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.

A/N 2: I never ever put a note like this in my stories, but since some people are sensitive to it – a lot of the chapters from this point on deal with some things that happened to CJ while she was in Qumar. And there’s nothing graphic, but there are mentions of sexual and physical assault. So, just fair warning to people.

The Rape and Incest National Network www.rainn.org

Excerpts from: Mrs. Dalloway; 1925; Virginia Woolf

Chapter 9: The Months Prior

Dragging … pulling … she could hear her heart pounding and her breath ringing in her ears as the sand storm enveloped her, suffocating her … something held her down, pinning her, thrusting into her and she screamed but the sandstorm only raged louder and she couldn’t open her eyes and her screams were swallowed up by the wind and the sand and the man above her …

“Let me go! Please! God, let me go!” Slice. Slice. Her veil. Her blouse. Her skirt. “Please, I’ll do what you want, please. Please, Naji, let me go.” Slice. Her bra. Slice. Her skin.

The sandstorm raged louder.

“No!” Thrust. “God, please, no.” Thrust. “Ow! God, no, you’re hurting me! You’re …” Slap. Slice. Thrust.

Thud.

Thud.

She all but fell out of bed. The clock read five o’clock, she’d been asleep for only three hours, and all three of those hours she’d spent reliving the most painful five hours of her life. She stumbled to the mirror and stared at her reflection.

It had been five nights since she and Toby had made love. The last time had been fun, rough and tumble, and he’d left beard burns up and down her body. The irritation had faded, but today the skin felt tender, and the long faded scars on her body seemed raised and red. Before even jumping into the shower to scrub away the feel of Naji’s body ripping her own in two, she reached for the lotion, rubbing the Shea Butter (enhanced with vitamin e) into her stomach and neck and forehead. Before climbing under the scalding hot stream of water, she went to her closet, searching for the outfit she’d bought two weeks ago when she went shopping with Hogan. Before climbing into the steam that would sweat Naji’s smell from her pores, she sprayed the room with her perfume and made her bed with fresh sheets, and, as an after thought, pulled a pair of silk scarves from the small drawer by her side of the bed. She laid them on Toby’s pillow, and vowed, as she walked back into the bathroom, that they would come back here together tonight.

“Good god, you look amazing.”

Toby stared at her, visibly drooling. It was a night off, a night away from the rigors of the campaign trail, a night to enjoy each other as friends. So they were all going to the hotel bar and drinking and talking about the campaign, but it didn’t stop CJ from putting on a short skirt and a tight tank top, and her sexiest heels. Her plan was to tease Toby all night long and make it so that he could barely get up from the table, and when they got back here he was going to tie her up and make her scream. She’d even leave her heels and bra on for him.

He closed their room door behind him and even put the chain on, as a precaution. It wouldn’t take long to take her before they went down to the bar, he could fuck her with her skirt on and up around her waist. He wanted to bet she was in that black lace thong – he could push it aside. But the local paper that was sprawled across their bed stopped his advance on her. Local woman found dead, beaten to death by her boyfriend. “Baby?”

She fixed her lipstick and looked at him. “Ready to go down there? Or,” she looked at his crotch, “want me down on my knees first?”

He sighed, wanting her down on her knees, but instead he just put his hands on her waist. “It’s my second favorite position of yours, CJ, but …you okay?” There was something about this skirt, and he wasn’t sure what it was.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Her voice was shaking.

He remembered.

“Because you haven’t worn that skirt since 1993 and when you did, it was a night that I took you out on the town. That same night, there was a –“

“Shut up.” Her hands found their way to his waist. “Just …”

“Let me watch you take that skirt off and watch you put on a pair of jeans. That way I won’t give us up by killing Danny Concannon or Josh when I catch them staring at your legs. Let me watch you so that you’ll be able to hold onto your trust of men for a few more hours. And then when we get back here, I’ll do whatever you need me to do.” He knew that it would involve tying her hands above her head and forcing her to trust him to not hurt her.

“Toby …” She ignored him and instead pulled him back against her, silently demanding that he take her now. Her hands massaged him through his pants, “please …”

“Shhh.” He kissed her tenderly. “Shhh. I’m right here.” And his hands were on her thighs and he did push the skirt up around her waist. It was the black thong and he pushed it to the side while she unzipped him. The others waited downstairs for them as he held her hands behind her with one strong hand and pushed up into her, holding her hips still with the other. It was hard and it was fast and he knew that she didn’t come, but that she didn’t need to. And while she changed into a pair of baggy jeans, he tossed the newspaper into the trashcan.

“What’s first on the agenda?” CJ took the coffee from Margaret, grateful for the jolt of caffeine. The nightmare still lingered, the edges of the dream clinging to her like the morning fog that had followed her across town this morning after she rolled the top of the mustang down in a pitiful effort to keep the breakdown at bay.

“The Secretary of State wanted five minutes to talk about the situation with Qumar.”

“There’s a situation with Qumar?” CJ put the coffee down on her desk and shrugged out of the black leather jacket she’d pulled on this morning. The new outfit – the black pants, the black silk camisole, the red blouse, the killer stiletto’s, and the black leather jacket – gave her a false boost of confidence; the boost of confidence she would need to get through the day.

Margaret took the jacket and hung it up, still talking, “Apparently. He didn’t go into details, but I think it’s about the new Attaché.”

“Oh yeah.” CJ sighed. “Him. I’d been glad they were dragging their feet on things. Qumar can take as long as it wants to get official representation over here.”

At times, Margaret loved CJ. Especially now. She was constantly tired, the baby dragging on her last energy reserves, and the sarcasm from her boss helped to get her through the day. “I’d be dragged off in chains, I gather.”

CJ snickered a bit. “How are you feeling?” It was harder than she wanted to admit, seeing Margaret blooming the way she was, but she was also glad to see Margaret happy. All she hoped was that Daddy wasn’t leaving her completely alone.

“Fine. Tired.” She smiled and then got back to business. “Anyway, the Secretary will be here at seven-thirty, and then you have senior staff at eight thirty.”

“What time is Toby’s first briefing?” She moved back behind her desk, looking through the files Margaret had organized that morning. A few Eyes Only files, the position paper that she needed to now rewrite, a memo from the Secretary of Defense, and the president’s updated schedule.

“Nine.”

“Move senior staff to eight fifteen, I’ll need a few extra minutes with them after I get done with the Secretary. Close my door from two to three so that I can finish this paper, and get me the updated copy of the budget and the Legacy paper. Find me time alone with Leo this afternoon, preferably before dinner, no, make that over dinner. And when am I meeting with the counsel’s office?”

“Five-thirty.” Margaret couldn’t help but grin. “Think we’ve broken any laws this week?”

“Yes, but I don’t think we’ll get caught.” CJ almost smiled. “And find out if Toby’s here yet. If he is, see if he can get up here before the Secretary.”

“Okay. You have the president at nine-fifteen, and you also have Greg Brock at noon.”

“Lunch, right?”

“Yeah. What’s that about?”

“Nothing. Just lunch. Let’s have it here, get in touch with him. Actually,” CJ sighed and sank into her chair. “Move it to Friday, will you?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Margaret.”

The door closed, and despite herself, CJ jumped and almost spilled her coffee everywhere.

Thud.

"Me, what, hmm?" He grinned. "And it's a good idea and you can't tell me that you aren't intrigued by the idea. Come on, you're the first female chief of staff ever; the first female press secretary. It's a perfect biography."

"Ugh..."

"Don't 'ugh' me. I mean, look at the hit the article was."

"You're going to win a Pulitzer for that Women in Washington series, you know."

"And I have you to thank for it. So, let me win some other awards by writing a biography." He stole another french fry. "I even promise to paint your sexual exploits in a positive manner."

"And how the hell do you propose to do that?" She reached across to steal a potato chip.

"I’m not sure yet, but I'll figure something out. Tell me, are you as good in bed as the rumors say?"

"You'll have to sleep with me to find that out."

Greg cracked up. "Well, there are some...”

"Don't you DARE print anything about Danny." She quickly clamped her mouth shut before she ended up revealing too much about what exactly had happened between her and the Washington Post reporter. But then she remembered this was Greg, Danny’s best friend, and she knew that Greg knew full well what had happened. And why Danny had left.

"Ahh, so you've given me permission?" He chuckled and stole another french fry.

"I'll ... I'll think about it, okay? Now, go away. I have a meeting with someone who doesn’t like you very much."

Smiling, Greg rose to his feet and rescued the rest of his chips from CJ's sneaking fingers. "Tell Toby hi for me."

"I will." She smiled.

Greg chuckled and headed out of the office. As he came out into what he'd come to call Margaret's reception area, he nodded to Toby, who was just coming in. The two men regarded each other carefully - until finally Toby spoke.

"It was a good series, Greg. Uh," he looked down, "thank you for treating her with such respect."

"She deserves nothing less, Toby." He moved carefully past the Communications Director. "I'll see you in the room."

"Yeah." Toby sighed and walked in. There were other issues to deal with right now.

“So,” CJ handed out the first of the new week’s assignments, mostly to her deputy, “on the table right now, we have the meeting with OPEC, Cliff I want you in on that and then you report back to me; the meeting with the new delegates – Toby you take that and please, for the love of God, be nice to them.” She eyed Toby with a careful eye, letting him know in a quick glance that all the sex he’d been getting since that night at the fundraiser would vanish if he happened to insult anyone. Before she handed over the file, something caught her eye, and she frowned. “So, the Qumari delegation is still dragging their feet on getting Mr. Al-Anan over here?”

“Seems like it,” Cliff rolled his eyes. “They’re now grumbling about it being an Attaché position rather than a full Ambassadorship.”

“They can gain full Ambassador rights back when they stop trying to blow up US Military targets.” She made a note on her own legal pad and then handed the file to Toby. “I’ll get in touch with Qumar myself, they probably want to weigh in on the oil prices too.”

“But with everyone else, I’m supposed to go to the reception and smile and not piss anyone else off?” Toby looked carefully at CJ, as if judging whether or not he could live without those legs wrapped around him. The pain of the reception might just outweigh the joy of listening to her call his name.

“Okay,” CJ sighed and leaned back, “what about the journalists who are trapped in Kabul right now?”

“It’s an issue of credentials.”

“Do we have the names yet? And why they don’t have the proper paperwork?”

“No names, but State doesn’t have anyone on their records who went without the proper paperwork.” Toby looked at CJ, knowing how she felt about reporters. “We have to get them out of there though. I’m sure Will Sawyer is one of them.”

