The Resting Soul of Galileo

by Scribe of NineFish

A Post-Ep, Added Scenes piece, with a little Song Fic thrown in for good measure. Blame it on Bravo for airing the episode this week. All comments are appreciated.

THE RESTING SOUL OF GALILEO

by NineFish

Fandom: The West Wing

Pairing: hints of CJ/T, CJ/J friendship

Disclaimer: The West Wing and its characters are the property of Aaron Sorkin, Warner Brothers, and NBC. No Copyright Infringement is intended.

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Galileo, maybe basic canon a bit

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Author's Note: A Post-Ep, Added Scenes piece, with a little Song Fic thrown in for good measure. Blame it on Bravo for airing the episode this week. All comments are appreciated.

—And as the bombshells of my daily fears explode, I try to trace them to my youth—

"...I think you should say to these kids, 'You think you get it wrong sometimes?' You should come down here and see how the big boys do it. I think you should tell them you haven't given up hope and that it may turn up, but in the meantime you want NASA to put its best people in the room, and you want them to start building Galileo VI. Some of them will laugh, and most of them won't care, but for some, they might honestly see that it's about going to the blackboard and raising your hand. And that's the broader theme."

CJ knew, she knew the second she heard her words as crisp and clear as the DC night, she knew that she had said it right. Galileo VI.

She knew because in that moment she didn't remember the 13 year-old girl, already half a head taller than some of her teachers, carefully shielding her awkward body behind a junior high podium. Instead, she remembered that even facing overwhelming odds – of being the last student to deliver her oral report, of initially struggling to lift her voice over the sounds of sneakers shuffling in protest – she remembered that she had, in fact, thoroughly captivated and charmed the reluctant teenaged audience. She had requested their attention, and not even aware there were other options, they had given it without fight.

"Dayton will miss you," her teacher had said that day. It wasn't the first time CJ thought she might be exceptional, but it was the first time she realized that someone thought it back.

So tonight, as she stood with the President of the United States outside the Oval Office – because she had seen it before—she could recognize the same genuine pride reflected in his voice when he confirmed to his Press Secretary what she already knew, "You said it right that time."

It was still overwhelming.

"I'll be in my office."

—And then you had to bring up reincarnation, over a couple of beers the other night—

As the faint melody of a song she had been humming all day ran through her head, CJ walked slowly through the Oval Office into the corridors of the West Wing. Too rarely she felt this way at the end of a day. Most often, the mind-numbing minutia of preparing for what was next occupied her thoughts – studying briefings, writing opinions, putting out fires. But tonight she allowed herself the extraordinary luxury of self-satisfaction.

Not wanting to break the spell by returning to her office, CJ detoured through the lobby and navigated her way outside to the East Terrace of the Rose Garden. She wasn't surprised when she recognized the spicy scent of cigar lingering in the air. She wandered over to the white, iron bench where the Communications Director sat, his back to her, head tilted upward toward the night.

Toby watched her as she gathered the dark blue shawl around her and hugged it closer to her body. When she silently joined him, he brought his arm from where it rest on the back of the bench and draped it over her shoulder. Protection from the early December chill, they could reason, but really it wasn't.

CJ leaned in, resting her head against his warm body. "How many people, you think, are looking up there right now trying to figure out what went wrong?" she asked with a sigh.

Glancing at her with the hint of a smile, Toby's shoulders moved with a slight shrug.

His voice was low and soft, and CJ felt the whisper of words against her ear when he spoke in a slow recitation,

"When I heard the learn'd astronomer;

When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;

When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;

When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,

How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;

Till rising and gliding out, I wander'd off by myself,

In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,

Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars."

She closed her eyes as he spoke, and allowed his words to wash over her as they had on so many nights.

"Beautiful," she said simply.

"Whitman, Leaves of Grass."

"Mmm." It didn't matter to CJ who wrote it, the poetry was in Toby's voice.

—And now I'm serving time for mistakes made by another in another lifetime—

"I've had this song in my head all day," CJ told him.

"Yeah?"

"Something Hogan played for me last week...we had been talking about the televised classroom and it reminded her of the song."

"If you start singing 'Be True to Your School' here, you're really going to break the mood."

"No, Toby..." she took his hand to silence him, threading her fingers through his. "I've been listening to it all day..." She felt the bump of his wedding band. "You know, what, forget it..."

CJ sat upright and cleared her throat; she bounced her feet on the Pennsylvania bluestone of the walkway. "It's chilly. I need to go inside and see what's going on."

