And So They Part
By Cappuccino Girl
Rating: PG-13
Genre: CJ/Sam. Angst. Drama.
Disclaimer: The West Wing and its characters are the property of Aaron Sorkin,
John Wells Productions and Warner Bros.
Spoilers: Complicated: A Series. Parts 1-4. The Crackpots and These Women. Mr
Willis of Ohio. ITSOTG.
Notes: Follows The Boy-From-Next-Door Routine.
Thanks as always to my beta readers. Sometimes I think I’ve hit this creative
wall, and then ten million ideas will bounce back, and you always help me chose
the best ones :-)
Summary: “So you now you’re throwing ultimatums my way?”
The apprehensive looks flying between the two of them would be far more suited
to a jury verdict, or the last lap of Kentucky Derby when you have bet $50,000
on the least popular horse, but here they are in senior staff. He’s studying
the way she has balanced a pen, paper, laptop, and cup of coffee on her lap,
and it causes him to ponder last night and its more pleasant moments. Feeling
obliged to contribute to the conversation, he drops some casual comment in his
usual quirky tone about what Senator Miers’ office has said in response
to yesterday’s press conference. As he opens his mouth, she flinches a
little, shifting in her chair, for she doesn’t quite trust his verbal subtlety.
Toby’s standing right behind her, and when she fidgets for the sixth time
in two minutes, he rests his hand on her shoulder, out of habit more than anything
else. She looks up at him, and gives him an appraising stare.
“We don’t need to stoop to the same lows as he did,” Josh responds.
“And we won’t be doing that,” Leo offers. “At the same time,
it is unacceptable to have to deal with such unproved allegations.”
“Have you seen this?” Josh waves a paper around.
“What is it?” Toby questions, walking towards Leo’s desk to collect
one of the many letters which lay scattered upon it.
“Comments further supporting the Senator’s accusations.”
CJ squints a little. “In the paper?”
“Yeah.”
“Which one?”
“Washington Post. Mentions the- You can’t tell this is the Washington
Post?” He holds the paper up by both top corners like a placard.
She purses her lips, wishing she didn’t have to explain. “No, I- Bad
lens day, and I seem to have misplaced my glasses.”
Toby chuckles.
“What?” she asks, confused.
“Just keep away from pools,” he says dryly.
She rolls her eyes at him. “Pools?”
“Well, what with the party, and that time at your house, you do have quite
a reputation for...” He lets his expression finish the sentence for him.
“Gee, thanks Toby. I’d have thought you would have wanted to rush
me to the nearest one so you’d have the joys of witnessing me in wet clothes
again,” she comments, trying to keep her eyes focused on the sheets of
paper on her lap, but failing miserably.
Sam shoots her a slightly aggravated look, but it is missed amidst the laughter
that rings around the room.
“Now that would be a welcome treat,” Toby says under his breath.
“The paper,” Sam states, in an attempt to halt the conversation between
the two.
“Yeah.”
Josh continues to read out the article, until Leo groans that they are wasting
far too much time, and should just get on with the day.
“Everyone’s been briefed enough yesterday. Let’s just take today
as it comes,” Leo says in a tone of finality that unmistakably indicates
the end of the meeting.
CJ rises from her chair, giving Toby an exasperated smile, and he grins back
smugly before they both depart to their offices.
~* *~
She’s collecting memos from Carol when Sam walks up to her, grabs her by
the arm, and takes her to the office, closing the door behind him.
“Can’t keep you hands to yourself?” she teases.
“Yeah. Anyway,” he states clearly.
“Thanks for not saying anything about us at staff.”
“It was nice of me, wasn’t it?” he questions. Without giving
her time to respond, he continues, moving closer to her desk. “I wasn’t
obliged to, but I didn’t say anything. There weren’t even any hints.”
“No, there weren’t,” she mumbles, scanning the memos she is holding.
“I was subtle. Very subtle. Would have been nice if you could have been
equally subtle with Toby.”
“What about Toby?”
“The whole pool thing.”
“Yeah, why did he have to bring that up? God,” she sighs, sinking
into her chair.
“You played along quite nicely.”
She looks up, straining her eyes so she can see his face clearly. “Are
you- You’re jealous?” She smiles a little.
“Well...”
“You think I was flirting with Toby, and you’re jealous,” she
laughs, tossing the notices she’d picked up onto the desk, where they obscure
her laptop.
