Disclaimer: I'm not Mr. Sorkin. Nobody belongs to me. Don't sue.
Spoilers: Too many to count.
Feedback: Makes my day- gillyowens@execulink.com
A/N: Molly and Andi, you're the best!
*****
She still has nightmares, and he knows enough not to ask about them the next morning.
She'd mentioned them to him once; only a passing remark. She'd realized one day, amid the daily chaos, that more than a year had gone by and she still had nightmares. She found this odd and somewhat silly, considering she hadn't really been involved. She had spent those eternal minutes on the ground, someone else's body covering hers, holding her down, keeping her still.
She had laughed a little at herself, and headed off to meet up with Danny. He hadn't taken her too seriously.
They all went out for drinks that night after work. If he hadn't been too busy debating with Sam, he would have noticed that after her fourth beer, she swiped his second scotch.
Eventually, the debate had ended (he finally told Sam he really didn't give a shit), and they all parted ways. He walked her home, leaving both their cars until morning.
He was half-asleep on her couch when he heard her call his name. He stumbled to her closed door, hesitating with one hand on the silver knob. She called out again, louder this time, and he heard the terror in her voice. It overrode his respect for her privacy, and he pushed open the door.
He found her alone in her bed. Trying, and failing to free herself from the tangled sheets, she called for him. She called for others, as well, as he watched tears stream down her cheeks.
He approached the bed slowly, not fully comprehending the scene unfolding before him. He eased himself down onto the corner of the bed, mindful of her flailing arms. He began speaking her name, softly reassuring her that everyone was safe. She cried and he whispered.
After an eternity, her cries tapered off into childlike sobs, and her flailing ceased. Only when her body relaxes and her breathing deepens, does Toby move from her side.
He left the bedroom door open, just in case.
The next morning, he awakes from a restless sleep just before dawn. He goes to her door, and finds that she has not moved.
She says nothing of the previous night when she wakes up, only thanks him for bringing the papers in off the front step. He, also, says nothing. He doesn't know where to begin, so he simply hands her a cup of coffee. She takes it with a grateful smile, and leaves the kitchen. He waits until he hears the shower running before beginning to make breakfast.
They arrive at work, and are greeted once more by the usual chaos. Pulled in different directions-almost literally- in the lobby, he will not be face to face with her until much later.
The remainder of the day progresses in a flurry of meetings and appointments. Memos are signed, quotes given, and throughout this cacophony, he keeps her briefings on in the background.
Sometime after her evening briefing, she appears in his office. He is revising the seventh draft of a speech, consumed by it, so it is a moment before he realizes he is not alone in the room. He glances up to find her standing in the doorway.
"How long have you been standing there?"
She smiles, leaning against the doorframe. "Long enough. You know, when it gets dark, most people turn lights on."
He blinks then, his face in the pale glow from the computer screen, and checks his watch. 10:15. He has been sitting in the rapidly gathering darkness for several hours and never noticed.
Reaching to his left, Toby flips the switch on a lamp and the room is washed with a warm light. It isn't very bright, but it is contrast enough for him to shield his eyes hastily. Spots dance behind his eyelids, and he can hear her laugh. The sound is weak, not at all how it should be, but it's better than hearing her cry.
"Things going so well you forgot to turn on a light?"
He taps a few keys, and closes the laptop. She is still standing in the doorway, and he notices a blue folder in her left hand.
"I didn't realize it was so late." He pauses to regard her once more; she looks tired. Not the usual day full of briefings, meetings, and redundant questions from reporters tired, but completely physically exhausted. "What's going on?"
She gestures with the folder in her hand. "Are you working on that speech for the Maine thing next week?" Moving to the couch, she sits.
"Yes, wh-oh, god, no. What does he want in it now?" A hand goes to his forehead immediately, and begins rubbing.
"He's decided that he really did like the third draft best. Said it has the perfect amount of wit and charm. I got a little lost after that, something about a Scrabble game with Stephen King, I don't know." She stretches out then, her legs resting on the arm of the couch, shoes pushed onto the floor.
"Danny said something odd to me today. He asked me if I've been sleeping okay. He said I look tired. Do you think I look tired, Toby?" She turns her head to see his response.
"No, you don't look tired." He stares at a spot, just past her shoulder.
"That's what I told him-"
"You don't look tired, CJ. You look exhausted, like a woman who hasn't had a decent night's sleep in years. You look like you would stay awake for three days straight rather than take a nap. You look like…you look like you are on the verge of death." He says this all quietly, but forcefully enough, his eyes never leaving her face.
