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.

"You gonna be okay if we stay here?" Danny asked. "I mean, I know you were kind of freaked this morning."

"You want to go to your place?"

"My place in town is one room, and it's... cluttered."

"'In town?'"

"I've got some land in West Virginia. Lots of trees, couple of horses."

"You don't seem like the farmer type."

"Twenty minute drive to the best whitewater...."

"Okay, I don't want to know, and we are absolutely staying here tonight."

"Good plan." He got out and walked around the car to open her door.

"Danny? When you talk about getting married, what kind of a time period were you thinking of?"

"There's no waiting period in Barbados. We could fly down tomorrow, if you really...."

"That would piss off the president, and what do you mean, 'If I really?' Are you sure you're not having second thoughts?"

"No, it's not that. I'm just bummed."

"Were you close to Katie?"

"Four seats down."

"Danny...."

"I wish I'd known her better. Her eyes were open, C.J., like she was looking at me. It was like she was trying to tell me something, only she couldn't, 'cause she was dead. She was just laying there dead."

C.J. slid her arm around his waist.

"Come upstairs," she said. "We'll go online and find something she wrote, and you can read it to me, okay?"

Hoynes beckoned to his assistant from his office door.

"What," he said, "is that?" He pointed at a large manila envelope in the middle of the blotter on his desk. "Where did it come from?"

"It was here when I got here."

"This doesn't strike you as strange?"

"I didn't think...."

"No kidding. Hate mail isn't bad enough, now we've got.... Never mind. Just call the police, will you?"

"I screwed up," Russell told the president. "I thought there was another candidate."

"There are four that I know of."

"Perennial candidates, single issue extremists. There's no one electable, no one but Hoynes."

"Hoynes is surely no longer electable."

"You, my friend, are an idealist."

"I've had this job for six years. I've forgotten the meaning of the word."

"Lucky for you the rest of us still know it when we see it."

"Mr. President...."

"You boys back?"

"Yeah, and we found out how big your dog really is."

"That dog's got some sharp teeth, now."

"We've done some polling, and it turns out you were right. There's a tremendous sympathy out there for Hoynes's victims, especially for the dead reporter. What we need now is an avenging angel, somebody who'll wipe the Democrat scum off the face of the earth in the name of the injured...."

"Democrats?"

"We probably don't want to dwell too much on that."

"You're gonna have a hard time selling it when you can't get a single one of them to endorse your candidate."

"They're traumatized, poor things. They just can't think straight right now."

"You try to pull any such nonsense, and they'll eat you alive. What kind of idiot are you going to get to stand up and say he's trying to save C.J. Cregg from the Democratic Party?"

"You."

Walken laughed and said, "I got to get a bigger dog."