Notes and things: Part 1
There are so many ways to leave bruises, she thinks to herself as she watches him go. It's this sight she's most comfortable with, his retreating form. And she hates that it always kills her when he just walks away without looking back because, she thinks, she's never been that strong.

There's hardly been a year since 1983 that they didn't leave each other in. She thinks to herself "Always in August and always in the rain" but it sounds too much like bad poetry so she pushes it away. He's her dirty secret, she's his silent shame. And she doesn't know how long this thing, always unstable, will be able to last.

She goes to her meeting, reporters who want sit-downs with the President and she hates that her first thought is "So what's in it for me?" It's an unavoidable byproduct of working in the West Wing, learning to multitask. She can carry on a conversation, memorize the names of 7 scientists and write a memo on the major economic exports of Belgium all at the same time. So right now, when Andrews and Morganstern are hassling her about "freedom of the press" and "access", she thinks about Toby's eyes and the way they didn't see though her. Most days she doesn't feel tangible, she feels like a smoke screen for this administration. Keeping it inside, letting it through, but never really being there. And that's why she envies Josh and Toby and now Will. They effect change, she just reports it.

But this afternoon, Toby looked at her and saw her and he'd been the first to look away. He gave into her but it felt like it was guilt and conscience that made him shift his gaze.

But she kept coming back to the fact that he'd looked right at her. He hadn't touched her, hadn't passed his hands over her. As if he knew this time she'd shatter.

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Head down at her desk, reading a briefing book on something or other. A knock on her door and head raised, eyes averted, expecting Toby. Disappointed when it's Leo.

"Yeah?" and her voice is even and calm. Practiced, rehearsed. But she doesn't know what she's trying to protect herself from this time.

"Umm...It's 10:30 and you've seemed, you know, these past couple days and I thought maybe you'd be on your way home." And here was Leo, this man made of leather who was still so fragile. Always taking it on himself, holding everything together even when he was falling apart. He's lived so hard and so long, she thinks, what right do I have to unravel?

"I'm on my way out, Leo." His doubting look and she's defensive. "I swear. I'm heading out now, maybe stop by Michael's, wind down, meet a nice man who'll buy me drink and take me home..."

"Is it my face?" CJ gives him a look, a what-the-hell? kind of look that she's perfected. "Everyone just volunteers all kinds of information and I just don't wanna know..." Words said while he walks away. Everyone's always walking away.

And she feels like she owes this man who's carried so much and gotten so little, who never complains. So she packs her bag and heads to Michael's. And it takes all she can muster not to stop by Toby's office on her way out.

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She's sitting at the bar, sipping Glenlivet because she can't stand the taste or anything about herself right now. And she doesn't know when she became one of those women she despises, the kind who stay with men that bruise and beat. And she thinks to herself "At least his bruises don't show" as if that justifies it. And she hates that he's never laid an angry hand on her.

So she goes home with the first man whose eyes look at her, actually look at her, without promising something permanent.

So when Toby stops by Leo's office on his way out, Leo doesn't hesitate to send Toby to check up on CJ. She's a woman and they don't exactly hold it against her but she never can really tell.

And she's walking to a cab, strange hand at her back. Just as she puts her first foot in, she looks up and Toby's standing there watching her. She can't quite stop herself from flinching. The man she's with looks at Toby and looks at her watching Toby. And it's backwards now, his face is stone and hers is all apology. "We knew this thing was bound to break" she thinks, stepping in. The strange man gets in the cab and shuts the door. She knows she'll stay with him a few hours and leave when she thinks he's finally fallen asleep.

And this time, she's leaving him, and as the cab's pulling away, she looks back.

She knew she would.