Ruth Hoynes belongs to us. Bayliss, Giardello, and Lewis belong to Baltimore Productions and NBC. All other characters belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions, Warner Bros., & NBC. The song lyrics are from "Sometimes" by James. Standard disclaimers apply. Please send feedback.

The Flood
Cinnamon & Violet

The boy is hit, lit up against the sky, like a sign, like a neon sign
Then he crumples, drops into the gutter
A cut string, legs twitching
The flood swells his clothes and delivers him on, delivers him on....


Tim sat in the chair where Josh and Sam had left him. Still utterly horrified by what had happened and what it could mean for John, Tim replayed the event over and over in his head. The whiskey, the rain, the kiss. He was the one who asked for a kiss. This was his fault.

The ringing of the phone broke the stillness of the room. Bayliss knew that reporters would start calling sooner or later, and braced himself as he picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Tim?"

Bayliss didn't recognize the voice on the other end. "Who's this?"

"Is this Tim Bayliss?"

"Yeah."

"Danny Concannon, Washington Post. How're you doing this morning?"

*How do you think, jackass?* thought Tim. "Can I help you with something?"

"As a matter of fact, you can," Danny ignored Tim's tone. "I have a few questions for you, Detective Bayliss. May I?"

"You like exercises in futility?" Bayliss put his feet on the coffee table.

"Humor me."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Knock yourself out."

"How long have you known John Hoynes?"

"No comment."

"Will you confirm that you do know John Hoynes?"

"No comment."

"Will you confirm that you are the man seen kissing Vice President Hoynes outside the Madison Hotel early this morning, the very hotel you are in now?"

Tim shifted in his seat. "No, I won't."

"Will you deny it?"

"No, I won't."

"Was last night the first time that you've kissed the Vice President?"

"No comment."

"Was it the first time you've kissed a man?"

"No comment." Tim wondered why he'd stayed on the line so long and was about to hang up when Danny spoke up.

"Just one more question, Detective, and then I'll let you go." He paused for a beat before continuing, "Are you and the Vice President engaging in anal sex?"

Bayliss bristled, and his blood pounded in his ears. Whatever warnings he'd received from Josh Lyman flew out of his head. "You son of a bitch," Tim seethed. "The fact that you have the audacity to--you're a goddamn weed. Go to hell."

Tim slapped the phone down and found that it was hard to breathe. He held his hands out in front of him and watched them trembling; when they finally stopped, he picked up the phone and called Giardello.

"Homicide."

"Hi, Meldrick."

"Well, well, well, what do you know?" Detective Meldrick Lewis said with surprise. "How goes it, Bayliss? Or should I call you Monica?"

"Oh, God, Meldrick--" Tim did not want to be having this conversation.

"Ain't nobody hear a peep from your sorry ass in months, and then one day, boom! You're on the cover of the Sun, droolin' all over the VP."

Tim could just see Meldrick sitting at his desk, probably playing with that damned football, and getting a hearty laugh at Tim's expense. Bayliss decided to change the subject.

"How's business at the bar?"

"Oh, no, no, no." Lewis wagged a finger. "We ain't done talkin' 'bout this yet, Deep Throat."

Tim overlooked Meldrick's comment. "Is Gee there?"

"Yeah, but he ain't gonna be for long. Yesterday, Gee put in his proverbial two weeks."

"What?" Bayliss was astounded.

"Yeah, Gee quit." Meldrick looked around the squadroom at Sheppard and Falsone. "The place is gonna go to shit when Gee's gone."

"I can't believe it. Why did he quit?"

"Here's another shocker for you: he's running for Mayor." Lewis picked up his football again and tossed it in the air. "Hey, you think you could get him a Presidential endorsement?"

"That's cute, Meldrick. Can you put him on?" Tim started walking around the room.

"Sure thing," Lewis covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Hey, Gee! You got a phone call!" He turned his attention back to Bayliss. "Take care now, Timmy."

"Thanks, Meldrick." Tim heard Lewis hang up and then heard the lieutenant's gruff voice.

"Giardello."

"Gee."

