Yom Kippur. It was the one day a year when Jewish guilt outweighed Catholic guilt. Hours of temple, hours of sitting, walking, sitting, thinking. He couldn't take the guilt sometimes. Atonement. It was supposed to be joyful, cathartic even but really is just sat like old chinese food, heavy in the stomach, coursing through the veins.
He missed the television, the newspaper, the phone. His life was electric but not today. No food, no smoking, not even brandy. He hadn't showered, brushed his teeth. He was dirty. As sad, dragging and miserable, it was the only time he felt right. Justified. His appearance portrayed his inside. Mournful, regretful, heavy. This was Toby Ziegler.
He stretched out across his bed, hands crossed behind his head. The window was on his left and darkening, slowly. He should be at service, with family, with friends, but it didn't' seem right. When the sun went down he'd pour himself a glass of brandy, light up a cigar and eat a bagel(not as good as the Deli he used to walk to in Brooklyn). And that would be that. Clean slate all ready to be messed again.
The phone rang. 7:23. Four minutes till sunset. Four minutes till he could touch it. He wanted to answer, anything to get out of this self loathing. Pity party, that's what she would call it, a pity party. Two rings. Three rings. Machine.
"Hello, this is Toby. I'm not here. If you think you're important, leave a message." Beep. Then nothing. Nothing. 7:24. Could he look at the caller ID? Was that okay? Three more minutes and the flashing light was teasing him. Taunting him. 7:25. He was going to make it.
And then the sun was gone, faded away. But Toby didn't run to the fridge, or his impromptu bar, Toby went straight to the phone. The number there was hers. Clock must have been fast, he mused. He lifted the phone to listen for the dial-tone, but none came.
"Hello?" Her voice. This had only happened once before. Where he'd picked up the phone to call her and she was there. That first night after they'd met, his friend had told him to wait a day before he called. "They like to wait," he said. But Toby couldn't, her eyes, her smile, and the tilt of her head were just too...hers. There was no other way to explain it. Just as he was about to call, was lifting the phone, she beat him to it. She always beat him to everything.
"So I hear you're a new man." And there it was, the teasing, pulling, slightly mean but mostly kidding.
"Hey CJ." Toby always sounded resigned as if he had just given up the biggest fight of his life. Her laugh was infectious and loud, it filled him in a way nothing else could.
"Let's celebrate your squeaky clean soul with a drink." He rolled his eyes as he flipped on a light. Holy day over. "Come on, Tobybear..." She slipped into her valley voice. He had no idea why she was so natural, being from Ohio, but there it was high and demanding. "It'll be like totally awesome."
"Fine. Give me an hour, I have a tradition to attend to." She snickered.
"If you're about to smoke one of those nasty, illegal cancer sticks and then drink some manly drink while bitching, relentlessly, about the state of Washington bagels without me, so help me God..." He sighed, resigned.
"Well, hurry up then." The line went dead.
CJ Cregg arrived with a bottle of scotch in one hand, and a pack of Parliament full flavored in the other. She was smiling from ear to ear, her coat unbuttoned, her hair windblown.
"Enjoying that new car of yours, Ceej?" She laughed the full laugh that filled his apartment.
"You betcha, Tobman." She deposited the bottle on his coffee table dropping the cigarettes beside it. Quickly she shed her coat, depositing it on the chair. She was wearing the red suit he loved. It reminded him of a cocktail dress, only appropriate for work. "So, what's on the agenda for today's atonement?" She dropped herself on the couch, crossing her ankles as she plopped her feet on his table.
"You." His voice was soft, careful. He wasn't planning on doing this. He wanted to joke tonight, to get the sadness of the day off his mind, but the tone was set, she was there, and all he could think about was her. The power she had over him tucked in her coat pocket. With a sigh she reached for the pack of cigarettes, pulling one out, lighting it and handing it to him before repeating for herself.
"Well, where to start, Toby, where to start..."
"How about when you made me move from NY!"
"I did not make you move... you followed."
"You left."
"Whatever."
---
It was raining on the day they met, really coming down hard. People on the street were cowering under an umbrellas, wrapped in bright yellow rubber, or running as if wild beasts were chasing them. Everyone but her. She was standing, directly out in the rain, smoking, to the best of her ability, a cigarette. In jeans and a tank-top, heavy coat resting on her shoulders, she could have been a supermodel. Her height, her frame, her face. He was immediately, uncontrollably enthralled.
