Author: Angie
Email: AngieSuth@aol.com or angiesuth@hotmail.com
Title: A Matter Of Timing
Characters: CJ/T
Rating: G
Summary: Why would I hate you?
Disclaimer: Not mine at all.
Spoilers: Well, you have to know about Ben. So, S5 …
Feedback: Always appreciated.
A/N: My sick friend makes me laugh. I love her to bits.
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A Matter Of Timing
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"What was that about?"
He can't help but hear the bewilderment in her voice and he wishes it were anger, wishes it were something to feed off; something to hide behind.
"I don't know what you're talking about, CJ." He turns his back and walks to the bookshelf, embarrassed by the lie and desperate for her not to call him on it.
"Crap."
He flinches. Then reaches to replace the book, allowing his fingers to linger on the cool spine, wanting to delay his humiliation. He hears the door close and knows that she is not behind it. He's still on that hook.
Sighing, he turns to face her and braces himself.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, and you know exactly how mad you've made me, Toby." She perches on the edge of his desk and stares him in the eye, crossing her arms over her chest.
He can't hold back a flicker of admiration, and knows that she sees it.
"And you're not distracting me from saying what I want to say, not this time. I know you, Toby," CJ stands and walks towards him, "I know you're not thrilled with meeting my friends and I know you don't feel obliged to be pleasant. But there's no need to be rude. And that was plain rude." She looks down at her hands and he can see her distress. "I thought I was your friend, I thought you cared."
He is startled by the break in her voice and then by the apology on the tip of his tongue; the apology he is determined to swallow unsaid.
Silence.
CJ turns away. "Now I need to explain to Ben that you didn't mean to be rude. Except I'm not sure he'll believe me. Hell, I'm not sure I even believe it myself."
He can't bear her disappointment. Can't bear to fail her. Again. So he speaks.
"I thought you said it was a mistake to look back. That the things that didn't work before, wouldn't work any better second time around. I thought you got on each other's nerves."
She leans against the closed door and stares at him. The contempt in her tone is unmistakable, "It hasn't stopped you."
"No, and we all know how successful that has been." He finds it hard to speak and clears his throat. He really doesn't want to talk about Andi and he never has. Not to CJ. He glares at the rain on the window and in that instant, seeing the endless gray of his day, opens his mouth. "It's just that I always thought … at some point in our lives," he casts a nervous glance towards the door, to a point slightly to the right of her face, "I thought that you and I … you know …" He trails off as the burst of courage fails him.
A man of waning courage, he. A man of grand gesture and faltering confidence, who doesn't ask for fear of being told 'no', who barks in case he's bitten. Who feels too deeply. But because he feels too much for this friend, this woman who thinks him better than he plainly is, he continues.
"You and I …" his hand hovers in the air between them before landing on his forehead, "but every time I convince myself that you won't laugh, that I can ask you without … that I should tell you how I feel, well, there's another guy ahead of me in line. And he's younger or smarter or taller. With all his hair. And, you know, he's … easier to be around. So, I uh, I just …" he shrugs and stares at his shoes. "And we've always been friends. And … I don't want you to hate me."
She doesn't move. Thank God she doesn't run. Or laugh.
"Why would I hate you?"
"It happens."
CJ takes a soft step towards him. "I'm asking, Toby, why would I hate you?"
He turns back to the window, resting his head on the cool glass, and wonders if the rain reflects like tears on his cheeks. "Because I've yet to have a relationship where the word didn't crop up at some point. I don't want that with you, CJ."
He flinches at her hand on his shoulder.
"Toby, you have made me furious many times. You have hurt me and disappointed me and then made me plain crazy. But I've never hated you. I could never hate you."
He turns to look up at her, and even before the words are out of his mouth, he knows he's lost. "So are you saying that I … we … have a chance?"
And he is lost, has lost, because the hope in his face is not reflected in hers. He sees only sorrow.
She shakes her head. "I promised Ben that I'd try again. I don't go back on that kind of thing, Toby."
Through the pain his chest and the weight on his mind, he sees her walk to the door. Through the roaring in his ears, he hears her.
"But when it ends – which it will - because try as we might, we still irritate each other; because it's not my fault that I'm not everything he wants me to be and it's not his fault that he's not you …"
He meets her eyes at last.
"Well, when that day comes and I've cried just a little – because I will – then maybe, just maybe, you should pluck up the courage. And call me."
He watches the door close behind her.
The End.