Disclaimer: "The West Wing", the characters and situations depicted are the property of Warner Bros. Television, John Wells Productions, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. This site is in no way affiliated with "The West Wing", NBC, or any representatives of the actors. This site contains stories between two mature, consenting adult females.
Author's Disclaimer: Abbey, CJ & The West Wing all belong to NBC, Aaron Sorkin and whoever else. Purely for pleasure, not profit. I'm On Fire is property of Bruce Springsteen et al.
Author’s Notes: A very short bit, but it's all that I have finished at the moment. This started out as a longer chapter, but I've scrapped & rewritten the whole thing so many times that it was a relief to get any of it to the point where it was readable.
Comments, critiques, coupons… All welcome. :D
CJ knew that the dance couldn’t last forever, but as the final notes faded out and the next song began, CJ couldn’t help but feel the familiar little weight attaching itself to her heart.
“See now? Wasn’t that difficult, was it?” Abbey asked, dropping her hands from CJ’s hips.
A slow shiver zigzagged up CJ’s back as the warmth of Abbey’s body receded. CJ picked her evening bag up off of her own table as followed Abbey to the front of the room, working on some kind of excuse to get Abbey out of the party.
“Mrs. Bartlet?” The voice came from behind them.
“Charlie. Did my husband send you to do his dirty work?”
“I don’t know about that, Ma’am, but he did want me to let you know that he’ll be in the Situation Room for the rest of the evening. He said not to wait up.”
“Do you get danger pay when you’re sent with messages like that?” She asked, with the hint of a smile.
Charlie couldn’t help his own grin.
“No, Ma’am. He mostly just tells me to duck.” She laughed lightly, thanking Charlie and sending him home for the night.
“Did they say what’s going on? Should I be over there?” CJ asked Charlie’s retreating form. She had already swung into full work mode, straightening the straps of her dress and preparing to head back to her office.
“They don’t tell me what goes on in the sit room, CJ.” Charlie responded over his shoulder.
“Right, right. I should get over there, though. There’s going to be - well, who knows what there’s going to be, but whatever it is, it’ll need spin, I can tell you that for free.” Abbey waited for her to finish before she spoke.
“CJ, that pager in your purse? You don’t think that maybe if they needed you they might, you know, page you?”
“Oh, right, yeah, I guess they could, I’m just always there, so they don’t really have to…. Use it.” CJ said, a slight blush tinting her cheeks as she made the First Lady’s point for her.
“That’s a sad little life you’re leading there, Ms. Cregg. What do you say to a drink while Jed and Leo figure out how long they can pretend that they don’t need you to calm the press corps down?”
“I don’t know Ma’am, I can only stand the government sanctioned parties for so long.” She sighed.
“In the Residence, then.” Abbey stated rather than asked. CJ hesitated. It would get the First Lady out of the party, which was what she was sent over to do in the first place. Her only fear was where this might lead her, what fates she might tempt by allowing herself to go blindly into a situation she had promised herself she’d stay out of. She was tired, frustrated with a day of political wrangling and sacrificed integrity, and feared what she might reveal when she was suddenly alone with Abbey, if when the shield of her title went down, she would end up telling Abbey everything she wasn’t allowed to feel.
And yet she still followed.