Chapter Five

The White House

"Come on, C.J., get the lead out. I hear there's food in the other room."

C.J. rolled her eyes. She walked to her office door and shot Josh a dirty look.

He didn't see it, as he fixated on her dress. He whistled appreciatively. "Nice. New dress?"

"You say that every time. Do you think I buy a new dress every time we do one of these things?"

Josh shrugged. "I don't know. But on the occasions that you do, I want to get points for noticing." He smiled, proud of his logic.

She shook her head fondly and reached for her matching handbag.

She chose not to inform him she had indeed bought a new dress. She wanted to look nice for Harm, but would never say that out loud. "Where's Amy?"

"She's already in there. Why do you think I'm in such a hurry?"

"Well, I'm not your babysitter. You can go ahead without me."

"Are you afraid I'm going to mess with your date?"

"Josh, I know you. Of course you're going to mess with my date. So I respectfully request that you get lost before I have to beat you over the head with one of these shoes."

C.J. strode past him in her favorite pair of strappy sandals. This was possibly the first time she'd ever had a date whom she wouldn't tower over in heels, and she was going to milk the opportunity for all it was worth.

When she reached the lobby and caught sight of her date, she had to lock her knees to keep from falling over. Whatever the Navy lacked in terms of summer uniforms, they more than made up for it with their mess dress - and Harm looked better than anyone had a right to look in it. He was holding his cover in one white-gloved hand, and the crisp lines of his short white jacket and dark pants were flawless. A neat row of medals lay against his chest, and she sensed that his set of accolades would hold its own against some generals and admirals that would be in attendance that evening.

Harm looked dumbfounded at her sleek crimson dress. When he recovered, he could only shake his head. "C.J., you look stunning," he complimented. "There's no way you're going to need me around to have someone to dance with."

"Well, maybe I want you around," she responded with a smile. "I have to say, you do that uniform justice. Is the tie real, or is it the clip kind?"

He gave her a long-suffering look. "This is the most formal uniform the United States Navy has. Do you really think they would issue anything other than real bow ties?"

Yeah, dumb question. "I'm just impressed that you can tie it. Josh has been trying to learn to do it for years–with little luck. He usually has his assistant help him. And for the few cases when she wasn't around, I'd do it for him."

"I'm a sailor. I can tie anything," Harm said haughtily.

"Well, be still my heart," she drawled in a lousy Southern-belle accent, fluttering a hand to her chest. He only shook his head and offered his arm, leading her into the ballroom. When they entered the ballroom, many heads turned to them. They struck an impressive picture.

They sat with the rest of the senior staff. During the evening, people had called Toby, Sam, Josh, and C.J. away at least twice to deal with some urgent issue. Just before the President was scheduled to give his remarks, all four of them disappeared at once.

It relieved Harm to have a moment of respite. The dinner conversation had been polite, but awkward. He got the feeling C.J.'S colleagues saw him as some kind of adversary, despite C.J.'s best efforts. Of course, he reflected, it wasn't just him: none of them, C.J. included, had been friendly to Josh's girlfriend. Gaining entrance to this inner circle wasn't something easy to accomplish.

He leaned over and spoke to the other abandoned escort left at the table. "Your date doesn't like me much, does he?"

Amy smiled a little. "If it makes you feel any better, yours isn't overly fond of me, either. Don't take it personally. Josh has had a crazy couple of weeks. Besides, he and C.J. have this protective sibling thing going on."

"What about the others?"

"You probably challenge their masculinity."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then what's their excuse regarding you?"

She shrugged. "I make them nervous. I got back a little while ago on my feet after this little A-Team cost me my last job, and yet they all still think I'm working an angle."

"Are you?"

Amy narrowed her eyes at him. "Not at the moment, but check back later."