“Of course he would be.” She sighed and ran through a list of ways to kill her ex-boyfriend. Maybe she’d get all of the reporters except him out of the country. “I’ll get on the phone.” She paused. “Margaret!”

The secretary poked her head in the door, “Yes?”

“Get me the Secretary of State. Here, in my office. I want to talk with him about the situation with the reporters in Kabul.” Margaret nodded and darted off to do her boss’ bidding. In the year she’d had this job, CJ had come to understand fully that it was Margaret who ran the country. “Is there anything else?”

Cliff and Toby exchanged glances; CJ wasn’t as in the loop of news stories as she’d been when she was in the communications department, and Cliff was new but even he had come to quickly understand how CJ felt about women being oppressed in the Middle East. “There’s one more thing,” Toby made the choice to fall on the sword. He knew that the White House would have to ignore this, but he also knew that he would be the one to have to face CJ’s fury when things were done for the day. “A woman has been stoned to death …”

She closed her eyes, and her pencil snapped in her hand.

"CJ?"

She looked up from her briefing book, scouring the wreckage of today for any kind of good nugget that she could bring home with her. So far, nothing. All of the transcripts talked about the same thing - and she was tired of dealing with pain and death and destruction. No, she thought, closing the book as she looked up at her assistant, tonight is devoted to me, a bottle of red, a pizza from that late night place on Ohio, and a trashy, trashy novel. Tonight wasn’t going to be about the country falling apart. Hell, maybe if she got home in time she could catch the rerun of the Daily Show. On occasion it was good to watch Jon Stewart make fun of her. And today, he'd have plenty of fodder.

"What is it, Carol?"

Her assistant held up CJ's personal cell phone. It had been one of those days when Carol held onto every possible way that people could get in touch with her boss. "Anisah is on the line for you. I didn't screen it because well, it's her."

Chuckling, CJ held out her hand for her phone. "Thanks, Carol. You've been a lifesaver today. Now, go home and kiss that boyfriend of yours."

"Yes, Ma'am." Carol laughed and scooted out of the office before CJ could change her mind.

"Ani, what's up?" She leaned back in her chair and ran a hand through her hair. Tonight might also be a night for a long, hot bubble bath. Yes, that and a trashy novel. It had been a while since she'd indulged in any kind of one-handed reading.

"CJ...” Anisah coughed, hiccupping through the tears that streamed down her face.

"Oh, God. Ani, what is it? Is Abdul all right?" Abdul had left two months ago for Qumar.

"He just called ... CJ...” She took a deep breath, "CJ, Hanan is dead."

"What?" She felt the blood drain from her body. She looked up, finding the picture she had of the three of them from the last trip to Qumar, had it been only five years ago? Hanan's first son had been born, and they all went to celebrate. Even her husband, a man CJ had never liked or trusted had been open and hospitable. "How?" Her only thought was that she'd died in childbirth.

"CJ, I never told you why Abdul went to Qumar. He went because he wanted to get Hanan out of there. Her husband beats her, and he ... because of Qumari law, he's allowed to do whatever he wants and Abdul has wanted her out of there since she married Raniq and since he's her cousin, he has some rights. But ... when he tried to get her out the other night, Raniq caught them and ... “ the tears choked her again. "CJ they stoned her to death. They accused her of adultery and it was Raniq's word against hers and they took her out in the square and they stoned her to death!"

She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. And breathing became difficult.

"CJ, I'm sorry ... but it just happened and I....”

"No ... Ani..." she choked out. "I ... I'm glad you...” Her hands were shaking.

CJ jumped, realizing that somehow she had finished the meeting and moved onto the next item on her list, the mess regarding the new Qumari Attaché. It bothered her more than she wanted to admit, that Qumar was taking so long in bringing the guy over here, and that she had already spent weeks on this issue. What the hell did they really want? Today alone, she had spent the better part of the morning on the phone with the Qumar State Department, the Qumari Embassy, and even the King of Jordan, and no one would give her a straight answer as to what was really going on. They claimed it was oil prices, but the sixth sense she had developed over the past year told her that it was something big, something potentially embarrassing to the United States. Part of her thought about retaliation, delaying the process even more, calling up INS and telling them that there was a suspicion of Heroine on Naji’s plane. But, at least according to the latest news, Naji would be here in a couple of weeks, and she had until then to figure everything out. When she started working in this building almost eight years ago, she’d never expected that so many of her days would be spent acting more like Agatha Christie and Jack Ryan. So, she opened the letter from the Qumari Government, reading through the translated words, and sighing.

Yes, the US wanted to lower prices on the oil they bought from Qumar. Of course they wanted to. Summer was fast approaching and during the summer people traveled and when people traveled they were more likely to travel further if they weren’t paying 3 bucks a gallon for gas. So far Saudi Arabia and Kuwait had agreed to the deal and OPEC loved it, but Qumar was dragging its feet.

“Margaret!”

The tired redhead popped her head back into the office. “Yes?”

“Do me a favor. Call back over to the Qumari Embassy. Clarify with them that when Mr. Al-Anan arrives, he doesn’t see anyone but me until I’ve talked with him. And he goes no where near the President until he’s officially welcomed.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Margaret noticed the change in her boss’ tone and worried at it. Something was eating at CJ, and something that only could be in relation to the situation with Qumar. She knew things in the Middle East were personal with CJ, Carol had let a few things slip over the years, but Margaret still worried that CJ’s personal feelings would upset tender negotiations. “And when you’re ready, Greg Brock is here to see you.”

“It’s that time already?”

“Yes.” Margaret frowned. Over the past couple of months, Greg had found his way onto CJ’s schedule as often as once or twice a day. The meetings were short, but secretive, and it was starting to nag at the assistant. Whenever she asked, CJ just said that it was nothing she needed to know about. But, she needed to know everything. It was important to let the assistants know things. It was the assistant’s jobs to protect their bosses and Margaret couldn’t protect CJ if she didn’t know what was going on. But then again, she told herself, if anything was actually going on, CJ would tell her. Right?

CJ chuckled. “Okay, give me ten minutes to finish reading over this and then send him in.”

“Sure.” Margaret nodded and slipped out, going to order dinner for the two of them and also to relay the news to Greg about the delay.

“Well, you’re all good to go, CJ. Just take it easy and get back into the swing of things. You’ll be over this in no time. And I wouldn’t try to press charges. Remember, here, a woman doesn’t have that right and by Qumari law, they have the right to try and punish you.”

“But I … I didn’t …”

“Doesn’t matter, Little Lady. Just get back on with your life.”

She touched at her scar and sighed. Women were dying, reporters were being held for no reason – at least one of whom she still cared very much for – and instead of debating human rights with the Middle East, she was debating oil prices. What the hell was she doing anyway?

"CJ?" She jumped and looked up, shoving the letter back into her desk. What was she supposed to be doing now? "Yeah, Margaret?" "Greg Brock is here."

CJ frowned. “It’s early for him. Okay.” She waited until Margaret had closed the door behind the reporter to get up and greet him. "That's your business face, Greg."

He looked like he wanted to laugh, but instead he just took her hands in his, bringing them up to his lips. "CJ..." his voice was soft, his eyes full of worried compassion. "I'm coming to you out of professional courtesy and because I care about you too much to watch you take a bad left hook."

"What is it, Greg?" She tugged her hands away.

"I have it from Arab News that --"

A million things rushed through her mind, but somehow she knew what he was going to say, and the very thought sickened her.

"They’re saying that the reason it’s taking so long for Naji Al-Anan to take his place at the Embassy is that you are holding up his appointment with red tape. You’re holding up his appointment because of an affair you had back in college that ended badly so this is personal. CJ, I have it, the Post has it, and it won't take long for the news magazines to pick it up and turn it into something worse than it already is."

She sank into her chair, trembling. "Greg, I...”

In an instant he was at her side, "I want your permission to write the counter story. Give me the exclusive. CJ, I know what happened; I know what he did to you. CJ, I was there, I ... let me write what really happened."

She looked at her old classmate and shook her head. "What are you going to write, Greg? I mean, come on ... the last thing I need is to paint a picture of me as a victim." She took a deep breath. “And anyway, it’s a lie. It’s a flat out lie. They’re the ones dragging their feet and it’s all over oil prices and the fact that we’re calling him an Attaché and not an Ambassador!”

"I know that, but they’re still painting you as …” he sighed and looked into her blue eyes, “You aren't a victim, Ceej. You're a survivor. You made it through and look where surviving took you. How many young women out there need something like this to show them that even though it's not okay, you can still move on."

"I'm not going to have what he did to me --"

"You would rather they call you a whore?" he looked at her. "You've already got enough going on with that stupid ass book that’s about to hit the shelves. Don't add this to a list of --"

"Greg!"

"CJ! Think, for just a minute, like the White House Press Secretary. What would you tell yourself to do?" He sighed, his heart breaking as he watched the emotions cross her face. CJ reached up to touch the scar on her forehead and Greg was back there with her and Anisah and the rest of their class as they watched CJ limp onto the plane, her head held high.

“CJ?” Greg tried to move closer to her on the plane, but when he sat next to her she pulled back and Anisah shook her head. CJ hadn’t spoken to anyone, and the only person at all she let near her was Ani. But even that connection was dim. Greg just stared at this girl he’d played strip poker with, the girl who had danced the dance of the seven veils at the last all nighter they’d had before coming here, and he realized that that girl was never, ever coming back.

"Greg, it --"

"It's an election year, Ceej. Any other time this would be two news cycles, tops, and those of us in the news world would get to move onto real news. None of us give a shit what Arab news is saying. At least, the legitimate ones don't care. But, this gives the conservatives a chance to paint a picture - they don't have a reason to take down the White House. The President's numbers are the highest they've been in years; things are running smoothly, so they find a scandal. Anything to make the Dems look even more divided than you already are. And here's the perfect shot. There's this book coming out that paints you as the queen of the political casting couch, add to it Arab news is talking about an affair that you had with Naji Al-Anan and that because he broke it off, you have used that to make your case for your political hatred of the Middle East. More than Fox and the Washington Times will pick it up and before you know it, your sex life will again be out there for everyone. And people will start digging. It's an election year and if the Republicans can't win on the issues, and they can't, they'll try to win on scandal."

Choking on her tears, CJ tuned her head, not wanting to hear it. "I can't, Greg. I can't put what I went through out there for the American people to see. I can't."

"Make it something positive, CJ. I mean, you can...”

