What Absence Does
Pairing: Toby/Ginger
Spoilers: Set season five, but no real spoilers beyond Shutdown unless you don’t know who Rina is.
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo (helsinkibaby.ahkay.net) Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: Ginger returns to
Author's Note: For Christine, who challenged me to do this… I hadn’t seen season five at the time, and now that I have, this is what I came up with!
Ginger walked slowly through the hallway towards the Communications Bullpen, feeling as if she was walking through it for the first time. Which was ridiculous, she knew, because she’d walked these halls every day for five years, had spent more time in this building than she had in her own apartment, and she would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that she knew every inch of them.
But she hadn’t walked these halls in three months, and everything looked different. Felt different. Was different.
Or maybe that was just her.
Walking into the bullpen itself was harder than she might have expected, and she was grateful that she’d chosen to come here at almost ten o’clock on Friday night, knowing that the place would be deserted. Deserted except for the light that burned in one office, and the light that burned at a desk opposite it, a desk where stood a woman who was giving all the appearances of leaving for the night. A woman who didn’t look too pleased to see her.
“Yes?” she said, frowning at Ginger, her brow creasing with unmistakable impatience. When Ginger didn’t reply immediately, she blinked, tilting her head, looking as if she was an inch away from tapping her foot. “May I help you?”
Ginger cleared her throat, feeling awkward in a place that was once her territory. “I’m looking for Toby Ziegler?” She knew he was there, could see him through the blinds, writing frantically on one of those yellow legal pads he favoured, left elbow on his desk, propping up his head, fingers beating a steady rhythm on his forehead. That was the look of Toby Ziegler when he was in his hunker down and block out the world mood, and Ginger was well aware of the consequences of disturbing him.
From the looks of things, so was this woman, because she threw a glance over her shoulder, her long dark ponytail swinging crazily as she did so. “You don’t have an appointment.”
It was a statement, not a question, and Ginger ducked her head for an instant, feeling foolish. She knew she would have reacted the same way three months ago, so part of her was inclined to give this stranger at her desk the benefit of the doubt. Then she remembered who she was, and where she was, and her head snapped up again as she eyed the other woman. Her determination must have shown on her face, because the dark-haired woman blinked again, looking quite taken aback, and Ginger pressed her advantage. “Could you tell him I’m here please?” she said simply, but in a tone that she’d learned from Toby, one that brooked no argument. “He’ll want to see me.”
Whether that was true, she didn’t know, but she followed the dark haired girl to Toby’s door, noting with disgust the length of her skirt and the swing of her hips, and she thought again that things really had changed since she’d been gone. When the woman knocked on the door, Toby’s voice could clearly be heard telling her to come in, in a tone that told her to go away, and her deep breath was audible as her hand went to the doorknob. Ginger found herself fighting back a smile – some things really never did change.
“Toby, there’s someone to see you.”
“At this hour?” Toby didn’t look up. “Do they have an appointment?”
“I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t need one.” The words were out before Ginger could even think, and they had just the effect on Toby that she was hoping for. Both the hand that was propping up his head and the one that was holding his pen fell to the table, and his head snapped up, looking beyond the dark haired woman to her, his face taking on that blank mask that he wore when he was surprised but trying not to show it.
“Of course you don’t,” he said simply, pushing back his chair and standing up, but not moving from behind the desk. “Thank you Rina.”
Rina – and Ginger just about managed to keep her reaction from showing on her face, because she couldn’t believe she hadn’t worked out that this was Rina before now - looked from Toby to Ginger and back again, her frown deeper now than it had been when Ginger had first entered the bullpen. “You need me to stay?” she asked, her own voice far too neutral, and once more, Toby didn’t look at her when he replied.
“No… you can go. And close the door behind you.”
Ginger stepped into the office as Rina stepped out, and she didn’t miss the other woman’s curious gaze at her, but neither did she spend too long worrying about it. Once the door was closed, all her attention was on Toby, who was coming around the desk, pointing with one hand to the couch, indicating that she should sit. “When did you get back into town?” he asked as he sat down beside her, his voice light, conversational, as if she’d only seen him yesterday, and she had to clear her throat before she could speak.
“This morning,” she told him. “I guess I should have called… but I still have my badge, and I didn’t want to face everyone’s questions first thing, so I just…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” He cut across her, stopping her before she could launch into a rambling tale, still using that gentle tone of voice. “You look well.”