Before he could attempt to figure out her demeanor, the staffers returned, and Josh immediately whisked his girlfriend away. His suspicious look mirrored C.J.'s as she pulled Harm to his feet. Amy had turned around and shot him a veiled glance that said, 'Told you so'. Harm sighed and counted his blessings that they all seemed to go their separate ways for a while.

"This job of yours never takes a break, does it?" he asked as they made their way onto the dance floor.

"You're just now figuring that out?" C.J. responded lightly, enjoying the feel of his muscular hand at her back. "As combat pilot, you know what it's like to be on alert, ready for anything."

"Sure, but our cruises end after six months, and your tours run for four years. And if you're lucky, or unlucky, depending on the point of view, then you get four more years. I realize that every moment you spend in the White House is basically 'on duty', but do you ever have time to just forget about it all and relax?"

Harm had wondered about that during their coffee dates.

"Well, I used to be one of those people who took their work home with them every night. I'd be up in the middle of the night thinking about something I should have said differently in a briefing, things like that."

"What changed?"

"Truthfully?"

"Of course."

She looked up into his luminous blue eyes and said simply, "One morning, a few weeks ago, Donna Moss wandered into my office and told me that there was a hot-looking sailor in the lobby."

As her meaning became clear, he searched vainly for a response, surprised and flattered. She continued before she lost her nerve. "I thought you were like Simon, but you aren't. Just his presence was a constant reminder of this place, even when he was just watching me go into my building at night. You let me be just Claudia, rather than the C.J. Cregg, the White House Press Secretary. You're the first person in a long time who's allowed me to forget all the constant pressures that go along with being who and what I am for a while. I can't tell you how great it feels to do that."

He tightened his hold on her waist, drawing her closer, and they danced in silence for a while. At last, he replied, "If that was your way of calling me a distraction, it was the sweetest brush-off I've ever heard."

"You know damn well that wasn't a brush-off. And yes, you are a distraction, but you're the best kind of distraction. You help me keep my sanity, and that isn't a simple task. Especially in election season."

"Believe me, Claudia, I know exactly what you mean."

Hearing him say her given name like that sent an unexpected thrill through her. She was almost embarrassed to discover just how high her emotions were running at that moment. If he had made even the slightest overture, she was fairly sure she would have dragged him out to her office and taken great pleasure in undoing that perfectly knotted tie. Hell, even the ladies' room would suffice in a pinch.

But he was a perfect gentleman, as always, and before long, she decided she needed a break to cool herself down before she did something stupid and irreversible. Scanning the room, she spotted a familiar face at an otherwise empty table, and a wicked idea popped in her head.

"I have a thing I have to do," she lied smoothly, slipping out of his arms with a conspiratorial smile. "But how would you like to make someone's day while simultaneously helping me annoy a co-worker who really deserves it?"

Harm looked wary but didn't shrink away from the concept. "You're a hard woman to say no to. What do you want from me this time?"

Across the ballroom, Donna Moss was studying her fingernails, idly wondering if she should splurge on a manicure over the weekend. She didn't have to attend this event, and she'd seriously considered ditching it several times. However, Josh had wanted her within reach in case they had any last-minute problems with the House Appropriations vote that evening. In her estimation, it was better to sit through a dull dinner for a few hours than to listen to Josh's whining for an entire week after that.

"Ms. Moss?"

She glanced up to find a gorgeous naval officer standing in front of her. "I don't think I have properly introduced myself. We crossed paths in the lobby a few weeks ago. Harmon Rabb."

Donna blinked a few times, then stood up to shake his hand. "It's Commander Rabb, right? C.J.'s Commander?"

He smiled at the description. Just like C.J., he realized it wasn't worth correcting people on this topic. "For the evening, anyway. She had to head out for a while, and I'm afraid I don't know anyone here. I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to dance with me and spare me from looking pathetic."

Somewhat star-struck, she allowed him to lead her onto the floor. Maybe tonight wasn't a total waste after all.