She snorted, "I can make this an issue for the campaign. Suddenly violence against women is at the forefront and every Democrat who wants to be nominated in a few months has to talk about it. It brings women's issues to the forefront in the Middle East. Greg, don't you think I haven't thought about this every day for the past eight years?! I can't, Greg. I can't. He tortured me! It was a game for him! I was a game! And now he's strutting around, letting the world think that I seduced him and ... I'm not going to put myself through this again. I can't!"

"CJ,” Greg took his old friend's hands again and made her look at him. She flinched, at first, from the touch but then softened. "CJ, Sweetie, listen to me. You have to say something. You have to. And this is your chance to be vindicated. You and every other woman who lives every day thinking that they aren't good enough because a jackass of a man had to show how much more important he wasn't. This is it, CJ. Let me do the story. We'll get RAINN in on it, and make this about survival, not victimization. And we'll do it on your time. CJ, I can't watch them trash you like this anymore. Please."

She took a deep breath and looked at him. "I need to discuss it with the communications director."

"Yeah." Greg gave her a gentle smile. "I'll see you later, okay."

"I'll call you." She tried to return the smile, and failed.

"Danny says hi, by the way. He wanted to call you when the story broke, but...”

She shook her head. "Yeah. Tell him hi for me too." For a long minute after Greg left, she stared at her desk, seeing only blood and tears before her eyes. "Margaret!"

The younger redhead poked her head into the office, "Yes?"

"Bring Toby and Cliff in here. And tell Debbie I need to see the President as soon as he's back from lunch."

"What's going on?"

CJ looked at Margaret and realized just how much all of this was going to affect her too. "Sit down a sec, will ya? And close the door." Margaret did just that and waited, patiently, for her boss to start talking. "I never really thanked you for getting this book before it hit the printers. It lets me know what to expect ... but there's something else that is about to break, and it's about me, and I need to tell you the truth because I guarantee that what you hear on the news isn't going to be it." Margaret blinked a few times, feeling the rush of butterflies in her stomach.

“Toby?”

He looked up and actually smiled at his assistant, “Yeah, Ginger?” He wasn’t really working right now, he was admittedly writing bad love poetry that CJ would never see.

“That was CJ’s office. She needs to see you, pronto. Oh, and Carol sent over the latest round of wire reports. She highlighted something about Qumar, but I didn’t read it.”

“Thanks.” Standing up, he took the reports from Ginger as he headed down to CJ’s office. The highlighted story made him stop in his tracks and he could only thank God for Carol’s knowledge of what would matter in the world of news. Oh, God. Oh sweet God. He didn’t want to have to be the one to tell CJ this; part of him hoped she already knew and that was why the impromptu meeting, but if she already knew then again he had failed to protect her from this bastard.

He groaned inwardly to himself as he walked down the hall to her office. She was going to die, absolutely die. He didn't know the details about the arms packages and deals with the Middle East, as a rule he tried not to pay too much attention. The politics of the Middle East tended to anger him as much as they did CJ, and for a lot of the same reasons.

From the hallway, he could hear the laughter of her daily meeting with deputies and staff assistants. Any one of these people would most likely see a microphone today, and they had to have responses to quotes made from both opposition and allies. Sometimes it was harder to respond to the allies. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. He leaned in the doorway, watching her lean over Carol to stab a piece of cheese, and couldn't help but look at those perfect legs. But hitting on her wasn't going to get either one of them out of this situation.

"What's next?"

She sounded tired. She'd been tired for weeks, and he knew that she hadn't been sleeping. This was only going to add to that.

"We'll need a response to Kendall's charge in the Weekly Standard."

She sighed. God almighty. "What did he say?" And was it anything of importance?

Ed tried to hide the snicker as he quoted, "Our education reauthorization package has more pork than a pig-pickin' festival."

"A pig pickin'-festival." American kids needed an education, and he was blocking it. Go figure. "More and more I'm in favor of English being the national language." What the HELL kind of language was "pig-pickin"?

Larry was laughing as well, and hating the Chairman as much as she was. "It's worth knowing that Kendall is pushing for four new charter schools in his district. One of which is...”

"Named after him?" Oh the day couldn't get any better.

"Yes."

"Thank you, Santa. How about...”

Toby interjected. He had to. Maybe if he could start the ball rolling slowly, slam her with it, and then make his quick escape, he could get away with not having to look too deeply into her eyes while he went ahead and broke her heart. "How about 'it's pretty hard to get at all the pork when the Chairman is hogging the trough.'" Good, she laughed.

"What else?"

Time to plunge. "You better be briefed on the arms sale to Qumar because the Pentagon leaked it."

"Qumar?" She wasn't sure she'd heard him right.

"Yeah."

She still wasn't sure she'd heard him right. "In the gulf?"

Larry's "Is there another one?" Jarred her back to reality and she stared blankly up at Toby. What had he just told her?

"No. We lease an airbase in Qumar. It's a ten-year lease and it's up and they won't renew without an arms package. You writing this down?" Looking up at him in absolute disbelief, CJ stared at the man who was technically her boss. "No. When did we make an arms deal with Qumar?"

"I really don't know." He tilted his head at her, begging her to not start now. He knew she was hurting. He knew it wasn't only what had happened to her there, but that she felt Hanan's blood on her hands. But they couldn't bring that here. This was national defense, and the department of state wanted the airbase there. "What does it matter?"

"What does it matter?!" Did he just say that to her? Really and truly? Did he just tell her that it didn't matter that the United States was selling guns to rapists and killers?

"Yeah." CJ, please don't look at me like that.

Their eyes met as he came into the office, and he suddenly didn’t care that Cliff was sitting there, looking confused. God, CJ, please, don’t look at me like that. She knew and she had to tell them about this and do it without breaking down. And right now he didn’t care that Cliff was sitting there and he walked over and put his arms tightly around her. “It’s gonna be okay, CJ,” he whispered, rubbing her back gently. “I promise, it’s going to be okay.”

"What are we selling?"

"Don't start." Please, CJ, he begged silently. Don't start.

"What are we selling?" She took a deep breath.

"What are we selling?" He looked down at Tanya and wondered if he could hide behind the junior staffer.

Seemingly oblivious to her boss' anger, Tanya rattled off the list, "Fifteen AMRAMMS, 50 M1-A1 tank kits, ten F-15's, and Patriot Missiles for $1.5 billion and they renew the lease."

She felt the words as a blow to her stomach. Her head was hurting, her legs ached, and she could hear Hanan's screams for mercy in the back of her mind. It was as if her own government had killed a defenseless woman. "Don't start? What the he --" but she caught herself. She couldn't do this in front of her staff. But she'd remind Toby of exactly what she was feeling. Taking a breath, she looked at everyone, "Anything else?"

The staff chorused "no" - mostly to get out of there before the fireworks started.

"Thank you."

Toby ducked out ahead, his head bowed with guilt. He wouldn't be able to look at her right now, and it was probably best that way. But he heard CJ call out for Carol, and knew that he was in trouble. He kept walking, knowing that CJ would get him when she was good and ready.

"I can't believe that you're doing this." Tears choked his voice as he whispered to her, in between kissing his way across her naked back. His fingers traced her ribs, her spine, her hipbone.

"Toby, I have to. If I don’t...”

"Putting yourself out there ... CJ ... after what he did to you...”

"It's why Greg is the only reporter who can tell it. He was there, and I know he, for once, won't be objective." She rolled over, letting the sheet fall to the side. Toby took advantage of her skin and bent low, trailing his lips down her neck and to the valley between her small breasts. His beard tickled her skin, causing goose bumps all the way down to her toes.

"I want to be there with you. You shouldn't need to relive this alone."

"I relive it alone every day, Toby."

He looked up and cupped her cheek in his hand, "You don't need to. I'm right here with you. And every time you feel it, I feel it too."

"I know," the tears she'd been fighting all day rose up and this time she didn't try to fight them. "I know."

Toby had his arms around her in an instant, cradling her tightly against his body while he stroked her hair and tried to be reassuring. Feeling safe and secure in Toby's arms, CJ let the tears come, the sobs wracking her exhausted body. And Toby just stayed there, caressing and stroking, until she gave him back the trust he needed too, and again he moved over her, making tender love to her.

Dawn broke to find Toby alone in bed, and the smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. Through the haze of residual sleep and the sounds of NPR on the bedroom radio, CNN coming from the living room and Fox from the kitchen, he sorted his brain out enough to realize they were all talking about the Arab news report. That alone woke him up completely and he jumped out of bed, yanked his boxers and a t-shirt on, and hurried to the living room to find his girlfriend hunched over the counter in the kitchen, staring blankly into her coffee cup. On the television, a Fox pundit was ranting about the loose morals in the White House and that CJ Cregg was a perfect example of why women were a bad idea in politics.

Angrily, Toby slammed off the television and went to CJ, being careful to not touch her lest it rip her painfully from the flashback he knew she was experiencing. So he stood next to her, waiting until her breathing started to return to normal. Only when she looked at him, tears streaming down her face, did he move to take her into his arms.

"What’s doing, Claudia Jean?"

She almost laughed. Days like today she usually loved her job. The President was finally starting to respect her, and the world wasn't falling apart as much as it usually was. "Sir, I need to talk to you about something." The blow to the gut from the news programs early this morning still weighed heavily, and it was about to get worse. She wondered if he already knew – she hadn’t been able to talk with him at all about this yesterday, but his attitude told her that no, he didn’t know.

Hearing the sadness in his Chief of Staff's voice, Jed Bartlet's demeanor changed and he looked up at her, frowning. "CJ, what is it?" He moved to sit on one of the couches, motioning that she do the same.

"Sir..." CJ tucked her skirt tightly around her legs, finding that she wished she’d worn pants, and not realizing until this moment just how scared she was. Still trembling from Toby's silent fury and Cliff's stunned shock, she was still locked into the look of horror on her assistant's face. Margaret's tears had flowed freely, for just a second, before she nodded and reassured CJ that all would be taken care of. But nothing could shake the look in Margaret's eyes. "Arab News is reporting a story that is completely false and yet that we ... we have to not only comment on, but allow for a story."

The President blinked. "Why on Earth do we need to clarify a false story on Arab News?"

"Because it's about me, Sir." She choked again, feeling like she had twenty-five years ago when her father had picked her up at the airport in San Francisco.

"You?!" Jed sat up straighter, still looking carefully at CJ. She wasn't his Chief of Staff right now, but his daughter, and she was obviously scared about something.

"Sir, they are reporting an..." she literally choked on the word, "affair ... between Naji Al-Anan and myself. Fox news has already picked it up, the word is that because of my personal feelings toward him, the post has been held up."

