Title: Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word
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Archive: Anywhere, but please let me know! :)
Spoilers: The Leadership Breakfast
Disclaimer: You know the drill…The characters contained herein are not mine, but in fact belong to Aaron Sorkin and all the other big dudes. This is just a work of amateur fan fiction and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: CJ/Toby, post-ep 'The Leadership Breakfast'
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Have you ever had one of those days when you just wanted to pick up the nearest object and send it hurling through space and time, hoping if connects with glass, or I don't know, someone's head? Yeah, well right now, I'm looking at a heavy paper weight which seems harmless enough sitting on a stack of printouts on my cluttered desk, but which I know could cause some serious damage if it came into contact with someone's hard skull.
"Don't even think about it, Claudia Jean."
I snap my gaze away from the potential weapon and arch a questioning eyebrow at the man standing in the doorway of my office. "Don't think about what?" I ask innocently.
Josh walks further into the room and tosses me a knowing smile. "I see you eyeing that paper weight, which by the way I got you for your last birthday, and I'm telling you it's not going to help."
I lean back in my chair and fold my arms across my chest. "Oh, I beg to differ Joshua. I'm thinking that right about now, the only thing that is going to make me feel better is taking this very thoughtful present and bludgeoning a certain Communications Director with it."
"Oh come on. Everything turned out all right in the end…I mean, you made those schmucks look—"
"Why are you men so stupid?" I exclaim as I get to my feet. "You think the reason I'm pissed is because I had to go in there and spin a comment Toby made?"
Josh backs up and puts his hands up in front of him. "Whoa, I'm just saying—"
"Yeah, I know what you're saying," I cut him off as I round my desk and snatch my coat off the rack with enough force to make it rock precariously. "I swear to God, one of these days I'm just going to quit, and then—"
Josh tries to stifle his laugh; I do have to give him that much credit. But of course, he fails miserably and within seconds, he's clutching his sides and chuckling quite heartily. Which does nothing to alleviate my mood. In fact, his mirth simply exacerbates my already frayed nerves, and before he knows what's hit him, I push him out of my office angrily. I guess I don't know my own strength because what was intended to be a playful gesture sends Mr. Lyman flying backwards, and he ends up sliding across the floor on his hind parts. Oh whom am I kidding? I meant to make him bust his ass. He's not Toby, but he's the next best thing.
He stares up at me in shock as I turn the key in the lock. He doesn't bother getting to his feet as I tower over him. "I really hate you sometimes, Josh."
"I can honestly say that I always love you," he answers guilelessly while flashing his dimples as if that will make me forgive him. And as much as I hate to admit it, it does.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I mutter as I move to walk past him.
"What? No hand up? You're just going to leave me sitting on the floor—"
"Goodnight Josh," I say louder as I continue on my way, not even sparing a backwards glance.
I'm musing on how much you can love and hate a person at the same time when I run into a brick wall. Or at least what feels like a brick wall, but in actuality turns out to be the one person who I am seriously considering breaking the law in order to harm. Our eyes meet and I'm almost certain he's on the verge of apologizing until he smirks and says,
"You should watch where you're going."
For a moment I just stand there, eyeing him in disbelief. Is he attempting to use levity with me? Oh buddy, is he stupid. I'm silently debating about whether or not to rip him a new ass hole when he decides for me by trying to walk past me with a dismissive air.
"You're a son of a bitch, you know that?"
He turns around and for once, he doesn't have a come back. In all the years I've known Toby Ziegler, he's never looked as astonished as he does right now. I don't know if it's the tone of my voice, or my body language, because I'm certain this isn't the first time someone's called him that particular epithet, but he actually stands there speechless with his hands shoved deeply into his trouser pockets.
I know I should just walk away at this point. I know this, yet I stay there and glare at him with a look that has been known to make bigger men quake in their boots. But he doesn't flinch. And I think this makes me even angrier. He still doesn't say anything. I'm going to kill him, I really am.
Maybe he senses this because suddenly he's talking. "I know you're upset CJ."
Or maybe he doesn't sense this because he surely would have chosen something more, oh I don't know, eloquent. I mean, he's a speechwriter for Pete's sake. I look into his dark eyes and I see the apology, but that isn't enough for me. I want to hear him say it.