As it turned out, Harm had once spent a week backpacking in the Boundary Waters, close to where Donna had grown up, and they chatted amiably for a few minutes about the best trails. Before long, though, he glimpsed Josh Lyman entering the room, noticing the two of them, and abruptly leaving again. Harm suspected that this little escapade hadn't been such a great idea.

When the song ended, he politely took his leave of Donna, then left the ballroom by the same route Josh had taken, finding him on the terrace outside with a stormy expression.

"Hope I'm not disturbing you."

Josh shrugged, not looking at him. "It's a free country, thanks to you and your friends."

"Okay, I can take a hint." Harm turned to leave.

"What were you dancing with my assistant for?" Josh exclaimed.

It was like that, Harm thought. No wonder Josh would ask his assistant to help with his tie. "C.J. had to go off and do something, and she thought getting me to take Donna for a spin might piss you off."

"It worked."

"I see that."

Josh spun around, fed up with the other man's infinite calm. "Is there something I can help you with, Commander, or did you just come out here to bond with me?"

Harm realized that Josh was on edge. He knew he had to choose his words carefully, or Josh would explode. Normally, he wouldn't mind too much. But making a scene at a State Dinner wouldn't do him any favors–especially not with the Press Secretary.

"I came out here to make sure you understood that I don't have any intention of letting C.J. get hurt. I figured that was your major problem with me. But I realize that you've got things on your mind that are way more important than I am, so if it helps you to lash out at me for a while, go for it. I know how it goes."

"You don't know how it goes around here."

"Probably not, but if what C.J. says is true, I can at least commiserate with you about being the office problem child."

Josh smirked, not buying it. "I can't see somebody like you pulling the stunts I've pulled."

Oh, a challenge. "Try me." Harm folded his arms, a glint in his eyes.

"I once insulted a key member of the religious right on national television out of pure spite."

"I remember reading about that. I once fired an automatic weapon in the courtroom to prove a point."

The Deputy Chief of Staff waited, expecting a punch line. When none came, he relented. "All right, you win."

"I'm not trying to win. I'm just saying that I'm not fundamentally different from you just because I put on a uniform every morning instead of a suit."

Josh hesitated. "Look, I don't resent you specifically. It's just that - God, this is going to sound immature. When I began dating a major player in women's advocacy, the whole administration looked at me cross-eyed. I took a lot of crap, from stupid jokes to outright accusations against my loyalty. Then C.J. brings you in, and everyone's hunky-dory with it because you're safe somehow…"

"'Everyone' meaning the President?" Oh, if Josh actually knew… "Josh, he is treating me like I'd assume he treats a date of one of his daughters. Just a little politer because there are many people watching."

Josh didn't allow his surprise at the accuracy of that observation to show. "He's been on my case ever since I let the House schedule a tight vote for the night he was going to be in New York. After that, nothing I do is good enough. I don't mean to sound like an ungrateful brat or anything, but the implication that I give anything less than a hundred percent to this job is infuriating. I mean, I took a bullet for the President, for the love of -"

Quickly he turned away, not willing to let this stranger see the torrent of pain and frustration that he'd nearly allowed to escape.

Harm recognized it, though, and the pieces fell into place. "It's still hard to think about what happened that night, isn't it?"

Josh dug his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo, focusing his gaze on a small corner of the terrace. "It's ancient history. It was two years ago."

"It's been a decade since I put my F-14 into the deck of a carrier, but it still doesn't thrill me to talk about it."

At that, he turned back slightly. "You crashed?"

"Calling what I did 'crashing' would be an affront to crashes. When it was all over, the biggest remaining piece of my plane was my ejection seat."

Harm spoke dispassionately, but he didn't hide the shadow that fell across his features.

"And you didn't take the first chance you got to bail the hell out of the Navy?"

"Did you think about leaving the White House after Rosslyn?"

"No. Why would I? It's just something that happened. People don't go around shooting at me every day."

"I don't crash planes every day, either."