To say it was love at first sight would be trite, untrue and out of character. He rarely trusted a person at first sight, let alone wanted to give up everything for her. But CJ Cregg was the closest he had ever come. It wasn't her beauty, though he did notice that too, it was the blatant disregard she had for the weather. It could have been the great flood, God himself unleashing his wrath on her alone and she would have just said, "fuck you," and flicked her cigarette.
Approaching her was hard. Toby hated being wet and introductions. It would have been easy to keep walking, glance a moment and file it away for later. But he was having a terrible day and misery loves company.
"Got a light?" he said to her, letting the rain pound down on his head. She turned to look at him, sneering a little.
"It's pouring." She was terse, clipped.
"I've noticed. It's not stopping you." She cocked her head. Ha! He got her attention!
"Fine." CJ reached into her coat for a lighter at which point he raised a hand.
"Did you think I meant here? How about there?" He gestured at the bar across the street. It was cheap and dirty, just like his mood. She nodded silently and together they walked across the street.
The bar was badly lit, loud and full of tourists trying to get out of the rain. She shrugged off her coat to reveal a soaked white tank-top. She wasn't wearing a bra. He put a hand on the small of her back, leading her over to the bar. Toby had a hard gaze, his eyes were black and small, and it didn't' take long before he scared two half witted visitors out of their stools. The two sat, he quickly ordered two scotch on the rocks(the only beverage for smoking).
"What's your name?" She spat.
"Toby. Yours?" She lit a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth, then lit one for herself. She smoked Parliaments, full flavored. He liked that.
"Claudia. Though I prefer CJ at work. Makes me feel in control...powerful..." Her voice turned husky and he couldn't tell if it was from the scotch or the mood. She leaned into him, slightly, a clump of wet hair falling into her face. "I like to be in control." For the first time, Toby couldn't breath, couldn't move, could just stare at her. Her eyes, grey in the dark, piercing through him. "Let's go." And then she was on her feet, towering over him, grabbing his hand and tugging.
It was all Toby could do to throw some money on the bar and stumble after. Her legs were long, beautiful and long, and he couldn't keep up with her giant steps. It wasn't long before they were in her apartment. It was messy, but not dirty. Newspapers on the floor, on the chairs, an open LSAT book on the coffee table, "Communication and You" on the night-stand, suit jackets on every chair. He liked it. It matched his mood and her style.
She pulled off his coat, dropped hers on the floor and quickly turned to face him. Grabbing the bottom of his tie, she moved closer and closer until finally their lips collided. He could have sworn there were sparks, electricity, fireworks...only cliches filled his head as she ran her fingernails over his back, through his soaked shirt.
Their clothes peeled off slowly, making slurping and sticking noises as wet fabric separated from moist skin. Toby wasn't sure how he had gotten here, where he had found her, and just what was happening, but suddenly she was on top of him. It was all warmth, tightness, sweat and smoke. He couldn't' get enough. Cupping breasts, scratching skin, sucking, kissing, biting. He was not a one night stand person, but her skin was so smooth, so white... and it tasted like rain. When thinking back to that night, he always remembered her shoulder, and it's musky rainy taste. She still had a scar there from the bite he left. She always told people it was from a fall. Secretly, it was her most proud mark.
They collapsed in a pile of limbs and hair. She stayed for a moment, soaking in the smells, the movements, all of him, before hopping up and disappearing into the dark apartment. Toby just fell asleep, passed out, sigh on his lips.
As Toby awoke, he was stunned, floored, literally. All he could do was moan again, try to sit up and just flop back down onto the linoleum. She was prancing about the kitchen, naked, light footed, glistening with sweat. She was so damned young, energetic, new...
"Come on, get off the floor. I have a bedroom, you know, Tobster." He cringed at the nickname, not knowing she had started a tradition that would live throughout their relationship. Finally he sat up, pulling himself off the floor, a satisfying peel echoed throughout the kitchen as his skin separated from the tile. He hobbled a little at first, a little older, a little slower than her. She offered him coffee and another cigarette lit with her lips. She led him into the room, and into her bed.
They sat in silence for awhile, he fingering the sheets, her running her finger around the glass. It was him that finally spoke, desperate to break the spell she had cast.
"Why were you like that today? Out in the rain?" She laughed gently, placing her mug on the night stand directly atop some book or another. She grabbed his cigarette, taking a long slow drag before placing it back in his mouth.
