"Come on, CJ," Josh pleaded. "One hour is all I'm asking."

CJ didn't even bother to look up from her laptop. She had ten different crises playing out in various levels of the government. Josh's sudden desire for her company didn't even merit a response. But since he wouldn't stop pestering her, she said, "I thought you hated the outdoors."

"I'm an outdoorsman," he argued, winning himself a scathing glance. "Okay, yes, I can't stand bugs and sunburns and, you know, rampageous bears. But an hour on the Mall with lunch I can handle."

CJ spared him another glance, strictly to show off her best skeptical look. "You can?"

Josh flashed her a winning grin. "I'll buy."

CJ rolled her eyes. "My hero," she muttered, turning her attention back to the Ways and Means Committee and its latest attempt to screw over the White House. She had a good start, a nice rhythm going in the statement she was writing.

"CJ--"

CJ tossed up her hands, abandoning her flow completely. "Is there even the slightest possibility that you'll leave me the hell alone if I don't go?"

Josh crossed his arms, widened his stance, and shook his head. "Nope."

CJ stared at the small scar on her desk and deliberated. The gash was the lesser of the consequences of what she liked to think of as her small fit of pique; her laptop had broken in half that day. She'd returned to her office after the first round of questioning by the federal grand jury and hurled her computer as hard as possible against the wooden desk. God, that splintering crash had sounded amazingly good. Her relief was temporary, though, and the tension level in her body hadn't lowered since then; she'd merely grown accustomed to it. Perhaps an hour of sunshine and tourists and glimpes of the old, carefree Josh would relieve the knot that had taken up residence between her shoulderblades.

That or a mind-bending bout of sex with a handsome stranger, she thought with a rueful grin.

Since that option hadn't presented itself in quite some time, CJ saved the Ways and Means statement, closed her brand, spaking new laptop, and agreed to Josh's last minute picnic. It'd be nice to be outside for a while.

***

Inside, thought Isabella Camden as she hurried towards the British Embassy. Beads of sweat trickled down her back in the hot, African sun, and she sighed with relief as she spotted the Union Jack hanging listlessly in the heat. "I need to be inside," she muttered, reaching the gate.

She flashed her credentials and the guards waved her in. The diplomatic pouch she carried was spared a trip through the X-ray machine, but she had to walk through the metal detector before being ushered to the front door of the embassy.

The icy tendrils of cooled air gave Isabella goosebumps as she walked quickly down the main hall, heading for Roger's office. She'd made the trip countless times before, carrying official diplomatic documents between the British and American embassies, but this time was different. She wasn't sure why she felt that, as she dropped the package off with Roger's assistant, Diane.

Isabella was almost at the front doors when it happened.

Bursts of automatic gunfire followed by an explosion, which shook the walls of the Embassy. Shocked, Isabella stood there, stock still, as a dozen men in desert fatigues stormed the British Embassy.

As one of them opened the door in front of her, Isabella hoisted her hands in the air and said, "Oh, shit."

***

"'Powder keg.'"

"Cliché."

"'Time bomb.'"

"Trite."

"'Impending peril.'"

"Too strong."

"'Courting destruction.'"

Sam sighed and tossed aside the yellow legal pad. "No." He tapped a silver pen on his desktop in an unsteady rhythm, using his free hand to rub his left eye. The hours were starting to wear on him. Either that, or his vision was faltering, and that wasn't a possibility Sam wanted to contemplate. Bad enough he may be imminently out of a job, but he'd like to at least go out with dignity. And without needing glasses made from Coke bottles.

Sam heard Toby's annoyed snort and opened his mouth to cut him off, but wasn't quite fast enough.

"Sam--"

"Toby," Sam interrupted. "It's not just that phrase; the whole thing's too strident. Shrill, even."

Toby glowered, uncomfortable in the guest chair. "Sam, we need to make it clear to them exactly who's in power."

"Right now is not the time for power plays, Toby. We need these people," Sam argued tiredly. He was so goddamned sick of playing Cassandra, singing the unpopular song while the rest of the senior staff shouted him down. Speaking of shouting, Sam knew from the sharp way Toby drew in his breath that he'd be yelling momentarily.

"Right now is exactly the time for power plays, Sam," Toby thundered. "Tomorrow we might not have any power to play!"

And there it was. The unpalatable truth that no one wanted mentioned.

Sam and Toby stared at each other, and Sam wasn't sure who was more shocked. Toby dropped his gaze, turning his head to the side to glare at a perfectly innocent slice of wall.

