I don't remotely own any part of the show, The West Wing, or any of its characters.

(I read this op-ed in the NY Times yesterday about truth and the press spin of Washington and how we love a good historical novel or documentary, but really, we don't care about the truth behind it, we just like a good story. Anyway, there was one quote that caught my eye, "Some of us like out truth the way we like our martinis: dry and straight up." So naturally, it screamed Fan Fic! As for context in the show, I think this is supposed to be a mid-ep to Drought Conditions which would explain the absence of Donna at the party…but either way, I just wanted her and Leo to have a moment. Enjoy the story and I shall enjoy your feedback! Oh and the title is a play on the "Absolute" brand of vodka)

It doesn't get much separate from Josh Lyman than this, CJ I think as I work the room in this ridiculous dress Will insisted I wear. I fend off yet another pair of wandering Congressional hands as I seek refuge at the bar. "Martini, dry and straight up" I sigh, struggling to pull my top up, and hem down so I can perch on the damn stool without giving a free show. I fold the cocktail napkin over nervously, waiting for my salvation in the form of good vodka. The napkin, in a small crane by now, sits on the sticky wood. Once, bored on Air Force One, I tried to teach Sam how to make one, he thought maybe it would cure his writer's block…I really didn't have the heart to tell him it looked completely horrendous.

"I thought you looked familiar," a gruff voice speaks to my right. I turn my head from the past, only to see Leo smiling at me, like I was the prodigal daughter or something. I return his smile warmly, and kiss his cheek hello. "How ya been kid?" he asks blushing a little, unused to such open affection. I force myself to smile brightly, start to tell him I'm great, loving the work, loving the drive, the responsibility, but for some reason I can't. I can't lie to this man who has shouldered the weight of the country for the past eight years; he would see right through me. So, I sigh instead and take a sip from my drink.

"That bad, huh?" he asks with a small smirk and orders a club soda. How do I answer that; I refuse to turn this bar into my confessional, but I crave the absolution. If I started, if I was completely honest with him and myself, where would I stop, I would lose the control I have carefully built over what's next. Because, let's face it: I don't have Toby's words, I don't have Sam's intelligence, I don't have CJ's grace, and I don't have Josh's….well, I just don't have Josh at all… which is what I wanted right?

I don't have Josh, and the bar gets a little blurry and I blink furiously at the bottom of my empty glass. God, when did I get so maudlin…

I really should get back to the fundraiser, Will's going to come looking for me soon. I stand up and as I lay the bills down on the bar, Leo's hand reaches out gently like a life line to a wayward ship and covers mine. "He's proud of you, you know. I mean, he's a complete wreck, but he's damn proud, we-we all are…" "Leo…I, I have to get back there…" I look past his piercing gaze to the lights and music through the door, a different world that I've become a part of now, like Alice through the looking glass, and he lets me go. "Do good in there" he looks back to the bar as I walk away, a little taller.