TITLE: Thunder Chasing the Wind
AUTHOR: Kansas J. Miller PAIRING: CJ/Toby friendship RATING: PG SUMMARY: A writer's words became only jumbled letters when true emotions presented the challenge SPOILERS: All Simon episodes, but mostly "Posse Comitatus" FEEDBACK: Accepted heartily!
NOTE: This is my first/only piece of fiction that didn't totally ignore the season finale. This takes place in the 'real' WW universe, sometime in August 2002.
***
Ten minutes to five, and when the knock came on the door, Toby instinctively knew that CJ stood on the other side. As he tossed aside his thick pack of campaign memos and swung his legs over the side of the made- up bed, Toby noticed that the sky outside was beginning to fade from blue to purple, the dotted lights of Chicago yellow in the early morning.
The hotel room was far too large for a single person, and it seemed to take Toby forever to reach the heavy white door; as she knocked a second time, CJ chewed on her lower lip and hoped that she hadn't been wrong and that Toby was awake.
As he threw the door open, not even bothering to check the peephole, a small glow from the bedside lamp hit the hallway where CJ stood in her tank top and shorts, hair disheveled from a night of tossing and turning. Sighing Toby took CJ by the elbow and guided her out of the plush hallway and into the narrow entrance hall. Not speaking until they entered the main bedroom, CJ stopped in front of the quilted bed and put her hands on her hips. It was then that Toby noticed her bare feet, then that he knew why she'd come.
"Why aren't you sleeping?" Toby asked it anyhow, self-consciously gathering the papers on his bed in hopes of a neater appearance; CJ sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress, bracing herself on slim arms as she pushed her lips momentarily together.
"I could ask you the same thing," she responded, almost amused that Toby was dressed in his oxford and a pair of boxer shorts. Her amusement faded when she realized that he'd been working all night, working instead of sleeping while she lay mindless in her own room.
"It's August; we've got debates to get prepare for," Toby shrugged it off and sat down on the chair opposite CJ, running a hand over his smooth head. "You wanna talk?"
He knew she had a lot on her mind, and he knew that sometimes all she needed was to let it out. But that was their trouble; they were both people who kept things in bottles, they would let it bubble until the steam forced its way out. But CJ had become more vulnerable over the summer, and if the time were just right, she'd gaze off to the side, her eyes almost dreamy and she'd tell him her troubles.
"I'm worried about." CJ started, stopping abruptly as she sucked in a breath. Averting her clean blue eyes, she focused on a spot on the rug, eventually changing the direction of her thoughts. Her voice was low as she admitted, "I think about him a lot."
"I know you do," Toby responded, leaning forward his elbows on his knees. "Why this morning?"
"We're in Chicago," she answered simply, then snorting at herself, CJ added to the answer, "and the sky is blue, the grass is green. Reason's never matter."
Toby pursed his lips and waited, knowing she'd continue without prompting. He watched as CJ bent her long legs up, hugging them towards her body as she curled into a child-like ball. Resting her chin on her knees, she let out a long breath of air and shook her head. "For three months, I can't stop thinking about it.about him. I often wonder, do I even have that right?"
Toby raised his chin and pursed his lips, sure that he could feel her pain, sure that he could and had stepped inside of her shoes. "You do," he answered simply with a short nod, "I think about him, too."
"I barely knew him," CJ smirked, shaking her head with a kind of disbelief; she *had* hardly known the agent who'd been at her side for a month, and now that he was gone, Simon could consume her thoughts at any given moment. She looked up, her eyes cloudy, "How many more times can I replay a scene, Toby?"
"I don't think that's it," Toby mused aloud, "I don't think you remember, I think you dream, I think you wish."
CJ sighed, clearly trying to control the moisture that had flown to her eyes, the lump to her throat. After a moment, she spoke with composure. "There was so much potential there, Toby, there could've been." she stopped, closed her eyes and when she reopened them, they were red with wetness. "So much," she finished in a whisper.
Toby nodded, knowing how CJ had and still felt about Simon. Not sure if he should agree or tell her not to dwell on what might have been, he sat silent for a moment. Whichever way he looked at it, CJ's emotions would still be on a string.
"He didn't deserve to die," Toby finally said, the familiar feeling of surprise and shock returning to his stomach. It was the same feeling that had overcome him that night in May-the twisted knot of disbelief and injustice all mixed together to create a tragic, too-soon loss.
"Do you think he watches?" CJ asked, her voice now conversational, curious.
