Three Things
Fandom: West Wing
Pairing: Will/CJ friendship, Will/OFC
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Missing scene from Angel Maintenance
Notes: Not sure if this really fits for the introductions challenge, but it loosely does. If there’s any problems, just let me know and I’ll delete.
“OK…” The moment that CJ said that word in that tone – drawn out and contemplative, as if the fate of the free world depended on her next words – Will tilted his head back with force, staring up at the ceiling of Air Force One. His skull made a satisfying thud as it impacted with the plush leather of the headrest, such a satisfying sound that he repeated the action once, then twice. This had the desired effect of stopping CJ talking, and when Will chanced a look over at her, she was staring at him, a completely blank look on her face.
“That’ll give you a headache,” she told him, and he rolled his eyes, something he would never normally do – well, not sitting this close to her, at any rate – but then, sitting for hours on Air Force One would do that to a person.
“Good,” he muttered, more to himself than CJ. “Maybe it’ll knock me out as well.”
“And leave me to handle the press on my own?” CJ asked archly. “Not gonna happen, pal-o-mine.” She sounded positively breezy by the end there, and he thought he might have got away with it, all the more when she took a long pause before she spoke again. “Now, back to my question…”
Once again, Will’s head impacted with the headrest. “There must be a parachute around here…” he muttered, casting a quick glance out the window, wondering how good his chances would be if he just leaped. Then the thoughts of having that ground rushing up to meet him made his stomach whirl, and he had to close his eyes, take deep breaths as he listened to CJ.
“All locked up safe and sound,” she told him. “And forget about an escape hatch; there’s none, I’ve checked.” It was brisk, no-nonsense Press Secretary CJ speaking now, and he knew that there was no escape for him. “What three things would you take with you to a desert island?”
Keeping his head pressed firmly against the headrest, he turned to look at her, raising one eyebrow. “We’re not over ocean CJ, but that doesn’t mean I’m not imagining myself in a Tom Hanks movie right now.” There was the merest flicker of amusement in her eyes, a slight upturn of her lips, and he decided to take advantage of it, beg for mercy. “Must we?” Because they’d already discussed their list of three favourite books, favourite movies, actors, actresses and songs of all time, to say nothing of the other categories that CJ had suggested that Will had refused point blank to have anything to do with – like the three sexiest members of Congress for example. Some things just did not bear thinking about.
“Yes,” CJ responded with an emphatic nod of the head. “We must. For it will keep your mind off your fear of flying.”
“I’m not afraid of flying.” The denial was automatic, except that the plane chose just that moment to hit a patch of turbulence. Will felt the colour drain from his face as his hands grabbed for the armrests. He squeezed his eyes shut reflexively, and when the plane evened out and he looked over at CJ again, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see one eyebrow arched, an expectant smile on her lips.
“OK,” he sighed. “Three things I would take with me to a desert island…” Tilting his head, he thought about it for a minute. “Can I take people?”
“No.” CJ’s answer was immediate. “That’s the next question.”
“Ah, of course.” Another few moments of thought, then, “Matches.”
CJ faked a yawn, patting her hand over her open mouth exaggeratedly. “Boring.”
Now it was Will’s turn to look at her with one eyebrow raised. “When we’re marooned on some far-flung isle, waiting for rescue, just for that, you’re not sitting near my fire.”
She held up both hands. “Fair enough. Continue.”
After a few seconds’ more thought, he did so. “A book,” he decided. “Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude.”
CJ grinned. “I love that book.”
“I’ve never read it,” Will told her unblinkingly. “I just figure the irony alone would be enough to kill any predators.”
It took a second for CJ to get it, and when she did, she laughed out loud, a sound she hastily stifled when other heads in the cabin turned to look at them. “OK,” she said, her eyes still dancing. “That’s two… one more.”
“That’s easy… a picture of my daughter.”
Will had spoken without thinking, and it was only when CJ’s face went blank as she processed his answer that he realised what he’d said, and he really wished that he’d phrased it differently. That wish doubled in intensity when CJ blinked, shaking her head from side to side as if the words were lodged somewhere between her ear and her brain, and the movement would help her to deal with them.
“Excuse me?” she finally said. “A what of your who?”
Taking a deep breath, Will met her gaze squarely. “A picture of my daughter,” he repeated, keeping his voice down, hoping CJ would take the hint. Not that he was ashamed of anything, but neither did he want his personal life spread across Air Force One.
To his ever-lasting gratitude, CJ did manage to pick up the hint, leaning in towards him, keeping her voice an amazed whisper. “You have a daughter?” At his nod, she shook her head again, one hand going to her forehead. “You’ve been working with us how long, and you’re just now mentioning this?”