Sam sighed and looked down at his pen, twirling it absently and not quite smoothly in his fingers, a habit he'd picked up from Josh but not yet perfected. He supposed he shouldn't be all that surprised that it was Toby who said it out loud; Toby was the bravest of them in many ways, the one whose idealism was tempered with a healthy dollop of reality.

Growing uncomfortable in the tense silence, Sam cleared his throat. "Look--"

"You're right."

Sam blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"About the speech," Toby answered, waving a hand towards Sam. "Soften the language." He levered himself out of the guest chair and turned to go, leaving a slackjawed Sam.

Sam half-heard Kathy talking to Toby, her tone urgent, but he couldn't quite make out their words. Then Toby reappeared in the doorway. "Let's go."

Sam shook his head a bit. "Where?"

"Leo's office," Toby said, lifting his eyebrows. "Let's go."

Sam nodded and jumped up from his desk, nearly reaching the doorway before he realized his pen was still twined in his fingers. He paused, lobbed it over his shoulder, and then grimaced as it bounced off the legal pad and onto the floor.

Watching, Toby actually grinned. "Don't quit your day job."

***

CJ finished off her chicken club and turned her curious gaze to Josh. He sat a couple of feet from her, one arm wrapped around them his drawn-up knees. He ate with his other hand, absently bringing french fries to his mouth, even though he'd been silent and pensive for a while.

Determined to bring him back to the present, she asked, "So?"

Josh, startled out of his reverie, jerked his head around to look at her. "Huh?"

"Why are we really out here?" CJ asked, wiping her hands and tossing the napkin into their makeshift trash bag. She shifted on the grass, trying to get comfortable without giving the college kids across the way a show. Why'd I have to wear a skirt the one day someone ends up dragging me outside, she wondered. And she couldn't even think about the heat trapped by her nylons without feeling faint.

"To have lunch," Josh answered, moving around a bit so he faced her directly. He held up a french fry to illustrate his point.

"Those are bad for you, Josh," CJ commented. "I thought you were supposed to watch your cholesterol intake."

Josh's mouth tightened and he turned his head, squinting off into the distance. CJ doubted very much that he was enjoying the way the hot summer sun glinted off the Washington Monument. In fact, she'd lay odds that he was thinking about That Night, and she cursed herself for bringing it up. They'd been having a decent, lighthearted time.

"Yeah," Josh answered finally, depositing the french fry in the trash bag. "My arteries have had their share of trauma and scarring; I'm not supposed to add cholesterol to the mix."

CJ stared at him for a moment, unsure what to say. "Josh..." When he met her gaze, she shrugged. "I'm sorry."

He glanced away, a bitter smile on his face. "Not a problem." Josh leaned back on one arm. "Not yours, anyway."

"Josh, really, I didn't mean to--"

"Don't worry about it, CJ," he interrupted. "And you're right, I did have an ulterior motive for bringing you out here."

CJ blinked at the subject change, another in a series of unexpected reminders of why this man was such a skilled political operative. He had an incredible ability to keep people just a bit off balance during a conversation. She knew him well enough at this point to recognize his more common deflective tactics, but she said only, "Okay. What's on your mind?"

Josh sighed, staring down at the grass. "I need to know how something will play in the press if it gets out."

CJ gave an inward groan, sure she knew where he was headed with this. "Josh, please tell me you've warned Donna of the potential--"

"Donna?" he asked, bewildered. "Why should Donna care? Aside from the fact that I could lose my job, I guess." He paused, musing. "At which point, she'd probably be unemployed too, so I guess she'd be concerned."

CJ cleared her throat and scooted a bit closer to Josh. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"My deposition," Josh answered slowly, too distracted, thankfully, to realize what CJ had implied. "If they ask me anything about," he shrugged. "Last Christmas."

As the picture clarified, CJ gave herself a mental slap for missing it in the first place. Of course he was worried about his Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder becoming public knowledge. God, that would be not good. Not good at all. "Did they ask you anything last week?" CJ asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. Judging by the look on Josh's face, she'd failed.

"No. Nothing yet. But this is a giant fishing expedition, and I don't--" Josh broke off, suddenly fascinated by the twill of his pants. He used his thumbnail to scratch along the fabric.

"Josh?" CJ prompted softly. That knot between her shoulder blades was back with a vengeance, and she found she was barely breathing waiting for his answer. She and Josh had never really discussed That Night or its aftermath, though she'd made it clear to him via some open-ended comments that if he ever needed to talk, she was more than willing to listen. He'd never taken her up on it, and she wondered now if she should maybe have gone to him. Because it was clear from the pallor of his face and the way he kept his gaze averted that he still had a lot of trouble with the events of the previous fall.

