Fandom:

The West Wing AU

Pairing:

C.J./Danny

Rating:

PG-13 for topic

Distribution:

How much do I owe you for hauling it off?

Spoilers:

Up to and including Full Disclosure, from which the series follows on

Email:

exfilia at livejournal dot com

Disclaimer:

if I owned them, they'd have a lot more fun

Warning:

mentions nonconsensual sex

Note:

Hoynes lovers should probably be hitting delete right about now.

Okay, so maybe walking for miles down a country road in shoes intended for the White House with a sticky newborn in her arms was not the best idea Tracy ever had. The kid wasn't making as much noise as she should have been, even if she weren't Amy Gardner's daughter. Tracy herself had nasty blisters on each foot, and the insects from the tall roadside grass were dining well and treating their friends off her blood. Probably off the baby's, too. Tracy couldn't see any welts on her skin, but every bug in the county could surely smell the blood all over her.

She'd walked maybe a mile toward the road when she heard a car. She turned around, saw it, and gave thanks to whatever deities favor people in tight places. Across the top of the car, dark but still reassuring, was a police light. The car pulled up beside her and the window came down. The sheriff had red hair and blue eyes like Danny's, and a flock of freckles.

"Everything all right, miss?" he asked.

Okay, this was not the brightest cop on the face of the earth. Still, maybe that was a good thing.

"Help me, please. There was a man after us, and I'm afraid he may have hurt the baby's mother."

"What makes you say that?" he said.

"He wouldn't call her a doctor when the baby came, and she was afraid of him. She told me to take the baby and run. Please, could you...?"

He got out of the car and came around to her.

"Is the baby all right?" he asked.

"She's awful quiet."

"Can I see?" He took the child and wrapped her in his jacket, then laid her on the front seat of the car. "Come on," he said, opening the back door for Tracy. "Let's get you guys back where you belong." Tracy sank into the upholstery and relished the coolth of the air conditioner. The deputy walked back around the car, got in and picked up his microphone.

"Dispatch," he said, "this is Three. I've got 'em. Taking them back to the house now."

"Danny? You got a minute?"

"Hi, Mitch." Okay, his voice hadn't squeaked. He was doing good. "What's up?" he continued.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask. I may not be able to answer it." Hoo, boy, he couldn't answer it. Why in hell was Mitch picking on him?

Right. Time for another mental kick in the pants. 'Sources close to Press Secretary C.J. Cregg said today....' Right.

"Really, Mitch. I can't give you what you're looking for."

"Just some advice, Danny. I mean, it's not like we're competitors any more." Mitch sank into the chair beside Danny's desk. "Did you ever have a story you didn't want to write? I mean, a story that you knew was a story and you knew your readers had a right to know about, but you still didn't want to write it?"

"Why don't you want to write it?"

"Because we've been lost in the dark since Katie was killed, and I feel like the sun's coming up and I don't want to screw it up. I don't want to write... I don't."

"Then don't."

"Then what kind of reporter am I?"

Danny didn't answer that, largely because his opinion of Mitch was improving by the second.

"I always wrote them," he said instead. "I wrote them, even when it hurt like hell. You have to, or you might as well go back to Arizona and raise peyote."

"I'm not from Arizona, and I don't think that's a farm crop. And I don't want to leave, Danny."

"I know what you mean. The Press Room is an exciting place. I know C.J. loves it, loves dealing with important people and then going in front of the cameras and... Mitch?"

"Danny?"

"What if you did leave? What if you left, knowing that within a few weeks...."

Mitch held up a hand.

"Don't say it. You say it and I don't leave, I've got to write it."

Danny settled back in his chair, watching the other man.

"What do you want out of this, Mitch?"

"I want a better leader for this country," he said, "than anyone who's volunteered to run it so far. I want the kid in Cedar Rapids and the kid in Brooklyn and the one in Oakland, I want them all to be in hands as good as you and I have been in for the last six years."

Oh, yeah, Mitch had the story, big time. Danny found himself smiling.

"You know what you have to do," he told Mitch.

"Yeah, I know. I guess I just needed somebody to say it out loud. Thanks, Danny." He slipped out of the room, and Danny shook his head.

"Who would have thought Mitch had it in him?" he muttered to himself.