Part Three:

Part Three:

To say that Carol was mildly confused at her boss's actions would be a rather large understatement. Roses she didn't want, a man that kept calling only for CJ to ignore… this could only logically add up to one thing, she'd surmised, and the curiosity was getting to her. She looked around, sifting through memos for anything that could be perceived as mildly urgent. Finding nothing, Carol sighed, stood, and authoritatively knocked on the closed office door. "CJ?"

A moment later, hearing no response, Carol knocked again. Sighing, she opened the door and poked her head in, eyes scanning the office, still not seeing CJ.

On the other side of her desk, the Press Secretary lay, her legs bent partially beneath her body, head on her arm. She drifted, unconscious in a sea of worry.

Seconds after sticking her head into the office, Carol pushed the door open further, eyes squinting for the lack of light, and opted to cross the room to turn on the lamp. Halfway there, she stumbled, heard a groan, gasped, and stepped carefully to flip the light on.

CJ's hair caught the light from where it fanned over her face, and Carol knelt beside her, calling her name, and received another groan for her efforts. Quickly she stood and rushed to the door and laid eyes on Ginger as she crossed the bullpen. "Ginger! Call a doctor! Something's wrong with CJ!"

Two secret service agents started, but Toby, who was stepping out of his office to get his lunch partner, halted them, "Call Doctor Bartlet," then he hurried away from them, falling to his knees at CJ's side. And he watched her, her eyes fighting and flitting behind her eyelids, brow furrowed, lips slightly parted, and gathered her into his arms so that she was leaning against him before he began talking to her, trying to wake her. "CJ, come on, CJ. It's Toby and it's time for lunch, you need to open those beautiful eyes and tell us, " his eyes flicked up to where Carol and Donna stood, keeping Ginger and Josh at bay, "how you ended up on the floor." Shortly afterward, a secret service agent cleared the doorway with Abigail Bartlet in tow.

"Toby, what happened?" the words flew from her mouth as she waved toward the sofa, where Toby, with a shrug filled with concern, laid her, then stood back. Immediately, Abby moved to take her pulse, rolling her sleeve upward. "Has she slept or eaten lately? She looks exhausted, and my guess would be dehydration too. She doesn't take care of herself, sometimes," she paused, her eyes focusing on the dark circles beneath CJ's eyes that contrasted with her pallor, then looked down to CJ's inner wrist where her fingers searched for a pulse. "What?" Abbey's eyes narrowed, taking in the deep purple bruising on her wrist. "Toby, lift her up. We have to get this jacket off of her so I can take her blood pressure," her voice was controlled, her hands sure as she unbuttoned the jacket, for somehow, she knew what she was about to find, and Toby knew that this was hardly about blood pressure.

Toby sat behind her, pulling the tall woman up to lean against him as he helped Abbey pull off her coat. "Carol, get in here and shut the door. You found her?" The door clicked shut on her words.

"Yes ma'am, just lying on the floor in front of the desk," she paused, "she's had a normal day, kind of slow actually. I don't know what…" Carol added helpfully, "She received some… roses, but threw them away. Could that…?" her voice trailed off as she watched Abbey push the loose sleeves of CJ's silk blouse past her elbows, exposing several smaller bruises, indicative of fingertips.

This time it was Toby's eyes that narrowed as his body tensed, coursing with adrenaline. He couldn't help but remember a time she'd appeared just as vulnerable, only then it was emotional. She'd lost the love of her life, and it had been he that curled on her sofa with her in his arms, listening to her as she mourned the loss of the man she loved to another woman. And years later, she lovingly, honestly, beautifully, did the same for him when Andi called it quits and broke his heart. It was CJ who had saved him, who'd shaken him from the bottomless well of desperation, he, like many others, had fallen into; it was CJ whom he loved now above all the rest, though she probably wasn't aware of the way and for whom he had fallen. And, it was CJ who, breaking him from his reverie, he heard whimper now in his arms. "Hurts…" she cried, pushing backward into Toby, away from Abbey's probing hands as she took stock of the deep marks on her wrists and upper arms. "Stop…" Toby felt his heart clench somberly and quite painfully at the sleepy desperation in her voice.

"Hold her still as gently as you can," Abbey Bartlet instructed, her voice soft as she focused on her friend, watching Toby carefully envelope CJ in a delicate hold, "She'll never go to a doctor on her own," she paused, "CJ? CJ, it's Abbey. I need you to wake up for me CJ." She turned her head into Toby's shoulder, hiding as best she could. Carol stepped closer then sat on her knees beside the sofa, as Abbey drew a leg beneath herself. "CJ, I need to see how badly you've been hurt, okay? I'm going to unbutton you blouse, but I'm not going to hurt you," she looked to Toby, "Has her breathing been this labored all day? She could have a lung injury for all we know," the First Lady's voice held a hint of anger, but she softened once she'd seen Toby shake his head. She quickly finished with the buttons, informing Toby that the woman was fighting sleep but having a difficult time waking. In doctor mode, she pushed the fabric backward, exposing a series of small blackened bruises and two lighter but more frightening marks, one in the shape of a fist just above her breast, the other of an outstretched hand on her lower ribcage.