He looks feebly at her, not quite wanting to admit to such a thing verbally.
“That’s so sweet,” she beams, and stands up, reaching forward
to kiss him gently on the cheek. “You know it’s just teasing.”
“I do, but there is-”
She cuts in. “I know, a past. You can say it. But that was so long ago,
and now it’s just my toying with him, because I know that...” She
decides it’s best not to continue her thought.
“You know that what?” he asks, holding her hand, considering the blue
ink stain on her index finger.
She moves back a step. “You were really jealous?”
He nods.
“I like that,” she states simply, taking her seat once more.
“You like that I’m jealous?”
“Yeah.” Her tone is sincere. “It’s nice to know that I’m
not the only insecure one in this...” She struggles with the word for a
moment. “...relationship.”
“I’m not insecure.” He straightens his tie, and stops leaning
on the desk so that he’s taller.
“You’re just jealous.”
“Sometimes.” He strolls to the door. ”I have work to do.”
She waves her hand over her never-ending stack. “So do I.”
He stands motionless by the door, wishing they didn’t have to go through
another day in the same building, yet apart.
She can read his thoughts for they seem to mirror her own, so she stands up
and walks purposefully towards him. They kiss deeply at the door, savoring these
few moments.
She moves her hand down his chest. “You should probably go now,” she
says, her cheeks flushed.
He nods, and opens the door.
“And remember, I don’t kiss and tell, and neither should you.”
She whisks the door shut, beaming again.
~* *~
He’s watching her press conference on tv, which seems strange seeing as
she’s in the same building as him, but he loves looking at her. The way
she points to specific reporters in the crowd, how she intersperses facts with
humor. It’s her style, a little artificial, but there are elements of her
true self hidden within it. Now she’s turning the page of her notes, touching
her finger with the tip of her tongue as the sheets aren’t separating.
He’s about ready to rush into the briefing room and jump her, but then
common sense takes over, so he resorts to making eyes at her image on the tv
screen instead.
~* *~
“Carol,” she says to her assistant as they weave their way down the
corridors from the press room. “Senator Miers’ comments on the Governor
of Maine. Thanks for that.”
“No problem.”
“So, what’s my schedule?”
Carol flips methodically through the list. “I got you 15 minutes with the
President at 12.30. Briefing on the UN Summit at 1.50. The gaggle again at 3,”
she examines a post-it which Cathy has just handed her while breezing past them.
“And Sam wants to see you ASAP.” She pauses for a moment, giving her
boss a knowing look.
“What?” She can’t help smiling a little. “Nothing.”
“I never said anything,” Carol protests, as CJ floats into Sam’s
office, leaving her secretary musing to herself.
“Hey, I got a message saying you wanted to see me,” she says nonchalantly,
closing the door behind her and then flipping through the files she is clutching.
He stands up, smacks his laptop shut, and moves over to kiss her gently on the
cheek. “I hate to break it to you, but the reason is work related.”
“Work, or ‘Work’?” She emphasises the difference with a
gesture.
“No, _real_ work. You’ve got the briefing on the UN Summit this afternoon,
right?”
She takes a seat before replying. “Yes, 1.50.”
“Okay, well, sometime we’ve got to fit in some time to discuss the
proposed revisions to employment legislation, and I’d rather it was before
your next press briefing.”
She glances at her watch. “I’ve got 25 minutes now. You free?”
“Speech to write. Papers to read. 37 phone calls to make. Yeah, I’m
free.”
She playfully slaps his arm. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” He pulls his folder out marked ‘Employment 2001’
in big black letters, and she presses her fingers to her temples in protest.
“The joys of the job.”
“I guess you could call it that. Could be worse, I suppose, say the census.”
“But you understand that now, don’t you?” he questions slyly.
“Everything, but you never did tell me how many people actually live in
this country,” she says, and they share a laugh. “Ok, start explaining.”
She holds his fascinated gaze until they are interrupted by the door opening
to reveal Cathy and Carol standing there.
“CJ,” Carol sighs, evidently out of breath. “There’s a phone
call for you.”
She looks up at her assistant. “Can’t it wait? We’re in the middle
of a meeting.”
Both Carol and Cathy shake their heads. “It’s very important.”
CJ reaches for the phone, irritated. “CJ Cregg. Hey Matt, why are you...”
