Pairing: CJ/Toby (with eventual references to CJ/Hoynes, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, CJ/OMC, CJ/Will Saywer, Toby/OFC, CJ/Simon, and J/D)

Timeframe: Started following Drought Conditions, but gives eventual spoilers back through the beginning of time. :-) Er, the Bartlett Administration, rather.

Rating: The entire series is being posted under “Adult”, even if the chapter isn’t, because of dark imagery, sex, language, and other … joys.

Disclaimer: These guys don’t belong to me. They may talk to me, but they are the property of NBC, of John Wells, were created by Aaron Sorkin, and I don’t get a penny for writing any of this. If anyone wants to sue, they can have my student loans, my credit card debt, and my medical bills.

A/N: I was reading a fic called "Attonement" by DaniBannani and in it, Toby called CJ "Jeanie". The idea stuck with me and I liked the nickname, so I credit her with the idea, even though I know there are others who have had similiar ideas, including the guys on West Wing.

After a while he got up, coming back into the room and wincing a bit at the too loud music and the overly bright lights. He hated things like this. He hated wasting any part of his 24 hours on mundane things like this. Even worse, he hated it when Leo was right. And he hated that he was mad at Josh for going off without him. Eight years ago he hadn’t wanted anything to do with the guy, now he felt like he’d lost yet another brother.

As always, she was the first thing he spotted in a room. Looking across the haze of gaudy decorations and the sea of people, he could see her standing there, glaring quietly at Leo as yet again, Leo made a point to prove himself right. And yet, looking at her, all he could think was how in the twenty years he’d known her, and the millions of times she’d explained it to him, he never understood why she wore those four inch heels. But in this moment, he didn’t care. She was beautiful, with the light glinting off her hair and the way the black of her shirt made her seem even more slender. She hated how thin she was, he loved it, took it as another testament to her inner strength. And to see the grace with which she could cross a room, particularly when he’d also seen her fall into swimming pools and off of treadmills, it took his breath away.

Can this be one of those nights where we get sloshed and pretend that we don’t work together?

Did she mean it? Had she already put the lid on Tommy? To anyone else, the invitation meant nothing, just a chance to drink, but to him it meant a night in heaven. From 100 yards away he could already taste the lingering affects of the champagne on her tongue and smell the perfume – perfume he’d bought for her for Christmas. Had she changed her mind since the other morning, when she’d rolled out of bed and raced to the bathroom, locking it behind her as she shook off the effects of her own breakdown – when she’d told him that it couldn’t happen again, that she had someone else in her life. Ten hours after her own emotional collapse, thanks to that damned list of people, he’d found out about David and they hadn’t talked about that night since.

He’d yelled at her, screaming at her to not come with him to the funeral even while she packed his bags for him, and she’d stood there and taken his rage, and he also knew that she’d bought a ticket to New York, in case he relented and allowed her to be there. That she’d bought the ticket meant more to him than if she’d come along. And then he’d come back and Annabeth had handed him that message, that folder, and now they had something else, together to worry about and he could only think about what that book was going to do to both of their reputations.

And he knew that was why she walked on eggshells now, that she didn’t want any more rumors circulating about how she’d managed to get her job, but he couldn’t just pretend to forget about making love to her – not this time. He’d been forgetting after every night they spent together for the last seven years, but he couldn’t allow it this time. Not so soon after this last misstep of theirs, not when he could still hear her crying his name as she trembled around him. Not when things between them were so tenuous, able to slip back into that pattern of theirs where they pretended they were in love – or where they meant it. But there were still eight months left until the election. Eight months of standing across a room like this.

She could feel his eyes on her, but didn’t turn, intent instead on lecturing Leo as to why he was wrong, even though he was right. But she knew when he’d come back into the room, and her entire posture had changed, even though her head still hadn’t turned. She could feel those piercing eyes burning into her, challenging her, daring her to turn and meet him half way. And, still talking to Leo, she did turn her attention, watching him, this darkened shadow beneath the too bright lights and lost in the too loud music. He just stood there, his glass of scotch in his hand, watching her watch him and thankfully, Cliff came up, grabbing Leo’s attention and she stepped aside, still a part of the conversation, but her attention now fully on Toby.

To the world, he communicated in speeches, volumes long, oratory that lifted houses off the ground and moved the world to stand and fight. To her, he communicated only with looks and grunts, and spoke more than anyone could ever dare to. And when she’d teased him, they’d both known she was serious. Tommy was gone, back on another plane, and he was fun, but he wasn’t what she needed, even if he was what she wanted. And maybe it was because she couldn’t face him, not after the other night, not after she’d woken up pressed against Toby’s naked body after he’d caught her after her breakdown. She couldn’t look at Tommy, not after she’d opened her bathroom door after vomiting out anything left in her stomach from the day before, and Toby had been standing there with a glass of ginger ale and her thick, terry cloth robe. By the time they’d reached the office, her head was back in the game, and by the end of the day, even though they’d lost ground on the list of banned persons, she was able to keep her shoulders straight and come to terms with the fact that Naji would possibly be coming into the country and she hadn’t broken down again.

