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14E turned over in bed. "Poor 15E," she sighed to her husband. "Fighting again." She didn't know the name of her upstairs neighbor, but she knew he and his lady friend fought a lot. No words came through, but one male voice and one female voice sharp with anger was a universal sound. "They won't be together much longer," she predicted. She was seldom wrong about such things.

Upstairs in 15E, things were about to start flying. "I don't know what more you expect me to do!" the craggy-faced occupant exclaimed.

"Of course you don't! You think you're doing everything you can." His tall, thin "lady friend" paced the beige carpet she hated so much. She had hated it since the day he moved into this apartment, but where before it had been an endearing hatred - "Oh, that crazy, hideous carpeting" - now it was one of ten thousand tiny things driving them apart. They blamed ten thousand tiny things because they wouldn't talk about the one great big huge thing - until tonight.

"You stayed all night playing chess with the President. You stood me up because you're too terrified of anyone fiding out about us to tell the President you had other plans."

"When the President asks-"

"When your best friend of 40 years says, 'Let me kick your ass at chess,' you have the option of saying you can't."

"He'd ask why not."

"Do you really think he cares that much? He's the leader of the most powerful country in the Western Hemisphere, for God's sake; as long as you're not drinking, he doesn't give a damn how you spend your two off hours. The point is that I was here. All night. Waiting for you. When you didn't show up, I got to worrying some sort of emergency was underway. Imagine my joy when Charlie told me you and President Bartlet had retired to the Residence for a game of chess-"

"You called the White House looking for me?"

"Yes. In fact, I called and said, 'Charlie, have you seen my burly hunk of lovin'?' You stayed because you were too afraid to leave."

"Do you want me to make a statement? Is that it?"

"Of course I don't want you to make a statement! God, do you think I'm so insecure I need you to stand up in front of everyone and declare your undying love for me - which I know I don't have. We've had three months of unbearable paranoia. We never go out because you're afraid someone might see us. You won't touch me at work - not even in your own office with the doors bolted shut."

"In case you've forgotten, the leader of the free world works on the other side of one of those doors."

"I don't care how smart or powerful he is; he can't see through doors, and he can't break deadbolts with his bare hands." She ran a hand through her hair.

"I'm tired of sneaking around like teenagers after curfew."

"You want to go above-ground."

"Thanks for making it sound so romantic."

"Well, forgive me for looking at things by the harsh light of reason. I have to think of the implications-"

"You say that as though I'm not aware of the implications. I may be better aware of them than you. Every day I walk into a room full of sharks who get paid to rip the administration apart."

"They're watching me extra close. The pills, my divorce - but, hey, let's throw some more ammo their way. The man at the right hand of the President is screwing the Press Secretary-"

"Is that all you think of it? The sex? Because, yes, then I understand how you'd be ashamed to have anyone know about it. Hell, I'd be twice as ashamed as you are. I'd walk through that door and you'd never see me outside the office."

"That's not how I think and you know it!"

"Do I? Every time you hear a high heel I expect you to turn around and start making excuses to Jenny."

"That is unfair."

"It's how I feel. It's like you're still married. Twice. To Jenny and to the President."

"My job-"

"Not the job. The man himself. You're embarrassed to have him know. I'm sick of being your dirty little secret!"

In the silence that followed hard on the heels of their exchange, she heard how fast she was breathing, and the way his breaths echoed hers. In a voice whose quietness sounded twice as awful after the screaming, he said, "That sounds a lot like an ultimatum."

She leaned heavily on the table. The past three months rushed through her like a flood of lava. She hadn't planned to fight with him today - but when did they plan it? The relationship had slipped so far out of their control it didn't feel like it was theirs anymore. It was this thing that followed them around that neither acknowledged in the light of day. Because, if she was honest, she was as bad as he was, and the ultimatum she gave was as much for herself as for him. "I think it is."

"Say it. I want to hear you say it."

She faced him across the dining room table and took a deep breath. "Leo," she said quietly, "either we stop hiding our relationship, or the relationship ends."

He made no move to wipe away the tear that fell down his cheek. "CJ-"

"You can't do it, can you?" Her voice was so choked with tears she could hardly form words.

"I want to." He reached out his hand; she took it and squeezed it harder than she ever had.

"So do I. But I don't know if either of us can."

Neither of them counted how long the silence stretched between them. Finally, he managed, "Is this it, then?"

She nodded wordlessly.

"But not the end of - damn it, CJ, you're closer to me-"

"That will not change," she said vehemently. "I won't let it. We're friends. We were friends before, and now we just have to remember how we did it before..."

"Before this," he finished, reluctant, even now that it had ended, to put a name to their relationship. "I think we can do that."

"I know we can," she countered, then smiled. "I'm glad it's a long weekend, though. I'm going to need some time before I can be in the same room with you and be your friend."

That cut him, but he wasn't angry. "I understand." He dropped her hand. Just like that, it was over.

She picked up her coat. As she stood in the doorway, a moment of awkwardness descended over them. She fiddled with the doorknob. "Well, then..."

"Yeah."

"I guess I'll see you Tuesday."

"I guess so. Enjoy Florida."

"I will. You enjoy arguing with the President."

"I always do."

"That you do." She gave him a genuine smile, and he felt redeemed.

"Good-night, Leo."

"Good night, CJ."

In the three months they had been doing...this thing they'd been doing, they had never once said "I love you." There had never seemed to be a need. There certainly was no need now. He said it anyway.

"I love you, too," she replied, then slipped out the door and shut it softly behind her. On opposite sides of the door, they wept for a thing they had never looked for, but that had become so much to them.

But in a strange way, they still had each other. If anything were to be salvaged from the wreck of the past three months, they would have to cling to that, no matter what happened next.