Thinking of his last few years, Harm offered a sardonic grin. "Although with two Tomcats and a MiG to my record, one might be tempted to think otherwise."

"A MiG?" Josh asked with his eyes raised. He thought about that and could barely remember some media reports about an American and a MiG. "Do I even want to know?"

"I doubt it."

Josh shook his head, still dubious. "So despite that press release I saw earlier, you're not the golden boy of the U.S. Navy?"

Harm looked at Josh incredulously. "God, no. I've given ulcers to more commanding officers and appointed officials than anyone since Patton. But I still have a job, so I guess that's the best proof I can offer because dedication matters above all. And I sincerely doubt that anyone in the West Wing is truly questioning your commitment."

"All right. Maybe we can get along after all."

Harm replied in the same manner. "Glad to hear it." Harm held out his hand and Josh shook it firmly. "But just for the record, I am a damn outstanding pilot."

Josh had to laugh at the statement. "Now that we've gotten that straight, are you going to tell me what exactly is going on with you and C.J.?"

"I would, if I understood it myself."

"Welcome to life in politics. Let's go track down our dates."

"Thanks," Harm said sarcastically. "Um Josh, I'm glad that we're bonded somewhat," he said with an eye roll. Josh chuckled. "But there is one observation I want to make about about your girlfriend. It has to do with something you mentioned a few minutes ago."

Josh looked at him, and nodded.

"The difference between her and me is that I don't seem to have an agenda. I'm sure someone somewhere said something on the line that I'm using my friendship with C.J. to further my career. But if you'd asked C.J. she would tell you that she'd no inclination about that as we try not to talk about our work," Harm said. "Anyway, I don't have an obvious agenda whereas your girlfriend…" Harm sighed. "Josh, in the short time we spent together she asked me several times whether I'd be interested in speaking out on this or that topic on women in the Navy. It's quite clear to me she has an agenda, and that she uses every opportunity to promote it."

Josh looked surprised and a bit annoyed. "Alright, if you don't mind, Commander, I'd like a few moments alone."

"Okay. See you later, Josh."

Harm returned to the ballroom and saw the crowd was thinning out. An eager reporter had cornered C.J., and she was looking for a way out. She had explained to the reporter three times that nobody would make any no policy announcements that night. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see a very welcome interruption.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you're needed in the Communications bullpen," Harm said solemnly, with only the slightest twinkle of amusement in his eye. C.J. inwardly breathed a sigh of relief and quickly followed him out of the room, heading toward her office.

"You have great instincts," she told him once they were out of sight from the crowd. "I swear, there are people who just can't take hints. It's practically midnight, everyone's going home, and this guy thinks he's going to witness some historic event and get the scoop of a lifetime."

"Gotta admire his tenacity, though."

"Not when it irritates me this much, I don't." She shut her office door behind them and leaned against it. "Sorry. This has just been a never-ending day."

"Well, I think you can probably relax now."

"Knock on wood when you say that." She rolled her neck around to stretch and promptly caught her earring on the strap of her dress. "Oww! Damn it…"

"Don't move. I'll get it."

He was at her shoulder in one stride, gently easing the long twist of gold out of her ear and disengaging it from the fabric.

"Thanks," she said apologetically, cursing her clumsiness - until she became aware that his hand still lingered against the curve of her neck, and that he was close enough for her to sense the tension radiating from him. They stared at each other.

"C.J.," he began hesitantly, "would it be completely out of line for me to - "

"No," she replied emphatically. "However, that sentence ends, the answer is no."

In response, he drew her in and captured her lips with a brief, burning kiss. After a long moment, he stepped back. "You sure about that answer?"

"I am now," she said, trying not to sound breathless. "We should, ah, probably discuss this someplace other than my office, though."

"I don't think this is a typical coffeehouse discussion topic."

"Whose apartment is closer?"

"Probably mine."

"Then lead on."

