search through the cupboards, he stepped tenderly into the kitchen, wincing at the brighter light in the room. He dropped the dish towel that had been over the television set on the counter.

"What did you bring me?" he asked, sitting on one of the chairs with some effort.

"Your traditional chicken noodle, a vegetable medley for when you’re feeling adventurous, and baked potato cheddar which is on the stove right now. Your grocer - Mrs. Henry - says hello. The potato soup is her homemade stock, by the way. You need to thank her. There's more cranberry juice and orange juice in the fridge, and I found that ginger ale that you like. Does your neck still hurt?"

Toby grunted in affirmation as he looked through the rest of the bags on the counter. "You brought movies?" he whined. "You’re not going to subject me to your usual fare, are you?"

"Take a closer look at the titles, Pokey. All are baseball related. Where are those heating bags your sister made you?"

"Above the microwave."

Carefully he pulled the movies out of their bag. The Natural, Eight Men Out, *61, Pearl Harbor. He pushed the last one out of the bag and dragged it along the table towards him so he could get a better look at it. He tapped it lightly. "This is not a baseball movie, CJ."

"It was either that or Major League and I know you hate that movie. Or I could have gotten one of those cutesy kiddie baseball movies. That one with the kid inheriting the Minnesota Twins has a hottie playing first base."

"Pearl Harbor is fine."

She found one of several corn-filled bags where he indicated and dumped it in the microwave for two minutes. Checked the stove and stirred the soup to keep it from burning to the saucepan. After pulling down two bowls and two glasses from where they were stored, she ladled out servings of the thick soup and set them on the table. Toby had gotten up from his seat to get soup spoons from the silverware drawer while she reached in the fridge for one of the juice jugs.

"Cranberry, orange, or the ginger ale?" she asked.

"Ginger ale, please."

"Now I really know you're not feeling well: you just said please. Sure that fever hasn't gotten any worse?"

The microwave chimed and CJ pulled the warm-to-the-touch bag out and draped it across the material of Toby's collar. "We could eat in the living room, you know," she said. "You'd be a lot more comfortable on the couch." She poured a glass of ginger ale for him and cranberry juice for herself, adding ice to her glass.

"I've spent too much time on that couch. I need a change of scenery." He drew his spoon through the soup as a child might to look for the hated vegetables that mother had hidden in the mix.

"It's just potato soup flavored with cheddar, Toby. Mrs. Henry said it was kosher, even though I know you don't strictly follow kosher rules."

"I'm looking for the medicine. My mother always hid the medicine in the mashed potatoes."

"You've been paranoid for a very long time, haven’t you? Eat your soup. Do you want some bread with that?"

Toby shook his head and slowly started to eat the soup.

CJ was finished with her bowl before Toby had made it half way through his. She was tempted to ask him if he wanted it reheated, but decided better to leave well enough alone. When it seemed he had slowed to the point of not eating anything more, she gently took the bowl away and placed it in the sink with her own. Taking a moment to pour the remaining soup back into its container for storage in the fridge, she grabbed the bottle of ginger ale and refilled his glass.

"Do you want some tea?" she asked as she efficiently washed the soup bowls and set the sauce pan in the sink to soak with hot water.

"No." He tried to stand, failed, tried again. The heating bag on his shoulder slipped to the ground.

CJ knew better than to offer him a hand. Instead, she grabbed the glass of ginger ale and followed him into the living room. She waited until he was settled on the couch before setting the glass down in easy reach. Picking up the bottle of aspirin and rattling it, she asked, "When was the last time you took anything?"

Toby waved his hand in a manner that she took to mean that it was time for another dose. She shook out 4 aspirin into his waiting hand. Waiting until he had swallowed all of the pills, she picked up his glass, intent on refilling it again.

"You want the heating bag?" Toby nodded. "One for your back too?" He nodded again. "You really don’t feel well, do you?"

Even with his eyes closed, there was no mistaking the glower on his face.

CJ called as she walked into the kitchen to heat the corn bags, "I told you that you would be sorry for not wearing a proper hat at the tree ceremony."