"Is that it?" I ask.
He raises his eyebrows. "You were expecting…?" He trails off as he shrugs his shoulders.
"Maybe…'I'm sorry CJ. I was wrong, and you were right.' Or how about, 'I'm sorry for doubting you CJ.' Oh, I know—"
"I always told you that you were an idealist," he interjects before I can get any further. I narrow my eyes and he continues. "I may have been wrong in running my mouth to Ann…but that's not what you're fired up about. You're pissed because I ordered you to move the conference."
"Damn skippy."
"I was trying to—"
"You were just trying to get what you wanted…fifteen minutes to argue about the Patient's Bill of Rights. You traded my professional credibility for fifteen minutes of a whole bunch of nothing! And the thing that kills me is, you had to know that discussing this over a breakfast of pancakes wasn't going to result in anything! You just wanted to match wits with some Republican Senator, who really doesn't give a damn about what you're saying in the first place." Wow. I don't think I took a single breath during that particular tirade.
Toby throws his hands in the air and I can see he's getting worked up. Good. "Damn it CJ! If you'd stop pouting for one minute, you'd see that—"
"Pouting? I don't pout," I inform him because, well, I don't.
Toby takes a deep breath and rubs his palm absently across his forehead. "Well, I can see this is getting us nowhere. When you're ready to act like an adult, you know where to find me."
Before I even have a chance to respond, Sam and Josh round the corner, slowing their pace as they become aware of the tension in the hallway. "Everything ok out here?" Josh asks quietly.
"Everything's just ducky," I answer sarcastically.
Poor Sam looks like he'd rather the floor swallow him up than be standing in the middle of a rather heated confrontation between the White House Communications Director and the Press Secretary. Josh on the other hand is in his element.
"Well good, because it sounded like the two of you were having an argument or something."
"Josh…" Toby warns.
"No, no Toby. I'm just saying that if the two of you wanted to tear each other to shreds, then maybe it'd be more prudent to do so in the privacy of an office. 'Cuz, they have these people around here called reporters, and—"
"Oh shut up," I growl.
"Yes ma'am, shutting up now," Josh replies as he salutes me. "Just don't push me again."
"She pushed you?" Sam asks despite himself. "You said you tripped over the—" Josh elbows his friend in the ribs and shakes his head.
Toby looks at me curiously but I avoid his eyes. I feel old and tired, like I've had this argument before. And I suddenly realize that I have. Toby and I have been dancing like this for years. He advances too far, and steps on my toes because I'm not quick enough to match him, and our rhythm is destroyed for a week, or a month, or in one case, two years. And yet, we always come back to each other and try again. I guess that's the test of true friendship. Who says God doesn't have a sense of humor?
"I need a drink." I mutter as I storm down the hallway, leaving three very confused men in my wake.
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I didn't mean to hurt her. But, then I never do. I guess it's just a hazard of being friends with someone like me. I'm gruff and sometimes unapproachable, but that has never frightened her away. The fact that she keeps coming back for more is something that has always amazed me. She doesn't do so because she's a glutton for punishment, she comes back because she doesn't want to be the one to give up. She won't accept defeat.
CJ is well into her third drink, Long Island Iced Tea if my guess is correct, by the time I get to the small side-street bar that we all frequent after especially trying days. Josh and Sam are both nursing their beers and stealing surreptitious glances at their charge as she rants about something.
I'm not close enough to hear what she's saying, but it doesn't take a genius to deduce that I'm the subject of her sermon. I get the Bartender's attention and make a cut-off motion with my hand. He nods his understanding and goes back to cleaning glasses. I walk closer to the table unobserved and smile as CJ continues her verbal assault.
She stops suddenly and I wonder if it is because she senses my presence. Her eyes are focusing on a booth in the back of the dim room, and so I follow her gaze and then curse under my breath at the occupants of the aforementioned booth. CJ pushes back her chair and is on her feet in one fluid motion. Josh and Sam look at her in curiosity, but don't seem to know what to do.
I slide up behind her and place my hand on her shoulder. "Not now, CJ." I warn quietly. She tries to shrug my hand off, and almost loses her balance in the process. I circle my arm around her waist to steady her and throw a few bills on the table. If I can just get her out of here before she causes a scene…
"Toby, CJ…what a nice surprise."