And then ten hours after she’d woken up at his side, he’d received the phone call and all she had been able to do for him was drive him home, pack his bags, and put him on the plane. He’d yelled at her, ordering her not to follow him. But she had bought the plane ticket anyway, and she’d known that he knew she had it. But he had needed to do this himself, and she’d respected that, staying behind, and staying awake until he called after the funeral – just to say that it was done. It wasn’t until his office earlier that she’d known the truth, and she could still see the tears on his cheeks as he’d told her. She’d asked if he wanted her to stay. And he did. And maybe that was the moment where things had changed again. She didn’t know, but she did know that tonight she wanted to forget that they worked together. And, honestly, she wanted to be sober while she did it.

He just stood there, staring at her, one hand stuffed into his pocket, the other around the glass of scotch, and she felt the same surge go through as she had that first day, twenty years ago, when he’d turned around after hearing her swearing up and down inside the campaign office and those deep brown eyes had actually silenced her. Time had softened him, had softened both of them, and she could feel the wrinkles around her eyes and wondered if she really looked as old as she felt when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. But the other night, when he had caught her, when she had been overwhelmed with the memories of Naji and his fist against her body, he had told her over and over again that she was beautiful and kissed away the faded scars.

“Excuse me, Leo. Cliff, I’ll see you first thing in the morning.” She gave her new deputy chief of staff a sweet smile, effectively cutting off any argument he was going to make and she knew he would show up tomorrow and the argument would continue and he would help them to make a difference. Sauntering over to where her storm cloud stood, she stopped to pick another glass of champagne off a tray, and then continued to cross the room. “She’s gone?” CJ tilted her head in the direction of the bar.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t. Ever. Do that again.” For a moment she was his boss, for a moment she showed the flash of hurt he knew he’d felt when Josh had left.

“I won’t leave, Jeanie.” He whispered. “But I know who I want.”

She just nodded. “We all do, Toby. We all do.”

Turning so that she stood next to him, she surveyed the room, wondering how long it would take before they could be polite and leave. He would have to leave first … she stopped herself and then just looked at him, wondering if this was going to happen, or if they were going to be sane and not let the rush of campaigning and the adrenaline of the fight push them into bed. But tonight it was about more than that. They healed each other through sex, and tonight it was his turn. Putting a hand on his elbow, she tilted her head again, asking a completely different question.

The look he gave her was an act of desperation, begging her to not leave him alone again. The gentle touch she had given him in his office had been almost too much to bear and he wondered for the millionth time how she could make love to him just by touching his arm or linking their fingers. And she just nodded, adding the pressure to his elbow, before she stepped away just enough, the signal clear, and he knew she would meet him at his apartment.

Stealing away was easier said than done, and it was a long time before she slipped out to the car, nodding to the driver as she climbed in back. She hadn’t driven herself since the other night, since she’d completely broken down, and a big part of her didn’t care to risk it. Her hands still shook whenever she even thought about the possibility of seeing Naji again. So she sat in the back of the car, staring out the window, watching the lights of the city fly by.

And when they pulled up in front of the familiar building, she told the driver not to worry about her, that she’d be fine, and knew also that her service detail would be nearby, whether she ordered them away or not. Thanking God for their discretion, she made her way up the stairs and let herself into the house.

She could see the bottle of scotch, and the two glasses, and knew that neither had been touched. The cigars sat in their box, the lighter on top, and her preferred brand of clove cigarettes next to them. The only light in the room came from the light blue glow of the muted television – CSPAN-2 tonight. Still in his suit, he seemed to just have appeared there, frozen, a scene she’d seen over and over for the past seven years. And she didn’t need to speak his name, he just looked up at her as she locked the door behind her and watched as she removed her wrap and came to sit next to him on the couch.

“What did you tell Tommy?” His voice caught a bit on the name.

“Nothing. I didn’t need to say anything, he’s on a plane, remember? Toby, I …”

“You like him. I know you do.” He gave himself the Toby-laugh and then looked up at the ceiling. “And what’s not to like. He’s rich and he’s handsome and he’s a member of the President’s cabinet and spends his time flying back and forth between DC and wherever and he’s going to be running the DNC next year.”

“I don’t have the time for it to really work. And neither does he.” She shook her head, “And why are we talking about this?”

“Because it’s what I want to talk about.” He looked at her and reached out, touching the bracelet on her wrist. “It’s easier than anything else right now.”

Slowly, she pulled her wrist away, but took his hand in her own and turned it, palm up, and traced his lifeline. “You’re going to live forever.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He shook his head, but didn’t pull his hand away. “So what happened? Other than us screwing up the other night.”

“He doesn’t know. And he’s not going to know. And I don’t know where he and I are on anything, Toby. Okay?” After a minute she reached for the pack of cigarettes, “We should have just gotten sloshed.”

“I want to know how the word “Gotten” became a part of the American vocabulary. We should have just got sloshed is actually better. Or let ourselves get sloshed. Or –“

“You sure you aren’t right now?”

“CJ, if I were, that dress would be on the floor right now.” He looked at her, his eyes painfully serious. “But I figured since I was reasonably sober when I left that hell-party that I should continue to be sober.”