She nodded, clasping her hands together on her lap to keep them from shaking. Her knuckles turned white, and she concentrated on their cold pallor rather than the warmth of his dark eyes. It was easier that way. “Thank you,” she said, her throat feeling tighter all of a sudden.
“How are you?”
Those three simple words had her looking up at him, her throat constricting almost painfully, forcing tears up her throat, into her voice and into her eyes. “Fine,” she told him, and she wanted to mean it, but one of those tears spilled over, and she tilted her head to the ceiling, unable to believe that this was happening in front of him, of all people. “I’m sorry,” she almost-whispered, hardly able to recognise her own voice. “I swore I wasn’t going to do this…”
“It’s fine,” he told her again, and to her surprise, he reached out, patted her knee once, twice. “You take your time.” The last was accompanied by a hand holding a handkerchief, and she looked at him, the sympathy she saw in his face not hurting as much as she thought it would. “It’s clean,” he added, mistaking her pause for something else, and she laughed despite herself.
“Thank you,” she said again, wiping her eyes impatiently, but for a man whose reputation was built on impatience, Toby just sat beside her, not saying anything until her eyes were dry, her face was clear, and his handkerchief was balled up in her fists. It smelled faintly of cigars and cologne and Toby, and somehow, holding it tightly made her feel better.
“So,” he said then, a chuckle hiding in the back of his words. “Let’s try that again… how are you Ginger?”
She was so used to saying “Fine” that she had to physically bite her tongue to stop the word automatically coming out. The real truth took a bit more preparation. “Most days I’m ok,” she told him. “Then there are others…” She ducked her head, because admitting that much was as much as she could do; there was no way she was going to tell Toby that there were days when she just couldn’t stop crying.
“That’s understandable,” he said. “You’ve been through a lot these last few weeks… you can’t expect to get over it all at once…”
Ginger nodded. “I know… that’s what everyone says.”
“They’re right.” Another pause, then, “How’s your mom?”
The question took her by surprise, then she nodded. “She’s holding up,” she said simply. “Better than us kids I think. You know they started dating when they were freshmen in high school?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that... that’s pretty unusual.”
“We all thought she’d fall apart… and for a while, after the… accident…” It was still hard to say the word, even now, after all these weeks, because her father had driven that route every day for over twenty years without so much as a flat tyre. Then one bright summer’s morning, he’d been going to work as usual when a car in the opposite lane had swerved, for reasons unknown, right into his path, sparking a four car pile-up. “Seeing him like that, all those machines…” She shuddered, because for her, that had been the worst part, seeing her big strong dad, the man who had swung her around when she was a child, who she’d thought had hung the moon and stars, lying there like that, so still and small. “But she didn’t. She told me after the funeral that he’d hung on for two months just to give her time to get used to the idea of going on without him… she really believes that.”
“Maybe he did.”
They were the last words she ever would have expected to come out of the uber-rational mouth of Toby Ziegler, and she laughed softly to herself, with no real humour. “My mother has great faith,” she said simply, and Toby tilted his head, looked at her curiously.
“You mean you don’t?”
She shrugged with one shoulder. “My faith’s a little battered right now.” She closed her eyes, released her breath in a sigh, then remembered something she’d meant to say to him. “The flowers were beautiful by the way… thank you for sending them.” There had been a wreath from the White House Staff, a message of condolences written in Bonnie’s handwriting. But she was referring to the one with no message on it save the printer’s, but with his name written in his own hand. She hadn’t cried at the funeral, not until she was helping her mother take the cards from the flowers and she saw that one.
“It was the least I could do.”
“You’ve done more than enough for me,” she told him, because he’d gone above and beyond what she might have expected. “All this time off, not rushing me back… I really appreciate it Toby.”
Now it was his turn to shrug, looking awkward at first, then across at her with some concern. “You’ve been taken care of, haven’t you? Money-wise I mean? Because I know there must be some medical bills…”
She smiled, waved off his concern. “My dad had insurance,” she assured him. “It was one of his things… car, home, medical… Mom’s going to be well taken care of. She’s back to worrying about all of us… that’s why I’m here.”
“Really?”
Ginger nodded, remembering her mother’s stern words to her a few days previously. “She told me that I had to stop moping around and get back to getting on with my life… that Dad would have wanted me to do that…”
“So you’re back?”