Al sat back in his chair and smiled. "Tim Bayliss, Baltimore's prodigal son. Long missing, long wandering, you've finally surfaced."

"I think I've surfaced on the front of every newspaper in the country, Gee."

"So it is you."

"Don't tell me there was a pool going," Tim groaned.

"I think Lewis is calling Griscom as we speak, to divide the spoils."

Bayliss stopped pacing and sat down on the floor. "What am I going to do, Gee? Everything is such a mess."

"I don't know what to tell you, Bayliss," Gee replied. "But may I ask, what the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, Gee."

"That's pretty clear."

Tim sighed. "This is a man's career."

"Not just one man's." Gee said quickly. "What about yours?"

Bayliss scoffed. "What about it?"

"I don't know if Meldrick told you, but I'm leaving the department."

"He did, but--"

Al took a deep breath. "I can't guarantee that your job will be here for you when you get back."

"I don't know if I want it," Tim said honestly.

"Bayliss--"

Tim looked at his watch. "I have to go, Gee."

"Bayliss--"

"Good luck with your campaign."

Tim hung up and ran his hands through his hair. Daylight was starting to filter in, so he closed the curtains. He wanted the room to be dark. The phone rang again, and Bayliss stared at it as it blared five, six, seven times. Finally, he picked up.

"We need you to come to the White House."


* * *


"I don't think it's ever going to stop raining," C.J. stood by Leo's office window, peering through the blinds.

"Probably not. Do you know what you're going to say to this Bayliss kid?"

C.J. drained her coffee cup. "He's not a kid, Leo; he's forty years old."

"I'm just--" Leo was interrupted by Margaret.

"Tim Bayliss is here. Should I send him in?"

"Yes, thank you." He looked at C.J.. "Do you want more coffee?" She nodded vigorously. "Bring us more coffee, too, please."

Margaret nodded and motioned the waiting visitor into the office. The tall man entered and looked around shyly.

"Good morning, Detective Bayliss." Leo gestured towards a chair. "Have a seat."

Tim obeyed. He was shaky, half from nerves and half from the hangover gnawing at him. "Um. This place is really... wow."

"It's the White House," Leo said.

Tim looked at the floor. "Yeah."

Leo indicated C.J., who was standing near the window looking Tim over. "This is our press secretary, C.J. Cregg."

He nodded. "Hi. I thought I recognized you."

"You spoke to Josh Lyman and Sam Seaborn earlier," Leo said.

"Yes. Last night. Which is, I guess, this morning." Tim half-smiled at the recollection. "They were very damp."

Leo did not react. "Have you also spoken to your family?"

"I've called everyone I needed to talk to," Tim said, then thought of Frank Pembleton, which always hurt. *Almost everyone,* he added silently.

"I'm going to cut to the chase here, Detective." Leo folded his hands and looked intently at Tim. "We need to know whether you're a threat to national security."

Tim was unnerved. "What?"

C.J. spoke for the first time since he'd been in the room. "We need to know if you're going to sell your story."

"Sell my story," he repeated.

"Detective--"

"Don't keep calling me that," he interrupted. His voice had a sudden edge. "I -- call me Tim. Please."

C.J. stepped forward. "Okay, uh, Tim. Obviously there are a lot of people who would like to use your relationship with the Vice President to damage the credibility of the administration."

Tim looked back and forth between Leo and C.J. "You must think I'm some kind of horrible person."

"We don't think that," C.J. replied.

"You do. You think I'm a liability." Tim stood up. "You're wondering how much money I'll make off bedding the Vice President. Like I'm in this for a book deal!"

"Detective--" Leo began.

"Tim. See, the thing is, I wasn't sleeping with the Vice President. I was--" Tim blushed, but his eyes were fierce. "I was sleeping with John Hoynes. Not the office, just the man. I realize it was selfish to think that that would work, to ignore his career and -- and I didn't care. I didn't care what he did when he went to work. I was...." He placed a hand on the back of the chair to steady himself. "It was just good when we could be together."

Tim paused, remembering where he was. C.J. and Leo were quietly studying him. He took a breath and let it out slowly. "But you don't really need to know that, I guess."

