AUTHOR'S NOTES: Margaret isn't pregnant. Too much to work around if she was, so for those of you looking for die-hard links to the current incarnation of The West Wing, this isn't for you.
Coming down the homestretch here folks. Work has been killing me, the dog ate my glasses last night and I am one tired puppy. But outtabreath begged, so I'll keep trudging on.
This is for my three sisters, slim (the best beta out there), outtabreath (the best protest leader out there), and everyone who has given such amazing feedback. Thank you!
PHOTOGRAPHS (21)
"We'll have to brief the press on the President's meeting with the Department of the Treasury tomorrow," Toby said, looking through the papers on his desk. "It's routine, but if we don't tell them that ahead of time, they'll read something unnecessary into it and we'll have the Great Depression on our hands."
Pushing her glasses up on her tiny nose, Annabeth hugged a notepad to her chest. "So what do you want me to tell them?"
Toby looked up and raised his eyebrows, "You read his schedule. You're bright. It's a simple meeting – there's no need for me to have to hand feed you this one."
Annabeth bowed her head and smiled slightly. Over the past few months, Toby had handed more and more responsibility over to her and had told her to "wing" it more often than he had given her detailed instructions. But she still liked to check.
"Ok." She checked her watch and noted that it was late. "How long are you going to be here? Need something to eat?"
Toby rubbed his head and looked up from his work. For all her crisp demeanor and brusqueness, Annabeth was caring and had become devoted to the gruff older man. Neither spoke of it, but she often came and covered him up when he fell asleep on the couch in his office, or brought him lunch or dinner, when she knew he had not eaten. Smiling slightly, he shook his head.
"I'm fine. I won't be too much longer."
Annabeth bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. Toby had decided that she was a complete ball of energy twenty-four hours a day, without fail. Even when sitting still, the kinetic energy from her very persona seemed to permeate the air around her.
"Sure? 'Cause, I could..."
"Go home, Annabeth," Toby said quietly.
Clutching the notepad even closer to her chest, Annabeth studied him for a moment, turned and walked out the door through the Communications bullpen.
Toby sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. Two months until the election. Four months until they were out of the White House. There was so much to do and so little time left.
He rubbed his hands over his head and stretched. He had been sitting all day, working on various speeches and issues to be handled by the President over the next week. It was late and Toby wanted desperately to go home and climb into bed, but there was still work to be done. And after the work was done, there was packing to consider. No one wanted to be the first to pull out a cardboard box, but there was too much to move out after the last eight years to leave it to the last minute.
Toby stood and walked over to the stereo. Looking out his door he noted that the bullpen was mostly empty since there were no crises to handle at the moment and nothing planned for the night. He threw in a disk and turned up the volume, listening to the soothing sounds of a cello float through his office. The music reminded him of Donna, who had slipped the CD onto his desk one holiday. Toby had to admit he missed her more than he thought he would. Her presence had always been a constant and after she left, there was a hollowness around the bullpen that Toby found hard to escape.
Thoughts of Donna then turned to thoughts of Josh. They hadn't really spoken since the fight in his office. They had literally talked to one another, but not like the old days. Toby knew his actions with Ricki Rafferty were wrong and his fight with Josh was in part a reaction to his brother's suicide, but he couldn't move past those admissions to reach out to Josh. He still felt like he had been left behind and as his time in the White House grew shorter, he felt like he was watching everything, including the upcoming election, from the sidelines.
Sighing heavily, he rubbed his beard and turned to wander to the mess. Coffee was what he needed. Coffee and a lot of it.
XXX
C.J. blinked several times, trying to focus her eyes on the report in front of her. It wasn't working.
Margaret had left for the day several hours before, Charlie had gone to meet Zoey for dinner, and the President was about to retire to the Residence. She was alone, for once, and was having difficulty with that fact.
Sighing, CJ put down the report and leaned back in her chair. She had been doing a great deal of soul searching recently, realizing that her days in this office were now numbered, and she had yet to come up with a satisfactory answer to any of her questions. Standing, she wandered slowly around the office.
After years of thinking "when this is over" she had come to realize that that time was now and all those things she had put off doing were slipping by the wayside. Kids, marriage, and all the things she didn't think she had wanted. Years ago she had made the choice between a career and a family and she didn't regret what she had done. But part of her wished she could take back just a few of those years. A do-over of sorts.
This is not helping, she thought.
Rubbing her eyes, CJ decided she would take a walk through the hallways to clear her head. She wanted to finish reviewing the report on her desk so she could report to the President in the morning.
"I'll be back in a few, Gail," she said glancing at the fishbowl. "Keep the light on for me."
XXX
Wandering through the bullpen, CJ paused by Toby's office. The soft sound of the cello was inviting and she slipped into the room and sat down on the sofa. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and quietly enjoyed the concert.
"Hey," a voice said from the doorway.
Opening her eyes, CJ looked up to see Toby standing in the office door holding a cup of coffee.
"Hey," she replied with a weary smile. "I heard the music and sat down to listen for a little while."