"CJ..."

"Toby, just don't. I'll be in my office, let me know if you hear anything."

—And then I think about my fear of motion, which I never could explain—

"Carol, go home," CJ called out as she swayed passed her assistant's desk and dropped into an Armani puddle onto her couch. "What are you still doing here?"

"Just catching up...I'm leaving now. Any word?" Carol stood at the doorway.

CJ kicked off her heels with a flourish, and flexed her long legs before curling them under her, "No, not yet."

"How was the concert? You're in a better mood than I expected."

"Oh God, it was heinous. Not that I heard much of the concert at all, what with Oregon Green Bean Crisis and..." She stopped when she heard herself begin to teeter dangerously toward her default response to everyday battles. She wanted to resist the sink. "You know what, I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Right now, I just...I want to feel good."

CJ stretched her long arms up and rested them behind her head as she leaned back into the couch. "I went to the blackboard, Carol. I went to the blackboard, I raised my hand, and I got it right."

"Excellent. And hey, you never know, maybe you made the cheerleading squad." Carol's voice trailed off as she dashed out of the office to avoid being hit with the shoe sailing in her direction. "See you tomorrow!"

"Yeah, yeah."

CJ smiled as she watched Carol skirt away. She had made a valid point about CJ's unexpected mood.

When Leo had told her that morning she needed to accompany the President to the Reykjavik Symphony Orchestra, she had been more than a little distressed. The evening held potential for all manner of pain, not the least of which was the thought of being held captive en route to the Kennedy Center by the President as he recited facts and figures about the polar ice caps on Mars.

-----------------------

Earlier that day...

CJ was trying to reason with Leo, "...I just added a new deputy. Most of the people I interviewed were from State. The Kennedy Center is going to be packed to the Potomac with people I just rejected."

"So is the bar at the Four Seasons. What do I...?"

"Leo!"

"Be there. Tell Sam."

CJ knew there was no hope for reason. Well, at least for her reasons. The Chief of Staff had never before shown any compunction about putting the White House senior staff in personally uncomfortable situations. Why would that change now?

Realizing she needed to be prepared, she yelled down the hall, "Carol, would you have somebody go to my apartment and pick up my blue Armani? And a pair of shoes..."

But in her heart CJ kept hope alive. She was convinced she could find some method of working the seamy underbelly of back channels to avoid the Kennedy Center. She just needed an angle, a target, she needed to find some sort of devious manipulative influence on the situation and twist it to her advantage.

"Joshua!" she called out to the Deputy Chief of Staff as he walked by her office.

—I'm not making a joke, you know me I take everything so seriously—

Josh stood at her doorway, one arm on either side of the frame, and leaned in, "Hey CJ. Did you know that the United States Postal Service issued the first self-adhesive stamp in 1974? But, didn't start full-scale production until 1992... know why?"

"I really don't, Cliffy. Hurry up and tell me."

"Operation Desert Storm. During the Gulf War the USPS issued self-adhesive stamps to the troops because the heat in the desert caused problems with the, the...licky kind. But then the government waived postage for soldiers altogether, so they weren't really necessary."

"The soldiers, or the stamps?"

He just looked confused. "What? The stamps. The self-adhesive stamps weren't necessary...but then they caught on with the general public..." he was distracted by the waving of CJ's arm as she hurried him to finish his point, "...and just kinda...stuck."

"Fascinating. Listen, you gotta get me out of tonight. You gotta do that hoo-doo voodoo cosmic ju-ju... you know, thing... you do and help me out."

"CJ, I'm picking a stamp. Don't you think if I could hoo-doo anything, I'd hoo-doo myself right out of that? Or hoo-doo Toby somewhere like Bolivia for dragging me into it?" Josh squatted down to look eye-to-eye with Gail, and tapped the side of her bowl.

"I'll do the stamp thing if you go to the Kennedy Center."

"Nah, I'm a little puffy, wouldn't look good in the dress."

"I'll bring you coffee for a week... I'll, I'll..."

"CJ! There's nothing you can offer me that will make me change my mind."

She raised her brow in an evil smile, "I'll make out with Carol. Right here, right now. And you can watch."

Only Josh's eyes lifted. His lips still puckered in the puffy fish-face he was making towards Gail's bowl.

He stood up slowly, rubbing his hand through his hair, trying to regain the power of speech. "Have, ah, have you been talking to Donna? Do you two have something cute going on right now...'cause she said something earlier, she said it meant stamp collecting, but it sounded a lot like fella..."

