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.

"Miss Ainsley?"

"Mr. President!" The girl shot up like a raw recruit meeting his commanding general. Walken nodded approval, but sat her down again with a gesture and settled into the chair beside her desk.

"Sir, to what do I owe the honor of your visit to my place of employment?"

"You worked for the Bartlet administration."

"If there is some question as to my loyalty, sir...."

Walken nodded again. Spunk, on top of manners. This one might just do.

"You still have contacts there? Friends?"

"I have accepted the honor of serving as a bridesmaid in the press secretary's wedding, if it's that to which you are referring."

"Good, good. Could you take her a message for me? Privately, so nobody knows but you and me and C.J.?"

Ainsley looked at him, and for a moment he thought the question might not be whether Ainsley would do, but whether Walken would.

"That would depend on the nature of the message, sir."

"Good for you," he said.

A door opened, and Tracy was pushed through it.

"Any problems?" asked a feminine voice.

"None at all," said the man who'd brought her there, "and that worries me."

"How so?"

"Would it be beyond them to hang this child out as bait for us?"

"They're not that clever."

"How clever does one have to be? They know about her, and yet she is still free to move as she will."

"Not any more, Bernard," the woman said.

"What...?" His reply was interrupted by a scream from the next room.

"I told you it was almost over," she said.

"Should we not...?"

"Expose ourselves to someone else whom we don't know for the benefit of someone whose survival is immaterial?"

"Then why have we bothered...?"

"Think, Bernard! For our purposes, dead is actually better than alive." Another scream. Tracy decided they must be somewhere miles from anywhere, or everybody and their brother would have come to see what was wrong.

"Indeed," Bernard said, but he didn't sound happy about it. "What shall I do with this one, then?"

"Throw her in with the noisemaker," the woman said. "We'll get rid of both of them at once."

Bernard's hand touched Tracy's back and guided her to the door. It slid shut behind her. She pushed her blindfold up and looked around. It was a bare room, an attic under the eaves of an ancient house. The dirty window in the gable end gave on the treetops of a mountain forest. Far away Tracy could hear the sea. At least she thought it was the sea. It might have been traffic. Anyway, unless Tracy could grow wings, she wasn't getting out that way, 'cause it was at least four floors down. She turned back into the room. There was a door to a filthy toilet, and an iron bedstead, to which was chained the person who had screamed.

"What are you doing here?" she said.

"I thought we were on the same side. She said she'd help me. She said she wanted the same kind of revenge I did, but she's...."

The speech gave way to another scream, and Tracy backed up against the window with no idea what to do next.