"I was washing that man right out of my hair." She ran her long fingers through her hair, wet and clumped from rain and sweat. "I needed the rebirth. Baptism or something." She smiled coyly.
"Catholic, then?" She nodded, smile still painted across her face. "Born and raised." Strangely it made him feel more at home. That's all NYers were used to, Jews and Catholics. It was right for them to be together. Typical.
"So I'm the rebound?" He said raising an eyebrow.
"We'll see." She winked, swept out of bed and straight into the shower.
----
They laughed at their foolishness, their youngness, the absurdity of the entire thing. He spoke about her favorite bathing suit, and the sand in the bathtub while she laughed and accused him of the mess. Suddenly her mood darkened.
"You didn't really hate it, did you?"
"Cj... it just wasn't my place... it wasn't... you...?" She sighed and nursed her glass.
---
Toby hated California. The sun, the smiles, the sleaziness. It was slow and warm and sticky. She was keeping him there, tethered to the sand and the sun and the forced smiles he couldn't stand.
Today he was walking home from the beach. Sandals in hand, baseball cap pulled down over dark glasses, he dragged himself past tourists with their screaming kids and flashing cameras through the town. Why did she like it here? What did she see in this place? He shook his head and began muttering. By the time Toby reached their door, he was almost through his daily monologue.
"...really, enough already with the frisbees, like it was the best invention ever, it's just--"
"a stupid piece of bent plastic! For the love of God, if I get hit one more time--"
"CJ!" There was that laughter again, filling their apartment.
"You think you'd at least change it up, Toby. Complain about boogie boards one day, sand the next.." He growled as he dropped his bag on the couch, his body falling soon after. "Oh, come on. Must you really be so grumpy, Mr. McGrumpster?" He shrugged and she emerged from their bedroom, a sarong tied around her body as a dress. She was tall and toned, each muscle showing through her browned skin as she moved, like a cat, into the room.
His breath caught in his throat. Her power radiated and washed over him. Nothing would bring him out of his slump but her. That was why he couldn't' leave, go back to NY or Washington, get a real job, move on. He wasn't sure he'd breath without her. She lowered herself next to him, draping her long legs over his lap.
"It's easy to be grumpy when it's hot, humid, and raining tourists. In fact, just on the way home, nine people asked me where the theater was, two wanted me to take their picture and no fewer than five knocked into me with a large, expensive camera. In fact, Claudia, I hate this town, I hate this county, and I hate--no, detest this state!" It wasn't hard to hear the resentment in his voice, he was defeated by her and hated her for it. For each minute she kept him alive, she killed him too.
"Shut up. You're determined to pin every reason you're unhappy on me, Toby, and I'm not going to have it. If you spent less time obsessed with that cloud hovering over you at every moment you'd notice that it's a beautiful day, there's a beautiful beach out there and a beautiful woman in your bedroom." She was pissed. Really pissed. Her anger was pulsating, hot, consuming. "You don't appreciate anything, not anything Toby, and I'm not sure how much longer I can deal with this...just... maybe you should go."
"For tonight?" He was soft-spoken, eyes downcast, hands resting on top of her legs.
"No. Just go." He gasped and squeezed her legs lightly, eyes widening, then narrowing, the anger flowing out of him, resignation taking over.
"CJ...please...just. God, Jeanie, I love you." He only called her Jeanie when they had sex. It was his guilty pleasure, his secret. If he said it in public, it made her blush, tug on his clothes, pull him home. It made up for the fact he'd never said 'I love you,' couldn't say 'I love you' before that moment. She stood up and twirled to face him, the gentle blue sheet wrinkling around her hips and waist.
"Oh....oh....Toby..." With each word she was getting angrier, the pressure building inside her, Old faithful just waiting to erupt. "Two years, and you never say it, two years, Toby! Two years I pour you your scotch, listen to you whine and complain, hold your hand, and pretend that you're not some Woody Allen wannabe and you wait for you to pretend like you enjoy a minute of it! And right now, at the very moment I give up you decide it's time? I can't do this now, it's too late for this. I'm done." She sighed and began pacing the room, putting her entire presence between him and the black TV.
"Jeanie..." She stopped short and turned to face him, tears streaming from her eyes.
"Don't call me that..." Now she was resigned. CJ Cregg never admitted defeat. He'd never seen it. Movie after movie, client after client, she was a fighter. She won. In this moment, Toby saw her fail, saw her let go. Slowly she extended him a hand. "Come to bed."