"The posting is being held up because they’re complaining about how we’re defining his role here, about oil prices, everything. You’ve been remarkably silent over all of this … which actually surprises me. Why?" He tried to reach out and touch her hand, but when she flinched and pulled back, he started to put the pieces together. "CJ..." his voice dropped to a whisper.

"It was hardly an affair, Sir. I ... I spent a summer of my graduate years on a tour of the Middle East, working with women's affairs units and learning about the politics of the region. The session ended in Qumar, where I became friends with a young woman named Hanan. Hanan had an older brother who was quite charming...”

"Naji Al-Anan."

"Yes, Sir. On what was the beginning of our last week in Qumar, Naji came up to me ... we were at a coffee house with our chaperones but he managed to get me out alone with him ... I was...” she closed her eyes, again feeling the hand around her throat and the knife in her stomach. "He dragged me back to the dorms and attacked me, Sir. I ended up with a shattered ankle, two broken ribs," she rattled off the injuries with a robotic monotone, separating herself from the never ending pain, "five stab wounds to the stomach, cuts on my face and neck that required stitches, and enough scarring ... that...” she choked again and stared at the floor, the bald eagle looked up at her with vacant eyes.

"My god...” Jed tried again to lean forward and touch her, but when he got close enough, CJ pulled back, almost violently. "CJ. Why didn't you...”

"I hope you can respect, Sir, that I was trying to not have to go into detail about why I didn't want him to have the job. My issues with him are personal, not professional. His credentials are such that there is no reason that he shouldn't have this job."

"No, they aren't. Not if he is capable of something like this. CJ...”

"I'm sure that his staff leaked this so that there would be no way he could loose the posting. If we take away the job now, it will be because of the so-called affair. If we...” she choked and rubbed her forehead, doing her best to remain strong in front of her boss. "We have to comment. Sitting still makes this a tool for the conservatives and they can talk about loose morals in the White House. That is what the campaign will be about and we’ll loose in the biggest landslide in history."

"CJ ... how can we hope to comment when...” He could feel his blood pressure rising. The woman sitting across from him was no longer his Chief of Staff, but a frightened girl whose life had just been taken from her. How on Earth was he supposed to be diplomatic to this man? "Why can't we find a way to press charges or something...”

"It happened in Qumar, Sir. A woman has no rights there." When she looked at him, she was again locked behind the brick wall that no one could scale. And it was that look that made Jed realize just why she fought so hard for the women who couldn't fight for themselves. Every time a woman was raped or beaten, CJ felt it.

Jed Bartlet sighed and stood up, needing to pace since he couldn't kill something. He should have blown Qumar off the map when he had the chance. "What is your plan?"

"Greg Brock wants to do a story. He's an old friend of mine as it is ... he was actually on that tour with me and he'll be able to be delicate. I do the interview ... become the poster girl for the Violence Against Women act, and try to move on with my life. I'll get slammed for it; there will be a number of publications that will say I'm trying to make myself look like a victim in all of this. But there's no way the right will be able to play a viable morality card and not loose points with the women, and the story will fade."

"CJ..." he looked at her again. "Are you sure you can do this?" Every time he looked at her, he saw her standing, as she was, strong and confident, but this time, covered in bruises and wounds. He wondered why he'd never seen that strength in her before.

"No." She looked at him, "but I have to." Slowly, she rose to her feet, trying to control the trembling in her knees. And this time, when the President approached her, she let him enfold her into a strong hug, and for a very brief moment, she even let the tears well up in her eyes.

"I'll make a comment on the record," he whispered softly. "You aren't alone in this, CJ."

"Thank you, Sir." She stepped back, tried to smile, and slipped back into her office to call Greg.

Sighing, she looked at him, "I don't know how many more times we can get caught keeping a secret." Yes, she was still pissed over the MS thing and how many other secrets they'd been caught holding on to. Sometimes, it was more important to just let the people know, wasn't it? Wasn't that the best course of action?

Her eyes darted back and forth between the paper sitting on her desk and the file folder in her hands. Yet another secret, something else she needed to know everything about but could tell no one. This time the secret involved American reporters trying to tell the stories of the people in the Middle East, reporters whose lives were threatened.

Leo looked at her carefully, judging in his mind the millions of ways she'd grown since taking the Press Secretary position. She was cut out for better things, he knew, and now was maybe a time to actually teach her something. "Sometimes that's what we're supposed to do."

To his surprise, she stopped and nodded, accepting that. "All right." And CJ did accept it. It was, sometimes what they were supposed to do and it was her job to hold onto the knowledge and let the press know about it in a responsible manner. The Bartlet Administration didn't lie to the people.

"Thanks." He dismissed her, but somehow knew that she wasn't done yet. Whatever was eating at her was about to explode.

"Listen...” She turned back to him.

Here it came. "Yeah...”

"Not for nothing," she did her best to hold onto the tremor in her voice, "but three weeks ago a woman in Qumar was executed for adultery. She didn’t need a lawyer because there wasn't any trial. It was her husband's word against hers."

"Yeah." He'd heard about that; a lot of the women's groups had been pissed about the US not stepping in. But they hadn't had time to step in and say anything, and it was one more thing on the list of reasons for him to hate the country. But he couldn't take it personally, and CJ couldn't either. Even if, somehow, it was bothering her more than it should have.

"Later today I'm going to be announcing that we're selling them tanks and guns."

He just shrugged.

He just shrugged and she felt her whole world implode. First Toby had been so cold about it when he knew, when he shared her pain over this, and now Leo just shrugged it off. Take a breath, CJ, just keep on going. "Okay." She nodded and stormed out, remembering that in the White House she couldn't start beating people.

It was a front page story, above the fold, two beautiful shots of CJ, one from her days in college, another from the other day, her sitting at her desk, looking completely powerful and in control. The headline stared back at her, Rumors Abound Through a Painful Truth.

“Please, Naji, please … I won’t fight you, I’ll let you do what you want, just please, don’t hurt me anymore … please …”

She couldn’t read it, she wanted to, she knew that her entire staff and the President were reading it, but she couldn’t. She’d lived it, she continued to live it, and she didn’t need to know the rape statistics of women in the US versus women in the Middle East. It was hard enough to look herself in the mirror every day, knowing that her government sold weapons to people like this, that the government she helped to run furthered the economies of countries like this as they bought oil from them. She didn’t need to look at the picture of her right before Qumar, all smiling, back when she still believed in innocence.

He stared at the article, his eyes locked onto the headline, as if reading further would only confirm what he’d known for twenty years. He didn’t need to read about how Naji had forced her into that small dorm room and literally sliced her clothes from her body, he knew it already, he knew it every time he undressed her. He didn’t need to know that women even in the United States were still often encouraged to just move on with their lives and not press charges because it was always the woman’s word against the man’s, and the women were the ones taken out and left for dead in a court room. He didn’t need to relive his guilt for not being able to stop something he hadn’t been there for, he lived it every day, he’d lived it yesterday and this morning, and every day this week as CJ sobbed into his shoulder, begging in her own way for the talk shows to stop talking. He hadn’t been able to save her, and he still wasn’t able to save her. They were still selling weapons to Qumar and buying their oil, and he still hadn’t said anything when he’d had the chance, a long time ago. He’d stood there, silently, and told her to just knock it off and not to start and to just - as every other man had told her over the course of her time - to just get over it.

"Mr. Ramsey, I saw on your information you were in the 10th Armored Division."

He stood a little taller as he recited off, "Private First Class, Tenth Armored Division, Third Army, Second World War."

"You fought in the Battle of the Bulge, Sir." She stood a little taller too.

"Yes, I did. My unit broke through the German seventh army's buffer, which was critical in winning Bastogne. That was the moment we beat the Nazi's on the Western Front."

"That was a hell of a moment."

"I have a granddaughter like you, she's a chemist." They all moved to sit down, which made Toby even more uncomfortable. He knew CJ was up to something, but he wasn't sure what. All he knew was that it could only end badly for him.

"Can I ask you to imagine something?"

Here it comes.

"I suppose."

CJ looked at Toby out of the corner of her eye and saw him looking back. He was fuming, irritated that she was wasting his time. Back at you, asshole. "Imagine if you weren't as successful as you were. Imagine, say," she was glad for her knowledge of history in this moment, "that Hitler had taken Antwerp and we'd lost the Battle of the Bulge and Germany held the Western Front."

Barney shook his head. "It wouldn't have mattered. The Russians crushed them on the Eastern Front. They wouldn't have won the war."

"No, but even if the Russians had kicked them out of Poland, Hungary, and Bulgaria, they could have held onto France, maybe kept Italy. Certainly they could have defended Germany."

"Yeah...”

She geared up for this. Please, please Toby, don't derail me. "Now it's six decades later and while they didn't conquer Europe, the Nazi's exist as a recognized government in some small corner of the EU."

Ramsey shook his head, "Never would have happened."

For a minute, CJ was floored. "Really?"

"They killed a quarter of my unit. They killed a third of my classmates from Erasmus High School. We never would have allowed --"

"We did it in Cambodia," she shot back.

"CJ, knock it off." Toby's voice was low, signaling danger for her. She ignored it.

"You're protesting because you think the Smithsonian isn't paying proper respect to what you and the soldiers of the tenth armored, third army risked and lost your lives for six decades ago. How would you feel, in the hypothetical I just described, if I told you that at my press briefing at the end of the day, I was announcing that we were selling tanks, missiles, and fighter jets to the Nazi's?"

The older men looked stunned, wondering what in the hell she was talking about. Toby, for his part, stood up and glared at her. "Excuse me. Step outside." He waited until the door was shut behind them before trying to appeal to the tiny part of her that still loved him. "Look --” he didn't get very far.

"You know," her voice dripped with venom, "if I was living in Qumar I wouldn't be allowed to say 'shove it up your ass', Toby. But, since I'm not, shove it up your ass, Toby." She threw him a look and stormed down the hall, just trembling with rage. How dare he, how dare he not acknowledge this. And it wasn't even over what had happened to her, even though she felt it right now. Hanan was dead because she had tried to escape her abusive husband. Hanan was dead and her own administration was rewarding the people who killed her with tanks and guns. They were constantly in debate with China over human rights, there were sanctions on Cuba, and Qumar got tanks and guns. Women were dying and no one cared. No one.

He tossed the paper onto his couch and picked up the phone, punching a few buttons, and when Margaret answered, and patched him through, he said the only thing he could ever think of to say. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“Don’t ask me what I would have insisted on …” Toby sighed as he closed the door to his office, after telling Ginger to hold all the calls and cancel his four o’clock appointment. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t. David was dead, and these astronauts had a chance to come home and to come home safely and nothing was going to be done because some asshole said that national security was more important than three men’s lives. And how did they know that China and Russia and India didn’t already have this kind of technology already, or that they didn’t already know that the US had it. Security leaks usually only went to prove that everyone knew everything about each other already.

