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.

Leo watched the president wash into the Mural Room like a wave, ordering the ones in uniform to stand at ease and then slipping an arm around Danny and one around Mallory, leaving C.J. in her beige dress standing in front of three sets of dress blues and her youngest brother's dark suit.

"Good God, C.J.," Bartlet said, "who's protecting the Eastern Seaboard?"

"Someone else's family, sir, God bless them."

From the hall came a flurry of flashbulbs, and Leo felt a grin spread itself across his face.

"Be careful," said Amy.

"Quit worrying," Tracy told her. "Picture everything working out."

"Kind of hard whe... when...."

Tracy climbed through the window before Amy's scream reached full volume and stretched one leg toward the box where phone wires entered the house. She hoped they were phone wires, anyway. If they were high voltage, she was a crispy critter. This was assuming she managed to touch them, rather than plummet four sto...

Okay, she wasn't going to think about that. She felt the plastic box with her foot, now, and she wasn't smoking anywhere that she could tell. She slid her body along the wall, shifting her weight from the windowsill to the box, and then reached up and grabbed the shingled edge. This next part was going to be fun. Tracy had never been able to do even one pull-up in gym class, but now she had to get up on the roof. She grabbed the wooden shingle with both hands and pulled. She came up about an inch and stopped, and then had to grope with her foot to find the box again. This wasn't working.

The bedroom door slammed open, and Tracy heard a man's shout above Amy's scream. Footsteps pounded toward the window. Tracy closed her eyes and pulled again, and when she opened them again she was lying on the broad shingled roof.

"We found her cellphone," Butterfield told Charlie, "in the trash at a McDonald's drive-through in Maryland."

"At least she's not suffering fry deprivation."

"And we know where they were, although we're hazy about when."

"The drive-through clerk doesn't remember a girl screaming for help?"

"She might not even have been in the car when the phone was dumped. Besides, drive-through personnel don't have time to notice anything. They're taking the next order while they're making your change."

"My sister worked in one of those places for a while," said Charlie. "They had a video camera to get the license numbers of drive-offs. I guess your people would have noticed that, though."

"The local law responded," said Butterfield. "We wanted to get someone there as quickly as possible. Let me make a call."