NOTE: This is a response to my 2nd Wing Swing pairing, and my first
slash piece in a while. Not too slashy, but you get the sentiment. :)
***
The voice on the other end of the line was eerily familiar,
low and insistent, as it had been each day that they worked
together. The call came as a late-night surprise, but not the good
kind of surprise that CJ tended to enjoy. Mandy's almost taunting
tone was just another bullet point on the long list of awful shocks
that had sprung up this past month.
"Why call me now?" CJ attempted to put forth her best
snobbish tone, but as she leaned over the balcony on the back of her
apartment building, blowing smoke lazily through her nose, CJ knew
she only sounded weak.
"You should tell him not to run, CJ."
"Mandy!" CJ cried with disgust, unintentionally dropping her
cigarette to the cement below, "you haven't worked for us in a year,
you haven't CALLED me in a year, and the first thing you say now is
that he shouldn't run?"
CJ could hear Mandy's light, feminine sigh over the line; it
was strangely reminiscent of a time when that sigh had been in her
ear for real. "I just saw the press conference, that's all. I thought
you might need advice."
"Well," CJ snorted, pushing away the few good memories she
had of Mandy, "you should know JUST how much I value that
professional opinion. I'll be sure to pass it along," she sneered,
ready to throw her phone the way of the cigarette.
"CJ." Mandy whined. "I'm sorry, I guess all I really wanted
to do was see how you're holding up."
"Sure you did," CJ remarked, though some of the tension in
her chest eased up. The call was masked; Mandy really had been
thinking of her.
"CJ, he can't run again. For the party, he can't run," Mandy
repeated, ignoring CJ's comment.
"Mandy, what the fuck is going on? As far as I know, you
don't even work for the party anymore," CJ shot as she held her hand
out. The rain was still pouring; her suit was still soaked from
traveling to the State Department. Her mood as sour as the weather,
and beaten down by the press, the last thing CJ really wanted was to
deal with the long-gone Mandy Hampton.
"You're right-I don't work for the party anymore. But I still
keep up with the Jones's," Mandy mocked.
"Great," CJ rolled her eyes, collecting droplets of freezing, crisp
water in her palm. It was May, yet it was so cold and dreary.May
seemed to be the worst month, filled with loss, stress, and more loss.
"Anyway, CJ, I'm not trying to intrude. I just really don't
think he should run."
"Why?" CJ replied with quick vehemence, turning to go inside;
it would still be raining inside but at least she would be dry. And
who really cared what Mandy thought?
"He has Multiple Sclerosis, CJ!" Mandy's voice pierced her
ear, and as CJ held the phone briefly away from her head, she bit her
lip. Damn-it, CJ thought to herself, why hadn't she hung up the
phone? Sadly, CJ knew that if she hadn't been able to hang up on
Mandy before, there was no setting the phone down now.
"Tell me something I don't already know, Mandy," CJ growled
into the receiver, her annoyance growing.
"You're damn sexy when you're mad, CJ," Mandy flirted coyly,
and as CJ sat unhappily on her sofa, she imagined Mandy stretched out
on some recliner with a Martini.
"Don't think I'm taking THAT bait tonight," CJ sighed, trying
to push from her head the way Mandy's lips used to feel against her
own. "Don't fuck around with me."
"I'm not," Mandy pouted, sensing that CJ was at her limit
tonight. After a long, uncomfortable pause, Mandy cleared her
throat. "When did you figure it out?"
"What?" CJ asked, thoroughly confused as she tried to focus
on both Mandy's question and lighting another cigarette.
"When did you find out that he has MS?" Mandy repeated,
enunciating heavily.
"They told me last week," CJ stated plainly, finally getting
a flame from her lighter; cold fingers had made slow work of the
cheap plastic.
"No, CJ, I mean when did you first realize that something was
wrong?" Mandy asked, knowing that for as smart as the Bartlet's were,
there wasn't much that could be put past CJ Cregg.
Stunned, it took CJ a moment to collect her bearings. Voice
but a whisper, CJ pulled the phone closer to her ear. "You mean you.
too?" she croaked out, unable to say the word `knew'; there was so
much they knew and shouldn't have, yet not enough information that
they'd really needed.
"Yeah," Mandy breathed quietly, suddenly unsure of why she
had called CJ at all. Had she wanted to hear her voice? Or had she
just wanted reassurance, reassurance that someone else had known the
truth, too?
"We were in Manhattan, Kansas." CJ murmured, really not
speaking to Mandy anymore, really only recalling that lone night in
the heartland.
"Yeah," Mandy repeated herself. "There was this one night.I
saw what you must've seen."
"Needles?" CJ whispered, not so much angry with the First
Lady, but hurt that she'd tucked away her husband's health like it
was avoidable.
"I still can't believe they never told us. We were ninety
miles outside Chicago, rushing to get there like a lousy fuck and I
saw Abbey give him an injection on the back of the campaign bus."
Silence filled the line, punctuated by Mandy's contemptuous
tone. Finally, CJ snorted.
"Why did you call me?"
"I wanted to hear your voice.For real. Not just on the
television," Mandy quickly admitted, momentarily allowing her hard-
edged self to cave.
"You know, you just left us." CJ accused, silently aware that
she'd been the only one who had cared. "You just left me," she
restated, shaking her still-damp head.
The soft rush of air on the line told CJ that Mandy too was
smoking a cigarette, and for an instant, CJ could believe that Mandy
still cared. But as her silence dragged on, CJ told herself again
that Mandy had been nothing but an easy lay. No strings attached, no
emotions invested.
"Yeah," Mandy finally said, as though she were proud of
herself for having up and left. "I have to go, CJ."
"Right," CJ said, old anger rising, "you always did."
The phone clicked harshly in CJ's ear, and as she replaced the
receiver in the cradle, it was all CJ could to do keep the chapter on
Mandy closed. Someday, CJ thought, she'd figure out just why Mandy
had affected her, just why there had been so many late campaign
nights in small hotel rooms, wasted away in no-name towns.
She'd figure it out eventually, but CJ didn't even know where Mandy
had called her from; she didn't even really know why-the sarcasm and
tease had always been Mandy's trademark. All that struck CJ now was
that she hadn't been the only one to sense the President's reality. *