“Yeah …” she whispered, lighting the cigarette and breathing in the slightly stale clove-scented tobacco. She only smoked with him, and he kept her cigarettes in the freezer, waiting for her to need them. The smoke gave her something to focus on and she did for a long time, waiting for him to speak again. “How come we only make love when we’re drunk?”

“We only fuck when we’re drunk. When we’re sober we make love. We were sober the other night.” He watched her inhale the deadly smoke, trapping it in her body and then slowly let it back out into the air. “And until the other night, it had been a long time since either of those occurrences. Anyway, you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“A sort of boyfriend.” She sighed again and took another long drag on the cigarette. “Were you really going to leave? Really?” She turned to look at him, eyes slightly wild with terror.

“I would have if Josh had asked the first time around. I would have.” He knew his honesty hurt her, but he never afforded her anything less. “Leo said something tonight …”

“It’s our Party now.” She reached over, ashing the cigarette into the ashtray nearby. “Yeah. I know. He told me that when I took over his job.”

“You’re better at his job than you realize.”

“I’m filler for Josh.” She sighed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not good at it.”

“Or that you weren’t the right choice.” He looked at her, “You aren’t finished in politics, CJ. You’re the White House Chief of Staff, and more than that, you’ve got something to say.”

“Why are we talking about me again?”

“Because it’s easier.” He touched her hand again, sending shock waves through them. A simple touch was all it took – having her legs wrapped around him was just extra. It was this he loved, this he craved. This simple touch. “When’s the book going to get published?” He knew that she knew, that she’d fleshed it out. Or had Margaret do it. No, she couldn’t just have one personal crisis hanging over her head, she needed multiple ones, and this book was bothering her more than she wanted to admit.

She laughed, humorlessly. “Around the same time Naji gets let back into the country, the President has another attack, and the New York Post gets pictures of you and me through my bedroom window.” She looked at him, “It’s done and ready, they’re just waiting for the best bullet.”

“They know the DNC wants you on a ballot …”

“They’ll wait, and the right will pull it out and before you know it I’ll be the next whore for the RNC.”

“You should talk to Sydney.” He didn’t let go of her wrist, but took her hand this time, and traced the lifeline he felt more than saw there. How amazing that it was so closely tied to his. “And don’t ever use that word in relation to yourself again.” His eyes narrowed and he stared her down, through her, “We made mistakes, mistakes that hurt everyone, most notably – ourselves. CJ, that doesn’t make you a whore. You didn’t get your job because you know how to blow me better than anyone I’ve ever been with. You got this job because you can charm the press better than anyone I’ve ever been witness to and because on top of that, you have a natural instinct for policy!” He couldn’t control his rising temper, “Don’t even think I didn’t know that bringing you on meant someone else good at the actual shaping of the issues! Don’t think Leo didn’t think something like this out before he said yes to you. You’re good, CJ. And your career reputation has always preceded you. Don’t ever use that word to describe yourself again.” He dropped her hand, but kept his eyes on hers. “I should have asked you to marry me.” He said, his voice almost defiant of the look in her eyes.

“I still would have said no.” She choked out, reaching for another cigarette and wishing he’d just pour the damned scotch. She no longer wanted to be sober for this, and the champagne was wearing off.

“You were pregnant.”

“You didn’t know. I didn’t know. And if you’d asked me or not, I still would have lost the baby. Toby, it wasn’t right then and it’s not right to even be discussing it now.” The smoke gave her something to focus on, but she kept coming back to his eyes. “Toby, don’t start walking back all the mistakes we made just because you’re terrified that you’re no better than your brother.” She knew he hated her for the honesty, but she couldn’t afford him any less. Not while sitting here, knowing where tonight would lead, and thinking back to the other man in her life.

“That’s not fair, CJ.” The hurt seeped into his words, and he just stared at the bottle of scotch, still not opening it.

“Probably not, but it’s on your mind.”

“And we should discuss it. We’ve never discussed it.”

“So what.” She could feel her defensiveness rising and the fifteen year old ache seeping back into her body. “Toby, it’s not something I like talking about.”

“I don’t like thinking about it either,” he said, softly, “because you walking out on me changed everything.”

“And it changed it for the better! Toby, we wouldn’t be sitting here if we’d managed to get married … and …”

He grabbed for her hand, “I know,” he managed to get out, before her diatribe could begin, “but I’m Jewish, allow me the guilt I’m feeling right now.” CJ almost laughed in response. Almost. Again he traced her lifeline, looking at her palm for a long time. “I used to do this, you know.”

“I know.” She smiled at him, blowing out another puff of the smoke. “I’d pretend to be asleep because I loved the feel of your fingers on me like that.” She could feel the smile in Toby, just through the change of the touch of his fingers. “It was one of the things I missed the most …” she sighed and shook her head. “Toby, come on, do we really need to sit here like this?”

“Yes.” He looked at her softly. “Yes. We do.” Gathering her close into his arms, he smiled when her head found his shoulders and her hand came to rest over his heart. And he opened his mouth and started talking.