Josh couldn't look at her when he answered. "CJ, I don't remember a lot of what happened before Christmas. I don't know who was around when I was losing it. I don't know who suspects, or who would tell Len Trott and his cronies. I don't know if I should answer the question or plead the fifth."

When he looked up at her, CJ was stunned by the tortured look in his eyes. "Josh," she answered, her voice full of concern. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing." She reached over and took his hand in hers, holding onto him tightly. "You were having a perfectly natural reaction to a horrible, traumatic event. And when it became a problem, you got help. No one can find fault in that."

Josh laughed bitterly. "Everyone can find fault in that, CJ. Forget this stupid Healthgate bullshit. It's gonna be Lunatics-in-the-White-House-gate. Or Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder-gate. Or Deputy-Chief-of-Asylum-gate."

The corners of CJ's mouth twitched as she held his gaze. Josh stared at her for a moment, then glanced away as a breath of laughter left him. CJ allowed herself a small chuckle. "Deputy-Chief-of-Asylum-gate?" she repeated warmly.

Josh laughed again, a little stronger this time. "I wouldn't put it past Ted Baxter. Or Ron Koch--he actually printed something about Multiple-Sclerosis-gate."

CJ ducked her head to hide her laughter. "I can't believe I missed that one. My personal favorite so far is Medical-gate," she said. "Sounds like a hospital."

Josh chuckled beside her, and CJ felt marginally better. His worries were certainly not unfounded, but at least he'd been able to voice them. At least he wasn't bottling them up like last fall, which would probably lead to some sort of Deputy-Chief-of-Staff-Wigs-Out-in-Deposition-gate.

"Seriously, Josh," CJ said, squeezing his hand to get his attention. "We'll talk to Sam about this and he can--" She broke off as her pager beeped to life at her waist. "Dammit."

Moments later, Josh's pager joined the chorus. CJ and Josh exchanged looks and silently began gathering the remnants of their picnic.

"Well," he commented. "That was fun while it lasted."

***

CJ and Josh reached Leo's office at a good clip and Margaret waved them in. Josh knocked sharply, then held the door open for CJ to enter before him. Inside, Leo, Toby, and Sam stood in a loose semi-circle in front of Leo's desk, and Josh could read the tension in the room. He mentally braced himself, then, eyebrows raised, asked Leo, "What's going on?"

"Unconfirmed reports that terrorists have taken the British embassy in Ljubljana," Leo answered quickly.

CJ joined the group. "Unconfirmed?"

Sam, one hip leaning against the wingback chair, offered, "Diplomatic backchannels, plus the press."

CJ groaned. "The press?"

Toby nodded slowly. "NPR's got it. BBC's got it."

CJ crossed her arms. "Please tell me someone in the building is actually listening to NPR right now?"

"Kathy," Sam answered.

"She's taping?" CJ pressed.

Sam shot her a withering look in response.

"I was just making sure," CJ mumbled, looking back to Leo. "The President knows?"

"Yes," Leo nodded. "We're getting Nancy."

"Just out of curiosity," Josh asked from his place by the door, "who told us first: Kathy or diplomatic backchannels?"

Leo looked at Sam, who glanced over at Toby, who rolled his eyes. "Kathy," he answered quietly.

Josh was not, by any stretch of the imagination, an expert on domestic policy, but even he knew a hostage situation in-- "Where is this again?"

"Ljubljana," Leo repeated. "Slovenia."

Brow furrowed, Josh attempted to recall the details of Eastern European nations. "Former Czechoslovakian republic?"

With an annoyed sigh, Toby answered, "That would be Slovakia, Josh. Slovenia is a former Yugoslavian republic."

CJ groaned. "Like Bosnia? Wonderful."

Leo shook his head. "Slovenia's the most stable of the former Yugoslav republics."

"Which is why terrorists have just taken a foreign embassy in the capital?" Toby asks mildly.

Leo set his jaw, but didn't reply.

CJ plunged ahead. "Have we heard from Marbury yet?"

"No," Sam answered. "Nothing from the Brits. Officially, we have no idea this is going on."

Josh shifted his weight, still pondering the situation. "Any Americans?" Until they knew if there were Americans involved, they would have no idea how tightly bound their hands would be by international protocol.

"Josh, we're not even sure this isn't one of Roger's funny little jokes," Leo snapped.

"Fine," Josh answered, throwing a defensive hand in the air. "I'm just trying to determine--"

"We don't know anything," Toby interrupted, turning to Leo. "When can we get a briefing?"

Leo shrugged. "Margaret's calling State."

Josh glanced at his boss. "I'll get Donna on it. She's fast."

***

10.20.04