His words sounded vaguely hopeful, had her looking behind her at the desk that had once been hers, the desk where Rina had looked so at home. “Do I still have a job to come back to?” she asked baldly, and his eyes flared wide with surprise.
“Why wouldn’t you?” Then he followed her gaze, and he nodded once. “Rina.”
“Bonnie’s told me about her,” Ginger heard herself saying, and she dropped her voice conspiratorially, as if there was someone out in the deserted bullpen who might overhear them. “I don’t think she likes her very much.” In point of fact, Bonnie detested her, had told Ginger so many and oft over the last few months, adding that she knew Ginger had to stay in New Jersey, but that she wished she were in Washington. With her limited exposure to Rina, Ginger could see her friend’s point, though she knew she was probably biased. After all, she came here to get her life back, her job back. She didn’t expect to find an interloper at her desk, much less one who made her feel like she was the one who didn’t belong.
“Of course Bonnie doesn’t like her.” Toby’s voice, the amusement that he wasn’t even trying to hide, brought her back to reality. “She’s not you.”
Ginger wasn’t sure how to take that, felt heat building up in her cheeks, and she found herself looking down, her fingers tightening on the handkerchief she still held in her hand.
“What about you?” she asked quietly, still not looking at him. “What do you think of her?”
“She’s very good at what she does,” Toby replied simply. “But she’s not you.”
Coming from Toby, that was tantamount to a ten-page ringing endorsement, and she felt warmth spreading through her chest, bringing a smile to her face. She looked up at him, met his brown gaze in the dim light, and the very edges of his lips twitched.
She felt very content suddenly, the way that she hadn’t felt since Bonnie led her out of the bullpen, arm around her protectively, as she tried to stifle her sobs. Bonnie was the one who drove her home, booked her flight, packed her suitcase, but when she was waiting in the airport, it was Toby who had called her cell phone, telling her that he’d heard what had happened, that she should take as long as she needed.
Neither of them had thought it would take so long.
She’d heard from Bonnie, from Donna and Margaret and Carol, even Ed and Larry. But not Toby, not in all those weeks. And now, here she was, sitting in his office with him, feeling like they were the only two people in the West Wing, if not the world, and she’d never felt more content.
There was a tangible intimacy in the air, and it made her brave enough to joke, “So it wasn’t out of sight, out of mind?”
Brave enough to joke, but not enough to not fear his answer, and she held her breath until his lips twitched again. “More a case of you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”
The words were surprising enough, but then his hand reached out, closed over hers, and the rush of heat that coated Ginger’s cheeks wasn’t entirely from embarrassment.
“So… I can start back to work on Monday?”
She knew it wasn’t the right thing to say, wasn’t sure if there actually was a right thing to say. But he didn’t move, didn’t blink, just continued looking into her eyes. “You could,” he said carefully, a significant pause before he added, “Or…”
There was a pause afterwards too, and she frowned, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. “Or?” she prompted.
“Will’s working for Russell now,” she was told. “Chief Strategist and… something else. He’s bemoaning the lack of good assistants over there… I’m sure he’d welcome someone of your calibre.”
There were tears in the back of Ginger’s throat, and she battled them down. “But then I wouldn’t be your assistant,” she pointed out. She couldn’t understand why he was suggesting this now, why he was going back on his word, going back on everything he’d just said, and she was even more confused when he nodded, squeezed her hand.
“Yes,” he said. “But, if you were my assistant… I wouldn’t be able to ask you out to dinner. Which is something I’m very interested in doing. If you would like that.” There was a long pause while she stared at him, trying to decide if she was imagining things, and it must have unnerved him, because he cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “If that’s something that you would like. If it’s not, then we should just probably forget this whole conversation ever happened, because then I won’t get hit with an enormous lawsuit and cause a scandal…”
“Toby!” She cut him off with a laugh and a squeeze of his hand, and she knew that she was grinning broadly. “I’d like that.” When he blinked, she added, “Dinner, I mean. I’d like that a lot.”
“Ah.” He nodded, looking down at their joined hands. “All right then.”
They shared another silence, one she broke. “It’s still early,” she told him. “We could go for a drink someplace quiet… you can tell me all about Huck and Molly…”
As she’d expected, a wide smile broke across Toby’s face. “I have pictures,” he told her. “A great deal of pictures.”
She shrugged, standing up, taking him with her. “I’ve got all the time in the world,” she assured him. He grabbed his coat when they got to the door, reaching behind him to snap off the light.
“So do I.”