"The thing from this morning?" The look of confusion on her assistant's face would have been amusing, if CJ had been prone to being amused today. "I think Sam took it with him," Carol informed her.

Of course. "Please get it back. Or, no. Never mind." She needed to see Toby anyway. Gathering the file in front of her together, CJ started down the hallway.

Somewhere up ahead there was laughter, and she was tempted to follow it, because that was a rare commodity these days. And she missed being with the fun people. Maybe she'd give Jane a call. She was in town for a few more weeks, before heading back to Prague. The old friends had promised to see more of each other, had even managed it a few times. Friends were also somewhat scarce lately, and CJ was determined to hang onto every last one she could find.

Threading her way through the corridors, on auto-pilot. She could do this with her eyes closed. CJ wished she *could* close her eyes, go a day without seeing the weary faces of the people she cared about, people who, like she, were hanging by a thread.

Toby's voice was drawing her into his office. "COTTON. CANDY."

Larry, sounding a little off kilter. "I'm sorry...?"

"Sam?!"

"Ummm..." A voice laced with fatigue. "I'm guessing... spun from air and sugar?"

Toby again, triumphant. "Air and sugar! Yes! The President does not spin policy out of air and sugar."

Standing in the doorway now, CJ chuckled at the metaphor. She never would have guessed that, and was slightly amazed Sam pulled that one off. More so when she spied him on the sofa, laptop closed, forearms resting on top. He'd aged 5 years since she saw him this morning. CJ vaguely speculated on what could have happened between then and now.

Toby looked up to see CJ in the doorway. "And now, presenting the award for worst speech to the American Society of Newspaper Editors, the lovely and talented CJ Cregg!" Toby held out a hand to her, guiding her into the center of his office where she took a small bow.

It would be so much more fun if Sam and Larry were playing, but Larry stole dejectedly into the bullpen, his lambasted remarks to the ASNE fluttering in his hands. Sam pulled himself wearily from the sofa and offered CJ a thin, distant smile before turning towards the door.

"Wait, Sam, I came for you. I need a copy of the agenda for the Subcommittee." He met her expectant look with a blank expression, then left the room. "So, thank you very much, you've been a delight to work with...." she mumbled under her breath, flopping into Toby's guest chair.

After making some nervous adjustments to the television on his shelf, Toby slid behind his desk. "It's been a bad afternoon." He offered it to her with a sheepish flick of his eyes. CJ considered for a moment whether there was a tinge of guilt there too, then dismissed it at once.

"You, on the other hand, seem to be having a frightfully cheery day. What's up? Care to spread the joy?" CJ inquired.

"Oh just, riding the wave of satisfaction, knowing we're in control of the country, moving ahead with the President's vision for the future, making life better and richer and more secure for every American. You know, the usual." Sarcasm dripping from his beard, CJ was tempted to lean over and wipe it off with her sleeve.

"Since when are we in control?" It was supposed to sound light, she so wanted to keep things light. "Anyway, I brought you a gift." She handed the folder she'd been clutching across the desk. "The interview. I've looked it over, but I know you want final approval."

"Yeah."

CJ felt the air behind her stir, otherwise she would have been startled when an arm appeared suddenly in front of her face holding a clipped sheaf of papers. Looking up in time to see Sam heading back towards the door. After he'd gone, CJ turned to Toby, busying himself with a file. "Was there something specific...?" she ventured, pointing with her chin to the glass dividing his office and Sam's. Toby was already shaking his head.

It wouldn't surprise her in the least if there was no discernible explanation for Sam's change in mood. Sitting in the morning Staff meeting he appeared a little distant, quiet, but that wasn't so unusual anymore, and it was to a far lesser degree than they'd seen before. But when he'd come to CJ's office 20 minutes later to brief her on the DOE, he was helpful and accessible and hadn't once made her feel like hurling anything at his head. He'd left after complimenting her on her firm grasp of the material, and said he'd be available if she had any other questions.

"That man gives me whiplash." And with that CJ began the long walk back to her own office.