Maybe he could get Hutchinson to say something, maybe they could send the shuttle up, and maybe they wouldn’t have to kill off the Cosmonaut. Maybe he could appeal to the little bit of humanity that had to be left in the Secretary’s soul. Maybe.

Sitting down at his desk, he opened his lower desk drawer and pulled out the file. He'd found it a couple of weeks ago, when he'd gone up to help Sarah go through David's things. Stuffed back in the back of his personal file cabinet was a manila folder with a small piece of paper holding a few names and an acronym, a couple of grainy pictures of the inside of something, and a three paragraph memo, signed off by David and three other scientists that the experiments they’d done had proved in no way, harmful, to the test subjects. He couldn’t go to the press with this, it was too small. But maybe, just maybe, he could get Hutchinson to talk. Maybe he could figure something out. He couldn’t let this go on; he couldn’t let three innocent people die. He picked up his phone and dialed over to the National Security offices, he knew that Hutchinson would be around.

*** "CJ Cregg's office." Margaret now knew the true glories of caffeine. Between the restless nights of her pregnancy and her boss, there was no time left for sleep. At times she still considered walking away, with the money she was getting from Bruno she could afford to stay home for a while, but this was too important. The work she did here, it was more important than anything else in the world, she truly believed that.

"Is she there?"

Margaret had come to know Greg's voice. "Yeah, I'll connect you through." She was confused - Greg had written the story, he'd done the interview, what else did he need? It didn't look good for him to keep calling like this. CJ's affection for the press was the biggest downfall of this administration. After debating with herself for a minute, she listened in. She hated doing it, but she had to know everything.

"Hey...”

"You left your glasses at the table this morning. You want them?"

"Drop them by the office today. I have about thirty pairs here." She chuckled a bit. "Thanks for the pancakes, they were good. And Ella is just getting so big."

"Yeah, she is." Greg grinned. "You free for lunch tomorrow?"

"I'll find a way to be."

"Great. Kiss Toby for me."

"I'll kiss him, I just won't tell him it's from you."

"I don't think he'll mind the extra kiss."

"No, he won't." She laughed. "Thanks for the heads up."

Margaret blinked as she disconnected the lines, by now, Greg’s calling at odd and random hours was habit, she just wished she knew why he was doing it. But that train of thought was derailed as the staffer from Homeland Security came in with the files that CJ had requested. All Margaret knew about it was that she’d typed up two memos for CJ to sign, each with identical wording save the actual file number requested. Both were sealed. After a minute, she gathered her strength and headed into CJ’s office. It was going to be a long day, that much she already knew.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered after a while, still clinging to him, “I just …”

"What?" Toby cupped her chin in his hand and drew her lips to his in a brief kiss. "CJ, whatever you think you have to apologize for, don't. Please, just don't. I can't take it anymore. What is this?”

She shuddered. Only alone, with her, was he this gentle. He’d never hurt her, he’d never break that sacred trust they held so dear. He’d never violate her and then use it against her. “It’s stupid.” She started to move to get up, but her hand went right down into a pile of glass shards and she screamed, frightened by the sudden blood on her hands.

“Hey,” Toby whispered, standing them both back up. He took her into the bathroom and washed out her hand and gently bandaged it with the gauze he found in her medicine cabinet. For a minute his eye caught her case of birth control pills, and he wondered if she’d taken her pill already today. But CJ probably took them in the morning, and he didn’t want to mess with anything by even trying to ask her the basic questions right now. He needed to know what was wrong. So he bandaged up her hand, eased her out of her work clothes and into a nightgown, and moved her to the bed.

She let him move her, barely feeling the touch of his hands as he undressed her and put her to bed. She wanted to talk to him, to let him know, but every time she tried, her mouth remained closed and it was just her mind that screamed. She was going crazy. This thing, this whole thing with the story about the rape and the accusations of the affair and the crap with Qumar … she couldn’t take it. Her life, a life that she had tried so desperately to keep quiet, was now out there for everyone to see. Everyone now knew what she really was – weak and vulnerable.

Toby wanted to go call Anisah and have her talk him through this, but he just settled in the chair by the bed and held her hand. CJ stared at him with blank eyes, her breathing shallow, and he let her ride this out, knowing that soon something would break and she’d be his again and he could find out what had sparked this.

“The plane leaves Wednesday, Ceej … and we’ll be heading home.”

She stared, blankly, at what was left of her hands. “Home?”

“Yeah.” Anisah sighed. “Don’t be mad, but I called your father. I know, you aren’t talking to him right now, but he … CJ, you need him right now.”

“My father?” Blank blue eyes looked up and through Anisah. “Why?”

“Because he can get you a good therapist and be there for you. CJ, you’re going to need your family … your brothers … everyone.” Anisah put her hand on her best friend’s broken shoulder, a feather touch that still made CJ flinch. “CJ, you can’t just withdraw and repress this. You know that.”

“I’m not repressing …” her voice seemed bleak. “We leave Wednesday?”

“Yeah.”

“Wednesday.” Her voice was a whisper.

“What?” Toby linked their fingers, careful of her hurt hand. “Baby?”

“We leave …” she stopped and realized she was talking to Toby. The night came back at her in a rush and she sat up, jolting away. “God, Toby … I’m sorry.”

“What is Wednesday?” He asked.

She shivered and reached for him, desperate hands clawing at him, needing to get closer. His shirt tugged over his head and she ran her fingers through the hair on his chest, reassuring herself that it was Toby who was holding her. “I have a meeting …” her voice rasped.

“With who?”

“Him.”

The air in the room grew colder. Toby reached down and pulled the blanket that was folded at the end of the bed over both of them, and he held CJ even tighter. “Do you want me there?”

“Do you me to walk down with you?” Greg stepped up next to her, and almost put his hand on her back. It hovered a few inches away until CJ moved and faced him.

“No. I … Go on... I have to do this myself...”

“No. I can do it.” She closed her eyes and willed the room to stop spinning. “Toby …”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“I need to tell you something.”

“What?” He stoked her cheek and then moved his hand down her body, tracing her neck and the valley between her breasts before it came to settle on her abdomen. Her skin was warm tonight, glowing, and he worried she was starting to get sick.

“I never told you what happened that second time. When I saw him again.”

“He threw you down the stairs so hard that your body, already scarred and trying to rid yourself of the baby anyway, suffered a miscarriage.”

“What?” She looked at him, wanting to know how he knew.

Toby just shook his head, “He hurt you and he hurt you twice and if you don't think I know that it's his fault we lost our baby, then you haven't learned that I can read your mind just by reading your body language. It didn't take a doctor to figure out the bruises on your arms. And you may be klutzy, but even you don't fall over a small pebble. He pushed you and..." Toby pressed his forehead to hers. "But you're completely free of it now. Really, CJ, you are.”

"No, Toby," she whispered, still holding him as if her life depended on it. "You don't understand. I'm never free of it. I'm over it and have been since I met you, as over it as someone can be anyway. You made me safe and whole again. You made me able to love again, and let myself be touched again. You are everything that helped me get over what he did to me. But I'm never truly free of it. I can make love to someone, someone besides you even, and trust that they won't hurt me, but there will always, always be this part of me that is there, on that floor, feeling his thrusts over and over and screaming and knowing that no one can hear me. Toby, thousands upon thousands upon thousands of girls are over there right now, lying on a bed, feeling that thrust and being powerless to stop it. I got out, I got to go home. That is their home. We support a country that allows the rape of innocent girls. We support a country that treats women who are raped as adulteresses and then publicly stones them to death. As long as we support that government, I will never be free of it." She took a shaky breath. "Islam isn't what those monsters have made it in to. And until we rise up against them like we did against Germany, like the north did against the south, until we end this slavery, I will never be rid of it. Ever." And she didn't let go of him, and she never intended to. Ever.

“What?” CJ blinked and looked at Susan. “How … how is that possible?”

“It’s not common, but it …” Susan gave CJ a tired smile. “CJ, you’ve missed close to a week and a half of your pills. And I’m also guessing that you had missed quite a few over the past month, it’s been a stressful month. But, the blood tests show, conclusively, that you’re pregnant. And that’s something you have to face because your body is going to be looking to get rid of that baby. The scarring in your uterus is still there. Add your schedule to that, and the fact that you’re anemic …” she just shook her head. “You need to make a decision, and quickly, before this baby becomes even more of a health hazard.”

“You think …”

“It’s not my place to tell you what I think. It is my place to tell you that your health, and the health of your child is in jeopardy. You are almost forty-five, this is a second pregnancy after the first one ended in miscarriage and caused even more scarring than what was done to you during your rape. The chances are very possible that not only will this end with a miscarriage, but it will end causing you even more health problems. Frankly, I’m impressed that you even managed to conceive.”

“Well … Toby apparently has impressive sperm.” She closed her eyes for a minute. Right now, Toby was out playing with Huck and Molly. He had his children; he didn’t need something like this to complicate his life … their life. They’d barely found a way to be together again and now a baby? Adding this to the mix would only … she couldn’t do it. Maybe if she disappeared, she wouldn’t have to … she … “How long do I have to decide?”

“You’re going to start getting sicker. It is early, but I’m sure this is the reason for your nausea. You’re probably going to start experiencing it even stronger, and your body is going to start to tire. You average what, three hours of sleep a night? Maybe four? If you don’t start getting six to eight hours a night, you will collapse. Your heart rate is up because of your caffeine intake; this means your heart will start to show signs of stress. CJ, if you keep this baby you have to resign, as soon as possible, and get into bed and stay there until you give birth.”

“How long do I have to decide?” She repeated the question.

Susan sighed. “A couple of months and it will still be an easy procedure.”

“Okay.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, closing her eyes against the dizziness. She was going to go home, Cliff could handle the day. “Okay.”

“You must be sick.”

“Hmm?” CJ looked up from the book she was curled in to. Toby stood in the doorway to her living room, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a loose denim shirt, looking as sexy as she’d ever seen him.

“You’re reading for pleasure. You’re not in the office. What’s wrong?” He ducked his head and grinned.

“I had a doctor’s appointment this morning, remember? And I decided afterward to just take the day. It is Sunday, after all.” Trying to keep the mood light wasn’t going to work for long. Toby knew her too well, and she couldn’t just blame this on Naji.