---
He sighed slowly and clicked on the television set. "CJ, I wish I had remembered to--"
"I know."
"And by the time I realized, it was too--"
"Yeah."
"I never really meant it... when I said it to her."
"Yes, you did."
"No. Only that once. That's why it was--"
"Yeah."
"Did it hurt... that day in NY..."
"I kinda always hoped... Did I hurt you?"
"Yeah." They both groped for another cigarette trying hard not to touch.
---
She always looked best in blue. That's how she was in his dreams, that sheet wrapped around her, flowing, the last thing he ever stripped her of, pulled off. That night that they had fucked. Cold, dead, unfeeling. She had smoked his cigar when they were done. The one he was saving for his first win, or the day he proposed. Neither ever came, so she smoked it slowly, deliberately, ending his hope. When she was done, he left. Like an ashamed one night stand, he dressed in silence, collected some belongings and slipped away.
She was wearing blue silk tonight. Another two years. He hadn't seen her, heard her voice, or allowed himself even to hope until that moment. It was a fundraiser for something political. He was coaching a candidate, state Senate, maybe, an unimportant race, when she swooped into the room swirling with silk.
She had always hated politics, made him explain each poll as she crinkled her nose and shook her head. Here she was, Congressman on her arm, shaking with laughter. His heart stopped.
Andi felt the change in him and tugged on his arm, raising an eyebrow. He'd met her a few weeks after CJ left, and she adopted him. Embraced his sadness, tried so hard to bat it away. He loved her, cherished her but never needed her, never felt her presence like the air. Somehow she seemed to feel the same. They were comfortable, but in a good way. Like an old sweater she clung to him and it felt good.
"Sweetie, what's wrong?" He just shook his head and stared straight ahead. It was like seeing a ghost. He had forgotten CJ was real, that she exists, living, breathing, licking her lips with that tongue, letting a man put his hand on the small of her back gently. Letting him believe he was in control. "Toby..." Andi got that angry jealous tone in her voice that was reserved solely for when he called out Jeanie in his sleep, her eyes narrowing at him.
It was then that CJ looked up to see him and froze. He would always remember the shock, the pain, the disbelief. For once he had won. He had knocked CJ Cregg from her composure. It gave him the strength to speak.
"Claudia, how odd to see you here. A political event. I never would have thought." He was charming, light hearted, upbeat and incredibly, audibly fake.
"Toby..." It was strangled, quiet, strained. Both Andi and the Congressman fidgeted from foot to foot unsure of what to do. It was then Toby caught the hint and turned to face his date.
"This is Andrea Wytt, my fiance. Andrea, this is Claudia Jean Cregg, an old friend." The two women nodded at each other tersely.
"This is Congressman Wilson, my date. Congressman, this is Toby Ziegler, the best political mind this side of the Mississippi." She was back on pace, a spin-girl, newstype, thinking on her feet.
"Yes, and we both know how much I hate the other side." He smiled as he twisted his glass in his hand. "What brings you this side of the great divide?"
"Work. I try to stay away from the East, it's especially harsh this time of year." CJ curled her lips up slowly in a coy smile as she batted her lashes slowly.
"Yes, well, it's home to some of us. It was nice seeing you, CJ" He steered Andi around and quickly paced toward the bar.
"Toby, that was Jeanie, wasn't it?" He stiffened at the sound of the pet name, it was more ominous with her wrapped in silk, just across the room. He just nodded once, and put his drink on the bar, where it was quickly replaced with another.
"Let's go home, And."
---
CJ was rummaging through the kitchen. "For a one day fast, you sure got ready."
"I try not to keep a lot of food in the house. I tend to eat it."
"Just for today, you mean, right?"
"No, pretty much all the time. I need to keep my girlish figure."
"Ahhh. Breakfast is the most important meal, you know."
"Yes, CJ. You only told me a million times before... every time you put it on the table, in fact."
---
September 1996
He went there to see her. He knew that was why. Sure, he was thinking of taking over a campaign in Orange County. Sure, he needed the sun. But really, after seeing her on CSPAN, blue suit, pinned hair, glasses, he needed to be close. Andi hadn't left him, but she wasn't there either. Every other weekend or so he would find her in his bed, hair splayed over the pillow, mouth slightly open. How he loved her when she was sleeping. Silent, calm. Unlike CJ(the only other woman he had spent a night with), Andi was the picture of grace.