Oh Dear God.
Ann Stark saunters, yes saunters, over to our table and raises her eyebrow at the almost intimate embrace I've managed to get CJ in…not that she hasn't been actively struggling against it for a full minute now. Josh and Sam collectively gulp…well, maybe I just imagined it, but they both look like their bracing themselves for all Hell to break loose.
"Ann, we were just leaving," I say through gritted teeth, praying that Josh and Sam will get to their feet and help me usher CJ out. Sam at least gets the hint and starts to gather CJ's purse and coat. Bless him…I'll have to remember to say something nice tomorrow. His friend on the other hand stays planted in his seat, waiting for the ensuing battle between two of the most powerful women in Washington.
But instinctively I know that it's not CJ Ann wants to hurt. It's me. Because one night, years ago, I hurt her by walking out. God that seems like a lifetime ago. I realize that CJ has stopped struggling in my arms and that she and Ann are now standing toe-to-toe.
"You know CJ, you deserve a raise. You're under-paid and under-appreciated, and these guys," she says gesturing to the three of us with a jerk of her thumb, "Are never going to realize your worth."
I expect CJ to do any number of things. Throw a drink at Ann, argue with the other woman, maybe even deliver a left hook to her smug face. Not that I'm advocating violence mind you, but I can feel the anger emanating from CJ's body and I know it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. However, I've known CJ many years, and if there's one thing I've learned, it is to expect the unexpected.
Her quiet acceptance of Ann's words cut me to the bone, and I can tell that Josh and Sam are having a hard time understanding her silence. She nods her head half-heartedly and shrugs. "Maybe."
Ann seems surprised at her response as well, but smiles as she notices the expressions on our faces. "Well, it's getting late and I've got a busy day tomorrow. Goodnight."
Josh and Sam wait until Ann and her friends are out of the door before turning on CJ. "What in the hell was that all about?"
CJ maintains her silence as she reaches across me and retrieves her things from Sam. She refuses to meet our eyes as she half-walks, half-stumbles out of the bar.
"She doesn't…you know…believe what Ann said, does she?" Sam asks.
"Yeah…she does," Josh answers quietly as he stands up and starts putting his heavy coat on. "I'm gonna go check on her."
"No," I say. "This is between us. I'll go."
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What was I thinking? Three Long Island Iced Teas? My world is spinning somewhat dangerously and I lean on the wall for a moment trying to catch my bearings. If there are any reporters hanging around near-by, then I'm screwed. Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick.
I fall to my knees and proceed to empty my stomach of its contents, which isn't much seeing as how I hadn't managed to eat lunch or dinner. I'm only vaguely aware of someone kneeling beside me and pulling my hair away from my face as I continue to retch violently.
"You're ok, you're ok."
I know that voice. Oh please no. I can deal with anyone but him right now. Send Ann back, hell send Senator Shallick, but please don't let the hand rubbing my back soothingly belong to Toby. I lean back and feebly wipe the corners of my mouth. I'm never going to live this down.
"Can you stand up?"
"Go away Toby," I mumble irritably as I rest my head against the cool cement wall.
"You want me to leave you out here in the middle of Washington D.C, too drunk to catch a cab?" he demands angrily.
I don't answer him and concentrate instead on how cool the sidewalk is. I close my eyes and reflect that this is as good a place as any to fall asleep. I'll deal with the repercussions tomorrow. Besides, I don't think I can move even if I wanted too. What was I thinking, three Long Islands?
"Get up, I'm taking you home."
I begin to giggle uncontrollably at the double meaning of his words and he sighs in frustration. "So help me, CJ," he whispers to himself as he hauls me to my feet, a bit roughly, I might add. He leans me against the wall as he bends down to pick up my discarded coat and purse.
And he looks so silly standing there with a women's purse slung over his shoulder that I break out into another fit of laughter. God, if he could only see himself. He rolls his eyes at me and grabs my waist in an iron tight grip, leading me down the street until we find an unoccupied cab.
He shoves me in, again, a bit roughly and I wonder if he's just going to give the driver the address and make me ride by myself because he doesn't get in after me. Oh hell, what do I care? I try to reach over and close the door, but my arms don't want to cooperate. So instead, I lean my head against the window and close my eyes.