“Yeah, it is.” He walked into the room and sat next to her. He took the book and looked at the page she was on. “Did it matter then, she asked herself, walking toward Bond Street, did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely; all of this must go on without her; did she resent it; or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely? But that somehow on the streets of London, on the ebb and flow of things, here, there, she survived, Peter survived, lived in each other, she being part, she was positive of the trees at home, of the house there, ugly, rumbling all to bits and pieces as it was; part of people she had never met; being laid out like a mist between people she knew best, who lifted her on their branches as she had seen the trees lift the mist, but it spread ever so far, her life, herself.” He sighed and looked over at her, “This book is bad for you.” She laughed and leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. Toby slipped his arm around her and held her close, wondering what was bothering her. She was shaking. “Jeanie?”

She just snuggled closer to him. “I love you, Toby.”

He smiled. The words had been exchanged already, but neither of them were ones for random displays of emotion like that. “I love you too. What is it?”

“Nothing.” She lied. “Just that. How were the kids?”

The pride was evident in his voice as he spoke. “Running all over the place. And Molly is just talking a mile a minute. I can’t understand anything she says at all, but she’s talking.”

CJ shared the smile, and her free hand moved to cover her own abdomen. She could hear the news shows now, crowing about how Toby couldn’t even practice safe sex, let alone have the right to talk about it. They’d be cheering about how she really was the queen of the political casting couch, and she knew the President would never look at her the same way again. But they thought they were being safe – CJ honestly had forgotten that her birth control pills needed to be refilled.

“I never expected to fall in love with you like this again.” Toby smiled and kissed her forehead.

“You fell out of love with me?”

“Yeah … I mean …” he blushed. “No. But when Andi came along …” it was hard to be honest with her about Andi, but there was a reason he still wore his wedding ring, and a reason that he’d chased her so much when she was pregnant. For as much as he worshipped CJ, in so many ways it was Andi he was in love with. But being here, with CJ, made him realize that he’d always been meant to be here, right here, with her in his arms. “When Andi came along, I did realize that I could love someone else. I mean … we had decided it was better to be apart and I didn’t think I could move on and …”

“Yeah … I know what you mean.” Images of Danny floated across her mind for a minute, but she brushed them away.

“Still, there’s something about you Jeanie. Something that makes you and me make sense. When you’re with me …” he chuckled, “you know, it was a mistake to let you leave New York that first time.”

“To let me?” She chuckled a bit.

“Yeah. I mean, I should have put my foot down and thrown you over my shoulder, and dragged you back to my cave.”

CJ laughed and then looked into his eyes. “But you are in love with me again, hmm?”

“Yeah.”

“When did it happen?”

“When did I fall in love with you again?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled softly. “Three days before you went to Dayton for your reunion. You were standing in the doorway to your office and you were wearing this short black, pleated skirt and a red blouse and these low pumps that make your legs look even longer than they already are. And you’d snagged your nylons on something and you were standing there on one leg, inspecting the snag, giving a quote to Katie over speaker phone and it was graceful and it was perfect. That was when I realized that I’d always love you, no matter what, and that I was in love with you again.”

Somehow, that admission hurt more than she wanted to admit. “Yet, you kept going after Andi …” He had been in love with her but had kept pursuing Andi. The truth stabbed through her stomach like a knife, and she started to curl away from him. He had been in love with her, and still going after Andi. Nothing had changed between them. Nothing. It had been this way in ’91, ’93, during the campaign, and now … She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Regret started to make it’s way into her spine and she felt the cold tendrils reaching into her blood stream. What the hell were they doing? And why was she letting herself love him like this when it was only going to break her heart? She needed to back away, get rid of the baby, go back to just being friends … but her internal monologue was interrupted by his beautiful brown eyes meeting hers again.

“I didn’t think you wanted me anymore. We’re always headed for a crash and burn when we’re together. Always.” Toby stroked her cheek. Something was wrong.

“Yeah, we are.” She slipped an arm over his stomach and snuggled closer to him, despite her sudden desire to turn and run. “It’s not really healthy.”

“No.” He held her tighter. “I want it to be, though.”

“Will it ever?” She sighed and blinked the tears away.

“I don’t know.” He looked at her. Something really was wrong. “Would you ever leave me again?”

“I don’t know.” She had to answer honestly. “Would you?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. He had to answer honestly.

“Toby … is what we do to each other really worth it?”

“You mean the broken hearts, the endless drama, and the trauma we seem to endure whenever we’re two feet away from each other?”

“Yeah.”

“I think so.”

“Why?”

“Because when I look at you, everything makes sense.” He looked into her eyes.

CJ melted and reached up to kiss him. He was right; she shouldn’t have left New York. And when she pulled back, tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Toby, there’s something you should know …”

“What is it, Baby?” His arms moved down, sliding around her slim waist.

She’d rehearsed it a million times since coming home, but the words just slid out of her mouth and she heard herself saying it, and suddenly found herself regretting it. The cold tendrils slipped lower, into her abdomen.

“What?” He was sure he hadn’t heard her right.

“Yeah … I … I forgot to refill my prescription and when I went back they had to do a pregnancy test, just to make sure and … “ her eyes were a mixture of emotions that Toby couldn’t name.

He just grabbed her against his body, burying his face in her shoulder. The tears came freely, absolute joy that they were finally able to do this for each other. A baby. A child of theirs. And what did it matter if they could never be sure if they wouldn’t leave each other again – they would always be together, somehow. He had her heart and she had his and they were the other half of their souls, and now, finally, after all this time, their souls had again combined. A baby. His baby. Their baby.

And he’d just told that baby’s mother that he couldn’t promise that he’d never leave her again.

CJ stared at the file Margaret had brought in earlier this morning. The CIA file on Naji Al-Anan was laid out in front of her, including the documentation of her rape. Yes, it was in there. They’d known years ago what this man was capable of, but instead of noting him as a sexual predator, they noted him as potentially dangerous. She wanted to rip her hair out, she wanted to cry, she wanted to puke on the hundred dollar black stilettos that hurt her feet but made her look like she could literally kick the world’s ass.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could hear Carol calling for the press to take their seats. Tucking her hair up in its clip, she headed into her office and stopped when she saw the National Security Advisor standing there. "Hey, Nancy." She was sure she could blame Toby for this. He would have told Leo, and Leo told Nancy and now she looked like an emotional idiot.

"I hear you're troubled by the arms sale?" Nancy, as usual, jumped to the point. She was used to butting heads with CJ, but something else was troubling her friend. "The Nazi's were a bad analogy. We're not fighting a war with Qumar."

"Well..." CJ walked to her desk and began organizing folders. God, she couldn't sneeze around here without everyone finding out. "This isn't the point, but we will. Of course we'll be fighting a war with Qumar one day and you know it. So, well, at least we'll be familiar with the weapons they're using."

"We need Kalifa airbase - we refuel there and we keep AWACS radar." The excuse sounded flimsy, even to Nancy, who had advocated for the renewal of the base on those reasons.

"We don't need it. It's convenient."

Nancy almost blinked. CJ was smarter than people gave her credit for - what the hell was she just doing as a Press Secretary. Then again, having a smart Press Secretary was the secret to a successful administration. "CJ--"

"We don't need it!" CJ was completely fed up. Completely. "We've got Turkey. We've got Bahrain. We've got Diego Garcia. Qumar's convenient."

Nancy had to concede the point. "Yes, it's convenient."

"They beat women, Nancy. They hate women. The only reason they keep Qumari women alive is to make more Qumari men."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Nancy got the point, but what the hell could she do about it? Right here, right now, what could she do?

"How about instead of suggesting that we sell the guns to them, suggesting that we shoot the guns at them. And by the way, not to change the subject, but how are we supposed to have any moral credibility when we talk about gun control and making sure that guns don't get in the hands of the wrong people? God, Nancy, what the hell are we defining as the right people?" She couldn't believe that she was hearing such apathy from the National Security Advisor.

"CJ?" Margaret looked at her boss, wondering from where CJ was managing to pull the strength to do this. Margaret knew that if something like what CJ had gone through ever happened to her, that she would never be able to do something like this. But here she was, standing up and fixing her skirt and then sitting down again, as if preparing for the fight of her life. It was the fight of her life. And Margaret had never been prouder to work for someone, except the time Leo had walked back in the door, his first day back from rehab.

"He's here?" CJ closed the file.

"Yeah."

The White House Chief of Staff closed her eyes for a brief moment, summoning her strength. "Send him in."

It had been twenty years since she'd last laid eyes on this man. Then, he'd cornered her in a stairwell, taunting her, pressing up against her. This came after he'd hauled Hanan away from her and beat her publicly for daring to speak to an Infidel. And then CJ had been caught alone with him as he'd shoved her against the rough stone. No, this time he hadn't violated her, he hadn't needed to. That power was there just in a look, and she'd cowered until he'd thrown her down the stairs. She'd told the doctor on the plane that she had indeed fallen, that she'd tripped on a loose stone.

Twenty years and now, as she stared at him, on her turf, she could only tremble. This man had been responsible for Hanan's death, and CJ was sure of countless others as well. This man had been responsible for stealing her child from her. But this was her turf; she had to show her strength. She wasn't going to let him get to her.

"This is the real world and we can't isolate our enemies." Time to teach this smart woman something about foreign policy.

"I know about the real world and I'm not suggesting we isolate them." No, I'm suggesting that we drag them out into the public square and strip them naked and beat them to death with stones so that they'll know what these women feel like. And then we'll make them feel like it's their fault. We'll make it a game for them.

"You're suggesting that we eliminate them."

You said it, I didn't. She started to walk out. "I have a briefing." Nancy followed.

"You're suggesting that --"

"I'm not suggesting anything! I don't suggest foreign policy around here!"

"You are right now."

"For all the trappings of the White House, they could send a man to speak to me."

"This isn't Qumar, Mr. Al-Anan. And I'd watch your tone with me."

"Or you'll what," he snickered, and CJ saw the look in his eyes. He taunted her, daring her to show some spark of emotion. "You cannot send me packing, as you Americans would say. If you do, it will be --"

"You made a mistake, Naji." CJ leaned against her desk and crossed her legs. The knee length skirt she'd chosen for today was a direct affront to him, to his culture, and she intended to insult him as much as possible. "You see, Americans get over sex scandals, especially when it comes to ones that happened in other countries. The book that is hitting the shelves in a couple of weeks, a book that happens to name me and a couple of other people here in Washington as whores and playboys will get more attention than your little news story. And, your little news story led to a big news story here, one that has helped to fund the Rape Crisis Centers across the country. Yeah, Naji, and I'm sure that you know this, I went on the record. It’s too bad we can’t fire you. The women’s groups are already demanding it, and this White House tends to listen to the Women’s groups. It’s really too bad for all of us that relations with Qumar are so tense right now and only your government can fire you. So, we're stuck with you. But, let me tell you something you smug jackass. The first time I even hear the hint of any kind of impropriety with your office, the country of Qumar will no longer have any kind of diplomatic representation with the United States." For a second, her eyes drifted to the open door between her office and the Oval Office. It somehow gave her strength to know the President could hear every word.