She smiled and nodded when he said he was leaving. If she knew his intentions, she didn't care. Congress was in session now, anyway. "Goodluck, dear," she said as he walked out the door.
He had imagined the call he would make. Poised, calm, controlling. His fingers danced over the numbers on his hotel phone, pausing only slightly before drawing the receiver to his ear.
"EMILY's List where Early Money Is Like Yeast, it raises the dough. How may I direct your call?" It took all of his will to keep him from laughing. He could only wonder who named these groups, a five year old child? a 90 year old woman? Probably some intern contest. Toby drew in his breath slowly, just slow enough to alarm the assistant on the other end, who was surprisingly male. "Hello?"
"Uh...yeash, may I speak to CJ Cregg, please." It was a statement, a demand of sorts.
"May I ask who's calling?" The kid was nice enough, business like, Toby could see him idly doodling on a pad as he spoke.
"Toby Ziegler. An old friend."
"Hold please." There was a click, then bad music, then another click.
"Hello?" She was distant, concerned. God, he missed her.
"Hey, CJ, I was in town and I thought maybe you'd want to meet and catch up or something..." They both stopped breathing. He could imagine her, twirling a pen and biting her lip. This is what she did when she was weighing options.
"Toby? Is that you?"
"Um, yeah. Yeah, it's me."
"Oh, wow, sure, I'll meet you. How's twenty minutes sound? " He mumbled something in the affirmative, arrangements were made and she quickly hung up. Neither of them much liked telephones. They had never used one when they were together, and tried to steer clear of them at work(which was hard in their line of business). Toby had always felt it put him at a conversational disadvantage, took away 4 of the senses. CJ just preferred to have the advantage of her height when discussing things of importance.
She always loved the beach, she lived for the beach. Sand pressed between her toes, a minimum of clothing, the dark tint of sun-baked skin, she radiated California beauty. CJ had always told him that the first time she saw the ocean was when she knew she was home. 23 year old daughter of a midwest school teacher claiming the Pacific for her own by running at it, diving in, throwing caution to the wind. That's how Toby always saw it.
They met at a small cafe on the beach. She was wearing a simple linen dress and strappy leather sandals. Her steps were long, majestic. She always reminded him of a cat, not a house cat, more like a panther. Her smile was enchanting, and despite the lines starting to appear on her face, hadn't changed in all the years he knew her.
"What brings you to town?" She was cheerful even, as she floated into the seat across from him. He'd already ordered her a scotch on the rocks with a small umbrella. An homage to their past. Her first action was to pluck it out of her drink and take a large gulp.
"You." Toby's gaze was intense, straightforward and unwavering. She stopped her drinking, smiling, tossing of her hair and just stared. The connection was undeniable, electric...she would later describe it to her roommate as amazing.
"I thought you were...married...?" He sighed, squeezed his nose and shook his head slowly.
"I am, or was, or... we're not doing well. And I missed you." He took in a deep breath, gripped the side of the table and in a low, barely audible voice, said, "I'm really lonely, CJ. And there was an excuse to come out here... I can't get you out of my head." Slowly she lifted her glass to her lips, tipping it all the way back, draining all of its contents, reached across the table, did the same to his and stood.
"Come on, Tobster. Let's get this over with."
---
Her feet were perched upon his lap, and he was rubbing them gently. Carefully. Putting pressure in all the right places. He hadn't touched her like this in months, and he liked it. Friendly intimacy, calculated affection. It was just what they both needed.
"So, how did you end up in my yard, anyway?"
"Hmm?" He turned his attention from her foot to her face.
"When you hired me. For the campaign. How did that happen?"
"It's not an interesting story..."
"I didn't ask for a strip show, Toby."
"Okay, well...
---
Toby just shook his head slowly. When Leo had asked him to come up with a list of press people, he hadn't hesitated to put on her name. Top and center, CJ Cregg. He never imagined Leo would choose her over the more high profile of his choices. But the instructions were clear. The older man looked over the list, fingered CJ and said,
"This name, where have I heard it?"
"EMILY's List. She's working in TV or something now. Never done a national election. Has spunk, though." Toby tried not to let his feelings leak through, tried to make it professional, clean cut, but Leo wasn't stupid.
"Do you trust her?" Toby just nodded. "With your life?" He nodded again. "Okay then go get her." So, there he was again, on a plane to LA. He had done the trip countless times in his life. Home to see family when he was living there, back to see CJ three times over the past 5 years(all in the first year and a half). It was never an easy flight.