**

"I wanna come too!" God, Josh could whine like a champ, and as appealing as that was to CJ, she just didn't think Jane would appreciate the addition of a 3 year old to their girl's night out. Which she'd explained to him as patiently as if she was his mother.

"Just as - on occasion - you and your brethren feel the need to go out carousing and overindulging, we women sometimes have a desire to satisfy our more sophisticated impulses. Like good conversation, maybe some cognac, tossing our heads back in gentle, amused laughter," CJ elaborated.

"So, you're gonna try and pick up guys?" If he wasn't welcome, Josh at least wanted assurances it wasn't because he couldn't drink cognac, have a good conversation or toss his head back gently and laugh. Or was that laugh gently. Didn't matter, he'd ceased caring, and was now skipping to keep up as CJ continued careening down the corridor.

Momentarily distracted by the realization that she wasn't really dressed for meeting men, having worn a suit far too severe for that purpose, CJ swore under her breath. "We have no plans to pick up men, Joshua. The point is to share a relaxing, stimulating evening with another woman - out of the gutter, NOW! - and reestablish my connection to the outside world."

"Fine, I'll just see if Sam wants to go out carousing and overindulging."

A snort the size of Alaska escaped CJ's nose. "Yeah, have fun there!" she tossed at him while accelerating around a corner.

It had been a long time since Josh had been out with Sam. Part of it was that he'd tired of being consistently rebuffed. A couple of times they'd made tentative plans to get together, but it had become predictable that Sam would back out at the last minute, and his excuses were almost embarrassing. So Josh quit asking, and now he couldn't even think back to the last time they'd just hung out.

In place of spending time together, Josh had gotten creative. He looked for small ways to remain in Sam's peripheral vision. On the first really hot day of summer he'd asked Donna to bring back an iced mocha when she'd gone out to lunch, and he'd placed it on Sam's desk without comment. And one evening, killing time online during a house vote, Josh had come across an interactive Lakers fan site, and he'd forwarded it to Sam. But finding little things to brighten the gloomy corners of Sam's world was no replacement for the intimacy of time spent together, and Josh was suddenly determined to regain some of what they'd lost.

**

Pounding the keys of his laptop in time with the pounding in his temples, Sam dug deeper into his concentration. He'd promised himself he would finish polishing Josh's appalling brief for the head of the OPM, and so far he was pretty confident he could get it done. Some things still came so easily.

The storm was whipping at the bushes outside his window, an unsettling metaphor nagging at him. And he kept obsessing over the idea that if he'd just made it inside this morning, before spilling anything, or getting soaked, the whole day would have been better.

It was unreasonable, to say the least. He could pull himself out of this any time he wanted, Sam lectured himself. He just needed a catalyst. An outside force to throw him against the wall and slap him around a little. Just as long as it wasn't Doug or Bruno. Sam's fingers stopped typing abruptly, and he swiveled his chair around to stare at the rain lashing itself against his window. Turning slowly back to his desk, he pulled open a drawer and extracted a bottle of Advil, spilling 5 tablets into his hand.

Head back down now, trying to strangle some order into the disjointed information Josh had gathered together, Sam felt rather than heard a new presence in the room.

"Hey." Sam wasn't surprised to hear Josh's voice or see him standing there, clearly wary about moving any closer. It was a pretty shitty feeling to have the person to whom you were closest be that scared of approaching you. "What are you working on?" Josh took two hesitant steps closer.

"Oh, you know." Whatever. Did it matter? They were all the same anyway, and it would require far too much effort to explain that to Josh. "What can I do for you?"

The too-bright overhead light reflecting off his glasses, Josh wasn't sure if Sam was even looking at him. "CJ and some friend - Jane - are kicking their heels up tonight, and we're not invited." If he thought Sam might make the connection to Josh's being there, he was going to be disappointed. "And I thought we should do something."

"You don't mean... like try to sabotage their evening or something?" Sam asked apprehensively. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility when Josh was concerned.

"No, no! I mean *us.* We should do something, go out. Grab something to eat."