Carol gasped, a hand flying to her mouth, and Abbey's eyes widened, "Oh CJ, who did this to you?" she whispered, beginning her search for broken bones or possible internal injuries.

And he - knowing she'd drunkenly returned to a monster's clutch and barely escaped in some sort of consolation or punishment, understanding that she, afraid and broken and intoxicated, could hardly fight a man larger than she though she'd tried, finally realizing who and what he was - gritted his teeth, letting his breath out in a slow hiss, "It was two days ago," he paused, "I'll kill him, I will kill him for doing this CJ." She'd only told him what she dared, he realized then, by saying they were both drunk and he'd gotten a little rough and left a few small bruises in addition to the one on her arm that he'd seen, that she'd left as soon as she could. And, he knew, she was angry with herself, and ashamed and disappointed, and afraid he'd reject her. The scenarios he was beginning to understand that actually occurred were so much worse than he'd imagined from her earlier words, and Toby knew she was protecting him, too.

Abbey looked at Toby sharply, then dropped her gaze to CJ's exposed chest, carefully finishing her informal check for broken bones. "She needs to be x-rayed, I can't be sure, but it looks alright. It could have been worse," Abbey continued.

Finally, CJ let out another cry, a quiet wail that was so plaintive, filled with fear, that Abbey's eyes welled with tears, "Help…Toby, help me__" It was then Toby realized that she'd been reliving the evening in her unconscious state. His hands worked with CJ's, lightly pushing the doctor's away, and clumsily buttoning her blouse.

"Carol, get some water," his voice was gruff, but Abbey caught his glassy eyes. "She's waking up," he added, then shifted her in his arms, calling to her, "CJ, it's Toby, I'm here and so is Abbey, Carol's gone to get you water. It's just us and you're safe," his voice softened, "I'll protect you."

Moments later, responsive to his voice and rocking, her eyes snapped open, "Toby?" her eyes focused on him.

"You were dreaming," he paused, "you passed out."

"Oh God," she groaned, her face regaining some of it's color before she flushed with embarrassment, obviously not remembering her dream, "I shouldn't have skipped breakfast, huh?" she looked to Abbey.

"CJ," Abbey began, treading lightly, "you're pretty banged up there." Her friend stared, so the First Lady continued, "I won't ask for an explanation, or details, but I want you to know that even though Toby has everything under control, I'm here if you need a woman or a doctor to speak to." CJ's eyes remained blank as Carol opened a bottle of water, and offered it to her, and she struggled to sit up. "You're dehydrated, probably suffering from exhaustion. Drunk this, go home, sleep. This will go no further than this room," she added, "we care about you, Claudia Jean Cregg." Seconds later, Carol and Abbey were gone, leaving scarce a parting glance, and CJ still refused to move farther from him.

"She knows… doesn't she?" her voice betrayed her emotions: shame and fear and regret.

"She is your friend, they both are. They care, and so do the rest of us," Toby said, knowing CJ understood he really meant that it was he who cared the most. "You talk in your sleep, CJ," he added, pulling her upward, and cutting off her interruptions with a halting hand gesture. "I'll take you home, get you food, put you to bed. Then I want to know what else, what really…" And he squeezed her hand, as she wordlessly stared at him, her thoughts jumpled, one thing foremost in her mind: "he's being so understanding," followed by, "he really does care about me... even now, with all he's got to be imagining happened."

Suddenly the fear didn't seem quite as strong, and she knew she'd be remembering more than she'd dared before, not just for him, but for herself. "It's time to heal, CJ," she told herself. And regardless of exhaustion and bruises and nightmares, she smiled at his back, still holding her water bottle, his other hand still holding hers, amazed.

Back in Apartment 4B, from which he'd left barely an hour before, a man dropped a file on his desk, pulling an itinerary from the top, followed by a manila envelope filled with photographs. "We'll just have to find an appropriate time for dinner," he sighed, finger sliding down the page before he selected a time slot another day away.

With a smile, he sighed, then flipped open the envelope and removed the photographs, making quick work of standing and pinning them along a clothes line that ran the length of his bedroom. "I'll see you in my sleep, too now, Claudia."

Again, a smile crossed his face, eyes closed, as he took a deep breath. "I can still smell you, Claudia. And soon…soon…" his eyes snapped open, "Soon, Claudia…"

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