They fought the last time he had left. The thoughtless sex was too much for them both. She hadn't moved, and the weight of the apartment they had lived in together was just too much. He had made the fatal mistake of denying he cared, denying there was more than the heat, and the sweat and the screeching of skin on tile, wood, carpet. Each time he would come for three days, she would take off work, and they'd drink a bottle of scotch and smoke a pack of Parliaments, full flavor. That last time, that last night, she had banned him from her house, tossing the mostly empty bottle of scotch after him, hitting the closed door.
Once Toby landed, he called her work. She'd had the same job for awhile now, and though he hadn't talked to her for a few years, he made a point of keeping track of her. They told him she had just been fired, was on her way home, and he laughed. The receptionist faked indigence, but he could tell she was also amused. Upon reaching her house, much larger than the apartment they had shared, he let himself into her yard. Toby grumbled about how unsafe it was for a single woman to be keeping her backyard ungated and unlocked, but really he just mused at how uniquely CJ it was. Her pool was amazing, her house was amazing. He couldn't stop marveling at how well she seemed to be doing... how well she was doing.
When he heard her stumble up the walk, he chuckled to himself. She was older, still, with frumpy hair, and a silly dress, yet still managed to be beautiful. Ungraceful like an ostrich, she fumbled around her yard, calling out as if she were blind.
"Toby, is that you?" And into the pool she tumbled, he laughed. When she emerged she had looked the same as the day they had met. Wet, angry, and determined.
"You fell in the pool there, CJ"
She was furious, embarrassed, and surprised. He had never showed up unannounced. Their meetings were planned, blocked in, regulated. He was not supposed to just be in her back yard one day. This day. It was so strangely familiar. The sense of defeat and his presence.
"CJ, I didn't come here to--" Oh. She understood, cut him off, kept him from saying 'sleep with you.' She didn't want to hear it. Their conversation was quick, clipped, cute. Things seemed okay. Static. This could work. She could do this. When he left, she looked in the mirror and sighed. Her hair was stringy, her makeup smeared, she reminded herself of her 22 year old form, dragging home a strange man, fucking him on the kitchen floor, falling in love. The resentment had faded now, she knew. The feelings that he kept her from law school, he kept her from campaigns, kept her from glory. She didn't feel inferior anymore. It was graduation day.
---
They were pretty close to drunk, more laughing than crying, telling story after story from the campaign trail. "And that time, Toby, when you were sure you were going to get fired..."
"Which one?" She waved her hand in the air to shut him up.
"Oh, it doesn't matter because it was the time you picked a fight with the president over some economic theory... and it ended with him bellowing 'Toby Ziegler, I dont' care how hard you try, I am not going to fire you. Now go to your hotel room, close the door and never speak money with me ever again!' And you scampered off." He furrowed his brow. "Don't tell me you don't remember!"
"Honestly, CJ, the first night of that entire year that feels real was..."
---
Inauguration. The sheer sense of accomplishment overwhelmed her. She had never won, not like this. She had bought a 'swirly' dress as her niece would have called it. She just wanted to keep dancing, like My Fair Lady, or that fairy tale where the princesses danced till their shoes wore thin. She just needed to keep moving.
Toby spotted CJ across the room. She was twirling Sam around and laughing. She crinkled her nose, shook her head, her hair was straight now. He had seen to that. First day, "okay, CJ, welcome to the big leagues... lose the perm." He walked slowly, surely over to where she was now attempting to do the polka with Donna.
"May I cut in?" His voice was thick, silky even, a slight smirk. No one had seen Toby smile in months. It was refreshing. CJ offered him her hand, and he tugged her close. Swaying her around the ballroom.
"Are you drunk?" She was laughing into his hair(or what was left of it), while stepping on his feet. "Tobster....?" He chuckled, and spun her amazed at the wingspan of her dress.
"I think you could get some serious air with this thing, CJ..."
"Shut up!" She swatted at him.
"No, really..." He dipped her, she yelped. "God, Jeanie, you really are beautiful tonight." It had slipped out. He hadn't meant it. He may not even have noticed if she hadn't frozen. Looked as if she had seen a ghost. "Oh, fuck. Fuck. I'm...I didn't mean... I dont' want..." The song ended, he released her, and silently she crossed the room to bother Josh.
Toby went back to his wife. She was sulking in the corner. She still wasn't pregnant.
