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.

"Is Leo here yet?" asked Josh, peering at the president's schedule.

"He's still in the residence," said Jesse.

"I thought the First Lady was back."

"Yes, sir. The staff say she came in about midnight."

"And Leo... and there were no sounds of carnage, or anything?"

"I wasn't on duty at the time, sir."

A Secret Service agent whispered into his wristband. Josh heard only the phrase "Eagle's in the Oval."

"Yeah," he said to Jesse. "Well, they're up now and I need Leo, because we need to reshuffle the president's schedule. C.J. really doesn't need to run into some of these guys."

"The first three are waiting in various places around the building, sir, and the Secret Service says Ms. Cregg is en route. Should I...?"

"Leave it, then," said Josh, "but let's make sure we get these three in and out."

"Good morning, Grampa."

"Good morning, sweetheart. You know we're just about to start...."

"I know. This will only take a second. How hard is it to get into the Air Force Academy?"

"You're sure you want to do that?"

"I'm sure. Like Hogan says, when one goes down, another one has to stand up."

"I'll make some calls then, but you have to do something for me."

"What's that?"

"You have to be the one to tell your mother."

"Ms. Cregg?"

She turned automatically, accustomed to being accosted on her way into the White House. This man she didn't know, although from the strobe of the flashbulbs and the exceedingly large number of agents milling around the two of them, she probably should. He was small and thin with a silvery crewcut and a military bearing. She forced a smile and took his hand.

"Your sister was my student at Patuxent River," he said. "She was a fine officer and a gifted aviator, and I wanted you to know how much her death affected everyone who knew her."

"Thank you," C.J. stammered.

"I'd also like you to know what I just told President Bartlet: I'm dropping out of this thing. I was told that there was no serious Democratic candidate, and that I had a duty to fill that gap. I now believe that I was misinformed."

C.J. blinked, desperately wishing for a Charlie Young to whisper this man's name in her ear.

"That's...."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Of course you don't recognize me. Neither does anyone else. I'm Stanley Willowby, and I hope you'll save me a place on the podium at your inauguration."