She freezes. He entire body tenses, and she manages to draw a deep breath before speaking. When she does, her voice is weak, too quiet. It sounds like an entirely different person.
"It isn't always like that, you know." She exhales slowly, tilting her head back. Perhaps she is counting the ceiling tiles, or perhaps she is deciding how much to tell him.
Toby stands up from his desk and moves to the couch. CJ draws her legs back, and he sits, gently pulling her legs onto his lap. She doesn't object. Absently, he begins rubbing one stocking-clad foot.
"Tell me." It is all he needs to say.
She does not begin immediately. Instead, she moves her hands restlessly, twisting her fingers, cracking knuckles. He watches for a moment as she rubs the heel of her right hand with her left thumb. Wordlessly, Toby reaches for a small rubber ball on the coffee table. Grasping her left hand, he presses the ball into it.
"Are you going to take notes or something, too?" She goes for the joke, but it falls flat.
He rubs a hand across his forehead. "No, CJ. I just want to know what is going on with you. I want to know why, last night, you had what appeared to be one hell of a nightmare wherein you called out for numerous members of White House staff, and cried like a terrified child for the better part of 45 minutes while I sat on the edge of your bed and watched you fight God-knows-what." He finishes speaking and faces her. The ball is unmoving in her hand. A single tear is forming in one eye.
"You-you stayed? In my room?" She is so stunned by this, her voice comes out in a whisper.
He reddens slightly. "Yeah, I did. You, ah, were calling my name, and I didn't feel right leaving you alone."
"You really didn't have to-"
"I would have done it for anyone, CJ." He cuts her off before she can protest further. He watches her stare down at her hands, thinking.
"Would you do this for your ex-wife?" she finally asks, her voice quiet. "I'm sorry, Toby, I didn't mean that like- I didn't mean that." She resumes moving the ball between her hands, keeping her eyes on it.
"I have done this for Andi, yes," he states. She blinks at this revelation, obviously not expecting it.
"Listen, CJ, this isn't about Andi, or me. This is about you. Tell me what's going on. Let me try to help." He's asking, determined to find out, but he refuses to beg.
CJ still doesn't speak. She looks around the office, searching for something that isn't there. After almost a full minute, Toby reaches out and puts a hand to her face, guiding her face to meet his. "Why can't you just tell me what's wrong?"
"Because I don't know where to start, or what to say." She speaks, quietly, her eyes downcast.
On any other day, he would have gone along with the joke. Now, seeing the lost, confused expression on her face, the words sadden him.
"Okay. How 'bout I ask questions and you answer them?"
Her only reply is a barely perceptible shrug.
"Does that happen often?" The question sounds idiotic, and he knows it. But he must begin somewhere.
"You mean the nightmares, or the kicking and screaming?" She gives him a look, and he can see a smile tug at her lips. "Sorry, I know what you meant. The nightmares, they're getting better. When they first-I used to get them almost every time I-well, it was really bad. Recently it's every few nights, maybe once or twice. Unless I'm really drunk; for some reason that makes it all worse."
They are both quiet then. She knows what he must be thinking, so she can only wait for him to ask.
"If drinking makes it worse, why do you keep coming out with us?"
She looks at him then, and he sees that tears have started to fall. The only thing he can think to do is put his arms around her.
"Because the longer I stay and drink…" She falters then, unsure if she can manage the words.
"The less time you have to sleep," he finishes for her. She nods.
He is shocked. All this time, she had been slowly coming apart at the seams, and he couldn't see it. He curses himself mentally for not noticing sooner.
"CJ, I really think that you should see-"
"A shrink? And get fired? Yeah, I'll get right on that," She shakes her head sadly.
"You have to talk to someone about this, CJ." He looks up then, movement in the doorway catching his eye. It's Sam, holding another blue folder.
"Toby, I was just in with…" Sam trails off when he sees CJ. She pulls away from Toby, and tries to wipe her eyes without Sam seeing. It doesn't work.
"Yeah, I know about the speech. Now is not a good time." He stands up. Sam glimpses the look in Toby's eye for a moment before the door is shut in his face. As Toby sits back down, he watches as Sam shakes his head slightly. His confusion only lasts for a moment, however, and he leaves, absently dropping the folder onto a nearby desk.
"Sam's probably running off to tell Josh about this now, you know." CJ tries to laugh; it sounds shaky and weak.
"He's not going to tell Josh." Toby's voice is firm. He knows exactly where Sam is going, but he won't tell CJ. She'll find out soon enough.
Her expression changes then. It's a look Toby's seen many times before. That dangerous look she usually saves for Danny, when they argue and he starts to really piss her off.