Toby walked into the office and sat down behind his desk. Gesturing toward the stereo, he said quietly, "Yo-Yo Ma."
Nodding, CJ leaned her head back and closed her eyes again. After a few minutes, she said, "I always think of Josh when I hear this."
Behind his desk, Toby chuckled softly.
"What?" she said, opening her eyes, "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," he replied looking over at her, "I just thought the same thing earlier."
The two looked at one another. They were it. The last two left from the golden gang of Bartlet for President. In four months, they would be among the ranks of the unemployed – relegated to footnotes in the texts of high school seniors and clues on Jeopardy.
"What are you doing here?" CJ asked, stretching out her long legs. "The President has gone to the Residence and there aren't any crises I can think of at the moment that require our attention. Why don't you go home?"
Toby cleared his throat. "I have some things to do before tomorrow. Plus I've been thinking of packing..."
"Packing?" CJ asked. "We have plenty of time for that..."
"No." Toby interrupted. "We don't have plenty of time."
"Toby," she said teasingly, "We aren't leaving tomorrow..."
"We don't have plenty of time, CJ. Look around you. We have four months. Four months. In four months we have to finish what we started and get out of here."
The vehemence in his voice shocked her slightly. She knew that people were afraid of what would happen on Inauguration Day, but she didn't count Toby as one of them. CJ realized that it was a mistake not to do so. She also knew that in her head, she was procrastinating. If she waited to pack, to make plans for their final days, she could push aside the nagging fear and doubt that had crawled into the corner of her mind.
"Have you thought about ..." she started.
Toby shook his head, "No. I've had offers..."
"Yeah," CJ said quietly.
"What about you?"
Sighing heavily, CJ stood up and paced a little. "I've had offers, too."
"Are you considering any of them?"
CJ shook her head, "No. None of them."
"CJ..."
"Toby, I'm scared." She looked at him and he could see fear in her eyes.
"Afraid of what, CJ? We're not dying, just leaving office."
"No, Toby, really. We've been sacrificing everything for almost nine years now. And what do we have to show for it? You, at least, have Huck and Molly. Thank God for that, right? What do I have?"
Her eyes were pleading and the words were beginning to stream out of her. Toby felt his heart break. In front of him was one of the most beautiful, strong, successful women in the world who, at the root of it all, was still the same woman who fell in the pool in front of him in L.A. They had both been hiding behind their jobs and their responsibilities and neither had realized that a confidante still existed in the other.
"I gave up all of it, Toby. No kids, no husband, no prospects of a husband, few friends and soon, no job, no future prospects, and lot of free time. What do I do now?"
"CJ, wait a minute..."
"Wait? There's nothing to wait for, Toby. It all went by when I was here. I kept saying 'after this is over', 'when we're all done', and I realize now, we're all done and I don't know what to do."
CJ's voice was desperate and Toby walked over to her and took her hands in his. 'We knew, CJ. We knew when we did this..."
Tears in her eyes, CJ laughed hollowly, "We knew? Yeah, we knew we would be handing our lives over. But they never told us what to do when it was over. What now, Toby? What now?"
"That's not the right question," said a male voice from the doorway of the office.
CJ and Toby, who had been in the far side of Toby's office, turned to see Jed Bartlet standing in the doorway. The President was leaning heavily on his cane and the years had etched their path across his face, but he could still come and raise the spirits of his senior staff when necessary.
"Mr. President," the two said in unison.
"Claudia Jean, What now? isn't a question we've ever asked in this White House and we won't start now. What now? implies defeat and resignation. We don't do that here."
CJ bowed her head. The President looked at her and Toby could see compassion in his eyes.
"I have asked a great deal of all of you. You all sacrificed more than any human being should be asked to give. I know this. Don't ever think that I don't know what you all have had to give up to serve in this building. But don't use that as an excuse to stop.
"You are a bright, beautiful, amazingly capable woman who has an entire generation of women to teach and mentor. You are not done with doing good, Claudia Jean. It may take you a while, once you leave this place, to find what it is that you are meant to do in the next phase of your life, but your good works are not over.
"And you, Toby. You have a gift. It's a gift that few have and fewer share and you must go forth and teach the future leaders of America to dream and put those dreams on paper. There is no excuse for you not to impart your knowledge to others and if you don't, your children can only point to you for that failure.
"You both may think that Matt Santos will carry on the legacy of this White House, but that is not the case. It is you and those you teach who will carry on our legacy."
The President turned to leave and then stopped. He turned back to CJ and Toby and said to both of them, "I said that What now? is not an acceptable question in this White House. What's the right one?"
"I'm sorry, Sir?" CJ said, puzzled.
"Toby," the President said, gesturing with his cane, "I know you know."
Toby and the President stood for a moment, quietly studying one another, their eyes locked. Slowly, Toby smiled and the President did the same. CJ, still confused, looked from one to the other and said, in a slightly peevish tone, "Ok, clue me in..."
"The question, Toby... What's the right question?" the President said softly, the smile never leaving his face.
Looking over at CJ, Toby met her eyes and smiled.
"What's next?"
(To be continued.)