Harm's Apartment

North of Union Station, Washington, DC

It was a relatively short drive, but as she forced herself to focus on the taillights of his SUV, it seemed positively interminable. She was nervous; she wasn't one for casual sex or one-night stands. Although she wasn't sure about the state of the relationship between them, she knew that at this moment she wanted Harm. Badly. When she finally swung her car into the alley, her pulse was racing so fast that she barely noticed how menacing his neighborhood looked. She climbed out of the car and looked around. She saw Harm standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame casually that belied both his formal attire and the intense expression in his eyes.

They rode the elevator in near-silence until it came to a halt. "It's not as bad as it looks," Harm remarked, shoving the gates open with an embarrassed gesture at the dingy hallway. Within moments, though, he'd unlocked the door, and she understood what he meant. As she admired the sleek, open design of the apartment, he tossed his cover on a shelf and reached up to yank his tie loose. "So what exactly are we here to discuss?"

Having decided, C.J. gazed him. "I was more or less using the word 'discuss' as a euphemism."

She stepped toward him and traced his medals with two long fingers. "Although, it's only been a few weeks, you're as tired of wondering about us as I am, right? What else is there to talk about?"

"Maybe nothing. I don't know. I haven't been able to think straight since you walked into the foyer in that dress five hours ago."

"You did an admirable job of hiding it."

"Control is an aviator's lifeblood."

The last word was almost swallowed as she returned the earlier kiss, pulling his jacket down from his shoulders at the same time. He responded by pulling her into his powerful embrace, his touch searing her bare shoulders. Yet she still sensed that he was reigning himself in to a certain extent. She wasn't surprised. She had learned that Harm seldom just simply let go. What they were doing now was like a game of chicken: each seemed to wait to see whether the other would flinch. As she had decided on how she wanted the evening, well the night actually, to continue, it predictably wasn't she who pulled back.

"C.J.," he said, pulling away ever so slightly, "come on, we can't…"

She stood her ground and studied the snug fit of his pants with a cocked eyebrow. "All evidence to the contrary," she replied calmly, watching the tips of his ears turn pink at her insinuation. Cute.

"Seriously. You're on the rebound."

Ouch. He didn't have to say the name. They both knew who he meant. "Explain to me how I can be on the rebound from someone I never dated in the first place."

"You cared about him."

Felling defensive, C.J. said without thinking. "You care about your partner, too, but you don't see me putting on the brakes here."

The veiled horror that flickered across his features made her realize what she had said. She winced. "Shit. That was the wrong topic to bring up right now, wasn't it?"

"I'll say." He turned away, trying to get a better hold on his emotions, and she steeled her nerves for the charge ahead.

"Harm, it's pretty obvious that we're both wondering about this, and if we do nothing about it, there's always going to be these questions between us we won't know how to answer. We're both responsible, unattached adults. So why can't we just treat this as an experiment? If it works, life is good, and if it doesn't, we go back to where we were - "

"That concept never turns out as well as it's supposed to."

"You know this from experience?"

He shot her a look that plainly said, 'Are you kidding, me?'

Despite what other people thought about him (or like Mac accused him of), he was neither a prude nor a womanizer. Although he liked to play with the role of cocky NAVY pilot and his Gold Wings, he rarely had one-night-stands. Maybe it was because of his upbringing, perhaps it was of what had happened to Gym when he was younger. For him, there had to be a connection to a woman before he would have sex with her. There weren't many women he had slept with outside of a long-term relationship. There were few women from when he was younger. His old partner Kate Pike, and the Romanian princess, for example.

Some part of him relented, and she seized the opportunity. "Look, I know well that there's a very strong possibility of this not working. The odds of my life being able to accommodate you and yours being able to accommodate me are fantastically slim. But right now, I'm willing to take that chance, just to get the answer to a question I really tried to avoid. I guess what I'm saying is, if you're still my friend tomorrow, that's all I need."

