So Take Joy Where You Can

It had been hard to imagine Bartlet's staff at a bar doing bar things, and it remained difficult even now, watching it happen. Still, Addy hadn't gotten a chance to sit and drink without a side agenda in forever. She had waved off the bartender at first, sitting facing the rest of the room, taking in the scene. Seeing Toby walk in made her spin around like she'd been caught, and almost by instinct, she pulled out her pocket notebook and pretended to jot a few things down.

Why would she suddenly be freaked out at the idea of seeing him? Addy heard the bartender call him by name and looked over just in time to see that he'd brought the woman something from the plane. That took Addy's freaked-out embarrassment and tipped it sideways, spilling out a kind of heat inside her that she tried her best to identify as respect. She so rarely got to see Toby around regular, non-political people, and seeing him being kind in that way was wonderful. Addy sat with that warmth for a while, listening as Toby warded off Doug Wegland's suggestions.

"You decide yet?" the bartender he'd referred to as Lois was back.

"Yeah," she said. "Whiskey, neat."

"Jack Daniels?"

"Sure."

Addy picked up her glass gratefully, but just as she set her lips on the edge, she noticed Toby was staring over at her.

She lowered her drink. "What?"

"I never thought of you as a joiner," he said, nodding at his drink, which was the same as hers.

Addy looked right at him and brought the glass back up, taking in as much as she knew she could without needing to gasp. The approval in his eyes felt as warm as the liquid she'd just drunk, at least until the familiar annoyance about men being impressed by a woman who could hold her liquor hit.

Some of that must have shown on her face, because he muttered an apology as he took a sip of his own. "Didn't figure you for whiskey."

"My father loved it. We only got to drink together once, though."

"I thought your father died while you were in high school!"

Addy caught her breath. He'd been seated in the hallway of Air Force One when she was talking to CJ, but she thought he'd been asleep. "You were listening?"

"You, uh, told me he died when you were in high school. In CJ's office," he said, looking down at his glass and pressing his fingertip to some crumbs on the bar before flicking them onto the floor.

"Right. Well, that's true. It was late one night, when we were staying up during a health scare with my mom. It was like he thought that was going to be our last normal moment by ourselves," Addy said, sipping her drink and relishing the way its effects slowly dialed up. "I didn't like it much, but then he sat there and told me about how it was made, what flavors you could taste in it, and had me try again."

"And?" His attention was wholly focused on her. It made her feel important, but maybe that was the alcohol.

"I still didn't like it," she laughed. "Well, I was seventeen. He died a few months later, and-" Addy sucked in a breath, surprised at how emotional she was getting. She'd told this story multiple times, and that usually didn't happen. With a wry smile, she lifted the glass and drained it, coughing a bit at the overload. "It was one of the only grown-up conversations I had with him. He treated me like the adult he never got to see me turn into."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Toby said gravely, turning on the barstool to face her.

"You want another one, honey?" Lois asked Addy, poised to grab the glass.

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll nurse that one, don't worry," she said as an aside to her boss.

"Do what you want, we're off the clock," he joked, getting up. "Do you play pool?"

"Nah, never got into it. You should ask CJ though, she probably could use a non-obvious pep talk."

"Sam's better at those," he said, after scanning the room.

Addy got up too, and behind her someone slipped into a seat, pushing her against Toby for a few seconds. He went to move back, and, bolstered by her whiskey, Addy grabbed his upper arm for a few seconds, just to hold him still. She leaned further in to speak in a quiet voice.

"Please? It would mean more from you. I'm worried about her." She'd heard Toby admonish Doug about the smattering of White House press corps in the room. Even with some alcohol in her system, she knew they shouldn't imply there was a crisis of confidence in the press secretary. "I can go sit with Sam," she added.

"Jack for you, sweetie," Lois called out behind her.

Toby looked like he was still undecided, so Addy played her trump card. "Hey, boss, if it'll sweeten the deal-" She reached into her blazer pocket and pulled out the packet of M&Ms she'd planned to send to her Aunt Lil. "Lois, was it?" Addy called out, setting the packet down on the bar and sliding it over.

"That's right nice of you, honey, thank you," Lois said, lifting the packet and holding it in her fist against her chest. "Nice to see that one smiling."