C.J. looked directly at Tim and repeated herself. "What we need to know is that you are not going to sell your story."

Bayliss stared at his hands. "As far as I'm concerned, there is no story to sell." He looked up suddenly. "You must think I sound pretty stupid."

"You do," Leo spoke candidly.

Tim looked at his hands again and spoke very quietly. "Yeah."

C.J. found that she couldn't tear her eyes away from Tim. "I'm sure Sam and Josh told you not to speak to the press."

"I should tell you -- I got a call a little while ago from Danny Concannon."

"What?" C.J. was startled.

"I let him get to me, and I said some things I shouldn't have." Tim looked at her. "I'm sorry."

"What exactly did he say to you?" C.J.'s tone was measured.

"Uh... honestly, I'd rather not repeat it."

"He was trying to elicit a negative reaction from you, Det--Tim," Leo stared at him.

Bayliss blinked back unwanted tears. "Well, it worked."

C.J. looked at the wall. "Danny has that affect on people."

"Is--" Tim suddenly didn't know what to say. "Is it going to be a problem, what I said to him?"

"I'll take care of it." C.J. walked to the door and opened it.

Bayliss stood, wondering if he should extend a hand to Leo McGarry. One look at Leo's face told him that he should not. Tim left the office without a word. When he was gone, C.J. called to Margaret.

"Call Danny Concannon. Now."


* * *


C.J. stood very still in the dim light, scanning the books on her shelf. Carol leaned into her office. "He's here."

She nodded slightly. Carol vanished. A moment later, Danny came into the office, softly closing the door. He waited for C.J. to speak, but she didn't acknowledge his presence. The silence was broken only by the patter of rain outside. At last Danny began, tentatively, "Off the record." When she still did not face him, he added, "You already yelled at me an hour and a half ago."

C.J.'s voice was calm. "That was then; this is now."

"You really think it's the best use of your time and mine to keep calling me in here to argue with me?"

"I didn't call you in here to argue with you."

Danny frowned. "Then...?"

"I called you to warn you."

He was caught off guard, and took a step back. In an even tone, she continued, "We're not on the same side anymore. You've got to know you've slammed a door on yourself, Danny. I've let you get away with a lot around here--"

"I don't work for you, C.J.!" he replied indignantly. "This is news. I'm a journalist. You can't hold it against me if I act like one. If you don't like what I print, that's your problem, and you can't expect me--"

"I expect the same from you as anyone else in my Press Room, except that I've cut you more slack. We've disagreed before, and who knows, maybe you've even been right once or twice. But this crosses every line I ever...." Her voice turned colder. "It's over, Danny. Call up the Enquirer and ask if they'll give you a column, because you're not going to win back the trust or respect of this administration."

"I don't believe this. You're threatening me. Here in this office -- in the White House, you're threatening me!"

C.J. ignored this, and did not turn around. "Christy Cable is a sick man."

Danny couldn't dispute that, but he defended his source automatically. "He's entitled to his views."

"Of course he is. Of course. But his views are twisted, Danny, and for a respected national paper to put its weight behind them is wrong, because it's not news. It's perversion. You bought this man's perversion and you put it on the front page."

"A source is a source, C.J., whether or not they're politically correct enough for your tastes!" He raised his voice shrilly. "For that matter, who the hell are you to tell me what's right and wrong? I reported some facts, and I don't see anyone stepping up to dispute them! The Vice President walked out of a hotel and stuck his tongue down another man's--"

"You had to call him," she interrupted, quietly.

Danny flinched. "What?"

"You called him, not just to get your story, but to humiliate him. This naive, stupid, sweet man -- you crushed him, Danny. You treated him like he was less than human." He moved towards her, but she tightened her stance and stared at the wall. "You know, I think that's even sicker than taking the picture itself."

He was stung. "C.J., look at me--"

"I can't look at you, Danny." She folded her arms around herself. "You should leave."

"I did my job," he reiterated, sounding less certain than he had before.

"And I need to do mine."

She tapped her fingers on her arm impatiently. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of something he could say. Failing, he whimpered softly under his breath, turned, and walked out heavily. She didn't move until she was sure he was gone.


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