Title: Random Meeting in a Badly Lit Airport
Author: MelWil
Rating: PG
Fandom: West Wing
Disclaimer: I do not own. I make no money.
Feedback: linawilsonhotmail.com
Summary: Two strangers bump into each other in an airport. Post Bartlet
Toby/CJ
"I'm sorry, I wasn't . . ." "I didn't mean to . . ."
They ran into each other at an airport. Like strangers. Or old friends who lost contact with each other some years earlier. Which, essentially, was what they were. Toby was reading while he walked; CJ was looking over her shoulder at someone passing. They bumped into each other and it took him ten seconds to recognise her.
They stood in the middle of the milling crowds, their arms too full of unnecessary luggage to throw around each other.
"This is . . ." "I didn't expect . . ."
It's awkward, of course, in a million different ways. But she had expected that, seen it coming even. Loss of socialising skills on her part, the direct result of too many years alone, when making new friends was harder than it should have been.
"What did you . . ." "Why didn't you . . ."
Half finished sentences and amazed silences. They weren't supposed to meet in an airport, under a badly flickering light. A dark, smoke filled bar, or a glitzy party, or at the back of a musty bookstore. That's where people like them were supposed to meet. This was implausible, a dream. A nightmare.
"How are the . . ." "What are you . . ."
They didn't connect anymore, didn't click, didn't know each other. There was a time when he knew everything about her and she knew more about him than anyone else could. Secrets used to be impossible between them, uncovered with a single unguarded look.
"Did you hear about . . ." "Have you heard from . . ."
His flight was called, the confident voice of the announcer pulling him away from her. He shrugged and kissed her cheek, because that's what old friends were supposed to do.
"I have to go." "Keep in touch." "I miss you." "I miss you too."
"I'm sorry, I wasn't . . ." "I didn't mean to . . ."
They ran into each other at an airport. Like strangers. Or old friends who lost contact with each other some years earlier. Which, essentially, was what they were. Toby was reading while he walked; CJ was looking over her shoulder at someone passing. They bumped into each other and it took him ten seconds to recognise her.
They stood in the middle of the milling crowds, their arms too full of unnecessary luggage to throw around each other.
"This is . . ." "I didn't expect . . ."
It's awkward, of course, in a million different ways. But she had expected that, seen it coming even. Loss of socialising skills on her part, the direct result of too many years alone, when making new friends was harder than it should have been.
"What did you . . ." "Why didn't you . . ."
Half finished sentences and amazed silences. They weren't supposed to meet in an airport, under a badly flickering light. A dark, smoke filled bar, or a glitzy party, or at the back of a musty bookstore. That's where people like them were supposed to meet. This was implausible, a dream. A nightmare.
"How are the . . ." "What are you . . ."
They didn't connect anymore, didn't click, didn't know each other. There was a time when he knew everything about her and she knew more about him than anyone else could. Secrets used to be impossible between them, uncovered with a single unguarded look.
"Did you hear about . . ." "Have you heard from . . ."
His flight was called, the confident voice of the announcer pulling him away from her. He shrugged and kissed her cheek, because that's what old friends were supposed to do.
"I have to go." "Keep in touch." "I miss you." "I miss you too."