Addy flushed, seeing a specific kind of assumption writ large on the woman's face. When she risked a glance over her shoulder, though, Toby was gone. "I'm sure it won't last long, don't worry."

"Depends on the reasons!" the bartender noted sagely. Her assessing gaze was uncomfortable, so Addy grabbed her Jack Daniels and started off for the table where Sam sat by himself.

For the rest of the evening, she and Sam bantered about life, the speech, and various random factoids, but during their long 'thinking' silences, she watched Toby.

He was at ease, in a way she'd never seen before. Part of it might have been the more casual clothing, but the drinking, the cigar, and the smiling were also part of it. Addy sipped her whiskey and watched him get trounced by Charlie at pool. Every so often he'd stop and look at the ceiling, and Addy just knew he was developing language for the speech.

This was the same man she worked with, but social, relaxed. That challenged her assessment of him at other times. Toby Zeigler was not happy working at the White House, not in the way that she was, or that Josh was. He tolerated it, did a damned fine job of it, really- but that was the essence of the man, wasn't it? He'd chosen a job that, if successful, trapped him into an environment that he disliked, dealing with people he disliked, having to justify choices he didn't always agree with. Yet, he was very good at it.

No wonder he was irascible!

Somehow she'd let herself assume that he was just as grumpy at home, at leisure, which was so naive she felt embarrassed. Of all the jobs he could have taken in their profession, this was the most prestigious- and it was finite, to boot. If Bartlet were re-elected after such a scandal, Toby Zeigler could probably choose whatever job he wanted, if he'd had enough of the West Wing cat herding.

Addy let those conclusions sink into her bones with the alcohol, and by the end of the evening, she was too bemused by both to know whether her opinion of her boss had been forever altered, or if she was just drunk. They all gathered to walk back to their rented rooms, and her whiskey consumption drove the urge to take off her low-slung heels and walk barefoot so she didn't risk twisting her ankle on the cobbles.

"You dropped a shoe."

Addy stared at the footwear Toby was offering her before looking down at her hand to find that yes, she had.

"Those are the only ones I brought. You really are my knight, Zeigler," she told him as she took it, wondering if he'd think she was strange for remembering that Oval Office conversation. He was scrubbing the back of his thumb on his forehead and frowning.

"You won't even use it tipsy? Harsh, Adora," Toby said, slipping his hands into his pockets and leveling her a half-amused look of disapproval. It was a look between people with a private joke, an easygoing expression that hinted at affectionate familiarity. Addy's tenuous sobriety started distinctly reversing its course the longer they stood there.

"That's a fairytale name," Josh said loudly from behind. "Isn't that a fairytale name, Donna? Donnatella's almost a fairytale name, did you know that? Tella me a fairy tale, Donna!"

"Must walk faster," Donna groaned.

They must have fallen behind quite a bit if Josh and Donna were able to catch up, Addy realized fuzzily. Toby offered her a little head tip as he stepped back for the pair to pass. After that, the two of them walked in silence the rest of the way, side by side. Addy's mind raced, trying to reconcile this new, pleasant version of Toby Zeigler with the man she knew at work. What was she gaining by denying him his name, at this point?

All she could come up with was the argument that she'd feel too exposed, that using his name would give something away. When Addy tried to focus on what that might be, though, it slipped away like mist.

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Fate was having him on.

Of course Addy Blair liked whiskey. At least she'd been wise enough to decline his offer to play pool, which was probably just as well. Had it happened, Toby probably would've smiled at her so much everyone, including the journalists, would have noticed. He'd felt her eyes on him at multiple points that night, and each time, his tension had ratcheted higher.

Toby knew about his own tendency toward impulsivity when he was past his limits, but self-indulgence felt so much better than the slippery grip the campaign had on success. After all, wasn't that what Jed Bartlet had done by walking into that press conference soaking wet and announcing he was going to win despite all the odds?

Above all else, he had to stay away from Addy the rest of the trip, for the sake of the campaign to come, and his own sanity. Like Bartlet's odds of winning a second term, though, the likelihood of that was very much in doubt.

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Throughout the day that followed, Addy found herself wishing for a hangover to excuse herself from some of the drama. After they set up the event site, everyone reconvened at the farm, but things devolved into tense sniping instead of a coherent plan for the speech. Addy snuck away from the team with her notebook and some of the suggested paragraphs of apology, hoping to gain some clarity about a path that included that option. She hoped in vain.