---
"It wasn't all you, Toby, I was unreasonable as well..." He huffed a little, blowing smoke rings with hit cigar, aiming them at her head.
"I know."
"What is that supposed to--"
"Oh, come on! How about that time..."
---
CJ stormed into Toby's office. She was pissed, so pissed. The door slammed, and he was sure everyone in the bullpen stopped working. Just stopped and stared.
"God damnit, Toby, this is for Danny, isn't it? Isn't it? How could I be so stupid as to think--"
"CJ...listen..."
"No, you listen. Don't you ever, EVER, let our personal history get in the way of my work, Toby. I mean it. It was unprofessional.. untrustworthy... I just..."
"CJ, I didn't mean.."
"Don't you CJ me, you know damned well what you were doing, and there is no way you're going to tell me this wasn't some personal attack at me. It has nothing to do with your thinking I'm untrustworthy, or a bad secretary, or anything like that, Toby. This is completely some territorial pissing contest you have in your head, and I won't let that get in the way of my job!"
"I'm sorry." She sighed, exasperated and turned to leave.
"I mean it, Toby. I thought you were over this shit." When she slammed the door, his whole office shook.
---
His strained laugh echoed through the apartment. "Oh, CJ, you were just overreacting! I never meant that as retribution or anything."
"Yeah, yeah, men are men..." The silence that passed between them was brief. CJ sipped from her glass and let out a sigh. The next memory was painful.
It cut like glass, or a razor... they just waited for the other person to start. To say "That night in Roslyn..." It never came. It passed silently, unspoken, understood.
---
She couldn't get the sound of the shots out of her head. It was the last thing she heard, the last thing she remembered before her tumble to the concrete. She never heard the car explode, never saw the glass rain down on her back. She didn't' know if she was grateful or angry about it. But part of her was sad, lonely, isolated. They had this collective memory... and hers wasn't there.
Toby sat, silently, hands folded in his lap. The sight ingrained in his head forever. "Josh, why didn't' you answer me..." The blood. So much blood. His face so white. His hands so red. It was so shocking he couldn't' even yell at first. Just stammer. And to tell Donna. God. He felt it was his responsibility. This whole mess. So he told Donna. Said the words. Saw her die a little. The pain felt good.
This was his fault.
She got up to leave. To brief. He excused himself. Grabbed her on her way to the car. "You wanted to talk to me?"
"Yeah.. come with me." So he got in the car. Sat there, hands on the dashboard. "Toby... could we... I just..." He nodded.
"Yeah.. yeah, I think..."
"I really need to feel something right now. To remember I can." He nodded again. She had never admitted she needed him. It felt good, if late. For once she wasn't dominating, suffocating. CJ Cregg needed his help. They climbed into the back of her old Chevy Sedan. She had meant to get rid of it, buy something new and frivolous, but never had the time.
Silently, she unbuttoned her pants, and he his. Within a minute they were a tangle of arms and legs, attached to two hungry mouths, moaning softly, tugging on clothes all of it so frantic, so needy. Toby felt good for the first time all night, really good. Her body was familiar, warm and responsive. She clung to him like she had never done before and for a second, a single second, the words came to his lips. Words he never said, never liked to say. He bit them back, sure that it was the sentimentality of the night, the thought of death, the warmth of her body, the strength of her need. He couldn't really mean them.
Could he?
---
The clink of her glass on the table jolted him out of his day dream. Their conversation had only paused for a moment. Chatting idly about the day they met, the day he left, their entire relationship. Though, neither had mentioned that night in the parking lot, they understood it's weight. It's importance. She laughed heartily at something on the TV, and he turned to smile at her.
"You know, CJ, I'm sorry." She squinted her eyes and shook her head quickly.
"I know. Forget about it. It was all so long ago..."
"Not all of it." His voice lowered. She blushed slightly. "I just... I was scared of you, I guess."
"You don't... I know..."
"I didn't mean--"
"It's okay." She was insistent. There was no more to discuss. She sighed, yawning slowly. "It's late."
"Yeah."
"I should go."
"....yeah..." She stood, smoothing her skirt, tugging her jacket down.
"Happy New Year, Tobster." Her smile was beautiful...
Just as she reached the door, he stood. "Jeanie?" She stopped, turned, her brow furrowed. Now he was smiling, just the corners of his mouth turned up. "Thanks." She nodded, shoulders and all and slid through the door, closing it softly behind her.
For the first time since he could remember, Toby Ziegler felt free.