"It's the twenty-first century, Nancy, the world's gotten smaller. I don't know how we can tolerate this kind of suffering anymore, particularly when all it does is continue the cycle of anti-American hatred, but that's not the point either!"

Nancy stopped them dead, hearing CJ dance around the point but needing to hear it. "What's the point?"

"The point is," CJ met her eyes, "that apartheid was an East Hampton clambake compared to what we laughingly refer to as "the life these women lead" and if we had sold M1-A1's to South Africa fifteen years ago, you'd have set the building on fire! Thank God we never needed to refuel in Johannesburg!" No one cared. Not even the women. No one cared! When it came to race and men being run over with tanks, the US was first on the lines, but women could stay behind the scenes and die!

For a long moment, Nancy held CJ's gaze, wishing she knew what had happened to the other woman to make it hurt just so much. This was personal, and CJ was letting her emotions get in the way, but she was also smart and she'd done her research, and CJ was exactly right. She would have set the building on fire. But that was fifteen years ago, when she wasn't National Security Advisor, and sometimes, moral absolutes didn't exist. Sometimes you made choices that were wrong to keep the majority of the people safe. And she, more than anyone else in this building, lived in that gray area of foreign policy where she wanted to do the truly right thing, but had to settle for the morally right thing. "It's a big world, CJ," she said, trying to be angry rather than sympathetic. "And everybody has guns. And I'm doing the best I can." She was. She really was trying to, anyway.

"You can't do that," he threatened, slightly taken aback by her lack of fear. Could she do that? Could she, this mere woman, threaten him like this?

"Oh, yes, I can. Now, I won't, not without reason, because we need your country. I mean, I've been trying to get us to pull out of the lease in Kalifa, but I tend to get shouted down by the National Security Advisor, and that takes some shouting, believe me. But, Qumar has oil and Qumar has Kalifa, and as the Chief of Staff for this White House,” she emphasized her job title, “believe me when I tell you that I understand just how important those resources are."

"They're beating ... the women, Nancy...” She just stood there and watched as Nancy walked away. And Nancy was right and CJ knew that but it didn't change the fact that Hanan and countless other women were dead. It didn't change at all what Naji had taken away from her all those years back. But she had a briefing. The world went on. And she couldn’t get up there and voice her opinion, an opinion the press would be well aware of. So she had to go in there and not loose it. If she could get through the next hour she could go home and cry. "Good evening." She smiled at the pressroom, half filled with her usual devotees. She loved these people. "We have two birthdays today so we have cake. One cake," she laughed along with them, "it's nice to share. Quickly, before I take questions, a late addition to Monday's schedule. The President will be at the opening of the Smithsonian Exhibition commemorating the sixtieth anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. That's at three in the afternoon and I'll have more information on Monday morning. Labor Secretary Carl Reed will brief from this podium in one hour's time on our school to work initiative and ... let me check," she pretended to scan her schedule. She knew how the HHS briefing would be handled and she wasn't pleased, but they couldn't lend suspicion the megaphone of the White House. "Yeah while that's going on, there'll be a briefing at the Department of Health and Human Services by USDA Director David Rheingold. Sometime Tuesday you'll be briefed at the Pentagon - the DoD will be announcing that we've renewed our lease another ten years at the Kalifa Air Base in Qumar. I understand they've promised to paint and add new carpet." She almost lost it, almost. But when she looked up into the back corner, there stood Toby, his eyes searching hers. He crossed his hands over his heart, their long established signal, and she could see the tears in his eyes. He didn't like it any better than she did, and they'd been unfair to each other all day long. She took a deep breath, controlling the rise in emotion, and looked back to her notes, still hearing the laughter from the Press Corps. They'd gotten the joke - good for them. "A delegation from ... State ..." she took another breath. "and the UN will be sitting down to go over some last minute language for Vienna and for that trip, we'll have your schedules ready middle part of next week." Another breath. "Who's got questions?"

He opened his mouth to speak, his own reasons for coming to this meeting leaving his head. A woman had never in his life threatened him and he wasn't about to let it start now. Especially not by this American slut whom he knew how to control. He took a step forward, fire flashing in his eyes, but stopped when CJ just smiled at him.

"Try it, Naji." She spoke softly, her voice low and deadly. "Go ahead and put your hands on me. Go on, I dare you. And then try to get out of here without getting arrested or killed. There are secret service agents in the hallways, not to mention the military guards outside my door. They're expecting you to try something, in fact, they want you to. It gives them a chance to kill you."

The Qumari Attaché looked into the emotionless face of the woman in front of him and, for the first time since he’d entered this building, he began to get scared.

"It's too late for us to turn back your credentials. Believe me, I want to, but it isn't worth the fight. You're a member of the Royal Family, and since we killed your sultan’s brother, we figure we can't keep pissing you guys off. So you're staying. But you touch one woman, or even look at me like you just did again, and I swear to god, I have no less than ten agents who all have bullets with your name on them." She glared at the man, trying to keep up bravado, "In twenty four hours the President is officially welcoming you to this country. And then I never want to see your ass in this building again." She took a breath, “Now, what was it you wanted to discuss with me?" CJ stayed right where she was, perched on the end of the desk. The lack of movement was all bravado, if she tried to walk, her knees would buckle.

"We," Naji found his voice lacking, "the State of Qumar brings a complaint to the White House regarding the oil reserves that lie on our border with Iraq." It was the first of many complaints, but this one was at the top of the list.

Somehow, CJ moved back around behind her desk and nodded that he take a guest chair. Naji looked around for a moment before sitting down, and as he looked to his right he saw that the open door that he’d originally ignored led directly into the Oval Office and the door was open, and behind a huge desk sat the President of the United States. Suddenly, Naji felt small, insignificant, and knew that the choice he’d made to try and make her look bad had suddenly just blown up in his face.

Somehow she fielded the questions from Katie and Steve and Mike and Mark and she didn't break down at all. Somehow she didn't let her feelings slip, and somehow she made it out the door. Toby was waiting for her. He followed her to her office and closed the door behind them and took her into his arms. "Jeanie...” he whispered.

For a minute she stiffened against him, but her resolve weakened and she dissolved, clinging to him, and the tears just came. He held her while she sobbed, his own tears falling to the top of her head. "They're beating the women, Toby...”

"I know, Jeanie ... I know...” He rocked her softly. "And I don't know how to fix it...” Her sobs only intensified. "Shhh ... come on ... pull yourself together and I'll take you home."

Toby stared, blankly, at the folder in his hands. Questions he’d already asked himself still spun around his mind, had David been planning on leaking this information already? Had he just known about it? Had he been in far deeper than anyone realized in the development of this shuttle? Toby wanted to know, but David had never kept a journal, and he always deleted e-mails. He'd been a good government employee. But this paper alone piqued his curiosity more than the conversation with CJ the other day in her office. He had told her to not ask what he would have done, because the idea was already planted, it had been planted the minute he'd found this folder and this piece of paper.

The acronym stared back at him and he started to piece it together and it started to all make sense. But he needed more; he needed more to save these astronauts. He knew by now, after seven years of serving alongside Josiah Bartlet, that the man was a good man, but also a politician. And Toby knew that even though the president was living and dying with every minute, that he would also never send the shuttle up to retrieve the American astronauts. The Cosmonaut was as good as dead. No, the President would never send the shuttle because too much was at stake. But the President's brother was living and breathing and helping to build the library in New Hampshire, and the President wasn't feeling the pain of the families of the astronauts on that station. David had been set to go up on a scientific mission sometime this month, but then the cancer had struck.

The teasing, conspiracy theory voice in the back of Toby's head made him want to think that it had been a plot and that David had been murdered. Or, David had killed himself because the knowledge of what he was doing to help weaponize space was just too much. But Toby knew better than that. David had killed himself because he couldn't, he wouldn't handle the cancer. It was too much. He'd chickened out.

He wanted to know what David had been planning with this information. But he never would. Now though, with this in his hands, it all made sense. He stared at his phone for a minute and then picked it up and then put it down again. The phone would be traced, and he needed a release of information. Hopefully his clearance was high enough to get information about this code. If it sent off red flags and CJ was alerted, he was doomed. So, he took a breath and turned on his computer. He couldn't even have Ginger or Bonnie draft this. No, it had to be all him. No one else could be involved. And if he found what he thought he was going to find, he'd be able to save three lives. At least, he hoped. There were times to be politically superior and times to be morally superior, and now was one of those times and if no one else saw it that way, they could be damned.

He retrieved the memo himself, he signed it, stuck it in an envelope, and walked it himself down to the NSA office. And he waited while the paperwork was searched, while they double-checked his credentials, and while no one said a word. No records were taken, no photographs. This was a world conducted in secret - the more people knew, the more panic would ensue. And Toby knew that, but it still didn't stop him.

The clearance worked. Somehow. And the staff aide came back with a thick file and Toby took it and walked back down the hallways to his office. In a world conducted in secret, no questions were asked as long as the security codes were high enough. He could have the file for two hours. He only needed one. The file he had in his hand was proof enough. Naji was still in CJ’s office, and he just needed to get this to Greg and then make it to CJ before she started breaking things.

The communications bullpen was silent as he came back in. Only a few desk lamps caused any illumination, even though he knew Anabeth was still here, somewhere, talking to her late night gaggle and Ginger had gone to dinner. Time was limited.

Ginger's desk had one of those scanner/copier/printer deals - she'd set it up herself for her own computer since Toby printed so much stuff through her. Grabbing paper from his own stash, he loaded her printer, and then sat at her desk, skimming through and finding the proof that Greg would need. A one-page summary of the shuttle's existence and the acronym that matched the piece of paper in David's folder. He slid the paper into the copier, hit copy, and waited. The sheet spurted out, far too noisy for Toby's liking, and then it was silent again. He slipped the page back into the NSA file; he put the copy into the folder on his desk, and walked back to the staffer. Again, in silence, he returned the file and he knew that no one would mention this again. Even when the story broke and the investigation began, no one would know that he had been the one to take the file.

