Classification: Jae Gecko's 500-word challenge fic based on a LiveJournal
mood.
Angst, implied CJ/Toby.
Summary: He's using alcohol to drown out the mental pictures of Josh's
pain-ravaged
eyes and Donna's melancholy little mouth.
***
Ice crackles in the glass. Toby flinches and sinks onto CJ's sofa.
Sharp-eyed CJ notices. Sitting cross-legged on the living-room floor
makes her seem
impossibly young. "Josh looked good."
"Josh looked like death warmed over." Oh, God. "Bad analogy."
"We'd just taken him home after four weeks in the hospital, Toby. What'd you..."
The chilling heat of the alcohol marries the burning cold of the ice
cubes. "Sam had to
hold him up."
"He had to climb the stoop and he got winded. They hardly let him move
in the hospital
except for P.T." CJ clears her throat before continuing, softer. "He's
pale, though. He
should sit outside."
"Can't." Toby stirs the drink with his index finger to even out the temperature.
"Why the hell not?"
"Because he's prone to infection. Lungs." Toby taps his chest. "He has
to stay inside for
at least a month."
"Oh." CJ's flesh forms parentheses around her mouth. "I didn't think
about that." She
swallows a mouthful of scotch, breathes. "Donna's been amazing. Everyone
always knew she
had it in her. Well, everyone but you."
"Donna is extraordinary." As CJ snickers at him, Toby waves his free
hand in the air.
"What?"
"When she joined the campaign, you said she wouldn't last a month."
"I did no such thing. Except, yes, maybe I did." He grimaces as he recalls
shouting that
Josh was thinking with his small head by hiring...
"'A shiksa stick' was what you called her."
"I retain my right to revise history if my opinion warrants," Toby intones
and he swirls
his drink around until the ice clinks against the sweating glass. This
afternoon's
homecoming is still too vivid. He's using alcohol to drown out the
mental pictures of
Josh's pain-ravaged eyes and Donna's melancholy little mouth.
"Hey." CJ leans closer. "You still with me?"
"I'm sorry." He tips the empty glass up to his mouth, letting the ice
bump against his
lip. There's a little fissure in the skin from when he's nibbled on
it, worrying it with
his teeth as if the sting would be enough to distract him from the
workings of his
overtaxed mind.
CJ yawns and stretches. Her spine pops loudly. Through the sudden rush
of blood in Toby's
ears he hears CJ call his name.
"I'm sorry," he mutters into his palms. "It just...hits me sometimes."
"Me, too." CJ folds her arms across his lap. He peers between his fingers.
She's looking
up at him, her chin resting on her wrist. Her voice is dark and comforting,
like the
scotch once the ice meets the fire, like the alcohol sizzling against
the cut on his lip.
"But we got him back, Toby."
He wonders when he'll get himself back, when unexpected sounds won't
make him recall hot
blood on his fingers, when screams won't haunt his nights nor guilt
haunt his days. When
he can feel CJ's mouth on his and take comfort in her wordless blessing
instead of the
salty pain of her tears.
***
END
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