"I'm sure," Toby replied, suddenly aware that this was one of the only times he'd heard CJ so freely talk about Simon; not even on that muddled night in May had she been able to form three sentences in his memory.
"I feel him with me sometimes, Toby," CJ said in a choked voice, visibly trying not to cry, "and I'm almost embarrassed."
"Why?"
"Is it possible to have made that kind of connection in four weeks? I have so many questions, so many what-ifs, but mostly, I just wonder if he could have loved me too."
Toby sat back in his chair, a bit stunned at what CJ had just revealed to him; her emotions went far deeper than anyone had suspected, and now the image in his head of her had changed.
There were times over the course of their summer campaigning when CJ would laugh with the boys, crack jokes with the press, conduct her business without so much as a bump in her road. Toby admired her then, proud that she had returned to normal so quickly after that black midnight in May. But then there were times that CJ cut her laughter short, let her face fall serious, and soon after she'd disappear into her own solitude. He knew it was Simon on her mind, but Toby had never suspected how heavily, how desperately.
"I didn't know," Toby eventually sputtered out, feeling foolish that he had so little to offer her; a writer's words became only jumbled letters when true emotions presented the challenge.
Sighing tiredly as she bit down on her lower lip, CJ swallowed before she blinked her eyes good and hard. "But I did. The last time I saw him, you know, outside of the theater .."
"CJ," Toby warned preemptively, suddenly feeling that she shouldn't relive it, that she should separate herself from what she could never have. "CJ, don't."
"Yeah," she finally agreed, staring up at the ceiling before catching the illumination of the clock as it read five o'clock. "I oughta get a shower."
As she got up, unfolding her long frame, Toby stayed anchored to the chair and watched as CJ headed slowly out. He knew what this was-it was dreams consuming her nights, imagination ruling her days. But he was gone, long gone, and he'd really only been there for the blink of an eye. And though hide it she might, CJ could be nothing but thunder chasing the wind; nothing but a woman wishing for yesterday.
As the heavy door clicked shut and echoed eerily in the oversized hotel room, Toby leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. The image of CJ wrapped in Vera Wang and wet black tears flew into Toby's mind, clear and vivid as though it had happened yesterday.
Standing up, Toby shook the memory from his head and reached for his pile of work, intending to go about his day like nothing had changed. But as he flipped open the folder of senseless debate notes, Toby inherently knew that everything had. *
AUTHOR: Kansas J. Miller PAIRING: CJ/Toby friendship RATING: PG SUMMARY: A writer's words became only jumbled letters when true emotions presented the challenge SPOILERS: All Simon episodes, but mostly "Posse Comitatus" FEEDBACK: Accepted heartily!
NOTE: This is my first/only piece of fiction that didn't totally ignore the season finale. This takes place in the 'real' WW universe, sometime in August 2002.
***
Ten minutes to five, and when the knock came on the door, Toby instinctively knew that CJ stood on the other side. As he tossed aside his thick pack of campaign memos and swung his legs over the side of the made- up bed, Toby noticed that the sky outside was beginning to fade from blue to purple, the dotted lights of Chicago yellow in the early morning.
The hotel room was far too large for a single person, and it seemed to take Toby forever to reach the heavy white door; as she knocked a second time, CJ chewed on her lower lip and hoped that she hadn't been wrong and that Toby was awake.
As he threw the door open, not even bothering to check the peephole, a small glow from the bedside lamp hit the hallway where CJ stood in her tank top and shorts, hair disheveled from a night of tossing and turning. Sighing Toby took CJ by the elbow and guided her out of the plush hallway and into the narrow entrance hall. Not speaking until they entered the main bedroom, CJ stopped in front of the quilted bed and put her hands on her hips. It was then that Toby noticed her bare feet, then that he knew why she'd come.
"Why aren't you sleeping?" Toby asked it anyhow, self-consciously gathering the papers on his bed in hopes of a neater appearance; CJ sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress, bracing herself on slim arms as she pushed her lips momentarily together.
"I could ask you the same thing," she responded, almost amused that Toby was dressed in his oxford and a pair of boxer shorts. Her amusement faded when she realized that he'd been working all night, working instead of sleeping while she lay mindless in her own room.
"It's August; we've got debates to get prepare for," Toby shrugged it off and sat down on the chair opposite CJ, running a hand over his smooth head. "You wanna talk?"
He knew she had a lot on her mind, and he knew that sometimes all she needed was to let it out. But that was their trouble; they were both people who kept things in bottles, they would let it bubble until the steam forced its way out. But CJ had become more vulnerable over the summer, and if the time were just right, she'd gaze off to the side, her eyes almost dreamy and she'd tell him her troubles.