"Argh, even if the President did decide to apologize, it wouldn't be like that, Doug," she muttered, scared to check the time and see how long she'd been wrestling with that dilemma.

"I agree," a voice said from behind her. It was Toby, and Addy was so startled she dropped her notebook. There were drafts for her 'Grace Notes' in there, so when he walked over and picked it up, she couldn't help but feel nervous. "Everyone's still arguing up at the house," he added.

"If I spend any more time on this, all my intelligence will bleed out of my ears," she groaned, reaching out to take back her notebook.

To her surprise, Toby didn't hand it to her. Instead, he picked up her shoulder bag and tucked the notebook inside before zipping it up and tossing it out onto the grass through an unpaned window.

"Hey! There's no light out there!"

"Sometimes we have to leave things out in the open for a while and trust it'll be okay."

Addy stopped searching for a flashlight to look over at him. If Toby Zeigler was speaking in riddles, it meant he had a strategy in mind. "Like the apology?"

He inclined his head.

"I hate to say this, but Doug might be right. If we wait too long, it'll look begrudging," she hazarded.

"Is there a scenario where an apologetic President of the United States won't look begrudging?"

"There goes my brain!" She made explosive gestures around her head. "Look, haven't we established that I'm not the poster child for letting go of things?"

Toby stood silent for a while, jaw working as he seemed to be deciding whether to say what was on his mind. Addy decided to leave him in peace to think and quietly withdrew, stepping out into the night air. She rested her left hand on the outside wall so she could follow it to the window, and started toward her bag. A few seconds later, she heard his voice behind her.

"You work for the President, Addy. Don't just say you're not good at something, learn how to do better."

"Why push people past their comfort zones when there are coworkers who have more experience?"

"Nothing about working for the President is comfortable," Toby shot back. "You think CJ likes when things go south in the press room? The alternatives are to do better, to fix our mistakes, or quit."

Addy stopped, dismayed. Another step and she'd turn the corner, but she didn't want to look like she was hiding from his words. "I didn't mean to make this about CJ."

"You didn't. I was thinking about Bartlet."

She could barely see him; the shadow of the building blocked the outside lights, but she could hear the frustration in his voice. "Do you think an apology could fix his mistake?" Toby's silhouette showed that he was rubbing at his head, a classic sign of contemplation or conflict. "Let me rephrase," she said. "Do you think it'll make anyone feel better?"

"Yes," he answered immediately. "Unfortunately, 'feel better' doesn't correspond with-"

"-voting for him again," she finished the sentence with him. "And it's our job to get people to do both."

"Yes."

Now Addy turned the corner. The light from the window made the path much easier to see, which she supposed could be a metaphor for something, if she had the brain power left to decipher it. She picked her way toward her bag, Toby's words about doing better, fixing mistakes, or quitting echoing in her head.

She was a step away from the splay of light when she blurted out, "They're inverses of each other!"

"What?" he asked, only a few steps behind her.

Addy stopped dead in her tracks. "Bartlet and CJ. One of them won't show any weakness, not even an inch, and the other is showing too much."

Toby let out a weak, confused chuckle. "What?"

Embarrassment and intuition somehow combined chemically inside her to create bravery. Addy turned to face him. "Deep down, you think they should fix their own problems, but instead everything's been laid at your feet. And it isn't fair."

"Addy-"

"Say it isn't fair."

"It's the middle of the night and we're trudging around in wet grass-"

"Whose fault is that, Mr. Throws Addy's Bag Out The Window?" she pressed, crossing her arms. "Say it, Toby."

She hadn't meant to wield her first use of his name like a weapon, but it was effective nonetheless. Toby's hand dropped to his side and he let out a long breath.

"I don't have the luxury."

"Well, the President doesn't either. Everyone's got their jobs to do, but the hardest job of all has got to be managing an entire country's anger without acknowledging your own." Addy took a half-step toward him. "Am I right?"

He started laughing, half wry and half genuinely amused. "You don't have to do this. Doug already cornered me in the kitchen and said the exact-"

Addy risked it. "Am I right?" she interrupted.

"Yes!" The word sounded like it was torn from his throat.