It was simple, really. He would catch Greg, who had stuck around to make sure CJ would be okay, give him the file and then head up to make sure that she was going to be fine. He could save the astronauts, the cosmonaut, and David’s memory.

Five minutes until the meeting was done, he needed to get over there. Standing, he took a breath, reminding himself that this was the right thing to do, that it was what David would have wanted. With effort, he pushed away the images of CJ and Andi and Molly and Huck … he pushed away flutter of excitement he’d been feeling since CJ had told him about the baby. He pushed away everything except David’s memory.

He stepped into the press bullpen and walked slowly toward Greg. Somehow it seemed fitting that he’d be leaking this information to this man. Over the past few months, he’d come to not only respect Greg, but trust him. And he knew that of all the reporters out there, save maybe Danny Concannon, Greg would be honest, objective, and be just as willing to die for a story.

He took a step forward and took off his glasses.

Yes, Greg would be willing to die. He’d go to jail to protect a source, he’d protect CJ, and if the truth ever was revealed, he would take care of CJ when Toby couldn’t. One more step and he would have Greg’s attention without having to call his name. Just as with everything else, this could be conducted almost in secret. He wouldn’t have to say too much, just enough to leave him the folder; he’d be able to save the lives of these three men.

“Of course I’d die to protect the sanctity of any NASA program, Toby. Just like you’d die to protect the White House. The work I do with NASA’s science division is touchy, and if anyone got his or her hands on it, we’d be screwed. Completely.”

“It’s just a job, David. And every time you put yourself up there, you risk that death …”

“I’d die for the program, Toby. I’m a soldier. Just like you.”

“I’m not a soldier, David!” He turned away from his brother, frustrated.

“Yes, you are. You took an oath, Toby. You took an oath to protect the sovereignty of this country, of the constitution. Get off your moral high horse for one second and remember that there are 350 million people out there who are counting on you! And just like you did, I took an oath. I took an oath to protect NASA and to protect my job and to protect the people of this country. So yes, I know something you don’t. But you do know it. And neither of us can say anything. So get off your high horse. Someday, Toby, you’re going to fall. You’re going to fall off that horse and break your neck and no one, not even CJ, will be able to protect you.”

I’d die to protect all of NASA’s information … I’d die … I’d die … The words rang in his ears and he stopped cold, understanding why it was that he couldn’t do this. But it was too late to back away, Greg had seen him, and the reporter’s inquisitive eyes were now on him. “Hey, Greg.” He coughed and then tried to smile. The folder stayed at his side, crumpling in his tense fingers. “You aren’t in Anabeth’s late night gaggle?” David would have died to protect this information; he needed to be able to do the same.

“Nah. Really, I’m here to make sure that CJ’s okay. But you probably knew that. She’d kill me if she knew I was staying, but …” He sighed. “Damn, if you’d seen her back then…”

“Yeah.” Toby twitched. “The meeting is almost over, so I should get up there. I’ll tell her you’re here, though. How’s the book coming?”

“It’s great. Did you need anything?” He looked over at the file in Toby’s hands.

“Nah. Nothing. See you later.” He turned and hurried back to his office, dropping the file on top of his laptop before heading up to the main offices. He’d position himself outside the Roosevelt room entrance, that way Margaret wouldn’t know he was in there. And, if she did know, she’d know enough to ignore him.

The Defense Secretary walked back through the corridors, frowning. He needed to touch base, make sure those notes for the speech tomorrow had been looked at. The communications department was silent, rare for the West Wing, only a couple of lamps still burned over staffer’s desks, so a few people were still here.

The office of the Communication’s Director was open, and he walked in, deciding to wait. But he’d never been a patient man, so he started to pace, and his eye fell on a file on top of the laptop. Curious, he opened it, and felt his eyes widen in a shock he hadn’t felt in decades. Not since the pullout in Vietnam had he been this surprised over anything. There, in black and white, were handwritten notes, memos, and copies of materials made from a classified NSA file. There, on top, was a note, scrawled in the Communication Director’s handwriting telling whomever this was meant for that this was the proof his editor’s would need.

This, this could bring down this smug, superior administration. This, right here.

He didn’t know if Toby planned on actually leaking this information or not, but the intent to do something was obvious. He chuckled softly, took the file, and headed out. The speech could wait until tomorrow; this was too good to be true.

Moving back, silently, through the hallways, he found his way to the press area (why hadn’t they ever moved the damn gaggle across the street?) and found Greg Brock’s laptop. He set the file down on top, and then kept on walking. No one had seen him.

Carol looked up at a soft noise, a footfall, something. But the pressroom was shadowed and quiet, the only noise at all coming from the adjoining room where Anabeth was holding her late night gaggle with her handpicked cream of the crop. It was late, and she wasn’t sure what she’d heard, probably just Greg or Chris coming back to get something. Stepping out into the hall, movement caught her eye and she looked back to see someone walking back down the hall, down toward the exit. She frowned, wondering what he’d been doing here. No one from his office ever showed his or her face in the pressroom.

Ginger smiled as Leo came into the communications bullpen. She’d always loved the older man, and had genuinely missed his presence around here when he’d been sick. “Hi, Leo. Toby ran up to meet with CJ for a second I think – he was gone when I got here at any rate and so I can only assume that’s where he got off to.”

“That’s fine. I can wait. No problem.” Leo grinned at the young redhead and for a moment missed the days when he’d have been chasing a girl like her. Back in the day when you could tell when a girl was with another girl just by looking at her. He knew enough of the rumor mill to know that Ginger had been dating some woman from Senator Clinton’s office for quite some time now. But he still thought she was beautiful, and that alone made him even lonelier.

Sixty-three feet to the oval office, fifty feet to the Roosevelt room. He paused, leaning against one of the doors, pretending to write. It wasn’t uncommon to see the President’s Chief speechwriter out and about, muttering to himself while he was working on something. And it was late, and few people were even left in the building.

The door to CJ’s office opened and he looked up, seeing CJ leaning back against her desk, trying to catch her breath. But his attention was caught by the man leaving the office – and he looked into the eyes of the man who had ripped CJ’s life apart. The hatred he felt for the man burned across the short distance between them, and Naji actually looked down. CJ had managed to shame him, to find her feet again, and now Toby had his turn and he wanted to cross the few feet and take the man and beat him into the ground. And the look the Secret Service escort gave him said that the other man would hold Naji down if Toby wanted to take a pass at him. This was the man who had raped and beaten the women he loved, who had taken their child from them, who had killed Hanan, who still haunted CJ’s dreams. Somehow the two men made a connection, and Naji understood whom, exactly, he was looking at. He wanted to smirk, to tell stories about how CJ had begged for it, but he also knew that both the man behind him and the lover in front of him, would kill him.

Toby stepped into CJ’s office, hurriedly shutting the door behind him before he could race back out there and beat the crap out of Naji. He crossed over and wrapped her tightly in his arms, pulling her away from the adjoining door to the Oval Office – a door she’d just closed. “Baby …” He kissed her until they were both completely breathless. It was their rule, to never have contact like this in the West Wing – work and personal had to be kept separate, but tonight he didn’t care and he didn’t care if it would move mountains, he needed to remind himself of the present, of the things here, of her. He needed to rid this office of the presence of Naji, and to again claim CJ as his own. It was cave-like and beneath him, but he needed her around him. He needed to hold her and make her come and make sure that she remembered that she loved him. He needed to purge the guilt of almost leaking the information to Greg. He needed to love her.

CJ gasped as his hands pushed her skirt up, and his fingers worked her legs apart. “Toby …” she started to protest, “Toby, no.” The air around them stilled and Toby pulled back, a question in his eye. “I want …” She touched his cheek. “Just hold me.”

“Of course.” He moved his hands up her body and brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. “You okay?” He still wanted her, but something had just changed, and he knew it. Suddenly they were freer, more comfortable than they’d ever been with each other. CJ just put her hands on his shoulders and then slipped her arms tightly around him. Toby pulled her close against him, holding her, protecting her.

“I’m fine …” she was trembling, but really, for the first time since that night in Qumar, she really was fine. Pulling back just far enough to capture Toby’s lips with her own, she kissed him, passionately; the couple stayed that way, kissing, touching, holding each other, healing. For the first time, they didn’t need sex to heal, they just needed each other.

As Toby kissed her, feeling her body come alive against his, he said good-bye to David while she said good-bye to Naji. His hands wandered, fondling gently, until one palm came to rest on her abdomen. It didn’t matter what happened tomorrow, right now, they were together.

“Hey, Leo.” Greg opted to cut through the communications bullpen in an effort to see Ginger. He’d been harboring a crush on her since his first days in the White House and he knew she was seeing someone else, but a guy could dream. Ginger was indeed at her desk, but the man in charge of the Democratic Convention was sitting in the Communication’s Director’s office. Any chance for a small story about the convention could be news.

Leo closed the file he was looking through and nodded. “Little off the beaten path for you, Greg?” He liked the guy, and since the story he’d done on CJ, had developed a real sense of respect. The way he’d treated CJ had made him a hero in Leo’s book. But, the guy wasn’t supposed to be here without reason. “Looking for Toby?”

“Nah, just ran into him actually. He was on his way into see CJ.” He chuckled, but kept to himself, not knowing how much Leo knew about their relationship.

“Then it will be a few minutes.” Leo chuckled. CJ had accidentally spilled the beans during dinner a couple of months ago, and Leo was still, honestly laughing about it. The look on her face had been one to treasure as she blushed and tried to fumble her way through an explanation.

“Yeah.” Greg tried to peek down at the file Leo was holding. “So, how’s the convention planning coming?”

“I’m flying out tomorrow morning to get everything set up.” Leo laughed and handed Greg the file. “Here, that will help.”

“Any movement yet on who the nominee will be?”

“I’m not talking about the nominations with you, anything I say will end up in your paper tomorrow.”

Greg laughed and nodded. “True.”

“But, there’s information in there for you,” Leo nodded to the file he’d just handed Greg, “about some things CJ has given me the authorization to leak.”

“Can’t get rid of you, can I, Greg.” Toby chuckled a bit as he pushed past the reporter and into his office. Greg, and Leo for that matter, were both smirking at him. “I know you’ve got a reason to be here, Leo, what the hell do you want, Greg?”

“Oh, I came by to actually flirt with Ginger.” Greg waved the hand holding the file at the two men, “I’ll be on my way.” Greg laughed and waved and left. Toby rolled his eyes, turned around, and stopped cold.

The file that had been on top of his computer was gone.

“What did you need again, Leo?”