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We're a tangle of legs and arms as I try to support her weight while climbing up the front stairs to her apartment building. She's not giving me any help whatsoever and I think she finds it amusing. Well, she finds something amusing because her head is thrown back and she's laughing loudly. A little too loudly for this time of the morning, but don't try telling Ms. Cregg that.
She stumbles and the momentum sends us both to the ground in a heap. I gasp in pain as my elbow smacks soundly against the concrete, but CJ is still laughing beneath me. I cover her mouth with my hand, trying to stifle the sound. She sticks her tongue out and runs it across my palm. I pull my hand away reflexively and this sends her into hysterics.
I've done many stupid things in my life. I'd never admit that to anyone if asked outright, but it's true. However, I think the stupidest thing I've ever done is ducking my head at that moment and capturing CJ's lips with my own. I've fantasized about kissing this woman before. Hell, I think I fantasized about it the moment I first met her. But never in a million years did I think I'd ever work up the courage to go through with it. Let alone on a public street, in front of her apartment building at three in the morning. What am I thinking?
The truth is, I'm not thinking much of anything at the moment, especially when she begins to respond to the kiss and slips her tongue past my teeth. Oh God, I can't do this. Not now. Not here. I pull back suddenly and I see the confusion in her eyes. I am now painfully aware of how close our bodies are, and I stand up a bit self-consciously.
I offer my hand, but she slaps it away and climbs to her feet, albeit a little unsteadily. "Why do you always do that?"
For one moment, I think she's talking about the kiss. I can't think of anything to say because I don't know what she means and she walks past me to sit down heavily on the bottom step. "I really hate you sometimes." She mutters as she buries her face into her hands.
"Only sometimes?" I ask smiling.
She doesn't respond, and now I realize that her shoulders are shaking with silent sobs. I cautiously sit beside her and pull her into my arms. I'm amazed that she doesn't resist, and in fact nestles further into the embrace.
"We can't keep doing this," she whispers after a few minutes.
"Doing what?"
She pulls away and grips my forearms. I look into her watery blue eyes and hate myself for placing the pain there. CJ gives me a soggy smile and transfers her gaze to my tie. "I think I make it too easy for you to hurt me."
"What do you mean?" She won't look me in the eyes, so I place my hand under her chin and force her to. "What do you mean?" I ask again.
"You're so single-minded Toby. You don't care what…or who gets sacrificed to your causes. I don't think any friendship is strong enough to endure that."
"I see," I whisper.
"Do you?"
"No…I'm sorry, I don't."
She smiles at me again, the one I know that means her heart is breaking. "I value our friendship Toby. I love you too much to let it go. I'm going to resign."
"What?" I ask as I jump to my feet. "No…there's no way I'm allowing you to quit. We need you up there."
"If I stay, I don't think we're going to remain friends."
"Fine. This administration needs you more than I need your friendship."
CJ's face has fallen and I can see that I've said the wrong thing—again. I want to explain myself, I want to tell her that our friendship is everything to me, and that I'll work harder on maintaining it. I want to tell her that the work we do everyday for the American people is bigger than the both of us, and that her presence is necessary to fulfill my hopes and dreams. I want to tell her all of this, but in the end, the words stick in my throat and I say nothing. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, and when she opens them again, there are fresh tears. She rises to her feet and dejectedly climbs the rest of the stairs to her apartment. I hate the way her shoulders slump in defeat and how vulnerable she looks against the harsh winter sky.
"I wasn't really going to resign, you know? I just wanted to see what you'd say."
"CJ?"
"Yeah?" She asks, without turning around
"I'm sorry."
She finally turns to face me and I see weariness etched into her elegant features. I stand before her, feeling naked and exposed because I don't bother to hide my emotions this time. CJ stands there for a minute, silently observing me. I don't know what's going on in her head, and it's probably safer that way. And then without warning, she has flown into my arms and is clinging to me tightly.
Her embrace is desperate, and I can't help but return the gesture, holding her as if I am afraid she'll be snatched away at any moment. We don't say anything as we stand there holding each other in the middle of the street because we don't need to. I know that she's granted me the absolution that I wasn't even aware I needed until a few moments ago.
Our relationship isn't perfect, but it's ours, and we like it this way.
~Finis~