"Yeah, right, Toby. Sam's in there right now telling Josh how he better get Dr. What's-his-name's number off the Rolodex, 'cause CJ's cracking up." She stands up now, her need for motion fueled by anger. Toby keeps his position on the couch, not daring to go near her.
They've gotten into fights before, of course, but only one ever turned physical. Young, reckless, and quite drunk one night, they began a passionate debate about…something (it doesn't matter now). It had ended abruptly when Toby waved his hand around to illustrate his rather inebriated point, not realizing that CJ had been closer than he thought. He sobered up the instant his hand made contact with her cheek, and was apologizing (Aw, hell, CJ, I didn't-) even as her own fist struck out blindly. That had been the extent of it, but Toby had never forgotten it. His own handprint, reddening her pale skin, and how quiet she had become.
Now, he watches as she paces around his office restlessly. She isn't speaking; that is what worries him. She has never had a problem verbalizing anything to him.
From out in the hallway, Toby hears an unmistakable voice. It is quiet, but at this hour, the hallways are deserted, and the sound carries.
"Claudia Jean, we have to talk."
Toby stands as Abigail Bartlet approaches the doorway. Before she crosses the threshold, she turns to the agents with her.
"Would you both mind giving us some space? Thanks."
When she turns back, she finds Toby sitting with his head in his hands. CJ hasn't acknowledged her yet; she is too busy glaring at Toby.
"That's where Sam went? Jesus, Toby! Why the hell did you do that?" She is furious, her hands actually trembling with rage.
"Toby, you mind giving CJ and I a moment?"
He stares at her, and for one horrifying instant, he is afraid that he might tell the First Lady of the United States to go straight to hell. There is no way that he's leaving CJ like this. Luckily, he catches himself just in time. "Due respect, ma'am, but yes, I mind."
Abbey only nods.
"So, CJ, I had an interesting chat with Danny Concannon earlier tonight. It seems, that in addition to being a Senior member of our Press Corps and, from what I hear, a pretty decent baseball player, Danny's also a damn good liar." She sits down in the chair against the wall, settling down as if she had only come in for a chat about the weather.
"What are you talking about? Danny shouldn't still be here; I called a full lid just after 5."
CJ is confused now, and Abbey is glad to see that this dissipates most of her anger. She sits back, letting CJ figure it out for herself. None of them speak for a minute.
"Holy shit." Toby speaks up first. Both women look at him. CJ looks worried, but at the same time, extremely relieved.
"You asked him about his black eye from the other day, didn't you, Mrs. Bartlet?"
She nods. "Yeah, Toby, I did."
CJ speaks up then. "Mrs. Bartlet, did Danny, did he…" She trails off then, not sure how to finish.
Abbey looks her directly in the eye as she replies, "He lied to my face, CJ. Come sit down."
"Ma'am, if you think I told Danny to lie to you-"
"I know you'd never tell him to lie about this kind of thing, CJ. He told me he didn't want the truth going around the Press Room, so he's been telling everyone that his niece accidentally elbowed him in the face. That's what he told me, too, when I asked him about it."
CJ looks at her then, surprised. "He told you that?"
Abbey smiles a little and shrugs. "Well, she's 7. Most kids are stronger then they look."
CJ shifts on the couch. "Yeah, I guess they are."
"Do you realize that Danny still won't tell me the truth? He stood there and lied to me. Why wouldn't you tell one of us?" She isn't even that pissed at CJ; she's angry with Danny for covering for her.
CJ looks down at her hands then, seeming embarrassed. "It's nothing, really. I'm just, it's been a rough couple of days for me-"
"CJ, don't even think about trying to pull one over on me." Abbey states matter-of-factly, almost offhand. CJ stares at her with a look that is not quite shock.
Toby gets up from the couch then; the room suddenly feels too small. Sitting here, watching CJ become barricaded inside herself is too much. "I'm going to get us some coffee." He does not wait for a response.
Abbey waits a moment before she speaks again. "Listen, don't be angry with Toby, or Sam. They didn't do anything wrong."
"I'm not angry with them. I just…no one needs to worry about me like this."
"This is going to be one of those, isn't it, CJ?" Abbey sighs.
"I'm sorry? One of what?"
"If there's nothing we need to be worried about, is there anything we should be worried about?" Abbey's voice is eerily calm.
CJ pauses then, and Abbey knows she's gotten through to her. They have had parts of this conversation before. "Mrs. Bartlet, this isn't the same thing."