Her eyes close for a moment, a stunned expression painted across her face. “What-
How? I mean is she...” The pen she is holding slides out of her hand. “Where
are you now?” There is a moment of deathly silence. Sam watches her hands
shake. “Okay, I’ll be there... Bye.” She’s trembling so
much now that the receiver clatters down onto the desk.
Three pairs of worried eyes watch her intently, hoping for an explanation. She
tries to roll her eyes back slightly to stop herself from crying, and it works
for a moment until she hears the words come from her mouth. “That was my
brother. I have to get to California. My mom was...” Sam motions to Carol
that she should leave, and when the door is shut, her tears flow like water,
leaving little droplets on the pages which rest on her lap.
~* *~
Her eyes have dried now, but the expression on her face remains unchanged as
she wanders lifelessly past Carol. “Cancel all my meetings, and I need
you to get me on the next flight to San Francisco.”
Her assistant nods. “CJ?” Carol questions quietly.
“My mom was in a car accident. They are prepping her for surgery right
now,” she says emotionlessly, and it feels like she’s giving a miniature
press briefing.
“Are you-?”
CJ nods. “I’m fine, really.” The lie stings as it rolls off her
tongue, and she decides to evade further conversation by quickly gathering her
things so she can go home to pack.
~* *~
Her bags are lined up beside the couch in a neat row of black and grey. She’s
hunched over the table, doing her best to write a relatively coherent note to
her neighbor saying thanks, and in which cupboard he’ll find the cat food.
When she miss-spells the third word in two sentences, she scrunches it up and
hurls it across the room. “Dammit!” she yells, as the paper didn’t
make a satisfying breaking sound when it fell.
The doorbell rings her out of her frustration, and she wipes her eyes before
opening it.
Sam reaches out and touches her face, gazing into her bloodshot eyes, asking
for permission to enter. They don’t speak, for neither one of them knows
quite what to say, so she just goes back to the table to rewrite the message.
He perches on the back of the couch, writing a little speech in his head.
The pen refuses to write for her, so she scratches the tip hard against the
paper. “Why are you even here? It’s like the four in the afternoon.”
He stands up, annoyed. “I came to find out how you were and-”
“Well, I’m still standing, so draw your own conclusions.” She
slams the pen down onto the table, and strolls towards the bags, running down
her mental checklist.
He hold her arm when it brushes past him, moves the hair off her face, and she
feels herself breaking once more. He turns her towards him so he can hold her,
and she’s trembling all over.
“This was never supposed to happen,” she whispers, and he moves his
hand down her back, trying to comfort her.
They are both silent, trying to understand each other’s unspoken phrases.
“Come with me,” she eventually says softly.
“You know I can’t.” He moves back a step.
“Why?”
“Don’t be irrational, Claudia. I can’t just say ‘My girlfriend’s
mom’s having major surgery. I’m taking some time off work.’”
He rushes his words, fearing some kind of retribution for his frankness.
“You could say that your close friend needs some support.”
“We work for the White House. Be honest with yourself.” She rummages
through her purse for distraction while he continues talking. “If you want
me to go with you, I’m going to have to tell them.”
Her eyes dart up, hands on hips. “Oh for God’s sake!” she cries.
“What? It’s the truth. You know that. I know that. Just tell Leo,
and he’ll probably give me a couple of days off so I can be with you.”
Her arms wave about frantically. “Oh, so you now you’re throwing ultimatums
my way?” she yells, anger mixing with her pain. “Get me when I’m
down. Is that it?”
He’s stunned, not sure how to respond. “I was just suggesting-”
“I know damn well what you were suggesting. You’re manipulative, you
know that?”
“Sorry?”
“I said-” she blurts.
“I heard you.”
“Oh you did? Well, take it to heart Sam. I get enough bullshit like that
from the press; I certainly don’t need any from you.”
She tugs her coat on, tossing the scarf over her shoulder. He picks up her bags,
which she swiftly snatches from him, marching towards the front door.
“I have a flight to catch,” she states without turning around.
“So, do you want me to ask Leo?” he asks confidently.
She spins around, hurt burning her eyes. “Fuck you, Samuel!” The door
slams shut behind her, making him jump.
He looks longingly out the window as her car leaves the drive, and he wonders
whether the sword which seems to cut their happiness will be just as sharp when
she returns.
~ To Be Continued ~
______________________________________________
Feedback as always to: cappuccinogirlie@hotmail.com
Visit the author’s web site at http://cappuccinogirl.com