"CJ," Carol said from the doorway. "There are a couple of stories on the wires you should check out."

"Caaa-roool," CJ's voice was throaty and low. "Just come right here and let me see."

Carol walked behind the desk and CJ stepped back to allow the shorter woman to stand in front of her. She leaned in comfortably close, pressed her hand to the small of her back and dipped her head over Carol's shoulder to watch Josh squirm. "Is that new perfume? You smell incredible..."

Carol tipped her head back to allow CJ to inhale the scent from her neck. "Mmm-hmm. Oh, and let me know if you need me to zip you up later..."

CJ glanced at Josh, who hadn't moved. "Josh, you were saying..."

Josh snapped his head around and saw Leo walking passed CJ's office. "Leo! Leo! Hold on... Is it really necessary for CJ to go to this thing tonight...."

The women laughed as they heard Josh continue making his case down the hallway.

Carol looked up at CJ and smiled, "Pulling out the big guns, are we?"

"I really don't want go tonight."

"You keep taunting the boys like this and one day someone's going to call your bluff."

"Who says I'm bluffing?"

"Who says I won't be the one calling you on it?"

They raised their eyes at each other in mock challenge.

"Oh, my...Go away, temptress...Hey, can you ask whoever goes to my apartment for the clothes to pick up a travel case of CDs in my living room. Hogan left it there last week and I'm looking for a song she played."

"You got it."

------------------------

—But then again it feels like some sort of inspiration, to let the next life off the hook—

CJ picked up a remote from the coffee table, powered on the CD player across the room and skipped ahead to the second track. She stretched out on the couch and smoothed her hands over the silky fabric of her gown. She felt, rather than heard Toby at her doorway and held off as long as possible before looking in his direction and locking with his soft eyes.

"Hey," he said, lifting her legs and settling beneath her on the end of the couch.

"Hey."

He slid his hand over one foot, thumb stroking against its arch in a familiar caress. He watched her eyes flutter closed with pleasure.

"What did you say back there in the Oval?" CJ asked.

"I try very hard to immediately forget all conversations with green beans as the focal point."

"No, before that, you know, when I said that thing about ... me."

"Nothing." He cupped his hand around her ankle and massaged the ball of her foot. "I said nothing."

"You sure? Cause it sounded like you said something..."

"Why ask the question...?"

"It sounded a lot like you said..."

"Why ask the question, CJ, if you already know the answer...?"

—But she'll say look what I had to overcome from my last life, I think I'll write a book—

She was quiet for a moment, enjoying the heat of his hands on her body. But then, "You said 'Okay' like it was some big surprise..."

"CJ..."

"Like it came as some great shock."

"I was surprised that you chose to announce it to the Kennedy Center, not about ... the other thing."

"Okay."

"Okay."

The silence of the night held them briefly until, "Disbelief, even. Like you couldn't quite believe it. Like it was beyond all realm of possibility." CJ opened one eye lazily, "I'm good in bed, Toby."

"Yes."

"I am."

"Yes."

"Damn good, in fact."

"CJ. I remember."

—How long till my soul gets it right, can any human being ever reach the highest light—

A smile slid across CJ's face, the night's earlier satisfaction returned. "Good. Just checking."

"Play me the song."

Galileo's head was on the block
The crime was looking up for truth
And as the bombshells of my daily fears explode
I try to trace them to my youth

And then you had to bring up reincarnation
Over a couple of beers the other night
And now I'm serving time for mistakes
Made by another in another lifetime

How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach that kind of light
I call on the resting soul of Galileo
King of night vision, king of insight

And then I think about my fear of motion
Which I never could explain
Some other fool across the ocean years ago
Must have crashed his little airplane

How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach that kind of light
I call on the resting soul of Galileo
King of night vision, king of insight

I'm not making a joke, you know me
I take everything so seriously
If we wait for the time till all souls get it right
Then at least I know there'll be no nuclear annihilation
In my lifetime I'm still not right

I offer thanks to those before me
That's all I've got to say
'Cause maybe you squandered big bucks in your lifetime
Now I have to pay
But then again it feels like some sort of inspiration
To let the next life off the hook
But she'll say look what I had to overcome from my last life
I think I'll write a book

How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach the highest light
Except for Galileo, God rest his soul
(except for the resting soul of Galileo)
King of night vision, king of insight

© Indigo Girls, from Rites of Passage

END