Title: Until We Bleed
Author's Note: I have been working on this story for a very long time. It is one of the most intense action/drama fics I have ever written and I hope my plot is coherent. This begins during episode 6.14 "The Wakeup Call" and turns EXTREMELY AU! There is violence and language, so if this is not your thing, turn back now.
A lot of dialogue is taken from "The Wakeup Call" for this chapter.
This fic is also a crossover with the British spy series entitled Spooks ("MI-5" in the United States). The characters Joanna Portman and Harry Pearce are of that series. I am a HUGE fan of both The West Wing and Spooks and I've always wanted to work them into one fic. The title of this fic is also the title of Lykke Li's haunting song "Until We Bleed."
Summary: A misinterpreted moment in the Oval leads to speculation that CJ Cregg and President Jed Bartlet are in a romantic relationship. The First Couple is estranged, the President must face his worsening MS, and CJ is thrown into a job she might not be fully prepared for. What happens when the unthinkable occurs?
Pairing: angsty CJ/Jed, Slight Kate/Leo, and slight Jed/Abbey.
Disclaimer: I don't pretend to own any characters from The West Wing or Spooks. These shows are the amazing creations of Aaron Sorkin and David Wolstencroft respectively. I'm just an overly sappy fan.
"The world breaks everyone. And afterwards, many are strong at the broken places. Those that will not break, it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially." –Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
The strains of opera filled the Oval, the words lost on CJ but the mournful quality of the singer's voice struck her. She walked in to find the President gazing pensively into space behind his desk.
"Sir?"
"Good evening." Jed turned to face his chief of staff.
"I thought you were heading back to the Residence?"
"I thought about it. And then I thought I would sit here and enjoy the art for a while."
"Do you want me to get Curtis?"
"No, I'm a bachelor tonight. Abbey's with Ellie and what's-his-name, the new boyfriend," He got up and moved over to turn down the volume and then approached the chair beside her for his jacket. He reached for it but noticed as she grabbed the collar and wordlessly assisted him in putting it on.
He was in a surprisingly playful mood, what with the suggestions of nabbing Toby to spend a night on the town. She laughingly asked if they were gonna don sailor caps and chase after Miss Turnstile. He smirked at her when she insisted she had to get him to bed because her cheeks flushed and he knew exactly what she was thinking.
"Besides, I understand you two have a big date tomorrow."
"I actually convinced her to let me out of the house for Valentine's Day." He didn't look at her as he told her, she felt it strange that he should avoid her eyes while telling her of his intention to take his wife out for Valentine's.
She knew things had been icy between the First Couple. Not just from gossip but from firsthand experience. Nothing had been the same since Zoey's kidnapping and then Abbey's subsequent disappearance from the White House. Yes perhaps the First Lady had eventually returned, but the damage was done. Amy had told CJ that the President emphatically said the first Lady had to be here to want things. CJ could only imagine the magnitude of the President's wrath for him to say such a thing.
Of course, the gossip rags running convoluted stories about late nights spent together in the Oval when Abbey was away from Washington didn't help any. At home one night, CJ was flipping channels when she came across the illustrious program E! news. Somehow, a paparazzo snapped astonishingly clear photos through the windows of the Oval of her and the President.
He had been apologizing for blowing up at her, he'd walked up to her and taken her hand to reassure her that she was doing a good job as his chief. He raised the back of her hand and kissed it briefly in a moment of weakness. It was a gesture that stirred emotions she thought she'd succeeded in compartmentalizing. She knew she'd taken another step toward him, was even thinking of kissing his lips but they were interrupted by a knock at the door. She rushed back to her office and collapsed into her chair right after, frightened by the close call.
Obviously, she hadn't made a clean escape. The picture was on display on E! News, for God's sake.
They said all sorts of things, how an inside source in the White House revealed that CJ often visited the residence at early hours when the First Lady was traveling. The newscaster's implication was about as subtle as a train thundering through a china shop. The line of reasoning was, 'He lied about MS, who's to say he's not lying about his relationship with his Chief of Staff too?'
Shaking her thoughts, CJ continued the dialogue between them.
"You're taking her to the opera?"
"Verdi's Otello. Romantic huh?"
"Isn't that the one where the guy kills his wife?"
He paused then glanced at her over the rim of his glasses.
"It's in Italian, I'm hoping she won't notice."
Grinning, she asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to call Curtis?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Night CJ."
"Night, sir. Get some rest."
They were both careful to keep a distance even though the curtains were permanently kept closed.
She returned to her office, pushed back the President's wakeup call, and almost cursed when she saw Toby walk in and introduce Professor Lawrence Lessig. Her anger was justified when the President walked in at that moment to ask her for a copy of a mass layoff report he wanted to read in the Residence. Inevitably, he was also introduced to the Professor, with whom he struck up a jolly intellectual discourse regarding the trends in constitutional law.
"I'm sorry, excuse me, but the President has to get to the Residence…"
"I'm sure we could spare five minutes! Come on in—"
Aghast, she watched as Jed Bartlet ushered the Professor into the Oval knowing full well that five minutes would undoubtedly become a good two hours.
She shot Toby a meaningful glare at his horrible timing and resolutely followed the three of them into the office despite the lateness of the hour. Abbey would kill her if she found out CJ had caved to the President's insistence.
Just after the President bid the Professor good night at eleven thirty, CJ went home in a zombie-like state. She'd have to get up in a few hours so when she got home, she hadn't bothered peeling off her clothes. CJ flopped onto the bed and fell into a restless sleep.
In what felt like a span of five minutes, three hours had gone by and CJ was jolted from oblivion by the ringing of her house phone. She picked up and answered, noting that it was 3:45 am and that she would need a serious amount of caffeine to make it through whatever this was.
"Tell me you're calling about some guy you met in a bar."
It was Commander Kate Harper, Deputy National Security Adviser and most recent addition to the West Wing.
"A United Britannia flight from London to New Delhi went off radar in the Caspian Sea an hour ago."
"A commercial plane?"
"About a hundred passengers, mostly British and French."
CJ felt for the side of her neck suddenly, as if an insect just bit her. She frowned but refocused on Kate's voice.
"How many—"
"Six Americans."
"And we think it was a crash?"
"It's too early to tell. The plane was off course and drifting into Iranian airspace."
"Okay, I'll be right in."
CJ sat up slowly, feeling her head spin as the world went in and out of focus. She didn't think she'd ever felt this tired before. Her bones were like lead when she tried to stand.
"What the hell?" Her knees buckled violently and she crashed to the floor face first, unable to move.
Panic took its hold and bile rose in her throat. The phone was an inch away from her hand, lying on the hard wood floor beside her. CJ saw a pair of black boots approach her out of the corner of her eye but she was unable to move her head to fully look up. She tried to control her breathing, prevent herself from hyperventilating in fear.
She still struggled to reach for the phone, her fingers shaking but her arm completely unresponsive. One of the boots came crashing down hard on her hand, a cruel and unnecessary gesture but one that set the tone for the days to come.
To be continued.