"That's crap, CJ, and you know it. This is the same thing! Only difference with MS is that there's medication to help deal with it." She's raised her voice, only to lower it when Toby clears his throat, announcing his return. He hands each of them a coffee silently, before sitting next to CJ on the couch.
"I know you don't want to hear any of this CJ, but we are all worried about you, whether you feel we should be or not." Toby doesn't look at her while he says this, only blows at the stream rising from his mug. She glares at him, not understanding why he's acting this way. He has never been one to be overprotective. At least, not outwardly.
"We've known each other far too long for me to just stand by and watch you fall apart like this." It is true, and they both know it.
Once, at some bar, a guy had tried to pick her up. She'd refused politely, but he was too drunk to really listen. When he grabbed her wrist, she'd told him to fuck off. A minute later, Toby came back from the pool table. Before CJ could blink, he'd had the guy's arm twisted behind his back, and was marching him towards the door. When Toby sat back down, she'd started to thank him, only to have him brush it off by ordering another drink.
She's done the same for him, of course. More than once, when an ex-girlfriend refused to take a hint, she had gone to a party with him, poured into some dress. She'd spend the evening on his arm, making sure to kiss him when she saw the girl glowering from a corner.
"CJ, tell me what really happened to Danny's eye." Abbey breaks the silence that has fallen around them. CJ gives her a disbelieving look. It's the look that asks "You seriously don't know?"
"I've been a doctor for 34 years; you think I don't know what it looks like when someone gets punched in the face? I want to hear you tell me." Abbey sips her coffee, as if this is the most mundane conversation in the world.
CJ glances at Toby, who only reaches over and pulls the door shut.
"We were at my apartment the other night, talking about some story. I don't remember what, but it wasn't anything big. It was pretty late, and I guess I dozed off. I was having this nightmare, and the next thing I know Danny is sitting there on the couch, staring at me with this odd look in his face. He made a joke about it, and then took off. I saw him the next morning, in the Press Room, and his face looked terrible. So, I asked him about it, because I still wasn't too sure that it had, you know, that I'd caused it. He sat there and told me the same thing he told you, that his niece had done it by accident. No one questioned it."
Silence captures the room for a long moment. Finally, Abbey asks, "What was the nightmare about?"
Fresh tears come to CJ's eyes. "We were in Virginia, and-" She falters, and Toby reaches out; his hand a reassuring pressure in the small of her back.
Abbey nods, and waits for CJ to continue. She has a pretty good feeling of what's coming next, but she still wants CJ to say it out loud.
"We were all there, and those kids started shooting, someone pushed me down, and when I got up off the ground-everyone was-I couldn't see anyone, except for the people still on the ground. They were all dead. Everyone still on the ground was dead." Her voice catches then, and she chokes back a sob.
"God, CJ. I can't believe you didn't-"
"I started calling for you guys, anyone I knew, but nobody answered. The only other person I saw standing up was the kid on the ground, the signal kid. He just looked at me and started to laugh. He just kept laughing at me with this horrible look on his face. Then he pointed to behind one of our cars, so I went over to it, and-" Her voice becomes muffled by tears then, and the only thing either Abbey or Toby can make out stuns them both.
"You all…together…dead." This is the last thing CJ says before collapsing in tears. Abbey is before her instantly, hands on CJ's knees. It's been a long time since she's needed to be there for her daughters' nightmares, but she still remembers what to do.
"CJ, shhh, it's okay. We're all here, everyone's here. We're all okay now."
"I know that, but it just…I can't stop it. I don't know how to make this all stop." CJ wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Toby fumbles in his pocket, coming up with a wrinkled but clean handkerchief. He hands it to her, but CJ only holds it.
Toby remembers the last time she said that to him. When her father first started forgetting things, she had moved back home to be with him. She had maintained a brave front for about three weeks, reassuring everyone that she was handling things just fine. Then, Toby had gotten a call at 2am on a Thursday, saying only "I really need you to come". He, of course, had taken the first flight out, and arrived at the house just after 10am. When Toby walked in the house, he had been startled to find CJ in her pajamas, curled on the couch, shaking. He immediately asked her what was wrong, but she did not answer. He had the phone in his hand to dial 911 when she finally spoke.
"I just can't do this anymore, Toby. I can't handle-I don't know how to make it stop."
She had sounded much like she does now; helpless and exhausted.