Addy moved back instinctively, knowing the forced candor was an overstep. As she stood there in the light from the window, she didn't know what to say except, "Tell me how I can help?"

"How can I redirect this energy toward the President's problem instead?" His circular hand gesture was classic 'annoyed Toby,' but he took one step toward her.

"Helping you helps him! Seriously, Toby, tell me what to do." Her heart was pounding so loudly she could hear the blood rushing through her hot, embarrassed ears.

"Okay, okay," he said, his hands held up in mock surrender, facial expression obscured by darkness. There was a long pause before he said, "Start by explaining what you meant about letting go?"

Addy suddenly felt very stupid standing there ruining her night vision, challenging her brilliant boss on things she barely had a grasp on. That comment of hers had been a throwaway one, referring to the last vestiges of her crush on Leo. Knowing that wouldn't do Toby Zeigler any good.

"In what context?" she whispered, hoping to deflect based on his answer.

Toby took one large step that brought him to the edge of the rectangle of light. "You could be angry at the President, you could be-"

"I'm not," Addy rushed to say. Of course he would be concerned about that. Anyone would find it difficult to work effectively for a boss they were resentful of. "My comment was about eradicating the last roots of my old crush. The whole 'you can't get your heart broken if you're in love with someone inaccessible' thing, that's all."

"I have bad news about that one," Toby said, smiling wryly and looking down.

"Shit, point taken," Addy winced. She hadn't meant to remind him about his divorce. "But yeah, something stupid and inconsequential, not about Bartlet."

"That's not stupid," he said. His tone was so gentle that she stepped back, ashamed of herself.

"It is, though. I keep thinking of this one ridiculous phrase over and over, like bad song lyrics. 'How do you let go of someone you never got to hold in the first place?' But it's really about being afraid of being vulnerable, of having to find someone else and start over." Addy closed her eyes and slumped back against the structure, both horrified and relieved about what she'd shared. What was it about this man that made her tell him the truth, even when it was inappropriate?

She looked over at Toby, expecting to see embarrassment, impatience, even pity. Instead, he was looking up at the sky, his lips moving like he was working out a tough passage in something he was writing. Knowing him, he had something he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure how to phrase it.

"Just hit me with it," Addy told him, pulling herself back up to a stand.

He chuckled wryly. "I, uh, have an ill-advised suggestion."

"That sounds right up my alley," she encouraged.

"Good."

With that, Toby came over to her, standing inches away. He looked almost manic, caught up in something she didn't understand. Addy caught her breath, confused and curious, heat rising in her cheeks as the seconds ticked by. Then he leaned down to kiss her lightly, cupping her cheek to angle her head up for him in one smooth movement.

The kiss was gentle, questioning, but even the barest friction was exquisite, a jolt of astonishment and pleasure. Reading about a moment like this was nothing compared to the real thing, its tactile intensity mixed with a surge of emotion. Toby's chest was solid under her palms, but his heartbeat was galloping wildly, just like hers was. Addy lifted on her toes instinctively, needing him to know she was right there with him.

Toby groaned and angled his mouth on hers, his tongue coming out to swirl against her lower lip before retreating. She clutched at him, stunned, attracted, overwhelmed. This was Toby, her genius, frustrating, poetic boss- but somehow it felt right, unexpected but wonderful.

Her encouragement seemed to spur him on. His hand caressed her cheek, thumb sliding down to coax her mouth open for him, which was a revelation. Toby kissed like it was a conversation, teaching her the give and take with an eloquence beyond the use of words. It was like being rewritten; she felt more confident, more beautiful than she ever had before.

The sound of a car door slamming across the property broke the spell; Toby wrenched himself backwards, chest heaving.

Breathless, Addy forced herself to meet his eyes, even though she dreaded seeing any kind of regret there. She hadn't expected this, but she didn't think she could bear being rejected now that it had happened. Toby looked nervous, almost haunted, but he was staring at her with a hunger in his eyes that sustained the fire he'd sparked inside of her. Did he know he'd just upended her entire life, just now?

He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped to scrub a hand over his eyes, letting out a huff of a sigh. "I forgot, you said you hadn't-" Toby broke off and closed his eyes for a second. Embarrassment bloomed across her cheeks as he said, more formally, "I should have given you the choice. I'm sorry." With that, he walked off toward the house without pausing or looking back.