"I'm worried about." CJ started, stopping abruptly as she sucked in a breath. Averting her clean blue eyes, she focused on a spot on the rug, eventually changing the direction of her thoughts. Her voice was low as she admitted, "I think about him a lot."
"I know you do," Toby responded, leaning forward his elbows on his knees. "Why this morning?"
"We're in Chicago," she answered simply, then snorting at herself, CJ added to the answer, "and the sky is blue, the grass is green. Reason's never matter."
Toby pursed his lips and waited, knowing she'd continue without prompting. He watched as CJ bent her long legs up, hugging them towards her body as she curled into a child-like ball. Resting her chin on her knees, she let out a long breath of air and shook her head. "For three months, I can't stop thinking about it.about him. I often wonder, do I even have that right?"
Toby raised his chin and pursed his lips, sure that he could feel her pain, sure that he could and had stepped inside of her shoes. "You do," he answered simply with a short nod, "I think about him, too."
"I barely knew him," CJ smirked, shaking her head with a kind of disbelief; she *had* hardly known the agent who'd been at her side for a month, and now that he was gone, Simon could consume her thoughts at any given moment. She looked up, her eyes cloudy, "How many more times can I replay a scene, Toby?"
"I don't think that's it," Toby mused aloud, "I don't think you remember, I think you dream, I think you wish."
CJ sighed, clearly trying to control the moisture that had flown to her eyes, the lump to her throat. After a moment, she spoke with composure. "There was so much potential there, Toby, there could've been." she stopped, closed her eyes and when she reopened them, they were red with wetness. "So much," she finished in a whisper.
Toby nodded, knowing how CJ had and still felt about Simon. Not sure if he should agree or tell her not to dwell on what might have been, he sat silent for a moment. Whichever way he looked at it, CJ's emotions would still be on a string.
"He didn't deserve to die," Toby finally said, the familiar feeling of surprise and shock returning to his stomach. It was the same feeling that had overcome him that night in May-the twisted knot of disbelief and injustice all mixed together to create a tragic, too-soon loss.
"Do you think he watches?" CJ asked, her voice now conversational, curious.
"I'm sure," Toby replied, suddenly aware that this was one of the only times he'd heard CJ so freely talk about Simon; not even on that muddled night in May had she been able to form three sentences in his memory.
"I feel him with me sometimes, Toby," CJ said in a choked voice, visibly trying not to cry, "and I'm almost embarrassed."
"Why?"
"Is it possible to have made that kind of connection in four weeks? I have so many questions, so many what-ifs, but mostly, I just wonder if he could have loved me too."
Toby sat back in his chair, a bit stunned at what CJ had just revealed to him; her emotions went far deeper than anyone had suspected, and now the image in his head of her had changed.
There were times over the course of their summer campaigning when CJ would laugh with the boys, crack jokes with the press, conduct her business without so much as a bump in her road. Toby admired her then, proud that she had returned to normal so quickly after that black midnight in May. But then there were times that CJ cut her laughter short, let her face fall serious, and soon after she'd disappear into her own solitude. He knew it was Simon on her mind, but Toby had never suspected how heavily, how desperately.
"I didn't know," Toby eventually sputtered out, feeling foolish that he had so little to offer her; a writer's words became only jumbled letters when true emotions presented the challenge.
Sighing tiredly as she bit down on her lower lip, CJ swallowed before she blinked her eyes good and hard. "But I did. The last time I saw him, you know, outside of the theater .."
"CJ," Toby warned preemptively, suddenly feeling that she shouldn't relive it, that she should separate herself from what she could never have. "CJ, don't."
"Yeah," she finally agreed, staring up at the ceiling before catching the illumination of the clock as it read five o'clock. "I oughta get a shower."
As she got up, unfolding her long frame, Toby stayed anchored to the chair and watched as CJ headed slowly out. He knew what this was-it was dreams consuming her nights, imagination ruling her days. But he was gone, long gone, and he'd really only been there for the blink of an eye. And though hide it she might, CJ could be nothing but thunder chasing the wind; nothing but a woman wishing for yesterday.
As the heavy door clicked shut and echoed eerily in the oversized hotel room, Toby leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. The image of CJ wrapped in Vera Wang and wet black tears flew into Toby's mind, clear and vivid as though it had happened yesterday.
Standing up, Toby shook the memory from his head and reached for his pile of work, intending to go about his day like nothing had changed. But as he flipped open the folder of senseless debate notes, Toby inherently knew that everything had. *