"I prefer to blame the President for forcing me to attend," Toby replied. His voice was quiet, but it carried in the apartment. "Besides, I had a hat. You wouldn't let me wear it."

"A Yankees ball cap was not appropriate, not that it would have helped anyway. It was 15 degrees without the wind chill that night."

CJ returned to the living room with his refilled glass and the bag of movies. She handed him the glass and left the movies on the coffee table.

"Have you been to see a doctor?" she asked as she returned to the kitchen to fetch the heating bags.

"No."

CJ cradled both heating pads in one hand when she stepped back into the living room, her glass of juice in the other hand. "Why not?" She placed her glass on the end table then leaned over him. "Scooch forward."

Toby leaned over his knees as she placed the heating bag near the small of his back. "And sit for hours in a waiting room for a snot-nosed doctor-wanna-be, half my age, to tell me to get some rest, drink plenty of fluids and reprimand me for not getting a flu shot? I don't think so."

"The First Lady didn't catch you on Saturday when you looked like death warmed over? I thought I heard Sam threaten to get her. Lean back." CJ placed the other heating bag against his collar.

Toby groaned and winced as he settled back against the cushions. "I managed to escape her. Those crutches are a great warning bell."

"She's free of those crutches next week, you know." CJ took a seat in the adjacent armchair, leaning forward with elbows on knees. "You need anything?"

"A tranquilizer dart for you. Stop hovering," he said, smiling slightly. "Just roll me over in a few hours so I don't plant roots." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"If you weren't sick right now, I'd wallop you," CJ replied. "Which movie do you want to listen to?"

Toby opened one eye to look at her. "Are you staying?"

"No I thought I would abandon you to drown in a sea of ginger ale. Do you want me to stay?"

"Aren't you supposed to be at some New Year's Eve party?" He propped one ankle on the corner of the coffee table.

"I begged off. Told Leo I was sending Simon in my place. The President left for New Hampshire this morning. It's not like I have to worry about some press event." She moved to sit down next to him. "You and I have spent nearly every New Year's Eve together for I don't know how long, either on the phone or at a party or sitting in one of our apartments watching movies all night. I'm not going to be the one to break with tradition just because you have the plague."

"Okay."

CJ stood and picked up the movies. "Which one?"

Toby brought the other leg up and crossed his legs at the ankle. "The one with the homerun race."

"If you are trying to trick me into asking which movie it is, you're out of luck." CJ walked over to the VCR to put the tape in. She tossed the VCR remote so that it landed next to Toby on the couch. Then she grabbed the blanket she had left on the end table two nights previous and draped it over his legs and torso. "You need to stay warm." She placed the back of her hand against his forehead. "You still have a fever."

"Thanks for the update," he replied sleepily.

CJ sat down next to him, careful to collect the remote control before burying it. "Think you'll still be sick when the Leadership Breakfast rolls around?"

"One could only hope."

"Started on the State of the Union Address?"

Toby glared at her with one eye. "We're talking work now? I thought we were watching a movie?"

CJ pointed at the nonsense commercials on the television screen. "We're talking through the previews. And in order to have tonight off, Leo made me promise to ask."

"You’re not going to talk through the movie, are you?"

"No." She turned around and grabbed the throw off the back of the couch. "Overall, it's been a good year, hasn’t it?"

Toby sighed and closed his eyes again. "We didn’t get shot at, if that’s what you mean."

"Even with Columbia, the Mexican economy, Haiti, the MS and the depositions, we did okay, right?"

"You need me to justify this entire year to you?"

"No." She played with the tassels on the small blanket before resting her hands in her lap. "What do you think about what's coming up?"

"I'll be happy if we just hold our ground."

"Think we’ll win in November?"

Toby turned his attention to the television screen. "The movie's starting."

CJ hit the pause button and Toby groaned. "We're doing this, aren't we?" he complained. "I'm trapped in flu-hell and you want to rehash the entire year of 2001. Can't we skip this part of the ritual?"

"No, not when I'm thinking about job security."

Toby struggled to sit up a little higher on the couch. "That didn't seem to stop you last 6 months ago when you were thinking of resigning."