Will shrugged. “To be fair, it’s not like we’ve spent a lot of time chatting,” he pointed out, and she tilted her head in acknowledgement.
“True,” she allowed. “But still… a daughter?”
“Yes… a daughter. Rosie.”
“Rosie… what a pretty name.” CJ’s smile was ear to ear. “Do you have a-?”
Her voice trailed off because he was already going for his wallet, flipping it open. “This was taken in September, at her birthday party,” he told her, handing across the picture of a smiling Rosie in front of her birthday cake. A large candle in the shape of the number seven blazed brightly, and he bit back a smile as he remembered how Rosie had very nearly set her hair alight as she’d leaned over the cake, trying to see every detail. “She’s seven,” he continued, and CJ looked up from the picture, her face all but screaming “No shit, Sherlock.”
She didn’t say that though, simply gave him that look that she usually reserved for Josh when he’d said or done something idiotic – and short as his service with the White House had been, Will was well acquainted with that look. “I would never have guessed,” she said dryly, and he felt a blush creeping up his cheeks.
“Sorry.”
CJ just flashed him another grin before returning her gaze to the picture, her smile softening as she studied it. “She’s adorable,” she said, and all Will could do was smile.
“I know,” he said, and he didn’t care if that sounded conceited, or biased, because it was true.
With one last grin at him, then a glance at the photograph, CJ folded up his wallet, handed it back to him. “I’m not sticking my nose into your personal life,” she said. “Except that, you know, I am, because apparently, I have to…”
Will nodded, anticipating her question. “Her mother and I… we’re not together any more. We split up when Rosie was five.”
CJ’s brow furrowed in sympathy. “That’s got to be hard.”
“It’s not easy.” Will opened his wallet
again, reaching behind the first picture he’d shown CJ, pulling out a different
one. In this one, a three-year-old Rosie perched on his shoulders as he smiled
at the camera, his arm around a woman who was smiling up at him and Rosie as if
he’d hung the moon. A pang of bittersweet remembrance swept through him and he
couldn’t keep back his sigh. Handing it across to CJ, he continued. “We make it
work… she actually moved out here last month from
“And it’s not awkward?”
“No.” Which, from the expression on her face, surprised CJ, and Will knew that it should surprise him too. But after two years, he knew he was speaking the truth. “Deb’s my best friend… and I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
A slow smile spread across CJ’s face. “That’s sweet,” she said, and Will felt his cheeks colour again. He looked out the window again, not looking at CJ until his colouring returned to normal, and when he did, he saw her studying the photograph of the three of them intently, even holding it up to the light to see it better. “You know, I’m trying to figure out who she looks more like… she’s definitely got her mom’s colouring… but is there a bit of you around the eyes there?”
Something twisted in Will’s stomach, and it must have shown on his face, because when CJ glanced up at him, her face dropped. He forced a smile to his face, tried to make his voice sound jaunty and unconcerned when he spoke again, but he wasn’t sure how well he did. “I doubt it,” he told her, and when she frowned, he shrugged, taking the picture from her grasp. “I’m not Rosie’s father.”
CJ’s eyes narrowed. “OK, see, now you’ve lost me again.”
Will took a deep breath, let it out slowly, focussing his gaze on the picture again. “Rosie… when I met Deb, she was just under a year old. The other guy... he decided he didn’t want to know… he’s never seen Rosie, doesn’t know she exists. I’m the only father she’s known… and believe me, if Deb heard me saying all this to you, I’d be back to looking for parachutes and escape hatches.” He glanced at CJ, who was staring at him in frank amazement, before sliding the picture back into his wallet. “The first time I saw her was at her first birthday party… and I fell in love with her then and there. I’m her dad… it’s just that simple.”
“So you’re telling me…” CJ was speaking slowly, as if testing each word, “That you met this woman… who had a child… and you stepped in to raise her… without even thinking about it?”
It wasn’t the first time that Will had heard that exact same question, and his answer was as ever to throw his hands up in utter confusion. “Why is it that people always ask that?” he asked. “It’s not so unusual… anyone would have done it.”
“No.” CJ’s voice was calm, but he could hear the smile underlying it. “No, they wouldn’t.” Her hand found his arm, rested there lightly. “I stand by my earlier comment… you’re very sweet.”
Pleased, Will ducked his head, not even trying to keep back his smile. “Thank you. Ow!” The last was courtesy of CJ slapping him on the back of his head. “What was that for?”
“For keeping me in the dark about your kid,” CJ told him promptly. “For which there will be payback, my friend… and you can start with naming the three people you’d take with you to a deserted island… don’t worry, I won’t be offended if you don’t pick me.”
Closing his eyes, Will rested his head against the headrest and, accepting his punishment stoically, started thinking.