"Ok, let's go." Abbey stands then, holding out a hand to CJ. Suddenly, CJ feels very small. She remembers one time in particular; she'd been 7, maybe 8. She'd been walking home from school, and some girls from her class had come up behind her, pushed her down, and run off, playing keep-away with her lunchbox. CJ had gotten up slowly and walked home, not allowing herself to cry until she was safely on the front porch with her arms wrapped around her scraped and bleeding knees. Her mother had come out, taken one look at her, and held out her hand. The next day, she wore jeans to cover the band-aids, and her mother had taken her out for lunch. When CJ got home from school at the end of the day, she'd found a brand-new lunchbox resting on her bed. She's pretty sure that she still has it, somewhere.
"I don't, why-I'm sorry, what?"
Abbey turns to Toby first. "Toby, get a hold of Simon Glazer, tell him he'll be handling the briefings for the next little while. Make sure he gets in touch with Carol first thing in the morning. You, CJ, are coming with me." CJ stands then, very unsure of what's happening. Her brain is still fuzzy from crying.
"I want you to stay here tonight, in the Residence. I'm changing my plans, and we are going up to Manchester first thing tomorrow morning. You're officially on administrative leave." Abbey's tone of voice leaves no room to argue.
And yet, CJ tries to. "Mrs. Bartlet- Ma'am, I really don't think-"
"CJ, don't bother. You need a break, end of story." Seeing the look on CJ's face, Abbey adds to her statement. "You know as well as I do that he'll say the exact same thing as soon as you tell him what's been going on."
CJ looks to Toby then for support, but he's pulled out his cell phone and wandered into Sam's office. She hears him apologize for waking Simon just before he closes the door.
"Okay. I'll go." CJ knows that there is no need for her to say this, but still feels she should.
Abbey rests a hand on her shoulder, and for an instant, CJ feels like crying again. "I'm not trying to force you into this, you know that, right? I just now what can happen with this if you don't deal with it, and I don't want any of that happening to you."
"Yeah, I know. But I still don't understand why you're doing this for me, now. I mean, you didn't take Josh up to Manchester after-"
"We screwed that one up, CJ. We screwed that up big-time. None of us noticed that Josh was holding on by threads until he put his hand through a window. Donna thought something might be going on, but Leo told her it wasn't anything, that she shouldn't worry so much. Do you know how bad he felt about that? Leo poured himself a drink that night, CJ. He didn't drink it, but he poured it, and that's too much. What do you think he'd do-hell, anyone here would do-if, one morning, we get a call saying "There's been an accident. We don't know exactly what's happened, but there's an awful lot of blood and broken glass, and CJ-"
Abbey stops then, and CJ realizes that they both have tears running down their faces. In an instant, CJ can see it all, and it causes her chest to ache. Leo and the President, cracking the seal on a bottle of Scotch in the middle of the Oval Office, and staying there until it is empty; Josh and Donna both sitting in his office, staring at nothing and unable to speak. Simon would have to give a statement to the press (or would it be Carol?). And Toby and Sam, sitting here, tasked with coming up with the right words.
Jesus. What have I done?
Then, something else occurs to her. "Can I just go home tonight? I don't have any extra clothes here."
"Actually, CJ, you do," Toby says as he comes back into the room. His voice sounds thick, and CJ knows that he's heard that last bit Abbey said. He won't look at her; they both know that if he does, he may cry. That would undo them both.
"Remember? Last time they crashed us, and no one could leave for 3 days? You started keeping an extra bag here, in case that ever happened again." Toby smiles a little at the memory. Early that third morning, he'd gone into her office to find her complaining about having to wear the same shirt yet again. He'd done the only thing he could think of to make her stop; lend her an extra shirt of his. No one had cared, or even noticed it, until one new reporter made the assumption that CJ must have spent the night with him, and further made the mistake of asking Danny if he knew anything about them. He'd replied with a sarcastic affirmative, and within four hours, the kid had been ready to file a story about it all. CJ had talked with the guy, told him the truth, then found Toby, and told him. They had both sat in his office and laughed until their stomachs ached and they were out of breath.
"Right, yeah. I forgot about that." She had. The bag kept getting shoved farther and farther into the corner behind her door.
"I'll go by your place in the morning and pick up whatever else, and you'll have it before you leave here. I'll even remember to feed Gail while you're gone." CJ can see the tiniest bit of a smile cross his face.
"Thanks, Toby." And she hugs him then, because she really doesn't do it often enough, and she should.
When she pulls back, she turns once more to Abbey. "There's a couple of things I have to do now, before we all get out of here, is that okay?"
Abbey nods. "Of course. Do you mind if I tag along?"
"Not at all." CJ shakes her head. "I just have to see where Josh and Sam are, and then I need to say a few things to Leo."
And then, in the doorway, CJ turns to look back.
"I'll see you in the morning, Toby."
~END~