"Six months ago our numbers were in the toilet, Toby, largely because of me and my freshman mistake. If I was going to be left out of key meetings and strategy sessions, have my ideas and thoughts on the process trounced on because of one mistake, then, yeah Toby, job security was not my highest priority. Come to think of it, why didn't you try to talk me out of resigning?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Toby would have thrown his arms up in exasperation but they were pretty well mummied to his side in the blanket. "Let me ask you something. If I had tried to talk you, would you have listened to me?"

CJ stared at the ceiling for a time. "Probably not."

"Like talking to a wall," Toby mumbled. "Can we get back to the movie now?"

"In a minute."

Toby pouted, mewling like a kitten. "It's been a long year. Can we forget it happened and start fresh tomorrow?"

"We did do good things, though, right? The Tokyo trade summit. The Family Wellness Act. The education initiatives."

A small smile appeared on Toby's face. "The Republican's key candidate making a complete ass of himself in the national news with his inability to string together a simple sentence."

Realizing that he was going to take the conversation off track with every turn, CJ sighed and decided to play along. "The Surgeon General advocating the legalization of marijuana."

"Tobacco," Toby added.

"Our first filibuster."

"Our first veto."

CJ stewed for a few minutes. The frozen picture on the television screen changed back to the visage of a CNN anchor desk. "So we did good?"

Toby wriggled out from under the blanket so that his arms were free from bondage. "If I say yes, can we watch the movie?"

"I need to know if it's all been worth it. Did we do enough?"

"Given what we've had to work with? We did what we could. Will it be enough come November? I hope to hell it is."

CJ took his hand and held it between hers. "I'm not ready to give this up yet."

"We've got 11 months to make up the difference." He squeezed her hand gently. "Five years ago we started with nothing and got a man with a snowball's chance in hell elected."

"Think we can do it again?"

Toby rolled his head along the back of the couch so that he could stare at her sideways. "You've been brewing up this little conversation for quite a while, haven't you?"

Leaning back to mirror his motion, CJ replied, "You've been out of ear shot."

"Not by choice. Can we watch the movie now?" He reached for remote control in her lap and hit the 'play' button.

The last thing CJ remembered was Robert Redford obliterating the night lights. She woke with a crick in her neck as D.B. Sweeney took to the outfield for the Chicago White Sox. The small table lamp she had insisted they turn on when darkness fell cast strange shadows in the room. Toby had slumped down farther along the couch, his head turned into the cushion, his legs draped over her lap. She shivered, wrapping the throw she had nicked off the couch around her shoulders just a bit tighter. Though she knew the apartment was climate controlled, it felt considerably colder in the room than it did just a few hours ago.

She stood up to stretch, carefully displacing his legs so as not to disturb him. Toby must have knocked over one of the glasses when he got up to change the movie as evidenced by a puddle of cranberry juice next to the couch. Several crimson stained tissues were thrown haphazardly towards a waste paper basket near the television set. At least he had tried to pick up the mess. She checked the wall clock and groaned when she realized the new year had not yet begun.

Trudging into the kitchen, she dampened a sponge to clean up the mess in the living room. Snow and freezing rain were pelting against the kitchen windows with remarkable alacrity and she groaned at the thought of having to scrape ice off her windshield.

She quickly cleaned up the spill on the floor and tossed it so that it landed on the island separating the kitchen from the living area. Walking back to the couch, she crouched near Toby's head and gently shook his shoulder.

"Toby. Toby, I need you to wake up for a few minutes so you can go to bed."

Toby turned away from her and mumbled into the couch, "Fine here."

"Then I'm taking your bed, 'cause I'm too old to sleep in chairs and I'm not driving home in this weather with the loonies on the road."

"'Kay."

She tucked the blankets around him so that he wouldn't get chilled and turned off the table side lamp. Picking up the remote from where it must have fallen to the floor, she clicked off the movie and plunged the room into near darkness. She checked on him one last time, feeling his forehead for signs of fever. She heard him mumble something into the couch cushion.

"What was that, Toby?"

He was still turned away from her, but she thought she thought she heard him say, "Not old."

Kissing his temple, CJ stood and left him to find some sleep herself.

END