"Oh." Sam saw the hope there, and it told him Josh was trying here, trying to offer him a way out of this inky sea he'd ended back up in. All Sam had to do was reach out. He didn't even have to get out of his chair. He knew instinctively that if he just raised his arm a little, made the gesture, Josh would be there, flying across the room to grab hold and haul him back in the boat.

All he had to do was throw Josh the look, the one that would reveal how alone, and empty and out of control he felt. And Josh would catch it, and help Sam examine it, and find a place to put it where it couldn't hurt him anymore. That's all he had to do.

Instead, Sam lowered his eyes to his keyboard and cleared his throat. "I can't. I'm sorry." And he wasn't just talking about getting dinner. He didn't dare look up, couldn't bear to see the disappointment he knew was there on Josh's face. He'd made it sound final, and definitive. But he wanted to say more. He wanted to tell Josh, 'it's okay, you can give up now.' Almost told him, 'I can't be with you right now. I can't take anything from you yet.'

The keyboard clattered away under Sam's long slim fingers, and he flew through three more paragraphs before he allowed himself to look back up at the place Josh had been standing.

**

The rain had slowed to a claustrophobic drizzle, and it was really cramping CJ's style. She was acutely aware that her impressive legs were one of her best assets, something she had only begun to appreciate when she'd moved into her late twenties. When she was feeling powerful and confident CJ lengthened her strides consciously, just enough so her skirt would pull against her long thighs with each step. Only, that was really hard to do when the sidewalk was dissected with rivers of runoff from the buildings lining the block.

Jane had brought an umbrella, and was hunched beneath it, but since it would have been too awkward to share with her 5'4" companion, CJ was desperately looking for somewhere halfway decent they could duck into for a drink.

They'd been able to blithely skip through the perfunctory 'how was your day' nonsense during dinner. Although she now lived overseas, Jane was a well-informed and intelligent woman, and CJ hadn't felt the need to explain the stressful atmosphere she was facing at her job each day. Now she was looking to cut loose a little.

"How about here?" CJ pulled up short in front of Sesto Senso. "It's still early enough that the music hasn't started yet. If you can handle the cigar smoke."

"As long as there's good ventilation, I'm game." Jane peered into the dark entrance. "Is this new since I've been to DC?"

The smoky scent of sweet cigars assaulted them the moment they entered the bar, but surprisingly it dissipated significantly the further they moved inside. The two women found a table under a lazy fan, and ordered Cosmopolitans from the server.

"What Washington needs is more coffee houses," Jane was saying when their drinks arrived, rims crusted with fine sugar. "Prague is lined with them. There's one near Dennis's office that some of the tortured local artists seem to favor." Laughter tinkling like glasses behind the bar. "They display their work there sometimes, but the owner is very discerning. I bought something once, a Gannon. Very orderly piece, but there's a disturbing quality to it...."

Jane stopped speaking and was peering over her drink at the people strung along the bar in front of them like Christmas lights. "CJ, isn't that...?"

It was. CJ huffed audibly in momentary frustration. She'd recognize that elegant posture anywhere. And god, Sam needed a haircut.

He was seated at the farthest end of the bar, turned on his stool so his back was to CJ and Jane. At first CJ thought he was talking to the bartender, who was leaning in the corner of the bar. It took her a second or two to see that his attention was actually on a man sitting at a right angle to Sam.

He might have been a few years younger than Sam, and he was using his hands expressively, rocking back and forth on his stool while clearly trying to make a point. Sporting a wide grin. Since she couldn't see his face, CJ didn't know if Sam was smiling or not, but a moment later she saw him cock his head and reach a hand out to touch the man's cuff.

The young man raised his beer to his mouth, swallowing hungrily, and Sam suddenly threw back the contents of his own glass, immediately inclining his head in the bartender's direction.

The last thing CJ wanted was to end up spending the evening with Sam and some boy's club politico. She considered asking Jane to go somewhere else. But it was raining, and her drink was starting to warm her stomach, and the smell of cigars reminded her of her father. And Toby. So she scooted her chair around to offer more of her back to the bar, and pointedly asked Jane to keep telling her about Prague.