"And if it's just tonight?" He asked, unsure.

"Then it's just tonight. And I'll be able to say I banged a fighter pilot."

He barely cracked a smile at the comment, but she stepped out of her heels and folded her arms under her breasts. "Take a break from being so noble. I'm a big girl."

He shared her questions and doubts about them. Normally, that would be enough for him to pull back, as he had done so in the past with Diane, on some level with Meg and especially with Mac. In all those years, Mac and he had never been that frank with each other with their intentions. Sure, she had propositioned him for a one-night-stand in Sydney. 'Cause clearly, if he or a relationship with him had been important to her, she would have waited longer than a just a few hours before sleeping with another man and then rubbing it under his nose. But this situation right now with C.J. was different. She wasn't just looking for just a one-night stand. She wanted to dive into it and look where they ended up.

He stared at her for a long moment. Decision made, he decisively he reached for her–and just before they could touch, the shrill whistle of a pager cut through the silence, stopping their actions.

"If that's not an omen, I don't know what is," Harm muttered under his breath as C.J. rifled through her purse. When she located the offending pager and checked the number, her face fell.

"It's Josh."

Reading the look on her face, he observed, "I'm guessing that this can't be good, coming at ten minutes after midnight."

"It could be any of a half-dozen things."

"Are any of them good?"

"No." C.J. raked a hand through her hair. "I can't find my damn cell phone. Can I–"

"Go ahead."

He handed her his phone, but it rang, startling them again. Looking apologetic and anxious he answered it while she resumed the search for her phone.

"Rabb."

She heard only a couple of 'Aye, Sir's' before she had to tune him out, putting her now found cell to her ear. "Josh? What's going on?"

"There's a credible threat."

The Deputy Chief of Staff's tone told her just how serious this call was. After the countless battles they'd fought together, she could read him like a book, whether they talked face-to-face or on the phone. The voice in which he said his first sentence sent a spike of fear straight through her.

Later, she'd remember that she could feel the blood rushing away from her face at that moment. "What?" She whispered, "What kind of threat?"

"A Boeing 757 took off from Toronto approximately one hour ago, heading for Paris. Little over twenty minutes ago, it disappeared from radar after making a sharp southward turn. Nobody knows what's going on, but wherever it's headed, it's going there with an ocean's worth of fuel."

"Oh, my god..."

"The National Airborne Operations Center (NAOC) plane is at Andrews. We're putting the President and whatever senior staff we can find on it. How fast can you get here?"

"To Andrews?" Her mind raced frantically, trying to recall exactly where she was. "Um, thirty minutes or so."

"Make it twenty if you can."

"I can."

"C.J., this is for real. We won't wait. We can't."

"Then stop talking to me so I can get in the car, all right?"

"All right. I'll brief you once we're in the air."

She hit 'end' and turned back to Harm just as he did the same. Each recognized the other's expression as a mirror image, and she knew he'd just received the same news.

"I have to go to Andrews for emergency combat air patrol," he reported shortly, already heading for his closet.

"I have to go to Andrews to join the President."

"Come on, I drive. I know the fastest route from here to Andrews in my sleep."

She watched him for a few seconds, as he pulled a drab-green flight suit out of a drawer with one hand and deftly unbuttoned his dress shirt with the other.

"Harm," she began slowly, "if all this turns out to be exactly what it sounds like," C.J. hesitated for a moment, "you might have to shoot down an airliner tonight."

"Don't say that," he told her, a mask of deadly calm overtaking his handsome features. "I have to think in terms of threat potential, or I'll never get through it. The Air Force is covering the District–we're going to escort the NAOC plane, which I'm assuming you're going to be on."

"If I can get to Andrews in twenty minutes, I am."

"Yeah, we're going to break some traffic laws."

He was into the flight suit before she even realized he'd ever been undressed. The electricity that had existed between them only minutes before had dissipated, leaving only quiet shock in its place.